by Natasha Lowe
“And I thought you might like to try out my walkie-talkies with me.” Peter pulled one of the handsets from his backpack and gave it to Cat. It had a little metal box attached to the middle with a great deal of rubber bands. “That’s the booster box I made,” Peter said. “To get better range.”
“Why aren’t you doing this with Adam?” Cat said suspiciously. Adam and Peter were in the science club together, and it had been Adam who had helped Peter with his asteroid calculations. “I’m sure Adam would love to play walkie-talkies with you.”
“Look, Mum thought you might have a hard time at school today, so I’m trying to be nice, that’s all.”
Cat examined the walkie-talkie. “You don’t need to be kind to me, Peter, just because Auntie Charlie says so.”
“You’re right, I don’t. So do you want to keep the walkie-talkie or not?”
“Thank you,” Cat said, managing a small smile. “They look fun. We can try them out after school.”
Peter demonstrated how the receiver worked, flipping the on-off switch and the button to press when you talked. It was only as they neared Potts Bottom Elementary that he brought up the subject of yesterday.
“So, that must have been pretty hilarious,” Peter said. “Seeing Maxine get hit in the face with an éclair! Your mum told my mum all about it.”
“I would have done it deliberately if I’d known how,” Cat muttered. “It was pretty funny though!” Keeping her voice low because she didn’t want Anika and Karen to hear, Cat whispered, “So you heard what Maxine said about my mother, then?”
“I did, but only because my mum wanted me to know the true story and not Maxine’s version.”
“Are you surprised?” Cat whispered.
“Not really. It was a long time ago, and Mum said she didn’t blame Auntie Poppy one bit for what happened.” Peter shrugged. “Don’t forget, I’ve grown up with your mother, Cat. She’s one of the nicest people I know, as well as being the best baker.”
“Except she’s not going to let me apply to Ruthersfield,” Cat said, embarrassed to hear her voice wobbling. “She even took the wand away so I can’t practice anymore.”
“Cat, I’m really sorry,” Peter said, and he did sound sorry. “I know how much you wanted this.”
Cat nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Look, I’ll ask my mum to talk to Auntie Poppy if you like. If anyone can convince her, my mum can.”
“Oh, would you?” Cat cried out, not even caring that Anika and Karen were staring at them. “That would be utterly brilliant!”
The Potts Bottom Elementary School was a new, airy building, full of windows and natural light. The old redbrick structure with its gloomy interior and cracked slate roof had been knocked down two years ago. When Cat walked in, most of the kids avoided talking to her or even looking at her, as if she had a strange, contagious disease. She was the only person left without a partner in science class, so she had to join Anika and Karen as a threesome. But every time her hand touched Karen’s, Karen pulled away quickly with a little gasp.
“Look, I don’t even have a wand on me,” Cat snapped at one point. “So you can relax, okay? I’m not going to put a hex on you.”
Karen and Anika had laughed nervously at this, but they both looked terrified. At lunchtime no one would sit at her table, and she couldn’t eat with Peter because he had raced off to science club. During recess Cat wandered around by herself, not knowing whom to talk to. It was a huge relief when the day finally ended.
“How was school?” Marie Claire asked when Cat got home. She had come in through the kitchen door so she wouldn’t have to see her mother in the bakery.
“About a zero,” Cat said, hugging Marie Claire and going straight upstairs to her room. She found her jacket nestled in a corner, and every few seconds it would puff up and down as if it were lightly breathing. Cat knew she should scrub the pen off her walls, but instead she ate three Twirlie bars and finished up her essay on Antonia Bigglesmith, wearing the furry pilot’s cap for inspiration as she wrote. She was just checking through her paper for spelling mistakes (which she would normally have asked her mother to do) when Peter’s voice came crackling out of her backpack. “Cat Campbell, come in. Do you read me, Cat Campbell?”
Cat pulled out the walkie-talkie and pressed the green talk button. “I can hear you, Peter Parker. Loud and clear! Wow, these work really well!”
“Mission accomplished on my end,” Peter said. “Just wanted to let you know.”
“Peter, please talk in English. We’re not spies, okay? What mission are you talking about?”
“I spoke to my mum and she’s on her way over to see your mum right now.”
“What did she say?” Cat asked, pulling off the cap and scratching her head. “Gosh, I’m so nervous, Peter!”
“Let me put it this way: She’s in one of her determined moods!”
Cat had to smile at this because Auntie Charlie was the most determined person she knew. Not that you would ever guess this if you saw her. She was the same height as Cat, with frizzy blond hair and a wide, gap-toothed smile. She had freckles all over her face, and even though she was thirty-six years old, she often got mistaken for a schoolkid.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Cat said, wondering how she was going to survive the wait.
There was only one thing to do when Cat felt this nervous. She curled up on the floor of her cupboard, taking her jacket in with her for company. It was soft and cuddly, and the gentle puffing movements made it feel more like a pet than a coat. Snuggled underneath it, Cat pulled the cupboard door almost shut, leaving a small opening to let in a little light and fresh air. She had no idea how long she’d been in there, but it felt like hours when Cat heard her mother’s voice.
“Cat, where are you?” Poppy said.
Peeping through the crack, Cat could see her mother looking around the room. “Mamma?” Cat pushed open the cupboard door.
“What on earth are you doing in there?”
“Hiding. Peter told me Auntie Charlie was coming to see you.”
“Ahhh!” Poppy walked over to the cupboard and sat down on the floor. “So he told you she was going to try to change my mind, did he?”
Cat nodded, crunching up her hands and pressing her knuckles into her cheekbones.
“And you’re wondering if I’m going to let you apply to Ruthersfield, are you?”
Cat nodded again, holding her breath.
“Well, Marie Claire pointed out that I was behaving just like my mother used to. But it took Auntie Charlie to convince me, which of course she did! So I’ll call them tomorrow,” Poppy said, putting Cat out of her misery. “There are no guarantees though,” Poppy added as Cat screamed and rolled out of the cupboard into her mother’s lap. “They don’t take many girls your age. There are only a few places for Late Bloomers.”
“I don’t care, Mamma. You’re the best!”
Poppy smiled, putting her arms around Cat’s waist. “Charlie made me realize that I’ve got to let you apply because this is what you want. It’s your dream, Cat, and however hard it is for me, I’m not going to stand in your way.”
“Oh, Mamma, I love you, I love Auntie Charlie, I love everyone,” Cat cried. “This is the happiest moment in my entire life so far. I get to try out for Ruthersfield!”
“But no more attempting spells until your interview,” Poppy said. “Magic really can be dangerous, Cat, without proper supervision.”
“Dad would be so happy, wouldn’t he, Mamma?”
“Knowing your father, I believe he would be.”
“I told him already,” Cat confessed. “I wrote him a letter after I found out I was magic.”
“Well, you know he’ll come home when he can, then,” Poppy said. “Now, how about you bring a bucket of hot soapy water up here and scrub those walls clean. Not sure how you’re going to manage the ceiling though,” she added, tilting her head back. “Didn’t think I noticed that, did you?”
After her mother left,
Cat picked up the walkie-talkie. “Peter Parker, Peter Parker, come in,” she whispered, pressing the talk button. “Are you there, Peter Parker? Come in.”
There was a loud crackling, and then Peter’s voice came over the airwaves. “I hear you, Cat Campbell. What’s the news?”
“News is good, Peter Parker,” Cat said. She smiled at her handset. “News is really, really good.”
“I worked out your odds,” Peter told her. “You have about a one in eight hundred chance of getting in.”
“Thanks, Peter. That makes me feel really confident!” Cat said, but not even terrible odds could dampen her mood. “And judging by your asteroid calculations, I’m not exactly worried.”
“They have twelve places for the Late Bloomer class,” Peter explained, sounding as if he were right there in the room with her. “And going by last year’s numbers, two thousand and nineteen girls applied. So if you factor in the variables, like genetic strength from prior generations, strength of magic shown, et cetera, your odds come out to about one in eight hundred.”
“Well, that’s not so bad,” Cat said hopefully. Now that she had her mother’s support, Cat was certain she could conquer any challenge. And sitting still in her bedroom, she could almost feel her magic fizzing quietly inside her.
Chapter Nine
* * *
An Interview at Ruthersfield
THE MORNING OF HER RUTHERSFIELD interview, Cat was too excited to eat breakfast. She skipped around the kitchen, glancing at the clock every few seconds and polishing the magic wand, which her mother had given back to her. “Is it time to go yet? I don’t want to be late.”
“You have a whole hour before you need to leave!” Poppy said. “Now, can you please sit still, Cat, because you’re making me dizzy.”
This was an impossible task, and Cat danced about until Marie Claire said, “All right, Cat. Let’s go. I’m a slow walker. It will take us a while to get there.”
“You look very smart,” Poppy said, straightening her daughter’s collar.
“I’ve got purple and gold socks on.” Cat stuck out a leg. “Ruthersfield colors! Oh, I do hope they know how much I want to go.”
“That will come across, I promise!” Poppy reassured her.
“I wish Dad was here for my interview. Don’t you miss him too?”
“Every single day. But I keep reminding myself how happy he is. And I knew when I married him he’d be gone a lot.”
“Then I wish you could take me to Ruthersfield,” Cat said. “It seems so unfair. They won’t let you bring your own daughter along to an interview.”
Poppy turned away. She opened the fridge and closed it without removing anything. “I did ask, Cat, but Ms. Roach was firm. They have very strict rules for witches at the academy, and when I was expelled it was made quite clear to me that I’m not to step foot on Ruthersfield property ever again.”
“But that was twenty-five years ago, Mamma.”
“Twenty-seven,” Poppy said. “But those are the rules, and we have to accept them.”
“Well, I say it’s stupid,” Cat muttered.
“Yes, but I get the great pleasure of taking you,” Marie Claire chimed in, slipping on her coat. Her fingers were often stiff in the mornings, and she struggled to do up her buttons. “I am looking forward to seeing inside the academy,” she added, glancing over at Poppy. “It has always intrigued me, wanting to know what goes on in there.”
“Me too,” Cat agreed. She hugged her mother goodbye. “Wish me luck, Mamma.”
“Luck,” Poppy said, kissing the tip of her daughter’s nose. “Just remember, Cat, Ruthersfield is intensely competitive. Don’t be sad if this doesn’t work out.”
“And don’t be sad if it does,” Cat said.
Ruthersfield Academy was an imposing stone building that had always reminded Cat of a castle. She walked slowly up the wide stone steps, matching her pace to Marie Claire’s. A rope bellpull dangled outside the front door, and Cat tugged on it, her stomach fluttering with nerves. After a few moments the double doors opened and a witch in a long purple cloak with gold braided trim stood there, her frizzy gray hair puffing out around her head like a mushroom cap. There was a rather awkward silence as the woman studied them.
“Hello,” Cat said at last. “I’m Cat, I mean Catherine, Catherine Campbell.” She stuck out her hand, wishing it wasn’t so damp. “I’ve come for an interview.”
“We are expected,” Marie Claire added in her soft French accent.
“Ahhh.” The woman held up a pair of glasses that were hanging on a chain around her neck and peered at Cat through them. “So you are Catherine Campbell.” From the way she said this, Cat got the feeling that being Catherine Campbell wasn’t exactly a positive thing.
“I am.” Cat stood up straight. “And I’m really excited to be here. I’m a Late Bloomer.”
“Well, you’d better come in,” the woman said. “I’m Ms. Weedle, the spells and charms teacher here at Ruthersfield.” She stared at Cat a few seconds longer before finally stepping aside. “Follow me, please. I’ll take you straight to Ms. Roach. And do not open any doors or wander off. Stay right behind me.”
Cat helped Marie Claire hobble inside. “It’s so grand,” Marie Claire murmured, looking around the entry hall.
“Look.” Cat pointed to a crest hanging on the wall above the massive doors. It was the famous Ruthersfield crest, two crossed broomsticks over a cauldron. Underneath in cursive was written “Kibet fallow da.” “I know what that means,” Cat whispered. “Follow your passion! I read all about it in Mamma’s old History of Magic book.”
Ms. Weedle’s face seemed to tighten and her lips grew thin. “Come along,” she instructed, leading the way down a long corridor.
Poor Marie Claire had trouble keeping up. Her ankle was swollen this morning, and she limped behind slowly. “Could we slow down, please?” Cat called out. “Marie Claire’s foot is hurting her.”
Ms. Weedle gave a brisk nod and abruptly slowed her pace, which Cat was glad about because it meant she could look around. One of the classroom doors was open, and Cat peeked inside, seeing rows and rows of girls waving magic wands about and chanting. They passed what looked like a chemistry lab, except clouds of purple smoke were billowing out of mini cauldrons and a number of toads were hopping around the room.
“Gosh, I love this place,” Cat whispered to Marie Claire. “I just love everything about it.”
“Oh, step close to the wall,” Ms. Weedle said, speaking over her shoulder. “Here comes a beginner flying class.” Cat stopped walking as a line of girls in their purple Ruthersfield uniforms wobbled by on broomsticks. An elegant young teacher led them, her long blond hair coiled into a twist, waving blood red nails in the air. “Stomachs in, shoulders back, girls. Good flying posture is essential.” She glanced down the row of girls, like a competent mother duck. “Belinda, you are riding like a sack of potatoes.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Dancer,” a girl in the middle said, gripping her broomstick for dear life. “I’m so scared I’m going to fall.”
“You are two feet off the ground, Belinda. How on earth are you going to manage outside?”
As Cat watched them fly past, she felt an ache in her chest, wanting so much to join in. Oh, she would do anything to be swooping along behind those girls right now.
“Cat.” Marie Claire touched Cat’s arm lightly. “We must keep going.”
Snapping out of her daydream, Cat followed Ms. Weedle, who kept glancing back at her, as if she might run off or do something unpredictable. The spells and charms teacher stopped in front of a padded, green leather door with a big brass knocker. “We’re here,” she said, sounding relieved. Ms. Weedle knocked once and turned the handle, ushering Marie Claire and Cat inside. A woman stood on a stepladder, filing purple folders of paperwork into a bookcase. She looked down at them, and Ms. Weedle said, “Could you tell Ms. Roach Catherine Campbell is here for her interview, please?”
“She’s expecting
you,” the woman said, waving her free hand across the room to another door. “Go right on in.”
Ms. Roach, the headmistress of Ruthersfield Academy, sat behind a huge walnut desk. She stood up as they came in. Cat tried to swallow down her nerves. A tall, thin woman with short gray hair and sharp blue eyes, Ms. Roach was an imposing figure. “Catherine Campbell,” she said. “This is quite a surprise.”
“A pleasant one, I hope,” Marie Claire added in her gentle voice. “Cat is excited to be here.”
“Is she now?” Ms. Roach stared so hard at Cat, Cat felt her face prickle with heat. “I have to admit I was a little taken aback when your mother called up requesting an interview for you. She tells me you have inherited the family magic gene.”
Cat nodded, finding it difficult to speak with Ms. Roach studying her as if she were an insect under a microscope.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Ms. Roach called out, “Come in.” Turning her head, Cat saw Clara Bell and another teacher enter the room. Clara Bell gave Cat a warm smile, and Cat immediately began to relax. She mouthed back an excited Hello!
Ms. Roach cleared her throat. “This is Ms. Bell, coordinator of the Late Bloomer’s Program here at Ruthersfield, and Ms. Grendel, our magical management teacher. They are both on the committee for Late Bloomer applicants,” Ms. Roach explained. Marie Claire and Cat shook their hands. Ms. Grendel’s shake was brisk and businesslike but Clara Bell took Cat’s hand in both of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Just stay calm,” she whispered, leaning forward so Cat could smell the faint scent of violets. “You’ll be fine.”
The teachers sat down beside Ms. Roach, and the headmistress motioned for Cat and Marie Claire to take the chairs opposite her desk. “So tell me what happened,” Ms. Roach said to Cat. “How did this all begin?”
“Well . . .” Cat glanced at Clara Bell, who gave her an encouraging nod. “I was in my grandparents’ attic and I found my mum’s old novice wand.” She wished her heart would stop racing, but Ms. Roach was about the most intimidating person she had ever met. “I was really excited because I’ve always loved magic. I’ve wanted to be a witch my whole life.”