by Natasha Lowe
“Wow,” Della murmured. “Wow,” she said again. “I had no idea.”
“You are still upset. I can tell.” Tom Foolery waved his arms around Della. “Well, look what I have here,” he said, appearing to pull something out of her ear. The jester held his fists out toward Della. “Which one?” Della tapped the left, and Tom Foolery made a sad face. “Empty.”
Dellla sighed, not in the mood for his games. “That one then,” she said, pointing at the jester’s right hand. Tom Foolery uncurled his fingers, and there, snuggled in the palm of his hand, was the travel amulet, the fossilized dragon’s eye winking up at her.
“Oh,” Della gasped. “Oh, my necklace.” She stared at it, not quite believing what her eyes were telling her.
“Well, aren’t you going to take it?”
Della could feel a great sob gathering inside her, of relief and happiness, and utter astonishment. Terrified the travel amulet might vanish again, she scooped it up and slipped the chain over her head. “You did take it.”
“I did. And if you want to turn me into a toad, I quite understand. Please go ahead. I’m sure I’ll be quite happy living in the castle moat.”
Della shuddered. “I’m done with transformation spells. No more turning people into hares or rats or toads.”
“That is kind of you and more than I deserve.”
Not wanting to waste any more time, Della said, “I must go and say good-bye to everyone.”
“Of course.”
She stopped at the door, hesitating a moment. “You know you’re an excellent entertainer, Tom Foolery. Making people laugh is just as important as real magic. And even I couldn’t figure out some of your tricks.”
“Thank you.” Tom Foolery smiled. “I have a feeling we won’t meet again, Della Dupree, but safe travels home, wherever you have come from.”
* * *
Dame Bessie and the girls’ families were gathered around the fire in the great hall. Della was happy to see Mary’s parents there, even if they did look extremely uncomfortable, as if this was all too much for them. But her brothers hadn’t come, clearly needing a little more time to recover after seeing their sister change into a rat. Faye and Willow were flirting with a couple of knights while Isolda and Gwyneth chased a chicken around the room.
“I have to leave now,” Della said, hugging them all good-bye.
“Leave?” Dame Bessie questioned, giving Della a knowing look.
“To go home!” Della grinned.
“Don’t you want to stay and come to Ruthersfield with us?” Faye asked. She brandished an imaginary wand. “Dame Bessie is going to teach us all kinds of wonderful spells.”
“And we’re going to have proper flying lessons,” Willow said. “On broomsticks!”
“The bristles act nicely as weights,” Dame Bessie said. “Much better than tree branches.”
“I’m going to miss you,” Mary cried, squeezing Della around the waist. “Please don’t go.”
Gwyneth came charging over and nudged Mary out of the way. She wrapped her arms around Della’s legs, covering them with kisses.
Della laughed. “And I’m going to miss you all so much too. But I also miss my family. And now I’ve got my necklace back, it’s time.”
Dame Bessie smiled. “That is wonderful news indeed.”
“Did Tom Foolery take it?” Mary whispered.
“He gave it back, Mary. That’s all that matters.”
* * *
Della found Ivan in the stables, sitting in a corner of Chestnut’s stall. He was whittling a piece of wood and whistling between his teeth.
“I’ve come to say good-bye.”
“So soon?” Ivan scrambled to his feet. Chestnut immediately whinnied and walked over, rubbing his head against her cheek.
“Oh I’ll miss you, too,” Della whispered, patting the horse’s neck.
“You found what you’ve been looking for?” Ivan said.
Della nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Much as she couldn’t wait to get home, she was going to miss Ivan a lot.
“Will I see you again?” Ivan asked, slipping his whittling knife into his pocket.
“I’m not sure. It’s a long way to come.”
“Perhaps I could visit you?” Ivan said, which made Della smile.
“My country is rather hard to find.” She looked away for a moment, noticing a tiny wooden mouse balanced on top of the stall door. “You must keep carving, Ivan. You’re so good, and one day your dad will be proud of you.”
“I hope so,” Ivan said. “I plan to make a table next.”
“But probably best to give up the drawing,” Della added with a laugh.
“I’m going to miss you, Della Dupree,”
“Me too,” Della said, embarrassed to feel her lip trembling. “I like it here, but I need to get home, Ivan.”
“Have you told my father?”
“I’m just working up the courage to do that.”
“Do you want some of this?” Ivan asked, taking the little bottle Della had given him out of his pocket.
“No thanks. You keep it. Just in case you ever have to fight any battles.”
* * *
Lord Hepworth was most upset to hear that Della was leaving, although Dame Bessie promised to send some of the girls up every week, so they could practice their magic in the castle.
“Especially that nice lavender-scented spell,” Lord Hepworth said.
“And the lasagna,” James added, stepping aside as one of the castle musicians strolled past, strumming a tune on his lute.
“You must teach me the lasagna spell before you go,” Dame Bessie said. “It’s one I’ve never seen before.” Reaching into the folds of her cloak, she pulled out a small, plain book with a brown leather cover. Della watched Dame Bessie open it. She could see the old woman’s spiky handwriting across the paper, and a strange sensation rushed over her, as if she had experienced this exact moment before. The lute played on, and a smell of spices and herbs wafted up from the page.
“I…” Della stared at the book. “What is that?”
“Just my little book of spells. I’ve been writing down some of the things you’ve shown me, Della, but I don’t have the lasagna spell in here.” Dame Bessie looked puzzled. “What is the matter, dear? You’ve gone very pale.”
“It’s The Book of Spells,” Della said, staring at the brown leather volume. “The one in our library.”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, Della.”
“As soon as I opened it, I knew I had to come back here, Dame Bessie. Of course, now it all makes sense!” Della laughed, realizing that there must have been a spell on the book, giving her the idea to try to find Witch Dupree, a time-sensitive spell that activated when she opened the pages. “I think I understand what happened.”
“Well, that’s good, because I’m rather lost.”
“May I borrow this for a moment?” Della asked, holding out her hands. “And your wand, too? I need to do one last piece of magic before I go.” She held the book carefully, trying to remember the time-release enchantment they had learned in spells and charms class the day she had left. “I knew this had a spell on it; I just didn’t realize it was me who put it there!” Seeing Dame Bessie’s confusion, Della said, “It’s a little hard to explain. Just promise you’ll keep this book safe. It has to live in the Ruthersfield library, so make sure they build one, okay. You can’t lose it.”
“You have my word, Della.”
“Now, it was April the ninth,” Della murmured, remembering the day she had traveled back in time. “And I’m quite sure of the time, because I’d just looked at the clock in the library before I sat down. Ten forty, although I should probably add on an extra minute to get over to the table,” Della said. “So almost eight hundred years from now, on April the ninth, 2020, at ten forty-one, I’m going to open this book up and decide to send myself back to Potts Bottom.” She looked at Dame Bessie. “The old Della would never have been brave eno
ugh to do this, you see, time-travel by herself. That’s why I have to help me get here.” And waving the beech wand over the book, Della felt a great rush of magic race through her as she cast the time-release spell.
“Will I see you again?” Dame Bessie asked, taking the book back from Della.
“I don’t think so. But there’s no need to worry, Dame Bessie. Ruthersfield Academy is going to be a wonderful school, and will be around for hundreds and hundreds of years.”
“Sounds as if you’re quite sure about that.”
“I am,” Della said with a smile, holding on to the travel amulet and remembering that she had a history presentation in a few minutes.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Della Dupree!
SPACE AND TIME SPUN AROUND Della, sucking her headfirst into a whirlpool of colored energy. She could sense her surroundings spinning faster and faster until, with a forceful push, she was finally released. Feeling dizzy and sick, Della reached for something to grab on to, stumbling sideways into a desk. She held the edges and leaned over, breathing deeply as she waited for the room to stop turning. The smell of varnished desks and lunchtime meat pie triggered a sense of urgency, reminding her where she was, and before she had fully recovered, Della slid off the amulet and reeled over to put it back in the cupboard. Even though she was still disoriented, she knew she couldn’t be discovered with the dragon’s eye hanging around her neck.
Hurrying toward the door, Della tripped over her gown, realizing she hadn’t changed back into her uniform. “And I don’t have a wand,” Della groaned, remembering that Mary’s mother had thrown her school wand onto the fire. She couldn’t go out into the hallway dressed like this. It was like coming to school in your pajamas when it wasn’t pajama day. Della glanced around the room in case someone had forgotten a wand, left it lying on a desk, but she couldn’t see any. Shoving her hands deep down in her pockets, Della felt the tip of the carved sickle moon that Ivan had given her when they first met. She had completely forgotten about it, because it had slipped through a hole at the bottom of the fabric and was caught in a tangle of thread. Tugging it free, Della pulled the moon out, remembering it was made of beech wood. “Wish I’d found you in the dungeon,” Della said, turning it over and seeing the tiny acorn Ivan etched on all of his carvings. She waved the sickle moon in the air, murmured a quick reversal spell, and in a puff of purple smoke, changed the medieval gown back into her school uniform.
The door to the hallway was flung open, and Ms. Randal strode in. “Who is doing magic in here?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Randal,” Della said, attempting to smooth her rumpled skirt. “It was an accident.”
“Shouldn’t you be outside? It’s recess. And what on earth have you been doing, Della Dupree? You’re a mess.” Ms. Randal wrinkled up her nose. “And where is that unpleasant smell coming from?”
Della sniffed, realizing it was her. Not surprising, since she hadn’t bathed in almost two weeks. “We’re studying the Middle Ages in history,” Della said, deciding to be as honest as she could. “I know they used to use different woods instead of wands, and I was practicing with a piece of raw beech. That’s what the smell and the smoke are from.”
“Good grief!” Ms. Randal’s eyes bugged out in horror. “Using wood in its natural form as a conductor of magic can be extremely dangerous, Della. That is why we have wands and rules and don’t go traipsing about the forest using tree branches anymore. Honestly.” Ms. Randal pursed her lips. “I do think these history projects get a little out of control sometimes. You’ll be turning us all into mice next.”
Della bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Sorry, Ms. Randal.”
“I should by all rights put you on cobweb-sweeping duty after school today,” Ms. Randal continued. Della groaned. Cobweb-sweeping duty was given out as detention, and it took forever, flying around the school, sweeping the cobwebs from the corners the old-fashioned way, with the girls on their broomsticks. “But I won’t this time,” Ms. Randal added, giving Della a small smile.
“Oh, thank you so much, Ms. Randal. It won’t happen again—I promise,” Della said, escaping into the hallway.
“I should hope not. And tuck your shirt in,” Ms. Randal called after her. “This is a school for young witches, not the wilds of medieval England.”
There were still five minutes before history class, and Della stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. She couldn’t quite believe she was back here, that no time had passed, and yet days and days had gone by. A distant clatter of footsteps announced that recess was almost over.
“Oh my gosh. What’s that smell?” Melanie’s voice echoed down the corridor, loud and unpleasant as always. “Is it you, Katrin? Did you eat any of those nasty pickled herrings you’re always bringing in for snack?”
Della opened her eyes, hearing the girls laugh. She saw Katrin walking a little in front of the pack, by herself, her head down and her knitted bag slung over her shoulder.
“I think there should be a rule about eating pickled herrings in school,” Cassie said. “They smell so disgusting.”
“STOP IT!” Della shouted, stepping out in front of them and thinking how satisfying it would be to turn Melanie into a frog.
“Oh good grief.” Melanie pressed a hand over her mouth. “It’s not Iceland that smells so bad. It’s you, Della.”
“Why do you have to be so mean?” Della said, staring right at Melanie. “What has Katrin ever done to you?”
There was some nervous fidgeting among the girls, and Melanie flushed, not used to being challenged like this. Especially not by Della. “What are you talking about?” she said, tossing her hair back over her shoulders.
“You’re always making fun of her, and it’s horrible,” Della said, realizing that she didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by Melanie anymore. It was an empowering sensation. “You don’t know anything about Iceland or what it’s like over there.” Della folded her arms, not letting her gaze slide away. “Why does it matter where Katrin comes from anyway? She has as much right to be here as any of us. Just leave her alone.”
Katrin raised her head and gave Della an astonished smile.
“You can’t talk to me that way,” Melanie said.
“Yes I can, Melanie. I am Della Dupree.” It sounded so good that Della laughed and said it again. “I’m Della Dupree.”
“You’re weird,” Melanie muttered.
“And we’re not being mean,” Cassie said, twisting some hair around her finger. “It’s just fun.”
“Would you like it if I made fun of your clothes and where you live and what you like to eat?” Della said. “Because I call that bullying.”
“Della’s right,” Anna broke in. “You are horrible to poor Katrin.”
“I think you’re all being oversensitive,” Melanie said, turning to walk away. “Come on, Cassie.” And the girls slunk off toward history class.
“Thank you!” Katrin said, beaming at Della.
“You should sit with us at lunch,” Sophie suggested. “I’m sorry we didn’t ask you before, Katrin.”
“That’s okay.” Katrin shrugged. “And I’d like that.”
“What happened in the library?” Anna whispered in Della’s ear. “You seem so different.”
“The library! I have to get my bag,” Della said, racing down the corridor. “I’ll see you in history,” she called back over her shoulder.
* * *
“I thought there was a fire, the way you dashed out of here,” Miss Dickenson said. And then, rather frostily: “You can’t leave valuable books like that lying around, Della.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry, Miss Dickenson. It won’t happen again.”
The librarian sniffed the air and gave Della a strange look. “What have you been doing? You’ve been gone less than five minutes?”
“I am sorry, Miss Dickenson, but I really need to go,” Della said, rushing over to the table she’d been working at. “I have a p
resentation I can’t be late for.”
As Della crouched down to grab her backpack, she noticed that the table legs were beautifully carved, with vines and leaves twisting up them. Running her fingers over the delicate carvings, she saw a tiny acorn etched into the top of one of the legs. “Ivan!” Della whispered, knowing right away he had made this.
“Do you know how old that table is, Miss Dickenson?” Della asked, hurrying toward the door. “The big one I was sitting at.”
“Thirteenth century, as far as I know,” the librarian replied. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is,” Della agreed, delighted that Ivan had been able to follow his passion.
She was late getting to class, and Miss Barlow did not look too happy as Della slipped into the room. “We are about to start our presentations, Miss Dupree. Perhaps you would like to go first?”
Della nodded, and instead of going to her desk, she walked to the front of the room. Not quite sure what she was going to do (because she certainly couldn’t perform a transformation spell and turn the class into hares) and ignoring the fact that she smelled like a ripe barnyard, Della stood for a moment, staring into space.
“Ready, Della?” Miss Barlow prompted.
Della cleared her throat. “My name is Della Dupree,” she began, “and I’m a witch. Every day I wake up and I wish that I wasn’t. Not because I have to eat horrible pottage and can’t take baths and have to sleep on the floor, but because I’m terrified of being found out. You hate me because I’m different, and it’s the worst feeling in the world, being hated just for being myself.” She caught Melanie’s eye and refused to look away until Melanie looked down at her desk. “I’m not evil or dangerous. I’m just like everyone else, even if I have to take away your thoughts and turn you into a rat to survive.” Della held her chin up, a great sense of pride racing through her. “I want to help people, but you won’t let me. You put me in a dungeon because you don’t understand.” Della gave a shiver, remembering how awful it had felt, being locked away in the dark. “If you bothered to get to know me, then you’d see how wonderful witches are, the amazing things magic can do.” Della paused a moment before spreading out her arms and chanting, “Twelve twenty-three, twelve twenty-three, Ruthersfield was founded by Witch Dupree.” And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she finished up: “And Witch Dupree is me!”
