DEAR CHESTER

Dear Chester,

My broom keeps veering into trees. Is it haunted, or am I just a terrible witch?

—Bruised and Bewildered

Chester says:

Let's rule out the impossible first.

It isn't haunted.

Magic is rarely the problem. The problem is usually the person holding the broom.

Practice somewhere with fewer trees. Preferably somewhere without witnesses.

Dear Chester,

Everyone in Whisper Grove seems to know my business before I do. How is that possible?

—New Neighbor

Chester says:

Because you live in a small town.

The birds are observant.

The squirrels have no sense of discretion.

Mrs. Hargrove notices everything.

And you announced your arrival by parking on the wrong side of the street.

Honestly, the mystery is how you thought your secrets would survive until lunch.

Dear Chester,

How do I know if I'm destined for greatness?

—Hopeful in Ohio

Chester says:

Do you nap eighteen hours a day?

Do people interrupt you while you're trying to nap?

Do you continue being magnificent anyway?

Congratulations. You possess at least one quality necessary for greatness.

The rest is mostly confidence.

And if confidence fails, stare silently until everyone assumes you know something they don't.