Help! I'm Trapped at Witch School

by Em Lynas

  “No,” says Ms Thorn. I suspect intelligent looks and helpful suggestions are not the key to Ms Thorn’s smile. I try once more, to confirm my suspicion.

  “With magic sticky tape?” I say.

  “No,” she says.

  I have confirmed it – intelligence has a negative effect. I cease and desist. She is such a tough audience! I act patience as Dominique rolls another chunk my way. Soon we all have enough to get started.

  Ms Thorn instructs us. “Unhook your spoons.” We obey.

  “Step one: You will choose enough granite to create a new block.”

  I ponder on how I should be acting as Ms Thorn tells us what to do. Observant? Obedient? Interested? I go with Fascinated.

  “Step three.”

  Dungpats! I’ve missed step two! What did she say for step two? She has her eyes crossed so I’m guessing – cross your eyes.

  “You will visualise the atoms coming together into a whole block of granite. Step four: You will aim your spoon and say this rhyme and only this rhyme. Granite separate, split and cracked, atoms pulling must attract. Granite broken, granite whole, I bind the atoms with control.”

  We all repeat the spell. She makes us say it again and again until she’s satisfied. She takes a step back. “Begin,” she says.

  This is my chance to impress her. So I move Plan Z up to Plan A and decide to Be More Dominique. But just for this task. I watch what Dominique does. She chooses three odd-shaped blocks of granite. I do the same. She inspects them, rearranges them. I do the same. The broken sides twinkle with tiny little pink and white twinkles, like tiny stars embedded in the rock. She aims her spoon at the stones and crosses her eyes. I start to do the same.

  But as I aim my spoon and cross my eyes I feel a pricking in my thumb. Oh, warty boils! Not now! I uncross my eyes. My thumbnail is growing! It’s twisting into a knot. Curling around itself. This is terrible timing!

  I wasn’t even stressed but now…

  I AM EXTREMELY STRESSED!

  Summary:

  I must not be stressed! I am panicking. I am panicking about being stressed which is increasing the stress! What if Ms Thorn sees? What if she says I can’t leave Toadspit Towers until I can control my thumb! All plans will have failed!

  I turn away. I must control the witchwood before it becomes a twig! Before it becomes a branch! I close my eyes, throw out the images of granite that have filled my zen space and visualise my thumb as I want it to be. I repeat my shrivelling rhyme under my breath. I mumble it, I think it, I imagine it and soon I feel painful pins and needles in my hand and my arm.

  I open my eyes.

  Success! My thumb is back to normal. And failure! Everyone has a shiny pink, white and grey granite block, except me. I still have a pile of rubble. A very small pile of rubble.

  Ms Thorn has a hint of a frown on her face and it’s directed at me.

  “I thought I had made myself clear,” she says. “There is to be NO creativity. NO inventiveness. NO original ideas. Whatever you were muttering was incorrect.”

  This is so unfair! I want to argue. I want to say, “But I just controlled the witchwood and stopped myself turning into a tree! You should be impressed!” But I don’t want her to know about my current thumb situation, so I bite the words back and I act sorry even though I am not sorry. It ac-chew-ally occurs to me that I do more acting in real life than I do on the stage!

  I act calm and say, “I am sorry I failed you, Ms Thorn. Please may I try again?”

  “You must,” says Ms Thorn, but before I can begin there’s a whoosh over my head and I duck, thinking the ceiling is ac-chew-ally falling down on our heads, as suggested earlier, and I’m about to be crushed. It isn’t. It’s Horatio gliding above me towards Ms Thorn. She holds her arm out and he lands. His talons press into the fabric of her red suit. She raises him to her ear and listens. She frowns. A proper one. This is not hint of a frown. It’s a both-eyebrows-down frown.

  “Ms Sage urgently requires my assistance,” she says. Horatio flies off. Fangus whooshes off her hat, spins into a charm and attaches himself to her bracelet. “You shall all remain here and complete your task. Dominique, you will take charge.”

  Dominique immediately sends a smirk in my direction. I ignore it.

  This is a DISASTER with dire consequences for my acting career! How can I train Ms Thorn in the art of smiling if she isn’t here? How can she bond with me emotionally if we are on opposite sides of the school? I have a solution. I shall offer my assistance.

  “Ms Thorn. I offer you my assistance in whatever task Ms Sage requires help with.”

  “That will not be necessary, Twinkle,” she says. There is an absence of Thank you for offering. She keeps on talking. “You will all mark the stones you have created with your initials. I shall test each block on my return. There shall be one tick for each successfully transformed stone. There shall be five ticks for the person who has created the most blocks. Comply and conform with my instructions. I will know if any other spell is used. Should you clear a way through, you will report to me immediately.”

  She stands in front of me. I look up. She looks down. “You will not enter the East Wing. You will not feel the need to explore.”

  I attempt to reassure her, maybe reassurance is the key to our emotional bonding. “Ms Thorn, I can assure you I have no interest in exploring the East Wing. I have absolutely no time for exploring. As you are aware, I have a performance to prepare for.” I add that as a reminder that she must keep her side of the deal. “We need to leave at one o’clock for the rehearsal and I really want you to enjoy tonight’s performance.”

  “I understand my commitment to you, Twinkle,” she says. “If you keep your side of the agreement, I shall keep mine.” Then she leaves. It’s a bit darker and spookier now that she’s taken her hat-light.

  Dominique takes charge.

  “You must all continue to work as hard as I,” she says. “Jess, you must work there.” She points in the direction of a big pile of rubble. “Shalini, you must work there.” She points to another next to it. “Twinkle, you will work there.” She points to a dark corner, away from everyone else. There is hardly any rubble. There is no opportunity to earn ticks. She waits for me to argue.

  I don’t because I have had another bad thought. What if Ms Thorn doesn’t come back in time? How will I know? I have no watch. No clock. No timer! I will have to work really fast and get out of here as soon as we are done. I will not wait for Ms Thorn to come back to me. I will go to her.

  “You all have to do what Dominique says,” says Arwen. “Dominique is in charge.”

  “What is it with bossy people?” says Jess. She puts her head on one side as if she is pondering. “Is there such a thing as a bossy gene? Were you both born with it or did it just come with practice?”

  I suspect the second. I also suspect they will report any lack of compliance to Ms Thorn so I act compliant.

  “Fairest Dominique and gentle Arwen, thou dost not need to be bossy. I am yours to command.” I’m not. “I am honoured to assist thee in the completion of this Toadspit Task.” I’m not. “Thou art both to be applauded for thy forceful attitudes.” They’re not.

  Dominique tsks again. Tsk. Jess and Shalini hide their laughter by turning away.

  I change my witchwood spoon into a broom and sweep the bits of granite into a pile. There’s barely enough for one block of stone but one tick is better than no ticks so I have a go. I change my spoon back to a spoon and quickly do steps one, two and three.

  The dark-grey granite pieces in my zen space light up from the inside with tiny little pink and white glitters, as if there’s a sparkler inside each piece. They change colour from dark to light grey as the sparkles reach the outside. The rough edges and broken corners join as if the sparkles are magnets dragging themselves together. The edges sharpen as if they’ve just been cut by a master stonemason. I set the stone with the right rhyme.

  I open my eyes. I have made an ac-chew-all block
of granite! I have an alternative to becoming a Toilet Trainer should my acting career tragically fail. I can be an architect.

  I turn back to Dominique. “Fairest Dominique, I need more chunks.”

  She’s aiming her spoon at a big chunk near the bottom of the blockage. This is NOT a good idea. I warn her.

  “Er, Dominique, I don’t think you should pull that one out.”

  “You may not tell I what to do,” says Dominique.

  “Yes, but, if you pull that one out then the ones above will—”

  The chunks of granite slide forward with a horrible crunching noise.

  “Fall!”

  Jess yells, “Dominique, you idiot!”

  The frozen waterfall of rock under the archway is now a tumbling waterfall of rock! A rolling, bouncing waterfall of granite. Dominique shrieks and Arwen screams as shards of stone and powdery dust fill the air and both girls disappear into the cloud.

  Jess and Shalini jump back towards me. The ceiling above us creaks. A shower of stones falls between us and Dominique and Arwen. The ceiling cracks and crumbles.

  “Look out!” cries Jess.

  Shalini shouts, “By the power of the witchwood, by the power of the spoon, I create a bubble with the writing of this—” Her spoon is knocked out of her hand. Jess catches it. I pull them back. Away from the danger. Into my corner.

  We’re swamped by a whooshing, billowing cloud of dust. Tiny pink shards of granite glitter in our hatlights. I pull my shirt up over my mouth and nose, like a mask. Jess and Shalini are coughing, bent double.

  The dust settles.

  The coughing stops.

  We are trapped.

  Summary:

  My life is a pile of dungpats.

  My life is a plague of warty boils.

  My life is A BUCKET OF STRESS!

  We’re trapped in the corner, side by side, backed against the wall with nowhere to go because there is rockfall from floor to ceiling. The stones shift and settle and we wait nervously for the rest of the ceiling to fall down on our heads. It doesn’t.

  “This is bad,” says Shalini in a tiny voice.

  “It could be worse,” says Jess. We jump as a rock shifts.

  “In what way could this be worse?” I say. “We’re totally trapped. Dominique and Arwen could be dead! And we could run out of air because there is hardly any air in this ridiculously small space that is very crowded and quite squashy and then we’ll be dead too!”

  “We have light,” says Jess. She shines her hat in my face to prove her point. “And we have magic. We just need to solve the problem. Think of a solution.” She’s looking at me as if I will be the one to come up with the solution.

  Shalini is also looking at me.

  “Aargh!” I say in response. “Why are you looking at me? I’m an actress, not a problem solver!”

  “Twink.” Jess is remarkably calm considering our situation. “You are what you are. It’s like Mam said when I left home: ‘Just be yourself, Jess. No matter who you are. Someone will like the you that is you.’”

  “That’s so lovely,” says Shalini.

  “It is,” I agree. “But how does it help us? How does it help us save Dominique and Arwen?” I am SO ANNOYED that I am having to ask that question. “How does it get us out of here?”

  “What spells do we know that can get us through tons of rock?” says Jess.

  “Without bringing down even more tons of rock,” adds Shalini.

  I wish she hadn’t said that because now I’m imagining more rock falling and being trapped in an even smaller space that gets smaller and smaller and smaller until I can’t breathe and … my thumb prickles. I hold it up. There’s a knot.

  “Uh-oh,” says Jess. “That’s not good. Make it stop.”

  “I can’t! I’m stressed!”

  “But it’ll fill the space and crush us!” says Jess. “It’ll be Death By Witchwood instead of Death By Granite! You have to shrink it.” She grabs my wrist as if she’s helping by cutting off the blood supply.

  This does not lower my stress level.

  “No!” cries Shalini, pulling Jess’s hand off. “Let it grow.”

  “What? No! Why?” I’m finding it difficult to choose my reaction to this suggestion.

  “It could help,” she says. “It could make a tunnel. It could hold up the ceiling. Like it did in the dining hall to save us from the Slumberous.”

  “That would need a lot of witchwood,” says Jess, as if Shalini’s just made a reasonable suggestion, which she hasn’t. I was connected to the witchwood tree on that occasion. Now I would have to BE THE TREE.

  “Shalini. That is a BAD IDEA. There would have to be more tree than me to do that. And what if I stay tree once I’ve passed the fifty per cent tree mark? What if I can’t shrink it back because it has totally taken me over!”

  “Maybe you don’t need to turn totally tree?” says Shalini. “What if we all held hands and channelled the power of your thumb through our spoons to make the tunnel?”

  My thumb is now a knotted twig. I can’t stop it growing because I can’t concentrate on thinking it smaller because they are TALKING! The twig thickens and grows its own twigs.

  I breathe in to calm myself. I cough. The air is thick. Staying here means death by absence of air. Staying here means leaving Dominique and Arwen to die, potentially. Staying here means no opportunity to train Ms Thorn. Staying here means no rehearsal and no play. I won’t get to play my Bottom. I won’t even get to play the WALL! I give in.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Excellent,” says Shalini, as if she already knows it will work.

  “But as soon as we find them we get out,” I say. “No investigating, no following strange voices, no opening doors that shouldn’t be opened. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” says Shalini immediately.

  “I suppose so,” says Jess.

  We link arms. Shalini links with me and Jess links with her. We all hold our spoons out and I hold my thumb out too. It’s more than a twig but less than a branch.

  “Think of a tunnel,” says Jess.

  “And think of a rhyme,” says Shalini. They’re both looking at me.

  “It’s your thumb not ours,” says Jess.

  I think. I think some more but a rhyme won’t come. The dust is getting thicker.

  “No need to rush,” says Jess, which is what people always say when they ac-chew-ally always mean “HURRY UP!”

  Aha! I have a beginning. “Witchwood, witchwood, witches three, ask for the power of the tree, to make a tunnel, safe and strong…” I’m stuck.

  “Big enough to walk along,” says Jess.

  Yes! I repeat it. “Big enough to walk along.”

  My thumb prickles. The prickles pass through me to Shalini.

  “Whoa!” she says. Her eyes light up and her spoon trembles.

  The prickles reach Jess. She jiggles with excitement. “That feels AWESOME!”

  My thumb-twig grows roots. Our spoons grow roots. They snake towards the rubble. They push into the fall, forcing the stones back. Like weeds growing through old concrete but faster. The roots push and push and the noise is like stone scratching on a cheese grater. My teeth tingle. Not in a good way. There’s a space. It expands.

  “It’s working!” cries Jess. “In we go.”

  I pause. “I would just like to state that I may be about to enter the East Wing and it is NOT MY FAULT. This is Dominique’s fault and if she is not dead when we find her I shall be having very cross words with her because Ms Thorn is bound to consider this BREAKING THE AGREEMENT and a failure to comply with her instructions.”

  “We’ll make sure she knows the truth,” says Shalini, pushing me forward.

  We enter The Tunnel of Freedom. It’s narrow. We go sideways. I’m first. Shalini’s in the middle and Jess is last. The witchwood is creaking. The stones are shifting. This is not a comfy place to be. This is a NIGHTMARE place to be.

  Shalini’s whispering, “Please don’t give
way. Please don’t give way. Please don’t give way.”

  I am thinking, Stop saying that!

  My shirt catches on a shard of granite and I’m pulled back. It comes loose and the stones move.

  Shalini squeaks, “Twink!”

  The roots quickly grow over the stones, holding them back.

  “If this gives way, we’ll be crushed,” says Jess. “Totally flattened.”

  I am now thinking, Why did you say that?!

  The witchwood twisting from my thumb and our spoons forces its way through the rock. Suddenly there’s a crash from behind us.

  Jess screams.

  Shalini screams.

  I scream.

  Not necessarily in that order.

  The witchwood has let the tunnel collapse behind us! The roots are shrinking towards our backs, over our heads. We are now trapped even more than we were trapped before! We are surrounded by tree-rock! The Tunnel of Freedom could ac-chew-ally be The Tunnel of Death!

  “Keep going,” says Jess, as if we have any other option!

  I say the rhyme again, just to remind the witchwood who’s in charge.

  We move forward. More tunnel opens up in front and more tunnel collapses behind. The witchwood in front is thinner. Suddenly, the pricking in my thumb changes to pins and needles and it’s spreading into my hand and I am hoping it won’t spread into my arm and I now I am thinking, What if I run out of tree?!

  I am choking from the dust and the fear and the panic that we are about to be BURIED ALIVE when suddenly the witchwood opens the tunnel into an empty space and we stumble out over piles of granite chunks littering the floor.

  “We’re free!” shouts Jess. She pushes us both forward and lets go, cutting the witchwood connection. Shalini’s gripping my arm as if she’s never going to let go. “Yes, but where’s Dominique?” she says. “Where’s Arwen?”

  “And what’s that?” says Jess.

  Summary:

  We’re through the archway and Jess’s What’s that? is referring to a large and impressive golden door straight ahead. But I am not interested in golden doors. I’m focusing on the fact that I am currently fifty per cent tree. Fifty-one per cent. Fifty-two per cent. Fifty-three per cent! This is a guesstimate. As previously stated – I am an actress not a mathematician.