The Cursed First Term of Zelda Stitch. Bad Teacher. Worse Witch.

by Nicki Greenberg

  The most amazing thing is that although I got a fright, this time I didn’t think I was literally going to die. Which is how I would usually feel if a spider leapt out at me from a rolled-down blind.

  So, all in all, I’m feeling on top of the world. I’ve defeated the spider, and I’ve won over the class with my new dog. Just imagine what Barnaby would say if he found out! Ha ha! I’ll have to think up some more Pom Pom stories for next week. But first I need to attempt a tidy spell before Mother gets here. The entire place is strewn with shredded homework and cat hair.

  Saturday 15 February

  Mother arrived this morning carrying a suitcase in one hand and a broomstick in the other! I had to hustle her into the apartment before any of the neighbours saw her. I couldn’t believe she had brought it here on the train. She just laughed and said, ‘It isn’t a crime to carry a broom, you know.’ Then she looked around my apartment, wrinkled her nose, and added: ‘Or to use one occasionally’. Needless to say, my attempts at a tidy spell yesterday were a total failure.

  The minute Mother sat down on the couch, Barnaby leapt into her lap, all purrs and snuggles. What a little toady.

  I was determined not to let the two of them spoil my good mood, so I asked Mother about her Cauldron Club. And what a surprise that turned out to be. It is a group of witches who meet at one another’s houses every month on the Dark of the Moon to exchange spells and cook up a cauldron together. I didn’t think anyone used a cauldron anymore.

  But Mother said, ‘You should really keep up, Grizelda. The Old Ways are very much back in fashion now. In fact, your friend Amanita joined us last month.’!!!!!!!!! Can you believe it??? Amanita, stirring up a stinking cauldron brew??? Amanita doesn’t even cook food in case she chips her nail polish!

  And there’s more. Apparently Amanita is also ‘quite the daredevil on a broomstick’. I nearly fell off the couch. Amanita on a broomstick! In her designer dresses and towering heels! And in public view!

  I said, ‘You don’t seriously get onto your broomsticks in front of everyone?’ And Mother said that at her age she could dance the hokey-pokey in the nude down High Street and nobody would even notice; it was one of the benefits of getting old. Then she told me not to be such a little worry-wart, because they only do it on moonless nights anyway.

  She invited Barnaby and me to join them, but I said I had lots of things to do at home, and that Barnaby usually had his own plans for Saturday night. The result was that I stayed in and watched telly by myself while Mother and Barnaby went out together.

  I’m completely boggled by the thought of Amanita being in this Cauldron Club. I wonder if Briony and Jessamyn know?

  PS – Mother asked me what I had done with her crystal ball. I rolled my eyes in Barnaby’s direction as if he was to blame, which isn’t technically lying, but – well, all right, it is lying. Mother would have gone berserk if she knew I’d thrown it out. But Barnaby got an indulgent smile and a scratch behind the ears for his ‘crime’. Talk about unfair.

  Sunday 16 February

  I found Mother and Barnaby snoring on the couch together this morning. Mother’s dress was draped over a chair, and I noticed it had splotches of what must have been cauldron brew all down the front. Ew. I’m not proud of myself for doing this, but I went into the kitchen and made a racket banging and crashing the pots and pans while washing up last night’s dishes. I know it wasn’t a very grown-up thing to do, but I felt grumpy with both of them.

  I saw Mother off at lunchtime and spent the afternoon on the balcony drinking tea and jotting down ideas for Pom Pom stories to tell the class. Barnaby stretched out in the sun next to me and actually behaved civilly for a change. If only he knew what I was writing! I must say, I really enjoyed it. I’ve never thought of myself as much of a writer, but today I feel like I have quite the knack. Ha ha – perhaps I’ll be more famous than Jessamyn one day!

  Monday 17 February

  Barnaby ate all the leftover pasta I’d been saving for lunch, so I was stuck with a sandwich today. YUCK. I still can’t enjoy sandwiches, thanks to all those years of choking down the vile surprises that Mother used to put in my school lunches. One bite, and I’m back in the playground with the taste of cold pressed newt in my mouth and the stomach-turning squish-crunch of jelly and bones between my teeth, hoping desperately that none of my Ordinary classmates will get a whiff of my weird, witchy food.

  I tried not to grimace like a Halloween pumpkin while I ate my (very Ordinary) cheese and tomato sandwich, sitting on my own in the staff room. Nobody else invited me to join them at their table. Sigh. I wonder what Ben does at lunchtime? I haven’t seen him in the staff room at all. I haven’t seen Principal Biggins there either – or anywhere else, for that matter. He hasn’t even appeared at a single assembly so far (lucky guy – I wish I could skip those). I know he’s at school, though, because his car (a sporty blue one with his initials on the numberplate) is in the parking spot marked ‘PRINCIPAL’. Definitely weird.

  At least the classroom is friendlier than the staff room. My Pom Pom story today was a hit. I told them about Pom Pom crashing a birthday party in the park. While the guests are busy watching the magician do his tricks, Pom Pom discovers the delights of party food and, overcome by sugar, ends up rolling around ecstatically in the tray of fairy bread. For his grand finale, a rainbow-streaked and butter-smeared Pom Pom bursts joyously out of the magician’s top hat, which is a surprise for children and magician alike.

  The class loved it! I didn’t tell them that in real life that poor magician doesn’t do parties at our local park any more. Not since Barnaby pounced out of a tree and ate his trained dove.

  Feeling inspired by my storytelling success, I bought another notebook on the way home to write my Pom Pom stories in. I’ll try to think of a new one each night.

  Tuesday 18 February

  I completely forgot that we had school photos today! Aargh! I only realised when I got to school and saw all the girls with their hair specially braided and ribboned –except for Zinnia, who had tied her hair in bunches sticking out in all directions. My own hair could have done with a wash. This turned out to be the least of my problems, although it will now be preserved forever, along with my crazed expression, in the group photo.

  The whole thing started when I was glancing along the rows of heads all bent attentively over their work, and saw that Blake was scratching furiously at his scalp. I sauntered over to have a look, and realised straight away that he had another full-blown lice party raging in his hair!

  Poor Blake! If he were sent home again, he’d miss out on his school photos, and get another dose of humiliation to take with him. I had to do something. Well, I suppose I didn’t have to. I could have just ignored it, and hoped that nobody else noticed. But the thought of an infestation spreading through the class – and into my hair again – was just too horrible. So I did the thing I had sworn I would never do. I asked Blake to come and help me get some folders from the supplies cupboard, and once we were there, I quickly zapped his head with Briony’s lice-killing spell. Amazingly, it worked! Right on the first go, the little critters started dropping out of his hair and onto the carpet. Maybe my powers really are improving.

  Now that I think about it, though, it was a stupidly reckless thing to do. What if the spell had gone wrong? Made more lice? Or turned Blake into, I don’t know, a giant louse or something??

  Anyway, thank all the Witching Stars, nothing terrible happened. But Blake definitely felt something. He looked up at me just as my fingers stopped fluttering, and my heart nearly stopped. I quickly pretended to be busy rummaging in the cupboard, but I was so rattled I almost forgot what I was supposed to be looking for. And then, when I closed the cupboard door, I practically collided with Eleanor, who was standing right behind it! She had come out to ask if I could bring in another exercise book for her reading journal, as hers was already full (after only two weeks!). I don’t think she saw me throwing the spell, but it was definitely way too clo
se.

  I wasn’t exactly at my best when I got back to class. And the first thing I saw when I walked in was that Zac had a black eye! I’d left the class unsupervised for two minutes, and there’d been some sort of incident. I was about to tumble into a panic when I saw the giggles spreading through the room. And – surprise, surprise – the nudges and glances all led to Zinnia.

  She was hiding a fistful of my whiteboard markers behind her back and looking very pleased with herself. She’d done quite an expert job, really; the blue, black and red ink had combined to produce a very lifelike bruise.

  I sent Zac to the bathrooms to wash his face, but he did a hopeless job and still looked like someone had punched him.

  We then had to rush for our turn with the photographer, who said he’d never seen such genuine grins in a class photo. Every face except mine, that is. Not sure whether I was making a startled possum face or a furious death stare, but I know I wasn’t smiling.

  I don’t know how Amanita and Briony do it, mixing work and magic. Especially Briony. Being a dentist and drilling about in people’s mouths would be nerve-wracking enough, without also having to worry about getting caught spinning spells. Although Briony doesn’t mess them up like I do. In any case, I will certainly not be trying anything like that again.

  Wednesday 19 February

  Brilliant discovery! I was talking with Ben in the library, and asked him how come I never see him in the staff room at lunchtime. Turns out the library has its own office and lunch room out the back! Ben and a few of the other teachers hang out there and take turns supervising the library. And he asked me if I wanted to join their roster! Yippee!

  I was so pleased with this development that I barely flinched when the rubber spider fell off the top of the door and onto my hair as I came into the classroom. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. I jumped, and I did give a bit of a squeal, much to the class’s amusement. But I’m definitely getting braver.

  Then I had a brainwave: I suggested that we give the little beastie a name, since he seems to have become the class mascot. They voted to call him Jeremy. Jeremy sat on the edge of my desk until PE, after which he mysteriously disappeared. I still don’t know which of the children has been planting him around the classroom, but I suspect they’re probably all in on it together by now.

  After school we had a meeting about the Fair, which is only a month away. Apparently it is the biggest event of the school year, and, as MM reminded us at least three times, it is our opportunity to show the community what an ‘outstanding’ school we are. The Fair Committee has decided that this year all the teachers will dress up as book characters on the day. Hmm. No idea who I’ll go as.

  I splashed out on Thai takeaway tonight, thinking it might brighten Barnaby up a bit. But he refused to eat any of it, even the prawn pad thai. He just stalked off into the bedroom like I’d insulted him with a tin of Ocean Surprise. Well, it’s his loss. Now I have lots of lovely leftovers to take for lunch tomorrow. Which reminds me, today’s Pom Pom story was based on the time Barnaby ate an entire tub of extra-hot red duck curry and couldn’t stop sneezing. I changed the ending, though – Pom Pom would never do anything so gross as deliberately vomiting into my shoes.

  Thursday 20 February

  I thought I was being a good sport with the Jeremy thing. But now I wonder if I’ve been too soft. Or, as Barnaby says, too much of a stupid pushover. Today I found an actual, live toad in the classroom. A big, wet, brown, knobbly one, squatting right in the middle of the papier mâché Pond Life display. I couldn’t help it – I screamed. Not a ‘Whoops, there goes Jeremy!’ scream, but a top-volume shriek, with a bonus stream of really inappropriate language thrown in. Out of many possible contenders, it was probably my most undignified teaching moment so far.

  I looked at the bloated, pulsating thing, and for a sickening moment I thought that maybe I had somehow made it appear. But that’s impossible. Animal transformations are totally out of my league. I couldn’t have produced a living, breathing toad without even trying, could I? Which means that someone in the class must have put it there. I yelled at everyone to get back into their seats, and glared into their faces one by one, looking for any sign of guilt. Nothing. Or, nothing that I could see, anyway. Even Zinnia looked genuinely bewildered. Maybe she was disappointed that she hadn’t thought of it first.

  I followed this up with my second-most undignified teaching moment: being urinated on by an unhappy toad. I tried to coax the slimy thing into a cardboard box without touching it, but it wouldn’t budge, and eventually I had to pick it up. Ugghhhh – it was like holding a cold, palpitating bag of muscly jelly (‘Don’t be such an Ordinary, Grizelda! I used to let a whole family of toads sleep on my pillow!’ etc etc). And then I felt a gush of toad-water all down my wrist. Obviously the class found this hilarious.

  What do you do with a toad?? I dropped it off by the river after school, and cursed my class all the way home. Lucky for them my curses don’t actually work.

  Friday 21 February, 4.30pm

  HELP!!!

  Eleanor’s parents want to have a meeting with the principal and me next Tuesday after school! The principal! I haven’t even laid eyes on him yet! And now I have to go to a meeting with him and Professor ‘Know-More-Than-All-The-Teachers-Put-Together’. What do the Know-Mores know about me???

  I tried to look cool and nonchalant, but was obviously quivering with dread when I asked MM what the meeting was about. She gave me a tight smile and said, ‘They have some serious concerns,’ then flounced away. Everyone in the staff room sneaked little glances at me, like I must have messed up BIG TIME.

  Absolute nightmare. I knew it. I just knew Eleanor had guessed the truth. She’s been suspicious of me right from the start, and now she must have worked it out. I’m racking my brains to come up with some convincing excuses, but I don’t even know how much she’s discovered. Was it the correction spell? That’s just the kind of thing Eleanor would notice. Did she catch me zapping Blake? Or was it the toad (which couldn’t have been me. Could it?). What am I supposed to do??? I just rang Briony and called an emergency meeting of the gang tomorrow night. I really need help.

  Saturday 22 February

  I’ve wasted the entire day worrying. Barnaby is no help – he is completely indifferent to my suffering. And now he’s gone out, so I’m stuck here with no one to talk to at all. Desperate for seven o’clock to come so I can see the others and get some advice.

  Sunday 23 February

  I’m even more confused after talking to the gang than I was before. Met them at Pixies (ugh, I know, but I was outvoted three to one – even Briony wanted to go there!) and each of them had a different opinion about what I should do. I went to bed horribly muddled and have woken up feeling even worse. I’m thinking that perhaps I should write down each person’s advice so I can compare their suggestions properly, and then hopefully work out which one might get me out of this mess. So, here goes:

  Briony – Deny, deny, deny

  Briony said that I should absolutely, straight-out deny everything. No explanations, no excuses. Just deny it all. She says that if you do it with total confidence, it works like magic itself. Apparently Briony once got caught red-handed by one of her dental hygienists when she was doing a spell to fix a rotten tooth. When he asked what was going on with the green vapour and weird crackling noises, Briony looked him straight in the eye and laughed, like he’d just said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. And it worked. He actually apologised and said he must have been imagining things.

  Problem is, I don’t think the Know-Mores are the kind of people who ‘just imagine things’. And they might have actual evidence about me, in which case lying will only make things worse. Also, I am even more hopeless at telling lies than I am at spinning spells.

  Jessamyn – Take a stand

  Jessamyn said that this was the perfect opportunity for me to tell the principal the truth: to stand up and say, ‘Yes, I am a witch, and I am prou
d. And I can do my job as well as any Ordinary could, or even better.’

  I was utterly dumbfounded. Jessamyn has quite a nerve, telling me that I should stand up for witch-kind. She is the one who got famous writing books full of evil sorcerers, hags etc etc. I don’t recall ever seeing her flying the flag of witch pride all those times she’s been on TV.

  Plus, she has no idea what it’s like working in a school. Nobody wants a witch looking after their children. They’ve all read Hansel and Gretel (and probably stupid ElfinFire). They know all too well what we witches are up to: rubbing our warty hands together and licking our toothless gums as we prepare our cauldrons to boil up their kids for supper.

  For Goblin’s sake. Tell them I’m a witch! I’d be out of a job faster than you can say Toil and Trouble.

  Amanita – Totally stupid advice

  I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write down Amanita’s advice, except to get it off my chest. She said I should turn Eleanor into an earwig (as if I could, even if I wanted to), and serve her right for being such a little snitch. And if the principal fires me, then give him a dose of the same! Is this the sort of thing Amanita has learned going to Cauldron Club? No wonder witches have a bad name.

  Writing all this has only made me more miserable. I’m going back to bed with my emergency packet of double-cheese Tweezels.