Ivy and Bean

the bucket she was still carrying. She got a big handful of pink worms. For a second, they squiggled in her hand. And then she threw them at Nancy’s face.
    Some of them fell onto Nancy’s shirt. Some of them got stuck in her hair. But one landed on her eyebrow and wiggled there, trying to find some dirt.
    Nancy was so surprised she froze. She just stood with her mouth hanging open, staring at Bean.
    Calmly, Bean reached into the bucket again and got another handful of worms. She aimed better this time. She got one in Nancy’s mouth.

    “Phoo!”
The pink worm went flying as Nancy spit it out. There was a tiny moment of quiet, and then she opened her mouth wide and let out a giant scream.
    Bean and Ivy looked at each other and smiled. “Whatever happens next,” their eyes said, “that was worth it.” And then they began to run.
    Nancy tore after them, still screaming. Bean zigzagged across the lawn because she knew it was harder to catch someone who was zigzagging. Ivy zigzagged, too, right behind Bean.
    “Worms! Worms!” Nancy was screaming. She had lost her mind.
“Ahhhhhh!”
    Bean could hear her mother calling, “What on earth?! Girls! Girls!” Bean and Ivy ran around the trampoline, with Nancy close behind. They jumped over the hula hoops and the stilt and headed for the trees. Nancy followed, still screaming. She was right behind them. She was so close she could almost grab the soft folds of Ivy’s robe—she was just about to get it.
    “Help!” squealed Ivy. Bean gave a yank and pulled the robe away in the nick of time.

    Ivy and Bean swerved for the playhouse. Maybe they could get inside it before Nancy tackled them.
    “Come on!” Bean yelled. Together they jumped over the worm pit, squeezed into the playhouse, and slammed the door. “Whew!” they said together.
    Then it happened.
    Nancy was still chasing them. She was running toward the playhouse.
    And toward the worm pit.
    The big, muddy worm pit.
    Bean and Ivy knew it was there.
    But Nancy didn’t. And she didn’t see it.She charged toward the playhouse, and—whoops!—her foot landed on the side of the muddy pit. Ivy and Bean looked out the playhouse window, and they saw Nancy skidding on the slimy edge of the hole. Back and forth she wobbled, trying to keep her balance. She kicked out one foot. She waved her arms wildly. She kicked out her other foot. She waved. She kicked.

    It was perfect.
    “She’s dancing!” yelled Bean.
    “The spell worked!” yelled Ivy.
    And just at that moment, with a sloppy, gloopy thud, Nancy slipped off the edge and landed in the muddy goo at the bottom of the worm pit.

NO DESSERT
    “No dessert,” said Bean. “No videos for a week. But at least they didn’t make me stay in my room.”
    Ivy was sitting next to Bean on her front porch. It was almost dark. They watched the bugs flying around the streetlight.
    “I don’t think they’re really mad,” said Ivy.
    “You don’t?” They had seemed pretty mad to Bean.
    “They have to act mad so they’ll seem fair to your sister,” Ivy said. “But your mom had this little, teeny smile on her face when she pulled Nancy out of the pit. She thought it was funny.”

    Bean smiled, too, remembering. “It
was
funny.”
    “It was great.”
    “Nancy says she’s never going to speak to either of us ever again. And she took back the coloring book she gave me.”
    “Well, she never spoke to me before today, so that won’t be any different for me.”
    “It’ll be better for me. But I bet she doesn’t stick to it.” Bean yawned. It had been a big day. She turned to Ivy. “Do you think the spell is what made her dance?”
    “Of course.” Ivy sounded very sure. But after a minute she said, “I didn’t have time to say the spell, really. I just sort of thought it at the last second.”
    Bean stared into the shadowy yard. “Maybe that’s why she didn’t dance for very long—because you only thought the spell instead of saying it.”
    “Next time I’ll say it.”
    “You’re going to do it again? On who?” Bean asked.
    “I was thinking about that Mrs. Trantz,” said Ivy.
    Bean pictured Mrs. Trantz kicking up her feet on the edge of a muddy pit. It would be a beautiful sight. “Can you teach me to burp like that?” asked Bean.
    “Sure,” Ivy said. “Maybe I’ll try something new on Mrs. Trantz. Like a storm of grasshoppers.”
    “Is that a hard one?”
    “No, but we have to start with a lot of grasshoppers,” said Ivy.

    “It