Mayhem at Magic School

by George Ivanoff

  About the Book

  You are an ordinary kid – or so you think. Strange things start to happen. You make a rabbit appear from underneath your teacher’s hat. Then you dream about a mystical diamond and a mysterious old woman with long white hair.

  It turns out you have magical powers …

  DO YOU TRY TO KEEP YOUR TALENTS HIDDEN, OR DO YOU GO OFF TO MAGIC SCHOOL?

  YOU CHOOSE …

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  You Choose 2: Mayhem at Magic School

  About the Author

  More Books in the Series

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the book?

  For the real Grandma Gwen, Matriarch of the Coffee Clan – G.I.

  The ball freezes in mid-air, a centimetre from your nose.

  Your eyes are wide and disbelieving. It’s impossible! Moving objects don’t just freeze like that.

  You take a step back and the ball falls to the grass. Mitch, the boy who threw the ball, is staring at you, mouth hanging open. No one else has noticed.

  You run off before he can say anything.

  Heart thumping, you race across the schoolyard and around the back of the bike shed.

  What just happened? Did you somehow stop that ball from hitting you in the face?

  The bell rings, signalling the end of lunchtime.

  Your heart is still pounding and your hands are shaking. You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. Maybe it was your imagination? Maybe it didn’t really happen?

  If you decide it is your imagination, go to your next class. Go here.

  If you can’t ignore what happened, perhaps you should go home and tell your parents about it? Go here.

  As you head back to class, you keep telling yourself that it never happened. The ball didn’t freeze. It just fell short.

  You hurry to catch up with the other kids and head into Maths class.

  As your teacher – an odd man who wears a black hat to cover up his thinning hair – drones on about fractions or something equally as boring, you keep running the freezing-ball scenario through your mind. Suddenly you realise the teacher is asking you to solve the problem on the whiteboard. You don’t even know what the problem is!

  You wish something would distract his attention from you.

  The window bangs open and a gust of wind blows the hat from your teacher’s head. The astonished class watches as a rabbit jumps out of the hat. And another. And another. The room is soon full of hopping bunnies.

  Everyone is watching the rabbits … except Mitch. He’s staring straight at you.

  Your heart begins to pound again. Did you somehow do all this?

  Do you leave the class, right now, and go home? Go here.

  Or do you stay and hope it wasn’t you? Go here.

  You take a deep breath and calm yourself down. The rabbits hop out of the window and disappear into the bushes.

  Your teacher rubs his eyes and shakes his head.

  ‘I don’t think I’m feeling very well,’ he says, sitting down behind his desk. ‘You can spend the rest of this class getting started on your term Maths assignment.’

  You make it through the rest of the day without incident. You get on your bike after school and head home.

  As you’re riding through the park, Mitch passes you on his bike. He stops up ahead, right in the middle of the path, and gets off his bike. You screech to a halt in front of him. Sighing, you get off your bike.

  ‘Freak!’ he says, glaring at you. ‘I saw what you did with the ball. And I know you did that thing with the rabbits as well.’

  You deny it.

  ‘I don’t know how … but I know you did it.’

  Mitch keeps at you. You try to escape, but he grabs you and pulls you back. You knock his hand off and try to get onto your bike. He stops you.

  You get angry. You clench your fists.

  A branch falls from a nearby tree … right onto the bikes. The two of you have to jump out of the way to escape being crushed.

  A black crow suddenly swoops down and pecks at Mitch.

  While he’s trying to wave it away, you run off.

  Again, you can feel your heart thumping madly in your chest. Your hands are sweaty and shaking.

  Is Mitch right? Are you some kind of freak?

  You decide that you can’t go home. It will be better for everyone if you run away.

  Go here.

  You decide that you don’t want to give up your newfound powers. What if you could learn to use them properly? You tell your parents that you don’t want to see this therapist.

  ‘But you have to,’ says your father.

  ‘It will be better for you in the long run,’ says your mother.

  ‘You don’t know how dangerous these powers are,’ your dad adds.

  They continue trying to convince you – talking at you constantly, not letting you get a word in.

  You try to explain to them how you feel, but they just won’t listen. Until …

  You shout, ‘NO!’

  The windows in the lounge room shatter. The crystal vase bursts. The television screen explodes.

  Your parents stare at you, mouths hanging open. You run up to your room and lock the door.

  Maybe they are right? Maybe these powers are too dangerous? But should you see this therapist? Or perhaps running away would be the better option?

  If you decide to run away so that your parents won’t have to deal with your powers, quickly pack a bag and climb out the window. Go here.

  If you choose to visit the therapist, go here.

  You get your bike from the shed and ride straight home. You sit down on the sofa in the lounge room, planning to watch TV until your parents return from work.

  But you don’t switch it on. In your mind, seemingly out of nowhere, you see a glowing red jewel – like a crimson diamond radiating power.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ your mum asks. She is standing in the doorway staring at you.

  You glance at the clock. It’s been several hours since you got home. You shake your head, trying to clear it of the red-diamond image.

  Your dad finally arrives and you tell your parents what happened at school. Their eyes widen and they look at each other with concern.

  ‘We were afraid of this,’ says your mother. ‘This has happened before … to others in our family.’

  ‘But we can fix it,’ your dad blurts out. ‘There’s a special person.’

  ‘A therapist,’ says your mum.

  Your dad nods. ‘Yes. A therapist. He can make you normal.’

  Your mum whips out her mobile phone and steps into the next room. You hear her urgent, harsh whispers and then she’s back. ‘All set,’ she says. ‘He’ll see you tomorrow.’

  You suddenly wonder whether you really want to be ‘normal’.

  If you reckon life will be easier this way, then agree to see the therapist. Go here.

  If you think you might like to keep your newfound powers, go here.

  You wander the streets for hours, wondering what to do. Where will you go? Where will you sleep? How will you get food?

  You didn’t plan this out too well!

  Before you know it, night has fallen and a full moon has risen. In the distance you hear a clock chime twelve. Is it that late already?

  On the final chime, an image flashes into your mind – a large mansion. Somehow, you know that it’s nearby.

  You walk with purpose, your feet taking you where you need to go, as if on autopilot. Minutes later you are standing at the open gates to the mansion from your vision. It sits atop a gentle incline, nestled amongst trees and shrubs.


  Who lives there? Why have you come here? Is it some kind of trap? Or does this place hold your salvation?

  Suddenly, in your mind, you hear a voice calling your name … calling you in the opposite direction.

  If you decide to trust your vision and enter the mansion, go here.

  If you choose to listen to the voice in your mind, go here.

  That night you have strange dreams. A woman with long white hair beckons you. A man with dark eyes laughs at you. And a crimson jewel pulses with an inner power, glowing brighter and brighter until its radiance eclipses everything.

  You wake, suddenly, drenched in sweat.

  After breakfast, your mum drives you to see the therapist.

  The door opens as you approach and your mum encourages you in.

  The door slams shut behind you.

  Inside is a man behind a desk, and beside this is a couch.

  ‘Good morning,’ says the man, his voice as smooth as silk. ‘My name is Mr Crumble and I believe that I may be of some help.’

  He smiles and his dark eyes glint like obsidian volcanic rock. ‘Tell me what the problem is.’

  You explain to him what happened at school.

  ‘You are Enchanted. That means you have magic. It is a great power … but it will make you different. With it, you will never be normal. It is for powers such as these that witches were burned at the stake in years gone by.’

  You stare at him.

  ‘I can make you normal. I can take away your unwanted powers.’ He indicates the couch. ‘But I can only help you if you want me to. You must want to be normal.’

  You take a deep breath and lie on the couch. Mr Crumble comes to stand behind you.

  ‘Close your eyes and wish for normalcy. Crave the ordinary. Yearn for the mundane.’

  You close your eyes and see the red jewel … and wonder whether you really want to be normal. Your parents certainly want you to be. Should you let Mr Crumble take away your magic?

  If you decide to opt for normality, go here.

  If you think that you should stay as you are, go here.

  The voice in your mind is familiar and you feel that you can trust it. You turn away from the mansion and walk back the way you came.

  Minutes later, a strange woman runs towards you. She looks like an ageing hippie in her wispy blue dress and knitted purple shawl. Her hair is long, reaching down her back, and pure white.

  ‘I am your great-aunt Agnes,’ she says. ‘I am Enchanted. And I have come to save you from yourself!’

  You didn’t even know you had a great-aunt Agnes.

  She leads you down the street to her car and takes you home.

  On the drive, Aunt Agnes explains everything. Magical powers run in your family, but many years ago your mum and dad decided to give up their powers and become ordinary people. She explains that you do not have to. You can become part of the Enchanted community, just like her. If you choose to embrace your heritage, you could go to a special school where you can learn to control your powers.

  Your parents don’t want you to do this. They think that being different will only make your life difficult.

  But what do you think? Do you want to go to Magic School?

  Go here.

  You decide to trust your vision. You block the voice in your mind and walk up to the front door of the house.

  The door opens even before you knock. You step into the dimly lit entrance. There is an enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling and beyond it is a grand staircase leading up to the second floor.

  The door slams shut behind you and the foyer is filled with the sound of eerie organ music.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea?

  The light flickers and you notice that the chandelier has candles rather than globes. Suddenly, they are all extinguished.

  As the music reaches a crescendo, a blaze of light appears at the top of the staircase and turns into a tall, thin human form.

  The candles flicker and re-ignite.

  ‘It is always important to make a memorable entrance,’ says the man at the top of the stairs. ‘Remember that.’

  He is wearing a tuxedo and carrying a walking stick with a golden handle.

  ‘I am the Great Cha-Chang Ca-Chang!’

  Gold coins appear in the air around him, dropping and bouncing down the steps as he descends.

  You recognise him. He’s a world-famous stage magician. He’s always appearing on television chat shows and advertising a brand of kitchen knives (he uses them in the Knives of Death portion of his act).

  As he reaches the bottom step, he waves his walking stick. The coins disappear, the candles brighten and this odd man is now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

  ‘Chang Lee,’ he says, shaking your hand. ‘And I am Enchanted, just like you. But I’ve learned to control my powers and harness them into a practical, profit-making career. Who would guess that the renowned Master of Illusion, the Great Cha-Chang Ca-Chang, really has magical powers?’

  Chang Lee offers you an apprenticeship. You will become his assistant for his magic act … and he will teach you everything he knows.

  This seems likes the perfect way to deal with your newfound magical powers. You accept …

  And go on to a life of fame and fortune!

  ‘I cannot help you,’ says Mr Crumble, walking back to his desk with a sigh. ‘You are holding on to your power.’

  ‘STOP!’

  A strange woman bursts through the door. She looks like an ageing hippie in her wispy blue dress and knitted purple shawl. Her hair is long, reaching down her back, and pure white. She holds out her arm and her hair sweeps around her as if windblown.

  ‘By the powers of our ancient clan and their Enchanted ancestors, I bid thee cease and desist!’

  ‘Oh relax, Agnes,’ says Mr Crumble, sitting behind his desk. ‘I haven’t done anything. The child doesn’t want to let go.’

  ‘Ah!’ The woman’s hair settles around her shoulders as she smiles at you. ‘Bravo.’ She notices your mum peeking through the open door. ‘Time to go, I think, niece.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Agnes,’ your mum replies meekly.

  Niece? Aunt Agnes?

  ‘Yes.’ The woman looks back at you, as if expecting a fanfare. ‘I am your great-aunt Agnes. I am Enchanted. And I have come to save you from this wicked collector of other people’s powers.’

  ‘Oh, would you get off your high horse,’ sighs Mr Crumble. ‘I simply provide a service.’

  ‘Let us be away from this dismal place,’ says Aunt Agnes, sweeping from the room, dress and hair flowing behind her.

  On the drive home, Aunt Agnes explains everything. Magical powers run in your family, but many years ago your mum and dad decided to give up their powers and become ordinary people. She explains that you do not have to. You can become part of the Enchanted community, just like her. If you choose to embrace your heritage, you could go to a special school where you can learn to control your powers.

  But your parents don’t want you to. They think that being different will only make your life difficult.

  Do you take your great-aunt’s advice and attend Magic School? Go here.

  Or do you follow your parents’ advice and refuse? Go here.

  Yes. You decide that you really do want to be normal.

  ‘All done,’ says Mr Crumble.

  You open your eyes, surprised that there was nothing more to it.

  Mr Crumble is smiling broadly. ‘You had quite a lot of potential,’ he says. ‘Very tasty, indeed.’

  ‘STOP!’

  A strange woman bursts through the door. She looks like an ageing hippie in her wispy blue dress and knitted purple shawl. Her hair is long, reaching down her back, and pure white. She holds out her arm and her hair sweeps around her as if windblown.

  ‘By the powers of our ancient clan and their Enchanted ancestors, I bid thee cease and desist!’

  ‘Too late, Agnes,’ says Mr Crumble, sitting behind his desk. ‘His magic is a
ll mine now.’

  The woman’s hair settles around her shoulders and her face fills with sadness. Your mum peeks in through the doorway.

  ‘You were foolish to do this, niece,’ says the woman to your mum.

  Niece?

  ‘Yes, I am your great-aunt Agnes.’ The woman looks back at you dolefully. ‘I am Enchanted. But, unfortunately, you are no longer. There is nothing I can do.’

  The woman sweeps from the room, pushing past your mother.

  ‘Well, now,’ says Mr Crumble, pointing to the door. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got other appointments. Toodle-pip.’

  As your mum drives you back home, you wonder if you made the right decision. You feel that you may have given up something truly wonderful.

  But it’s too late. You have no magical powers … and never will.

  You decide to go to Magic School.

  ‘Excellent!’ says Aunt Agnes. ‘You’ll start on Monday. I’ll take you there.’

  As your aunt sweeps from the house, your parents tell you that they support the decision you’ve made. Even though you have chosen what they think will be a more difficult life, they will help you in any way they can.

  That night, you have strange dreams. You see a man as dark as midnight and a woman with fire in her eyes; a boy with hair covering one eye and a group of laughing kids. And a crimson jewel pulsing with blood-red power.

  You wake suddenly.

  You hear a clock strike midnight in the distance.

  You get out of bed and find yourself being drawn to the cellar.

  The cellar is full of broken, disused and forgotten things. Nestled behind the exercise bike, beside the pickle-making kit that’s never been opened, is a cardboard box. The name ‘Gwen’ is scribbled on the side. Grandma Gwen – your mum’s mum; your great-aunt Agnes’s sister. She died when you were very young.