by Sally Rippin
He swings his big hairy arms out wide, then slaps his chest with three fingers pointing down in the sign of an ‘M’ for monsters. ‘It’s going to be glorious!’
‘Stop saying glorious!’ the little monster snaps. ‘You sound like an idiot.’
The big monster’s face crumples. ‘You are!’ he sniffs.
Polly feels anger heating up her chest. ‘Not all witches and warlocks are like that!’ she protests. ‘My dad worked in the mines, too.’ She feels her throat bunch up as the next words come out. ‘He died in the mines.’
The skinny monster turns his head just a little, and glares at Polly from the corner of his mean eyes. ‘Boo hoo,’ he sneers. ‘Two witches and three warlocks die and the town will never let us forget it. Thirty monsters also died that day, but to you witches it’s as if they never existed. Now go back to your corner and stop bothering us with all your chit-chat!’
He spits angrily at the dirt, then goes back to picking his teeth with a stick.
Polly sits down on the little stool, her head in her hands. Buster glares at the monsters guarding the cage. ‘Please let me break us out,’ he grumbles impatiently. ‘I really don’t like those monsters and I’m really hungry.’
‘No,’ Polly says, feeling cross and hurt by the mean little monster. ‘Just be patient, Buster! We need to see who this glorious Carmen is so we can warn Miss Spinnaker.’ Once again she wonders why her teacher didn’t come back for them like she said she would.
They sit and they sit, and the sun shifts higher in the sky. Soon, it is shining straight down on them and, even though they are shadowed by the trees, Polly is feeling hot and sticky and dusty. She can see that Buster is feeling hot and hungry too, even though he is trying his hardest not to show it.
The stones burn in Polly’s pocket, and she knows they are calling her to the mines. There is something there they want her to see, and their call seems to be getting more and more urgent.
But now that she has decided they will stay and wait for Carmen, that is what they will do. When Polly sets her mind to something, there is very little that will change it. There is also a little part of her that wants to prove to the mean little monster that his horrible words didn’t affect her. So she will sit there in the blazing sun for as long as it takes.
After some time, they finish the last of the water in the jug. Polly calls out to the monsters to let them know and the big monster unlocks the cage and lumbers in with a wooden barrel over his shoulder. He unplugs a cork and fills their jug with cool, fresh water.
‘Sorry about your Da,’ he whispers as he plugs up the heavy barrel again and sets it on the ground. Then he looks up towards the front of the cage briefly before pulling out a crust of bread from his pocket.
‘Oh, thank you!’ says Polly, surprised by his unexpected kindness.
Buster’s tummy grumbles loudly.
‘You have it, Buster,’ Polly says. ‘I’m OK.’
Buster’s eyes widen with excitement, but he quickly catches himself before snatching it out of the big monster’s paw. ‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘You must eat half, too, Polly. That’s only fair!’ And he breaks the little scrap of bread into two tiny morsels for them to share.
Domsley watches on in amazement. He scratches the stump of his broken-off horn. ‘Why are you two so nice to each other?’ he asks, genuinely baffled.
‘We’re friends.’ Polly shrugs, nibbling at her crust of bread to make it last. Buster swallows his in one gulp and watches on hungrily.
Domsley frowns. ‘But I thought all witches and monsters hated each other?’
‘Not all of them,’ Polly says. ‘That’s just silly. Do you even know any witches or warlocks?’
Domsley’s top lip curls into a sneer. ‘Sure I do! There’s a mean old warlock who runs the factory I work in. If we show up even five minutes late or take a little bit of extra time for lunch he cuts our pay. It’s not like we earn a proper wage either! One time my ma was sick and I had to stay home to look after her, and he gave my job to another monster. Worked there for fourteen years I had, and I’m back to sweeping floors again.’ He spits at the ground. ‘That’s why I left and came here to join Carmen’s gang. At least she feeds us proper.’
‘That warlock sounds horrible,’ Polly agrees. ‘But there are good witches and warlocks, too. Just like there are good and bad monsters.’ She smiles. ‘And you, Sir,’ she says cheekily, ‘I can see, are secretly a good monster’ She taps him on each shoulder as if to knight him. Domsley grins proudly. ‘Him, on the other hand …’ she gestures towards Zeke, who is cleaning out his ear with the stick he had just been using to pick his teeth. ‘Not so much.’
‘He’s OK,’ Domsley says, quietly. ‘Just real angry, is all.’ He lowers his voice even further. ‘His da died in that mining accident too, you know. Ever since then he’s angry all the time. Eats him up like a poison, it does. Sometimes, bad things that happen to you on the outside can make you get bad on the inside, too.’
Polly peers over Domsley’s shoulder to where Zeke is sitting, staring out into the forest, and suddenly she can see that his eyes are not mean, after all. They are sad. Hollowed out with sadness and anger, and she feels her heart ache a little for this other being in the world who has also lost his dad.
To Polly, there is nothing worse that could happen to anyone, monster or witch.
Suddenly she sees they are not so different after all.
Zeke suddenly stands to attention and does the three-fingered sign of the monster on his chest. ‘Domsley!’ he hisses, and the big monster looks up.
‘Oh, leaping lumbears!’ he mumbles, quickly snatching up the water barrel and hoisting it back onto his shoulder. ‘You two stay here!’ he says gruffly, and bumbles out of the cage, locking it behind him. Then he stands beside Zeke, his paw held the same way.
‘What is it?’ Buster asks.
Polly feels her heart begin to flip about like a fish. ‘It must be Carmen,’ she whispers, standing up anxiously, then changing her mind and sitting back down.
Through the bars of the cage she sees a small group of monsters lumbering towards them, maybe five or six. They are all different shapes and sizes, and all dressed in the same red vests, except the one in the middle also wears a pair of studded silver cuffs on her wrists.
That must be Carmen! Polly thinks, and she feels a ripple of nervousness pass through her.
Carmen is tall and stately, with dark blue fur flecked with streaks of silver. She has a long, narrow face, and wide, almond-shaped eyes that glitter like emeralds. While the other monsters lumber and jostle about, she seems to glide through them, walking with long, determined strides, as though she always knows exactly where she is going and what she is meant to be doing.
Polly can’t help but feel impressed.
Carmen turns to talk to the monsters on either side of her as she walks. One of them steps away, and someone else steps up beside her. It takes a moment for Polly to believe what she is seeing.
It can’t be! she thinks. But that’s impossible!
‘Miss Spinnaker?’ she gasps.
The huddle reaches the cage and Zeke and Domsley step to one side, still doing the three-fingered salute.
‘We have captives!’ Domsley proclaims proudly to Carmen, whose eyes have widened in horror.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she growls in a deep, husky voice. ‘Domsley, Zeke, whatever were you thinking? These are children! And what in blooming moons are you doing in the cage?’ she asks Buster, who scuffs his feet awkwardly beside Polly. ‘You’re a monster!’ Buster says nothing. There is something about Carmen that makes it hard to find the right words to say. ‘Let these two out. Immediately!’ she commands.
Zeke scowls, but pulls the long key out of his pouch and does what he is told.
Polly and Miss Spinnaker stand staring at each other, their mouths open.
‘What are you doing here?’
Miss Spinnaker asks Polly.
‘What are you doi
ng here?’ Polly shoots back.
Miss Spinnaker’s face reddens a little and she frowns. ‘Polly, Carmen is a very old friend of mine. Just like Buster is a friend of yours. She asked me to go with her to speak with Mayor Redwolf about what has been happening recently with Deidre Halloway, and to see if she can help us calm things down. But you shouldn’t be here! It’s not safe. I thought I told you to wait for me at my mother’s!’
‘But you didn’t come back!’ Polly protests. She can’t help feeling a little miffed. Why didn’t Miss Spinnaker tell her this was what she was planning to do when she left them behind that morning? Polly thought they were in this together!
‘Mrs Halloway came looking for us at your mother’s house,’ Polly explains. ‘We couldn’t stay there. She might have come back again. She might have seen Mortimer!’
Miss Spinnaker claps her long fingers across her mouth, her bracelets jangling.
Carmen’s green eyes glitter angrily as she listens to the conversation. ‘I know who you are!’ she says to Polly, suddenly furious. ‘You’re that witch who made up those stories in the newspaper about monsters being dangerous. You started this! And you’re her friend!’ she says to Buster, who shrinks a little in fear. ‘You’re the one Deidre Halloway is after!’ Carmen draws up to her full size and towers over Polly and Buster. ‘And you dare come into my camp and risk bringing Deidre Halloway and her followers here?’ she roars.
The monsters around her growl menacingly, and rock from side to side, cracking their knuckles and glaring at Polly and Buster.
Polly feels her bottom lip begin to tremble as she looks up into the monster’s furious face. Her tummy curls and her heart begins to race.
‘Carmen, stop!’ Miss Spinnaker says, and even though her teacher is much smaller than the monsters’ fearsome leader, Polly can see she is the only one there who is not the least bit afraid. ‘Polly made a mistake by doing that spell in the gallery and she is still paying for it. Deidre Halloway is the one who twisted the story around. Polly and Buster are both innocent. Their friendship is a good and beautiful thing. Deidre Halloway knows that if other monsters and witches see that friendships like theirs can exist she will have no way of dividing our town. And so she will do anything to destroy them. They need our protection, Carmen. Can’t you see? They are our only hope for a peaceful future.’
‘It’s true,’ comes a mumbling voice from behind them. Polly turns and is surprised to see Domsley step forward, despite Zeke kicking him in the shin. Domsley’s face reddens and he pulls anxiously at his big bottom lip as he talks. ‘They’re good ones, these two. Done no harm to no one, and they are real kind to each other. He could’ve left that witch behind and walked free,’ he says, pointing to Buster, ‘but he stayed beside her, good and true. I never seen nothing like that before. Warms the heart, it does. Makes me feel hopeful that all monsters and witches can get along just like them some day.’
‘Rubbish!’ Zeke snaps. He pushes Domsley out of the way and sneers into Polly’s face. ‘Once she’s grown up she’ll be the same as all them other witches and warlocks in Blackmoon Coven. There isn’t one I trust. Not even you!’ he hisses, pointing at Miss Spinnaker. ‘Bad to the bone, they all are. Your Mayor is never going to listen to us! Never has and never will! I say we stay true to our original plan.’ He turns to the other monsters. ‘What do you think, my friends?’ he snarls. ‘I say the only way we will ever get what we want is to fight!’
‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ growl the other monsters, getting louder and louder, until Carmen lifts up a great furred paw to silence them.
‘We are a team and we will decide our way forward together,’ she says firmly. Then she pauses. Her ears prick up and she tips her head back to squint up into the bright glare of the sky. Her eyes grow wide and her voice grows harder and steelier. ‘But for now, it seems we have other, more urgent, problems to solve.’
Polly looks up at the sky. In the clearing above the monsters’ camp, she sees what Carmen has seen.
A black figure on a broomstick circles above them like a crow.
‘Deidre Halloway!’ Miss Spinnaker gasps. ‘She’s tracked you down! You two have to leave, Polly. And fast!’
‘I told you that little witch was trouble!’ Zeke shrieks, swinging himself up into a tree. ‘This is all her fault!’
As the first bolt from Deidre’s wand shoots from the sky, the monsters duck for cover, hiding in huts and diving into bushes. The bolt cracks into the earth, leaving a long scorch mark across the grass that ends only inches from Polly’s feet. She jumps backwards in fright. Only Miss Spinnaker and Carmen stand their ground.
‘Miss Spinnaker,’ Polly yells over the commotion. ‘Your wand is here. In the bushes! I brought it with me.’
Miss Spinnaker doesn’t take her eyes off the sky for a second. Polly watches her lips flutter and, instantly, the wand soars into her outstretched hand, like a pin to a magnet. She holds it out in front of her just as the next electric-green bolt shoots towards them. Miss Spinnaker deflects it with her own bolt and it bounces back into the sky.
‘Coward!’ hisses Carmen, her fists tight against her hips. ‘Come down here and fight me! Then we’ll see who’s the strongest!’
‘Polly!’ Miss Spinnaker says again, even more urgently this time. ‘Go! Now! My broomstick is by the big morpett tree just outside the clearing. Fly straight home and don’t stop. We’ll keep Deidre distracted while you escape. Just follow the line of pall trees and they will take you back into town.’
‘But what about …?’ Polly stutters.
‘Polly! Buster! Now!’ Miss Spinnaker yells, just as another bolt comes cracking towards them. Miss Spinnaker is distracted by Polly’s dithering and a small bush to her left bursts into flames.
Buster doesn’t need to be told twice. He swings Polly up onto his shoulders and gallops out of the clearing.
Polly catches a glimpse of midnight blue velvet in the bushes. ‘Miss Spinnaker’s bag!’ she yells, and Buster snatches it up and tosses it to Polly without missing a beat. They arrive at the big morpett tree and see Miss Spinnaker’s old broomstick leaning up against it.
Polly jumps off Buster’s back. She picks up the broomstick and turns the long wooden handle around trying to work out how it starts. It is an old-fashioned model, which means there are no buttons or levers and, for a moment, Polly is stumped.
She takes a deep breath to calm herself, then she remembers. Holding the broomstick handle firmly in both hands, she rubs the bristles along the leafy forest floor in firm, brisk strokes.
Come on, old broomstick! she begs.
The broomstick sputters and smoke drifts from the bristles, but nothing else happens.
Buster watches on in dismay. ‘It’s not going to start!’
‘Yes, it will, Buster. It’s just old.’ She scrapes the bristles against the ground again and again, but nothing happens.
‘Try the stones!’ Buster yelps.
‘What?’ says Polly.
‘The stones!’ Buster repeats. ‘In your pocket. They’re magic, aren’t they?’
Polly pulls the pouch out of her pocket and rubs it against the handle.
‘Hurry, hurry, hurry!’ murmurs Buster.
‘I’m doing what I can!’ says Polly, her heartbeat in her ears.
‘Polly,’ says Buster, swaying nervously from foot to foot as the noise of the witch battle gets louder and louder. ‘Maybe we should just run?’
Polly blocks out Buster’s nervous chatter. She blocks out the noise of the woods. She focuses only on the stones and imagines them sending their energy deep down into the broomstick handle. Suddenly they burn hot and the broomstick sputters to life.
‘Jump on!’ Polly yells.
She clambers onto the stick and feels Buster climb on behind her, his arms closing tightly around her waist.
‘Oh, Polly,’ he moans. ‘I don’t like broomsticks. I really don’t like them at all!’
‘Just hold on!’ Polly yells, pulling the t
ip of the handle towards her. The broomstick judders twice, then soars upwards.
The monster’s hideout is soon spinning away from them, getting smaller and smaller as they crash through the branches towards the sky.
Polly and Buster soar higher and higher. The bright blue leaves of the pall trees are easy to spot among the autumnal reds and golds of the other trees, and Polly can see they create a clear path that leads directly back to town.
They follow the blue streak towards home, just like Miss Spinnaker told them to, but Polly can still hear the cracking of sparks and smell the burning of grass and bushes. Her heart is a tight ball of shame.
It’s true! she thinks. Everywhere I go I cause trouble. That horrible Mrs Halloway would have never found the monsters’ hide-out if it wasn’t for me! She would never have found dear Flora and Mortimer. If it wasn’t for me, this war between witches and monsters wouldn’t have started at all!
The sun stings Polly’s eyes and her cheeks burn. She can feel Buster hiding his face in her wind-tangled hair and she knows he will have his eyes squeezed shut, queasy from the speed.
Polly knows Buster would like nothing more than to go home to a hot meal and a warm bath right now. There isn’t anything she would like more either, and of course she also wants to see her mother and even her sister again. And she knows she should do what her teacher told her to; after all, Miss Spinnaker is older and wiser and far more powerful than Polly could ever hope to be.
But the stones burn hot in her pocket. Calling her, pulling her, stronger than ever. And she can almost hear her father’s voice in her ear. Telling her to be brave. Telling her to listen to her heart.
