In the days leading up to the planned trip to Salem, Dolly continued to attend Mr. Wald's fourth-grade class, despite the hostility of her classmates. Francine remained close to her, Adil only offered glib greetings, and Mavis gradually became more comfortable in her presence. As for Beat, Arthur, Muffy, Binky, Fern, and George, they noticed after a week had passed that they hadn't suffered from any more curses or enchantments, so they became willing once again to talk to Dolly, although not much. Only Van continued to deliberately avoid her, fearing his mother's warning about the evils of witchcraft.

The Department of Social Services, finding no record of a Dolly Proctor, allowed her to stay with the Powers on the condition that they provide her with clothing as well as food. So she enjoyed her first shopping trip at the mall, accompanied by Mrs. Powers and Prunella, who served as fashion consultant due to Muffy's unwillingness. On several occasions she begged Mrs. Powers to drive her to downtown Elwood City, so she could walk about in one of her new dresses and be admired by passing pedestrians.

Mr. Winslow returned to Salem for a week, claiming that he needed to arrange some affairs with his associates. When he returned to Maria's waiting arms, he said that his "people" were overjoyed to learn of the existence of a surviving Wicasta.

Binky resumed his role as Mini Moo, to the elation of Fern and Mrs. Stiles. Only a few kids at school dared to mock him, but they soon grew tired of it. In addition, some of the kids expressed an interest in meeting Odette's new classmate who looked and acted like an older copy of Sue Ellen, but April was usually too busy to meet with them.

Soon it was Saturday morning, and Dolly and her friends prepared to travel to Salem with Mr. Winslow and the Harrises. Mrs. Prufrock drove Dolly, Prunella, and Alan in her station wagon, while Winslow transported Maria and Nadine in his old Pontiac.

"Have a good trip, guys," said Francine, who was seeing them off at Prunella's house.

"Wish you could come," said Alan as he boarded Mrs. Prufrock's car.

"I've already been to Salem," Francine responded. "I mean, Sue Ellen's already been there."

The drive to Salem took about six hours on the interstate highways. Alan sat in the front passenger seat next to Mrs. Prufrock, while the girls were seated in the back. Prunella passed the time by teaching Dolly how to play video games on her GameGirl unit, while Alan exercised his singing chops.

"Ninety-nine bottles of ammonium citrate on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of ammonium citrate..." he warbled, hitting an occasional sour note.

Dolly entertained Prunella by waving her hand over the GameGirl, causing it to repeatedly disappear and reappear. A road sign went by with the message, BOSTON, 212 MILES.

"Take one down, pour it on the ground, no more bottles of ammonium citrate on the wall," Brain went on. "Ninety-nine bottles of sodium dichloride on the wall..."

"Hey, Alan," Prunella warned him, "you'd better stop before you get busted by the EPA."

"Are we there yet, Mrs. Prufrock?" Dolly asked.

"No, not yet," came the impatient reply.

A road sign went by: BOSTON, 138 MILES.

"Are we there yet?" asked Dolly.

"No, we're not there yet," Mrs. Prufrock grumbled.

"That's what you said last time," Dolly pointed out.

Another road sign passed: BOSTON, 77 MILES. YOU'RE NOT THERE YET.

----

While Dolly and the others made their way toward Salem, the phone rang at the Frensky apartment. Catherine answered and called Francine. When she picked up the receiver, Francine heard the voice of someone Sue Ellen had known and loved for a long time--Carla Fuente. "We would like you to join us for lunch at Nigel's house," said the Costa Rican woman.

"I'd love to," Francine replied.

Thrilled by the invitation, she threw on a jacket and rushed around the block to Mr. Ratburn's place of residence. Carla, dressed in a white chiffon wedding gown, welcomed her inside. Nigel Ratburn, seated on the couch, leaped to his feet. "Francine, it's so good to see you," he greeted her warmly.

"Uh, hi, Nige...er, Mr. Ratburn," said Francine, forgetting momentarily that it was Sue Ellen's custom, not her own, to call the former teacher by his first name. "What are you up to these days?"

"Well, there's a third-grade teaching position opening up in two weeks," Mr. Ratburn told her. "It's in a school across town, so I'll have to commute. But I hope to return to Lakewood for the next school year."

"I'm trying on wedding dresses," Carla explained. "We decided that if Nigel gets the teaching job, we'll be engaged. If he doesn't, we'll wait a little longer."

"I think you should just get married and have it done with," Francine remarked. Wandering into the kitchen, she examined the place settings and freshly prepared chile rellenos on the table. I'm going to get heartburn again, she thought.

Then she noticed...there were four place settings. "Who else is coming?" she asked Carla.

Her question found its answer when a familiar voice called to her from the direction of the guest bedroom. "Francine!"

She froze to the spot. It couldn't possibly be who she thought it was...

She slowly turned...and gasped. Standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom was a girl nearly a foot and a half taller, with pointed cat ears and orange hair puffs. Francine knew immediately that she had to be a close relation of Sue Ellen's, as she was virtually identical except for her age. But how did this strange girl know her name?

Then it hit her. "You must be the girl Van was telling me..."

Her sentence was broken off when the delighted cat girl rushed toward her and grabbed her in a firm, almost suffocating bear hug. "Oh, Francine!" she gushed. "I'm so glad!"

"Can't...breathe..." rasped Francine.

The older girl relaxed her grip. "Is it true?" she asked breathlessly. "Do you play drums and sax? Do you have two personalities in your head?"

"Uh...uh-huh," Francine muttered, trying to twist her way out of the girl's arms. In the living room, Nigel went back to admiring Carla's wedding gown.

"I was so worried," said the cat girl, her voice filled with concern. "I didn't know if it happened to you, too."

"If what happened?" Francine became confused. "Who are you, anyway?"

"You know who I am," said the girl, pulling her arms away. "I don't need to tell you. I'm a part of you. In fact, we're almost the same person."

Unable to believe what she was hearing and feeling, Francine backed away and waved her hands. "No, no!" she exclaimed. "You can't be Sue Ellen. You're too old. You must be eleven or..."

"Twelve," said the girl with pride. "And you're right, I'm not Sue Ellen...not anymore. My name's April Murphy now."

Francine's bewilderment grew. "I need to sit down," she mumbled, pulling a chair away from the dining table. April Murphy took a seat next to her, a glowing smile still wrapped around her face.

All at once, it occurred to Francine why Sue Ellen might have found it necessary to go by a different name. "April Murphy is your new identity," she said slowly, as if experiencing an epiphany. "Sue Ellen is dead, or thought to be dead."

April nodded.

Francine glanced anxiously into the living room, where Nigel was examining Carla's gown from the back. "How much do they know?" she asked April. "I know I never told them anything."

"I swore them to secrecy," April answered.

Francine took another furtive glance at Nigel and Carla, then started to interrogate April. "I thought your phony AIDS death wasn't supposed to happen for another two years."

"It wasn't," April replied, "and it didn't."

"How did you get to be twelve years old?" Francine asked next. "Is it some kind of top-secret technology that makes you grow fast?"

April shook her head.

Her mind spinning, Francine struggled to think of another explanation, and finally did. "Time travel," she half-whispered.

April nodded again.

Francine's eyes widened. "But that's impossible!"

"Three years from now, it won't be."

After a moment's consideration, Francine rose quickly to her feet. "You're trying to change history," she theorized, pointing a finger at April. "Something terrible is about to happen, and you've come back to prevent it. What is it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Come on, Sue Ellen!" Francine pleaded.

"April." The cat girl scowled seriously. "You must call me April from now on. Sue Ellen no longer exists."

Francine sighed with frustration.

"I just had to see you before I left town," said April, her voice filling with emotion again. "I had to know how you were doing. I was afraid you'd be stuck as Sue Ellen alone in Francine's body, with no way to find us."

"Why are you leaving town?" asked Francine suspiciously.

"Something very important is about to take place," April replied. "I want to get as far away as I can so my presence won't interfere with it."

"Is it bad?" Francine wanted to know. "Should I leave town too?"

"You should stay here and go about your life as if we never had this conversation."

Francine frowned. She felt somehow that April was hiding something from her...a very big something. Something even bigger than the revelation that Mr. Armstrong was a CIA agent.

"Well," said April casually, "how about some lunch?"

----

It was mid-afternoon when the travelers arrived at the Winslow Witch Museum in Salem, Massachusetts. Mrs. Prufrock and Mr. Winslow parked their cars next to each other, and then led Maria, Nadine, Alan, Prunella, and Dolly to the front entrance of the building. It was a slow tourism day (not being Halloween), so only a few visitors were congregated on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Gus," said a black-haired goose woman who wore a tour guide badge.

Winslow gestured toward the people who were with him. "These are friends of mine. I'd like you to give them a free tour of the museum."

"Sure," said the goose woman, stepping toward a roped-off path. "Right this way."

As they started to follow the tour guide, Winslow laid a hand on Dolly's shoulder. "You can take the tour later. Right now, we have a little work to do."

"Yes, Mr. Winslow," said Dolly obediently.

While Mrs. Prufrock, Maria, Nadine, Alan, and Prunella visited the various exhibits of 17th-century witch trial memorabilia, Winslow led Dolly to the rear of the building and down a stone stairway. The two found themselves in front of what appeared to be a solid white door, with no visible doorknob or method of entry.

"Dolly, see if you can open that door," Winslow ordered.

Dolly laid her hands on the surface of the door and pushed with all her might, but the door didn't move an inch. She tried pounding on it, but with no effect. Finally she stood back and said, "Uh...open sesame?" Still nothing happened.

Winslow stuck out his left arm to push Dolly back, then waved his right hand in front of the door. It immediately slid open, revealing a darkened passage.

Guessing that Winslow's magic ring had enabled him to control the door, Dolly followed him into the strange, dark chamber. As the door closed behind them, Winslow waved his hand again, and a lamp turned on. Dolly found herself in a bizarre-looking room that appeared to be a sort of laboratory, although she had only seen pictures of such places in children's books. Several long tables were positioned next to each other; on them were laid natural gas burners, vats of colored fluids, and weirdly colored stones and tablets. On a shelf nearby were stored arrays of labeled glass jars that contained substances of all imaginable colors and textures.

"Amazing," said Dolly in wonder.

"Don't touch anything...yet," Winslow commanded her.

Dolly turned her head this way and that, unable to believe what she was experiencing. "Magic," she marveled. "Magical ingredients, magical potions, magical stones...I've never seen so much magic in one place."

"That's right," said Winslow. "Without the gift of the Wicasta, you'd think this was just another science lab. Tell me, what sort of enchantments could you put together using the items in this room?"

Dolly shook her head in confusion. "Oh, good heavens, I can't even imagine. Almost any sort of enchantment, I think."

"I'm ready to tell you about my people," Winslow announced calmly.

Dolly stood still and didn't breathe.

"I am an alchemist," Winslow told her. "My associates are alchemists, and so are many of my ancestors."

TBC