Sandy nodded vigorously, and Storm shrugged.
“But—but why?”
Nebby gently rested her hand on his mother’s shoulder. “After listening to the Fairfoul Witch’s testimony, the Council realizes now that we severely underestimated how much she loved to practice her punishments. Last summer, she saw that a post for a fifth-grade teacher was available, and she took the job. Because, truly, where better to practice cruel magic than with a class of kids? After all, who would believe them?”
Rupert glared at his mother, and she guiltily slouched.
Nebby kept talking. “Can you believe she had been lying to her own Witches Council? She sneaked out in the morning when we all thought she was sleeping, and none of us ever wanted to disturb her sleep because she is a renowned grouch when she wakes up. I can’t believe she pulled the wool over my eyes for so long.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Nebby,” Sandy said brightly. “She fooled us all. You know, Rupert always smelled very funny when he came home from school. I should have recognized her scent way earlier.”
Rupert’s mother put a hand on his shoulder. “You tried to tell me all about Mrs. Frabbleknacker, and I wouldn’t listen.”
“That’s okay, Mom,” Rupert said. “Allison’s parents didn’t believe her either, and she came home with mustache and beard. And Manny’s parents didn’t even notice he was gone!”
“Gone?”
Rupert nodded. “Mrs. Frabbleknacker turned him into our class pet.”
His mother steadied herself by gripping the basement table.
Nebby pursed her lips. “We have reason to believe that the Fairfoul Witch was using potions on local parents to make them forget about their children.”
“Well, that’s horrible!” said Rupert’s mother. “That witch is the most horrible witch I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”
Rupert shuffled his feet. Then he took a deep breath and asked the question that had been gnawing at him for a while. “Mom, why did you steal that forbidden potion? You must have known you’d be punished.”
“Yes, that was certainly a risk.”
“Why did you do it, then?”
She pulled him into a tight hug. “Because I wanted you in my life, Rupert. You’re more important to me than anything else in the world.”
Rupert swallowed a choked-up feeling in his throat, and he buried his face into her middle.
His mother brushed his hair with her hand. “When I look at you, I know I made the right choice. You’re worth it, Rupert. You are so worth every bit of my debt, and I’ll be glad to pay it off for as long as I live.”
“You won’t have to,” Rupert said, and he pulled the signed contract from his pocket. “The Witches Council promised to leave us alone.”
His mother tore the contract from him, her eyes widening as she read. “How did you—”
“It was Sandy,” Rupert said. “And Nebby and Storm, too—they helped.”
His mother read over the contract again and wiped the silent tears off her cheeks. When she finally spoke again, her voice was choked, but she cracked a smile wider than Rupert had seen on her in years.
“You were right, Rupert,” his mother said. “You were right all along.”
“About the witches?”
“No, about Sandy. She’s a good friend.”
“The best,” Rupert agreed.
Sandy smiled and blushed a shade so red she almost looked purple.
The Bar Exam
WHEN RUPERT WALKED INTO SCHOOL ON FRIDAY, the whole class sat silently. News that Mrs. Frabbleknacker decided to step down from her post before the school year was over spread across the town like an outbreak of lice. Only Rupert knew the truth—that Mrs. Frabbleknacker, at the behest of the Witches Council, had decided to permanently retire from teaching.
Rupert took his seat next to Kyle and Allison. “Good morning,” he said to no one in particular. “How’s it going?”
“Shhhh!” Allison hissed.
“Are you crazy?” Kyle said.
“Don’t talk until we see who our teacher is,” Hal said. “What if she’s worse than Mrs. Frabbleknacker?”
Rupert smiled. “She won’t be,” he said.
At that moment, a man burst into the room and wrote his name underneath the spot in the chalkboard where Mrs. Frabbleknacker had carved LIFE IS FAIR, AND FAIR IS FOUL.
“Good morning, class,” he said.
Nobody spoke. Everyone stared at him with big doe eyes.
“Oh, well,” the man said, rubbing his hands in his hair. “I’m Mr. Splinkle. I, erm . . . wrote my name on the board here as you can see. Feel free to copy it down.”
Everyone scribbled his name as fast as possible.
“Er, well, today we’re going to work on science.”
Everybody cringed.
“Hmmm?” Mr. Splinkle said. “Well, I thought we’d talk about different ecosystems. Can anybody name one?”
Poor, brave Bruno raised his hand. “The ocean?” he said.
“Almost,” Mr. Splinkle said. The class cowered, waiting for him to institute a punishment on poor, brave Bruno. But instead, Mr. Splinkle continued. “You’re right in concept, but technically it’s called the Marine Ecosystem.”
The whole class exhaled. No punishment, not even for getting a question wrong.
Mr. Splinkle taught the most boring lesson that Rupert had ever endured. Then he taught an even more boring grammar lesson about gerunds. Then he taught, if possible, an even more boring-beyond- boring math lesson about multiplying fractions.
It was the most wonderful school day Rupert had had in a very long time.
After class, he waited outside the door for Kaleigh, Allison, Kyle, Manny, Hal, Bruno, and the rest of his classmates, but Mr. Splinkle came out first.
“Good day today, eh, Rupert?” he said.
“Yes, sir!”
“I think I’m going to like your class. Though you’re all as quiet as rabbits.” He walked to the teachers’ lounge, humming to himself.
His classmates started filing out of the classroom, and they all huddled together.
“What do you think?” Bruno asked.
“I like him,” said Hal. “I think he’s the best teacher ever.”
“I’m going to bring him an apple,” said Kaleigh.
“I’m going to bring him two,” Allison said.
“Let’s meet up tomorrow before class,” Manny suggested.
They decided to arrive ten minutes early tomorrow—and some of them were even going to the playground to hang around after school today, but Rupert had somewhere very special and very important to be.
He ran down the hallway and pushed his way through the double doors. Outside, his mother waited for him with a cake that read Congratulations, Sand Witch!
“Microwavable cake?” Rupert asked.
“Not this time,” his mother said. “This one’s homemade.” She paused for a moment. “Rupert, I know I didn’t believe you about Mrs. Frabbleknacker, and I feel horrible about it.”
“Don’t,” he said.
“But I do. I really do. And I will believe you from now on, no matter what,” his mother said.
Rupert grinned. “Okay. Let’s test this new mother,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I am a flying elephant from Butterly—”
“—I’ll believe you from now on, in moderation,” his mother said, ruffling his hair.
They walked along in silence for a moment, and Rupert thought about how things with his mother had changed. In the days that followed, Rupert and his mother cooked dinner together, drank hot chocolate, “funky little boogie danced” on the countertop, and even re-plotted their overgrown garden together.
Three days is a long time, thought Rupert. It was enough to repair his relationship with his mother, but it was also enough time to los
e contact with Sandy. Rupert hadn’t seen her since they had stopped the rabbits in town. Whenever he called, Nebby refused to hand off the phone because Sandy was cramming for her Bar Exam. Which, according to Nebby, was going to be extra-grueling for her because the Witches Council was still angry about the Great Rabbit Fiasco.
He was disappointed that he couldn’t talk to her or coach her in the last few days, but he understood that she really had to buckle down and focus. That was why he asked his mom to take him to Sandy’s testing facility—the high school gymnasium—after school.
He cocked his head to check his mother’s watch.
“Mom, we’re going to miss her!”
“We’ll be fine,” she told him.
Rupert ran forward. He hoped the Bar Exam wasn’t already over. It had started a half hour before he was finished school.
“Don’t run ahead,” she said. “I’m still going at the same pace, and I won’t get any faster if you do.”
“Come on, Mom!” he said.
“Are you carrying a cake, Rupert?”
Finally, he and his mother rounded the street corner near the high school, and they walked over to where a cluster of witches was standing with balloons and kazoos, waiting for their respective witchlings to finish their exams. Nebby had a party hat on, and Rupert thought it looked rather silly. He was going to say something about it until he saw the worried look on her face.
“Don’t worry,” Rupert said, giving Nebby a quick hug.
She smiled softly at him.
An unfamiliar witch marched over to his mother. “Lovely cake,” the witch said, swiping a bit of frosting with her finger. “Mmmm, delicious!”
“The Hibbly Witch,” Nebby introduced before turning to look anxiously at the gymnasium doors.
Just then, the doors swung open and a knotty- haired, pointy-faced, squinty-eyed witchling strutted out. It was Witchling Four. “I’m a full-fledged witch, now,” she bragged to her guardian, the Coldwind Witch. “I’m the Floodburst Witch.”
Rupert ran up to her. “Did Witchling Two go yet?”
“She was right after me, which means she’s probably in the middle of flopping right about now,” the Floodburst Witch said, sticking her tongue out at Rupert and brushing past him.
They walked away together, and Nebby bit her lip. “I hope she passes.”
“She will,” said Rupert.
“She better,” said Nebby, tugging on the strings of her party hat. “I only wear party hats on very special days.”
They fell into silence, and Rupert stared at the gymnasium, longing to watch. And then he got an idea.
“I have to use the bathroom—be right back!” Rupert said, and he dashed toward the side door of the high school.
“But you might miss her!” Rupert’s mom shouted after him.
But he kept running. He dashed down the hallways, following signs for the gymnasium. He stopped just before the double doors. Rats, no windows.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an air- conditioning vent, and he grinned. He popped the cover off and climbed on through. He crawled up eagerly and stopped in front of another air- conditioning grate—one that faced inside the gym.
Sandy was sweating over a cauldron, but Rupert had no idea what she could be brewing. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve and kept popping ingredients in the mix. Simmer. Stir. Swipe with her finger and taste a nibble. She smiled confidently every step of the way.
Rupert looked at the table across from her and saw a collection of witches. There was the Fairfoul Witch, of course. And he recognized the Midnight Witch, the Lightning Witch, the Thunder Witch, and Storm. Rupert had never seen the other two witches before, and he assumed they were visiting witches from Harkshire or Foxbury, which made Rupert feel better. They were bound to have a more objective opinion of Sandy’s abilities.
After brewing her potion for a while, she finally lifted the ladle to her mouth and cried, “Done!”
The haggard-looking Lightning Witch hobbled up to Sandy, poured a bit of the potion into a goblet, and drank from it.
The Lightning Witch smacked her lips. “Tastes exactly like egg salad. Well done.”
Rupert choked back a laugh. She made an egg salad potion for her exam?
He leaned forward a bit, trying to catch the Fairfoul Witch’s reaction, but he couldn’t see anything until she stood up and leered over the table.
“You’ve passed your WHATs. You’ve passed your potions.” The Fairfoul Witch scowled. “But can you pass your spell portion of the exam?”
Sandy nodded. Then her eyes traveled upward and to the left—she stared at the air-conditioning vent and nodded.
Rupert’s stomach leaped—Sandy knew he was there!
She turned back to the board of examiners. “Give me any spell. I know I can do it!”
“We’ll give you a series of things to conjure up,” said the Midnight Witch. “Ready?”
Sandy nodded.
“Shoe.”
“Blue,” Sandy said with a snap of her fingers. A shoe appeared in her hands.
“Shirt.”
“Dirt,” Sandy said. A shirt appeared on the ground.
“Jetpack.”
Sandy laughed. “Oh, that’s easy. Pet sack!” she said, snapping her fingers. As expected, a Jetpack appeared.
“Vat is zis?” The Thunder Witch said. “Vhy is it zat vat you are saying is deeferent zan vat you are conjuring?”
“It’s my little trick,” Sandy said. “That’s how I conjure. It’s foolproof.”
“Is it now?” the Fairfoul Witch smirked. “Then how about you conjure me a penguin?”
Rupert gripped the bars of the air-conditioning vent with white knuckles as he realized there was no rhyme for penguin.
“P-penguin?” Sandy said in a small voice.
“Sure,” the Fairfoul Witch said. “Or, forget the penguin. Conjure me an olive.”
“An olive,” Sandy said, deadpan.
“No, no, you’re right. An olive isn’t interesting enough. Instead, you can put a chimney on this roof. No—rather, conjure me something purple.”
None of these words rhymed with anything. The Fairfoul Witch was prepared to stump her, and now Sandy would fail her exam, have her powers stripped, and be forced to leave Gliverstoll forever. Rupert hid his face in his hands. He didn’t want to watch this . . . this bloodbath.
Sandy stood there with her hands limp, looking like she didn’t know what to do.
The Fairfoul Witch threw her head back and cackled. The Midnight Witch joined in, but the other witches seated at the table looked rather uncomfortable.
“You already had a name picked out, didn’t you, Witchling Two? What was it that the loathsome little Campbell boy called you? The Sand Witch? A little premature to pick out a name before you even pass your exam, don’t you think?” The Fairfoul Witch leaned close to Sandy. “You want to earn the title? Conjure me a sandwich, then. Something delicious.”
Rupert quickly went through the alphabet and realized that there was no rhyme for sandwich, either. His thoughts buzzed about—he needed to step in and save her, but how?
Sandy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, she looked firmly into the Fairfoul Witch’s piercing eyes.
“Well?” Sandy said carefully. “Which is it? Which of these things would you like me to conjure?”
This, apparently, wasn’t the reaction the Fairfoul Witch was expecting.
“You won’t pass unless you conjure them all,” she snapped.
“Okay!” Sandy said brightly. “Engine, knowledge, kidney, burble, and a grand old perky canned-snitch!” She snapped her fingers.
Rupert pressed his face against the grate.
A penguin popped up next to Sandy. Then she uncurled her left hand to reveal a tiny olive. The
ceiling rumbled and a chimney popped up. In her right hand, she revealed a purple locket.
Everyone except the Fairfoul Witch clapped.
“Where’s the sandwich?” she hissed. “You can’t pass without that!”
“Check your bag,” Sandy said coolly. “I think you’ll find a bland, cold turkey sandwich.”
The Fairfoul Witch dug in her bag and pulled out a turkey hoagie wrapped in paper.
Sandy bowed, and the table clapped for her. Storm smiled extra wide.
But the Fairfoul Witch scowled, baring her inordinately pointy teeth. She picked up the table and threw it across the room, where it narrowly missed the waddling penguin. Then, with a flourish of her cloak, the Fairfoul Witch stormed out of the gymnasium. The Midnight Witch copied the Fairfoul Witch in every gesture and marched out behind her.
There was a tittering from the rest of the board, and one of the witches Rupert didn’t recognize stood up. “Well, I’ll be!” she said. “We never act in such an unsightly manner in Foxbury. This witchling obviously has the skill and ingenuity it takes to be a full-fledged witch.”
“Vitchling Two, ve’re proud to present you with ze title of Vitch,” said the Thunder Witch.
“From here on out, you will now be known as the Sand Witch,” the Lightning Witch said with a smile.
With tears in her eyes, Storm popped up from her seat and engulfed Sandy in a great big hug.
“Can’t—breathe—Storm—”
Storm let go.
Sandy thanked the witches and ran out of the gymnasium. Rupert quickly turned around and began wiggling his way out of the vent, but then suddenly it seemed that the vent was much wider than it was before. So wide, in fact, that Rupert didn’t even have to crawl. He stood up and walked. When he reached the grate by the gymnasium entrance, he found that the grate was the size of a large door, and so he swung it open and jumped out.
Sandy stood there, waiting for him, excitedly bouncing.
“I suppose the growing vent was your doing, Sand Witch?” Rupert said.
She giggled, and Rupert ran and hugged her.
“I PASSED!”
“I know! But how did you conjure up all those things that didn’t have rhymes?”
The Only Thing Worse Than Witches Page 14
