The pig whizzed over our heads, squealing. It landed with a grunt. Then, beady eyes blinking, it farted: it’s pink skin popped into blue. It ambled across the dusty floor, kicking up smells of mothballs as it did.

I shivered. The only light came from a window—a slit—in the wall. The basement was crowded with bookshelves, crates, and a rusted cauldron. A spiderweb glimmered in the gloom.

I exchanged a glance with Madeleine. “That could have gone better.”

“Well, we did something!” She beamed. Hugging the book to her chest, she ran to the cauldron. “And on our first try.”

“Let me see that.”

“Sure.” She pushed the tome into my hands.

The golden letters flashed up at me: The Book of Elementary Spells for Young Girls.

I opened the book. Scanning the spell, I sighed. “You read it wrong.”

“No I didn’t.” She puffed up her chest. “I read it exactly the way I meant to.”

“You did it on purpose!”

“Of course. The spell was supposed to turn Missy into bacon. But I...changed ‘bacon’ to ‘blue’ in the intentions and...”

I shook my head. “We stole her from a farm. And it’s not like she—wait, Missy?”

Madeleine threw her arms around the blueberry pork. “Yup.”

“Let’s try another spell.” I rolled my eyes. “One that’s vegetarian friendly.”

“I’m a pescatarian, actually.” Madeleine snatched the book from me. “Here’s one for making a dog talk!”

I snatched the book back. I flipped through several pages and stopped. “Here’s one. Now, if we could just catch a trout...”

“Har, har.” She held her hands out. Her serious expression looked out of place on such a small, freckled face. Her pigtails practically quivered as she took the book. “Here, Zoe. This one looks good.”

I read over her shoulder. The illustration depicted two paper figures. I blinked: the picture moved! A cartoon book flew into view. The paper figures shrieked, and the book slammed shut—encasing them.

I laughed. “I don’t know if we should...”

“It’s supposed to be for parents.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “But I imagine it works just as well on parental guardians.”

We crept up the stairs. They creaked, and I winced. If they knew we were down here again...

They sat in the television room. The Evil Twins, as we’d nicknamed them, were identical: each had a beak of a nose, necks like chickens, hair pulled into tight buns, and glittering black eyes. Each was as thin as a broomstick, their brittle bodies swimming in identical fur coats. These coats were three times the size of the Evil Twins; they, too, were exactly the same, but for the colours.

Secretly, I was grateful for this quirk. Angie wore a red coat; frowning, she rose a cigarette to her lips. When she blew out, Doris, in a lime green coat, waved her hand. Her eyebrows scrunched together, and she glared at her sister.

“Quit it, Angie. That’s a disgusting habit.”

“It keeps me from wanting to commit homicide.” Angie inhaled. Then she blew a cloud into her sister’s face.

Doris coughed. “Just what will I do when you’ve died? I’m not giving you one of my lungs!”

“But we’ll die at the same time.” Angie tapped the ashes into the nearest pot, in which a brown daisy keeled over. “You’re with me so much, I expect the second hand inhalation will effect you just the same.”

“I can’t wait to give you my October cold,” Doris muttered, glaring. She hunched forward, sinking further into her coat.

“Ah, if it isn’t Zoe!” Angie’s voice was sickly sweet. “Come in, darling. Let me see you! Can you curtsy, please? Good. That’s good. You’re the perfect little girl. And all in pink too. Your sister has on the same dress?”

“Yes, Aunt Angie. Hers is blue.”

In the hallway, Madeleine chanted. Her words were low enough that only I could hear them. I couldn’t pick out the words.

Doris smiled. “Where is Madeleine, dear? It’s not right for twins to be separated.”

“I think she was fetching you a gift.” I grinned. “Thank you for the dresses, Aunt Angie, Aunt Doris. We really like them.”

Madeleine and I had spent the morning finding reasons to hate them: we had settled on fifteen thus far.

From behind me, there was a pop.

“I say, what was that noise?” Angie sat up.

“Oh, stop it, you ninny. There’s nothing there.”

“But, Doris, it could be robbers!” Angie wrung her hands.

“I say poo to that! It’s broad daylight.”

“But you heard what happened to Mr. Williams.”

“Never mind Mr. Williams!” Doris jumped up, shrieking. “Look at you!”

Angie was as flat as a piece of paper, yet all of her texture remained. “What, me? Are you sure you’re not insulting yourself in a mirror again? Look at yourself!”

Doris screamed. She was flatter than Angie. The pair became papery. They shrank, until they were of a size with the poisoned daisy. They fluttered to the ground. Lying flat on their backs, they bickered in tinny voices.

“This is your fault!”

“My fault?”

“It’s that dratted smoking you do!”

“I’d like to see where it says nicotine shrinks people!”

“You were into the spells again!”

Mr. Bumbles, a cat whose waist exceeded that of a barrel, ambled up to the paper figures. The clumps of orange fur only exaggerated his appearance: he batted at the shapes. The Evil Twins screamed.

I scooped them up.

Madeleine opened the book, and I dropped them: their screams were cut off as the book was slammed shut.

I sighed. “They give twins a bad name.”

Madeleine’s sigh was identical to mine. “You don’t think we’ll be like them when we get older?”

“Well, they were also witches...”

We ran up to our bedroom. My side was pink, while Madeleine’s was blue. She squeezed the tome between two Harry Potter novels.

“What are you doing?” I crossed my arms. “We have to change them back!”

“As if!” Madeleine smirked. “Come on. I don’t think they have to eat or anything while they’re in there. They’re probably not even conscious anymore.”

“But the police...they’ll look for them. People will notice they’re missing. Heck, what if we got sent to new homes and they separated us? What if we got taken to an interrogation room?”

Madeleine groaned. “We’ll never be able to cast spells again! They’ll lock us up!”

“I think I’d cry if I had to go to court!”

Glowering, Madeleine took the book out. She set the paper figures on the bed—they were motionless, perfect paper cut outs—before flipping through the book. I leaned over her shoulder. We went through each spell. We went through each spell a second time. On the third flip through, our eyes met.

“Um...”

“There has to be!”

“Well, it’s not in here.”

I took the book from her. I pivoted to face the Evil Twins, mouth dry. I read from the book: “‘Flower pretty, flower bright. Grow so beautiful, with colours of a kite’!”

The papers quivered. With twin pops, they became pansies. They were flattened, however, as though they had been pressed.

“Stop it! You’re just piling more magic on! Now we have to find two reversal spells!”

“This...could be bad.”

“Well, there’s nothing for it.” Madeleine tore clothes from her closet, shoving them into her backpack. I copied her.

“Where are we going?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We have to find another wizard. An expert.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Weird stuff happens to him all the time? Our aunts keep talking about him?”

“Mr. Williams!”

Madeleine shoulder her pack. “If anyone can fix them, it’s him.”

I slid my arms through both straps. “But what happens when they ground us?”

Madeleine smirked. “Maybe they won't. Not if Mr. Williams helps us out.”