George suggested. “I don’t know,” Trina said, scooping up a cat that was rubbing up against her legs. “Usually one of the other Black Cats or my grandma has helped me undo any magical mistakes.” “So all the Black Cats are witches?” B asked. “And your grandma, too?” Trina nodded. “Maybe the cats will just vanish in a minute.” “We can’t risk it,” B said. “What if one of the teachers decides to go to the library, or some kid wants to return a book after sports practice?” “Or what if the cats find a way out?” George added, watching the creatures explore every inch of the library. “Cats are pretty smart, you know.” “I’ve never messed up this bad before,” Trina said, as if she wasn’t really listening. “You can do it, Trina. Just relax and concentrate. You’re great at rhyming.” B tried to sound encouraging, but she knew Trina had to fix this. If someone stopped by the library, how would they ever explain? Trina closed her eyes. She took a deep, singer’s breath from her diaphragm, filling her body with air, then sang: “Cats, cats everywhere, from up high to way down low.
