by Lexi Connor
But B’s attention was already elsewhere. Other witches were starting to appear, as if from nowhere, in glittering cyclones of magical wind. B recognized Macey and Stef, and several witching families she knew, and then her own parents appeared with Dawn. Would they be mad that she hadn’t told them first? Her parents’ shining faces soon set B’s mind at ease. B’s mom was hugging onto Dad’s arm and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Gentlewitches everywhere,” Mr. Bishop said, in a booming voice, “it’s my pleasure to present to you a young lady whom I know we’ll all be hearing more about in the years to come. As you know, my department studies any unusual happenings with magic, and something that hasn’t been seen in four generations at least is spelling magic, the kind that is produced when a rare kind of witch spells words. And here before me is Beatrix, known to friends and family as simply ‘B,’ the first to be born in over a hundred years with that rare and powerful gift.”
A gasp of oohs and aahs rippled across the sea of faces. B jammed her hands into her pockets so people wouldn’t see them shaking. Were her knees knocking together, or was the whole building trembling?
“B’s amazing powers distill the essence of her magic into single words — in fact, into the mere letters that make up those words. She needs no rhyming couplets to produce spells — they don’t even work for her. Her magic is powerfully focused, and unlike most young people’s spells, hers have staying power.”
Some of the mothers in the room gasped as if this was horrifying news. B turned anxiously and saw the long, pointed face of Madame Mel give her a reassuring wink.
“B,” Mr. Bishop said eagerly, and, B realized with surprise, a bit nervously, “would you give the society a demonstration?”
The room grew silent. B felt the weight of all those eyes staring at her. She felt like a lump of clay on the table in art class, getting flattened by all the pressure.
B stared down at her sneakers. I can’t do it, she thought. I’ll mess up big time and … set all the books on fire or something. Make them all overdue.
“Ahem.”
Madame Mel was peering at her, a pointy silver boot toe tapping impatiently on the ground. “We’re ready,” Madame Mel said under her breath.
Maybe B could think of herself and spell E-S-C-A-P-E?
Suddenly, Dawn was climbing up the steps to where B stood. B couldn’t bear to face her, but then she felt Dawn slip her arm around her.
“Don’t be scared, B,” Dawn said.
B grinned, but her eyes grew wet.
“I just want to be a normal witch,” she whispered to Dawn. “You know, a rhyming one.”
Dawn gave her shoulder a little shake. “Why would you want to be boring old ‘normal'?” she said. “You’re special! You’ve got something no one else has.”
B sniffled. “What?”
“Me as a big sister.” Dawn flashed her movie-star smile. “Go get ’em, B,” she said. “Just start with something simple.”
“Okay.” Having Dawn stand beside her gave her new courage. But still, all those bright lights, all those big eyes staring at her … if only she could make them go away.
“D-A-R-K-N-E-S-S,” she said.
Instantly, blinds fell over all the windows, and one by one, the globe lightbulbs illuminating the room popped. The room went dark as falling shards of broken glass tinkled. Many witches in the crowd cried out in fear.
Madame Mel’s voice cracked out like lightning.
“Protect the kids, the gals and fellas,
Give them all brand-new umbrellas!”
And before the broken glass could land and hurt anyone, B felt a handle in her hand and heard the soft plip, plip of fragments landing on the umbrella cloth.
Murmurs and whispers filled the darkness.
B was terrified. Was she going to be in trouble? No way would her allowance cover the cost of so many lights.
“Thank you, B,” Madame Mel’s voice said, with just enough of an edge that B wasn’t sure if she was mad or not. “Would you care to reverse the problem?”
Dawn squeezed her arm reassuringly.
“Okay,” B said, her voice faltering. “L-I-G-H-T.”
Miniature suns flared into life, hovering in the air above the rainbow of umbrellas.
A single clap rang out. Then another, and soon the entire assembly was applauding her boisterously. Someone shouted, “Bravo!” Everyone folded their umbrellas and put them away. B’s mom and dad beamed so warmly at her that B knew she wasn’t in trouble. Not at all.
Mr. Bishop held out a sparkling silver chain. “May I see your hand, please?”
B held out her hand, and Mr. Bishop fastened the bracelet around her wrist. “Your magical training has officially begun, B,” he said. “Your first spell as a newly inaugurated member of our society will be to create the charm that best represents your own special flavor of magic. Are you ready?”
B admired the intricate chain. It was just like Dawn’s, but without the charms. “How will I know what to make?” she asked.
“Don’t worry,” Dawn said. “Just let it be what it wants to be.”
“Everyone, let’s give B a hand,” Mr. Bishop said, addressing the crowd. “On my signal, spell the word ‘charm’ along with B. Ready?”
He nodded to B, and she opened her mouth.
“C-H —” It was an amazing feeling, all that witching power in one room, chanting in unison.
“— A-R-M.”
Something tickled her wrist.
She opened her eyes to a sea of smiling, welcoming faces, and on her wrist, a glittering, silver letter “B.”
She held the dangling charm up before her eyes. It shimmered with light from B’s magic suns.
“Holy cats!” she whispered. “It’s official now, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” Dawn said.
Then B was clobbered by a huge hug from her whole family.
Preview
B’s charmed adventures continue in
Read on for a sneak peek!
B’s alarm clock went off for the third time.
“Q-U-I-E-T,” she groaned. The alarm magically stopped — B was grateful again that she’d finally discovered how her magic worked.
B buried her head under a pillow. She’d stayed up way too late last night reading, and she wasn’t ready to face the sunshine just yet. Besides, it was only 7:10.
7:10!
7:10 was not good. She had only ten minutes to catch the bus and she was still in her pajamas!
She skidded into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair. Two minutes.
Back in her bedroom, she yanked open her drawers and tore through the piles of clothes for something to wear. Black Cats sweatshirt? Her favorite band. Always good. Purple jeans? Sure. Socks? She pulled out one pink and one green. No time to dig for mates. “M-A-T-C-H,” she said. They both turned green with pink polka dots. She yanked them on.
She stuck a headband in her hair, fastened her magical charm bracelet — the one she got when she discovered her spelling magic — and glanced at the clock. 7:16. Six minutes down, four to go. If only she could slow down time, she might be able to eat and make the bus. But slowing down time was advanced magic, and she hadn’t even had her first magic lesson yet.
If she missed the bus, no magic would avoid Mom and Dad’s irritation. She threw her backpack over one shoulder and laced her sneakers.
Sneakers. Feet. She couldn’t slow time, but she could speed herself up!
“F-A-S-T,” she told her feet. They leaped up and sped down the stairs. Her sneakers were a sparkly blur.
Into the kitchen she zoomed, snagging the warm banana hazelnut muffin hovering over her mother’s outstretched hand. Her feet dragged her, knees pumping crazily, to the front door. “Bye!” she cried, her feet still churning. By the time she stuffed a bite of muffin in her mouth, B was halfway to the bus stop on the corner.
Holy cats, my magic is awesome! B thought. I can sleep in every morning from no
w on.
But between one blink and the next, the bus stop was 30 yards behind her.
“Whoa!” she cried. “Slow! Stop! I mean, S-T-O-P!”
B’s feet planted themselves in the ground like cement posts. She fell face-forward, ker-splat, on the Peabodys’ front lawn, smashing her muffin to smithereens.
The school bus pulled around the corner.
“Isn’t that your bus coming, Beatrix?” Mrs. Peabody said, coming out onto the porch in a bathrobe and slippers. “What are you doing way over here?”
“S-sorry, Mrs. Peabody,” B stammered. “I, uh, got, um, carried away! Bye!” And she raced, normal-style, to the bus stop.
B climbed the bus steps, promising herself she’d be more careful next time. Problem was, all B had to do was spell a word. Pretty quick and easy to do — and therefore, easy to get into trouble.
Other Books in the B Magical Series
B Magical #1: The Missing Magic
B Magical #2: The Trouble with Secrets
B Magical #3: The Runaway Spell
B Magical #4: The Cat-Astrophe
About the Author
LEXI CONNOR loves word searches, crosswords, and word puzzles. When she was younger, she won her county bee and traveled to the regional competition, where, in a moment of extreme stage fright, she misspelled “C-E-M-E-T-E-R-Y.” She lives with her black cat named Abbey in Massachusetts.
Special thanks to Julie Berry
Copyright
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Working Partners Limited, Stanley House, St. Chad’s Place, London WC1X 9HH, United Kingdom.
Copyright © 2009 by Lexi Connor
Cover art by Tuesday Mourning
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, APPLE PAPERBACKS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
This edition first printing, January 2011
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e-ISBN 978-0-545-29893-3
