by Lori Woods
“Likewise,” I tell him as Red and I stand.
Outside in the hall, I turn to Red. “I see what you mean. It’s almost the difference between night and day. I don’t understand.”
“Nor do the rest of us. Except maybe he performed some sort of spell to become a different sort of person.”
“Well, it certainly is puzzling,” I say.
“Come on,” Red says, “the brewing class is upstairs.”
We climb the stairs to the second floor. In one hand, I carry Broom Hilda; in the other arm, Snowball, who snuggles tightly against me. I sense she’s feeling a little insecure.
“What is it, Snowball?” I ask.
“I’ve never been to school before.”
“It’ll be okay.”
She pressed tighter against me.
“The brewing room is straight ahead,” Red says.
We walk to the end of the hall. The door is open, and I see a very fat witch standing in front of the room. She looks to be in her late seventies. I wonder why she has this sort of body and look since it’s easy for most witches to make themselves appear however they want—and most of them have been very glamorous-looking.
The old witch is leafing through a book and doesn’t notice us.
“Ima.”
The old woman turns toward us. “Yes? Oh, good morning, Red.”
“Ima, I’d like you to meet Suzy Maycomber.”
“Ah yes, I’ve heard about the new Nightshade librarian.”
“Suzy, this is Ima Brewer.”
I do a double take.
The instructor laughs. “Yes, that’s my real name. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or my name influenced my choice of career.”
“Suzy has had little experience as a witch; she found out she had the powers only a few months ago. But we—her other friends and I—think she’s picked up enough so that she doesn’t need to go the whole way through the twelve years of school. However, there is one problem, which is why she’s enrolled in your class.”
“And what might that be?”
“She has great trouble with regular brewing spells.”
“I see,” Ms. Brewer answered, but clearly she didn’t see. “That seems…”
“A little strange?” Red asked.
“Since elementary brewing is not difficult.”
“You do remember her grandmother, Susana?”
“I certainly do. She was one of my best friends.”
“But terrible at casting brewing spells, right?” Red asked.
“She was one in a million—a Spell Master, which, of course, explains it.”
“Uh umm.” I clear my throat.
“Yes, my dear, what is it?” Ms. Brewer asks.
“I’m… I’m…”
Red rolls her eyes. “What she wants you to know is that she’s a Spell Master, too!”
“Indeed!” Ms. Brewer exclaims.
I feel my face flush, and I’m not sure why.
“If that’s the case,” Ms. Brewer says, “I envy you.”
Now I feel really embarrassed. “Thank you.”
“You have a very special talent,” the teacher says. “And I know it’s difficult for Spell Masters to learn established spells. Nevertheless…”
“You can teach her to do simple spells, right?” Red asks.
“I feel confident that you can learn at least the most elementary brewing spells. And we won’t expect much more.”
I chuckle. “Well, every brewing spell I’ve tried so far has ended in disaster—lots of smoke and then usually something totally unexpected. Like rattlesnakes instead of kittens.”
“Humph. And why would you want to make a kitten spell when you have me?” Snowball stiffens in my arms.
“Ah, and speaking of felines,” Ms. Brewer says. “This must be your familiar.”
“Her name is Snowball.”
“Black snow, eh? I like that!”
“I think it’s rather silly myself,” Snowball says.
“I didn’t know you didn’t like your name.”
“Well, I’ve got to get my classroom,” Red says. “I have a class to teach, too.”
“Take any seat you like,” Ms. Brewer tells me.
I choose one in the back of the room. Maybe that way I’ll call less attention to myself.
In ones and twos, the other students walk into the room. Since this is a remedial class, I wonder why all of them have to take it. Obviously, they’d failed the regular class.
One of the students, a boy who looks to be seventeen or eighteen, looks directly at me and continues to stare. I wonder why. He hesitates for a moment and then heads to the back of the room and sits next to me. At first, he stares straight ahead. Then he turns to me, his gaze scanning me from head to toe and back again. I’m very uncomfortable.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Matt. I’m a warlock.”
“Hi, Matt,” I tell him, though only because I think I should be polite. And of course he’s a warlock! Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. “My name is Suzy.”
He gives me a big smile. “I’m very, very pleased to meet you, Suzy.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Well, I think everyone is here by now,” Ms. Brewer says. “And I think you all know each other except for our new student. Her name is Suzy Maycomber, and she’s sitting in the back of the room next to Matt. Not only is Suzy a new student, she’s new at being a witch. Hence, she’s attending classes. I might add that Suzy is the librarian in Nightshade but is taking a year off to attend our school.”
I smile and wave to the other students.
“Give me a minute or two,” the teacher says, “to get things ready for our first experiment—an extraordinarily easy one to begin with. I chose it so Suzy wouldn’t worry about how difficult things will be and that she won’t measure up.” She begins to arrange small cauldrons around a large conference table. “When I’m finished, I’d like all of you to take chairs around the table. In the meantime, you can talk to each other—but softly please.”
There is a babble of voices. Then I distinctly hear a voice talking about the headmaster. It’s one of the witches. “I think he’s the most handsome warlock I’ve ever seen,” she says.
“Me too,” another voice pipes up. “Handsome, handsome, handsome.”
Several others agree.
Suddenly, a girl with very thick glasses stands and turns to the others. “He is not handsome. He’s ugly.”
“You can’t be serious,” one of the girls replies.
“Maybe you think I’m half blind because of my glasses, but I truly see things you don’t. I see the truth. The headmaster is a very ugly man. Period.”
The other girls gasp as if they can’t believe what they’re hearing.
“All right, class,” Ms. Brewer says, “we’re ready to start.”
She waits until everyone is seated in front of a cauldron.
“All right,” Ms. Brewer says. “Let’s start. What we’re going to do is change a bird’s egg—a robin’s egg, as it were—into a robin. Everyone ready.”
Matt turns to me. “This is an easy one. Something everyone learns in the first week of brewing class. Even I have no trouble with this.”
I’m unsure how to respond.
“In case you’re wondering,” Matt tells me, “I’m not dumb like you might think.”
“I didn’t think—” I start to say, but that’s exactly what I thought of the others.
“I was under a spell and couldn’t finish my brewing class. So I have to take it over.”
“Sorry,” I say
“Beside each cauldron you’ll find the proper ingredients. All you have to do is follow my directions. Everyone ready?” The teacher looks from one student to another.
Everyone seems intent on what she’s saying. “All right, the first ingredient is a cup of water. Not difficult, right?”
Everyone pours the water.
“Fine. Now, stir the ingredients together and say the magic words.
I’ll tell you what they are.” She pauses. “Now I know some of you are into animal rights. So when I say to drop a toad into the water, it’s a toy toad. Okay?”
“I was worried about this,” one of the girls says. “I can’t bear to hurt any living thing.”
“Don’t you eat?” someone whispers.
“Of course I eat! I’m a vegetarian. I can’t bear to hurt any animal life.”
“Students, students, behave yourselves or will I have to cast a good behavior spell.”
She frowns. “Now back to business.” She looks at a list in her hand. “Next comes a snake, again, a toy one.”
We all drop the snakes into our cauldrons. Everything seems to be going well. But I feel like I’m on pins and needles.
“Tongue of dog is next,” the teacher says. “But as you can see, these are tongues cut from old shoes. Pick them up, and drop them in.”
There were five or six more items on the list. As soon as we were all finished dropping them into the pot, Ms. Brewer spoke. “Okay, I’m going to give you the magic words. But instead of everyone saying the words at once, I’d like to go around the table.” She nods to one of the girls. “Lilly, you’ll be first.”
“Yes, Ms. Brewer,” A shy-looking girl answers.
“Okay, the magic words are: Zippity do dai, zippity aaa. Pocket full of barley, barn full of hay.” She glances at Lilly. “Do you have it?”
Lilly nods.
“Then go ahead. Drop your egg into the cauldron and say the words.”
Gingerly, Lilly places the egg in the cauldron. “Zippity do dai, zippity aaa. Pocket full of barley, barn full of hay.” Suddenly, a robin redbreast peeks over the rim of the cauldron and begins to sing.
“Very good, Lilly,” Ms. Brewer says.
“Now, Matt, how about you?”
She calls on others seated at the table. I’m seated near the end so I have more time to worry. I just know something will go wrong. Finally, it’s my turn.
I drop the light blue egg into the cauldron. I’m so nervous I can barely talk. “Zippity do dai” Whew, I can hardly get the words out. I take another breath. “Zippity aaa.” Again, I take a breath. Then as quickly as I can, I say the last words, “Pocket full of barley, barn full of hay.” My cauldron begins to foam and overflows. There’s foam all over the table. Oh, no, I think. Why does this always have to happen? Suddenly, a bird’s head—much larger than that of a robin—is above the cauldron. It’s a horrible bird, a cassowary. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. It’s a Southern Cassowary. It has dark feathers except for its flat-looking head, which has blue markings. The worst thing about this sort of bird is its spurs, which can rip into a human being and kill the person almost immediately. And it’s big and powerful—six feet tall and about a hundred and thirty pounds.
The bird steps from the cauldron and looks around, cocking its eyes at the students, at Ms. Brewer, and at me. Everyone screams and runs except for a few students who scoot under the table.
Broom Hilda leans against the chalkboard behind me.
“Get it, Broom Hilda,” I yell. “Get rid of it.”
Broom Hilda goes into immediate action, like an alligator on the attack, though much faster. She hits the bird on its side. It screams and hisses and then turns toward her. Quickly, she races up to the ceiling and dive-bombs the bird, smashing into its head with such force she upsets the table. The bird seems unfazed. It hops to the floor and turns to face Broom Hilda, a look of defiance on its face.
Suddenly, Broom Hilda begins to sweep it with her brush end toward a nearby window. It squawks and howls but can’t stop Broom Hilda’s attack. I rush to the window, throw it open, and duck behind the overturned table. Broom Hilda gives the bird a final whack, and it flies through the window and into the open sky.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Ms. Brewer gives me a dirty look. “Class is dismissed,” she says.
What a terrible beginning to my first day of class. Ms. Brewer will probably ban me from coming back, and all the other students will be angry with me. I slink out the door, Snowball beside me, and hurry to my next class. It’s with Red Sumac and has to do with flying and controlling a broom. Something easy, I think. I’m good with brooms, but only because I have a Salem broom.
As expected, the class goes very well. In fact, Red Sumac, who’s the teacher, asks me to demonstrate many of the things she mentions. I start to regain at least a little bit of confidence.
I agreed to meet Alfie at the restaurant on the corner for lunch. Even though I want to talk about my morning, he refuses to say a word before ordering his duck berry pie. Snowball, of course, can hardly wait to ask for unicorn milk. I settle for a nice grilled cheese sandwich.
“You should have seen what happened,” Snowball says to Alfie. “Suzy almost got everyone in class killed. Dead, not dead dead. She called up this horrible bird that wanted to slice us all open. Then Broom Hilda got rid of it for her.”
“That’s the short version,” I tell Alfie. “After that, I was almost ready to pack up everything and go back to Nightshade.” I glance into Alfie’s eyes. “How about you?”
“Watch!” he says as he waves his hands and says some nonsense words. Immediately, there’s a second duck berry pie sitting in front of him.”
“Neat, huh?” he says. “Now I’ll never have to wait to go to a restaurant. I can have duck berry pie whenever I like.”
“I’m glad your day was a success,” I tell him, feeling more discouraged and depressed than ever.
I have no more trouble the rest of the day. My favorite class is “Working with Your Familiar.” Snowball and I already have a good working arrangement. The only thing is her attitude, which could use a little adjusting. But I’m happy with her the way she is. Now all I have to worry about—at least for now—is facing Ms. Brewer again tomorrow.
CHAPTER 4
“I heard you excelled in Ima’s class,” Red says. “Made a mean and hungry big bird looking for a witch sandwich.”
“And it almost got a white witch sandwich if it wasn’t for Broom Hilda.” I shake my head. “I’m such a failure with the cauldron. Maybe cauldrons don’t like white witches?”
“That’s a possibility, although I’ve never come across such a thing. However, I do know that your grandmother, Susana, had a terrible time in brewer spell classes. She never conjured up a big bird, but I do remember a frog-like creature with teeth like a crocodile leaping out of her pot one time. She didn’t have a Salem broom to come to her defense.”
“What happened?”
“The instructor, a warlock, pulled out a wand and turned it into a tadpole, with teeth, swimming around in a little fish bowl,” Red paused to laugh. “Fearing what it would develop into, the warlock flushed it down the toilet.”
“Well, I do wish I would stop repeating my Granny Maycomber’s mistakes,” I say.
Red’s face wrinkles up as though she is thinking. “I seem to remember her saying she found a book titled Mastering the Cauldron for Dummies in the basement. She spent a lot of time going through all those books that the librarian banned to the basement.”
“Mastering the Cauldron for Dummies,” I repeat like a parrot, and not a very bright one at that.
Red holds up her hands. “Honest. That’s the name of the book and I’m not being accusatory.”
I decide to take her at face value. “Banned books? Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, the basement is full of them. It’s haunted, so no one goes down there anymore to read the racy stuff,” Red says.
“Well, I’m not afraid of ghosts anymore, thanks to Malcolm,” I say. “Although he does like to play practical jokes.”
Red smiles. “Glad you like the apartment I found for you.”
I give her a frown.
“Well, I didn’t have much of a budget to work with, and it is only a block from the Academy.”
“Okay, I like it—and Malcolm. Actually, it’s his wife who gives me the shivers each time I see
her. But more important, how do I get to the basement?”
“Through the broom closet in the janitor’s supply room,” Red says.
“Janitor? I’ve never seen a janitor working, even though everything is so clean.”
“That’s because he’s an old outcast vampire. A vampire hunter pulled his fangs. The Academy supplies him with blood plasma and everybody’s happy.”
Suddenly I think of Val and have a wish I could see him.
“What are you thinking? You look like you are in la-la land.”
“It’s not important.”
“Uh uh, I know that look. Someone’s making your heart go thump thump.”
“Another time I’ll tell you all about Val, but right now I want to visit the basement and look for that book you said helped Granny.”
“Okay, no pillow talk for now. You do know where the janitor’s supply room is, right?” Red asks.
“Yeah, I’ve seen the sign on the door.”
“Then off you go on a new adventure. In the meantime, I’ve got to get ready for my next class.”
“Let’s go,” I tell Snowball.
“To a dirty old basement? Some nerve!”
“Give me strength,” I mutter to myself as I head for the stairs with Broom Hilda tucked under my arm. Though she’s trotting along beside me, Snowball is swishing her tail back and forth in protest
I find the janitor’s supply room and as I enter, I glance up at the ceiling to see if there’s a bat hanging from it. Val had once told me that some vamps sleep in their bat form instead of in coffins. However, the old vampire must be old school since I don’t see a bat, but I do find a door that creaks when I open it. The sound unnerves me. It’s like I’m opening a coffin. I shrug as I switch on the light.
Gee, I hope the old vampire isn’t sleeping in the basement. Places like that are spooky enough without a vampire’s coffin. And I hope there are no rats. I hate the little beasts. I start down the squeaking stairs.
I’m not so sure Red was doing me a favor sending me here. Sometimes, I think she harbors a little resentment because I can fly better than she can.
I hear what sounds like a muffled scream. I stop to listen. I can’t tell where the sound is coming from. I wait a second or two to listen and then go on. Another scream—this one more piercing, more desperate than the first. I think it’s coming from the basement.