I look over at the door — bolted way up high. The witch’s eyesight is so bad that she might not see me tiptoe over and try to unlatch it. Right?

But I can’t reach the lock. If only I could get to a chair. But the only chair in the room is a rocking chair, which is probably not the sturdiest. Also, it currently has a witch sitting in it.

Hmm. What about the windows? Yes! The windows!

I tiptoe over to the closest window and see if I can open it. I do my best to try to lift one, but it doesn’t budge. At all. I try the others. None of them budge. Patty is not messing around. And while the outside is coated in candy, it seems like everything inside is normal house material.

And she’s not letting anything in or out of this cottage. Even air.

“Girlie!” Patty cries. “Isn’t it time for smoothie number two?”

Crumbs.

“Uh, yeah,” I say with a sigh. “I’m on it. Maybe I should add some tomatoes and corn to the next smoothie. Did you know those are good for your eyes, too?” We had a whole nutrition unit in school last month.

“The only thing good for your eyes is children,” Patty says flatly.

“That is so not true!” I say.

Many smoothies later, I’m cleaning out the blender when I hear Patty ask me, “Now how can I tell if the toxins are all out of his system?”

“I have to pee in a cup when I go to the doctor,” Jonah says. “I can try that.”

“That’s disgusting,” the witch says. “Give me your finger.”

“Huh?” Jonah asks. “You’re going to eat my finger?”

“No, I’m going to pinch it. To see if the toxins are out. Maybe it will be less puffy.”

Oh, no. I look over at my brother. In the original story, the witch makes Hansel stick out his finger to see if he’s fattening up. Gretel gives him a chicken bone to trick her, so it seems like he hasn’t gained any weight and therefore isn’t ready to be eaten.

But what’s going to happen now? The witch is trying to make Jonah leaner! Which means I have to do the opposite.

Jonah looks exactly the same as he did when we got here. I’m not sure how three smoothies will make someone’s fingers less meaty, but it was my idea so I don’t point out the problem.

“Stick your finger through the bars,” the witch orders Jonah.

Oh, no.

I need something that feels like a plump finger!

What do I have? Kale? Clearly no. A carrot? No. Too hard.

A fig?

Yes! A fig! I grab a fig from the fridge and run it over to my brother. I slip it between the bars and he sticks it back toward the witch.

“Here’s my finger,” he says.

She squeezes it. “How is that possible? Your finger is even juicier than it was before!”