Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair by Wendy Mass Page A

has discovered she can lick the dew off the window ledge. As I stroke her back, her fur suddenly stands on end and her ears flatten. That can’t be good.
    â€œYou have been busy,” a voice cackles from behind me. It is not the voice I had hoped to hear.
    My heart begins to pound. What does she mean by that? Has she found out that I know about Steven? Clutching Sir Kitty so tightly she mews in protest, I slowly turn around to face the witch. She is standing in front of my cottage on the wall. She spits onto one of her gnarled fingers and wipes it across the scene, smudging the drawing as she goes. I cringe but refuse to cry out. After all, I have a plan now that will bring me back to the real cottage. I put Sir Kitty down and she runs under the wool blanket. I would, too, if I could. The smell from the pot of meat pie the witch left on the table draws me like bees to a honeysuckle shrub. Truly my mouth is watering. Garlic and mustard fill the room till I feel almost faint from it.
    When the witch is done ruining my sketch, she turns and peers right into my face. My body tenses, but I do not move. She gives me a slow once-over and I try to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. It occurs to me that after my bath I must look quite changed.
    â€œHmm,” she says, tapping one finger against her long,square chin. If I weren’t so terrified, I would laugh, because the finger she is tapping with is the one covered in ash from my drawing. She is making quite a mess of her face. “You look different somehow. I cannot place it.” She continues to look, even asking me to turn around. As I turn, I see out of the corner of my eye that Steven is slithering silently down the rope. I am glad I am now facing the other way, because I am sure my expression would give him away. Why is he risking the journey? For one brief second, I wonder if he is going to sneak up on the witch and toss her out the window.
    The witch barks at me to turn back and face her. As I do, I see Steven climbing back up the rope. In one hand he is gripping the towel I had used to dry from my bath. Hurry, Steven, hurry, I plead silently. He just has time to reach the top and pull up the rope before the witch turns around.
    â€œWhat are you looking at?” she demands, whirling back to face me.
    â€œNoth … nothing,” I stammer, quickly returning my gaze. “The cat startled me, that is all.”
    â€œI expect your full attention, young Rapunzel. Or I will be only too happy to clear this room of distractions.”
    â€œYes, witch,” I say, then hurry to correct myself before her glare deepens. “I mean, yes, Mother Gothel.”
    â€œYour sleep,” she says, her voice taking on a lilting quality that on anyone else might be considered pleasing. “I trust it has been deep?”
    â€œYes, Mother Gothel.”
    â€œAnd your meals, they have been satisfactory?”
    â€œOh, yes, Mother Gothel. Very much so.”
    â€œSo you would agree that your accommodations have been good?”
    I know by now what she wants to hear. “Um, yes?”
    She grins widely, and her broken and stained teeth almost make me gag. “I knew you would be happy here. I never had a child of my own before, you see. My line of work is, shall we say, solitary.” She cackles like she has just told a joke, then starts to cough. I turn my head as the green phlegm flies from her mouth and lands on the front of her black cape. Charming.
    I do not have anything to add, so I keep silent. Where the witch is concerned, silence has proven best.
    She continues. “One of these days, you and I shall have a lovely chat about your future. You won’t be attending school anymore, of course, so there will be plenty of time for you to learn how to hem my clothes, clean my shoes, and so forth. Yes, we have much to discuss.”
    I can keep quiet no longer and blurt, “What do youmean, I will not be attending school anymore?