by Hiawyn Oram
Copyright
Text copyright © 2007 by Hiawyn Oram
Illustrations copyright © 2007 by Sarah Warburton
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of l976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Hachette Book Group
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Little, Brown Books for Young Readers is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: August 2009
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-07887-0
Contents
Copyright
Contract of Service
A Short History of How You Come to be Reading My Very Private Diaries
Rumblewick Spellwacker Mortimer B
Foggy Night in the Far Quagmires
Back at Thirteen Chimneys after Getting Lost and Diverted by the JIM
JIM Day the First Night
Later
HA Gets an Even Worse Invitation Day Night
Much Later, So Late It's Nearly Dawning
HA Bubbles over and the Snoop Comes Snooping
My Brilliant Plan
My Brilliant Plan Continues
My Brilliant Plan Backfires
“Saturday” Night—Nearly Dawning
Girl Band Discovery Day Night
To Giselle and Nicola, for being so incredibly good H.O.
For Lizzie S.W.
CONTRACT OF SERVICE
between
WITCH HAGATHA AGATHA, Haggy Aggy for short, HA for shortest of Thirteen Chimneys, Wizton-under-Wold
&
the Witch's Familiar,
RUMBLEWICK SPELLWACKER MORTIMER B, RB for short
It is hereby agreed that, come
FIRE, Brimstone, CAULDRONS overflowing,
or ALIEN WIZARDS invading,
for the NEXT SEVEN YEARS
RB will serve HA,
obey her EVERY WHIM AND WORD and at all times assist her
in the ways of being a true and proper WITCH.
PAYMENT for services will be:
a log basket to sleep in unlimited slime buns for breakfast
free use of HA's broomsticks (outside of peak brooming hours)
and a cracked mirror for luck.
PENALTY for failing in his duties will be decided on the whim of
THE HAGS on HIGH.
SIGNED AND SEALED
this New Moon Day, 22nd of Remember
Witch Hagatha Agatha Rumblewick Spellwaker Mortimer B
And witnessed by the High Hag Trixie Fiddlestick
A SHORT HISTORY OF HOW YOU COME TO BE READING MY VERY PRIVATE DIARIES
In a snail shell, they were STOLEN. Oh yes, no less. My witch, Haggy Aggy (HA for short), sneaked into my log basket and helped herself.
According to her, this is what happened:
On one of her many shopping trips to Your Side she met a Book Wiz. (I am told you call them publishers, though Wiz seems more fitting as they make books appear, as if by magic, every day of the week.)
Anyway, this Book Wiz/publisher wanted HA to write an account of HER life as a witch here on Our Side. Of course, HA wasn't willing to do that. Being the most unwilling witch in witchdom, she is far too busy shopping, watching TV, not cackling, being anything BUT a witch, and getting me into trouble with the High Hags * as a result.
The Book Wiz begged on her knees (apparently) and offered HA a life's supply of shoes if she came up with something. So HA did. She came up with THIS—MY DIARIES. ALL OF THEM!!!!
Of course, when I wrote the diaries, I was not expecting anyone to read them. Let alone Othersiders like you. But as you are, here is a word to the wise about how things work between us:
1. We are here on THIS SIDE and you are there on the OTHER SIDE.
2. Between us is the HORIZON LINE.
3. You don't see we're here, on This Side, living our lives, because for you the Horizon Line is always a day away. You can walk for a thousand moons (or more for all I know), but you'll never reach it.
4. On the other paw, we know you're there because we visit you all the time. This is partly because of broomsticks. A broomstick has no trouble with any Horizon Line anywhere. A broomstick (with one or more of us upon it) just flies straight through.
And it has to be like that because scaring Otherside children into their wits is part of witches' work. In fact it is Number One on the Witches' Charter of Good Practice (see copy glued at the back).
On the other paw, it is NOWHERE in the Charter for a witch to go over to Your Side to make friends and try to be and do everything you are and do—as my witch, Haggy Aggy, does.
But then, that's my giant problem: being cat to a witch who doesn't want to be one. And as you will see from these diaries, it makes my life a right BAG OF HEDGEHOGS. So all I can say is, if HA tries to make friends with YOU, send her straight back to This Side with a spider in her ear.
Thank you,
THIS DIARY BELONGS TO:
RUMBLEWICK Spellwacker Mortimer B
RUMBLEWICK for short, RB for shortest
ADDRESS:
Thirteen Chimneys,
Wizton-under-Wold, This Side
Bird's Eye View: 331 N by WW
TELEPHONE:
77+3-5+1-7
NEAREST OTHERSIDE TELEPHONE:
Ditch and Candleberry Bush Street,
N by SE Over the Horizon
BIRTHDAY:
Windy Day 23rd Magogary
EDUCATION:
The Awethunder School for Familiars
12-Moon Apprenticeship to the
High Hag Witch Trixie Fiddlestick
QUALIFICATIONS:
Certified Witch's Familiar
CURRENT EMPLOYMENT:
Seven-year contract with Witch Hagatha Agatha,
Haggy Aggy for short, HA for shortest
HOBBIES:
Cathastics, Point-to-Point Shrewing, Languages
NEXT OF KIN:
Uncle Sherbet (retired Witch's Familiar)
Moldy Old Cottage,
Flying Teapot Street,
Prancetown
Foggy Night in the Far Quagmires
Dear Diary,
Sorry if this looks skew-wiggle. We're sleeping over at Haggy Aggy's aunt's in the Far Quagmires—and I'm writing under the spare bed, by the light of a tired firefly.
We only came for our usual once-a-moon drop-in. But then the fog came down and Pondernot (HA's aunt) wouldn't let us fly home in it.
Haggy Aggy is in the bed, tossing and turning so hard, she's sending the mattress straw flying—all over me and all over you. I'm certain she's sleeping so badly on purpose—as a protest—because she doesn't want to be here.
And I can sympathize with that. Pondernot is a bent little witch with rosy cheeks.
To look at her you'd think she couldn't bring a brew to a bubble in a boiling cauldron.
But one thing is certainly boiling about her: only she, in the whole universe, is able to make HA feel RUBBLEROT about not being a more willing witch.
And this visit, thanks to her snooping Familiar—Sassy Elevenlives Selfright—there's been more than usual to make HA feel RUBBL
EROT about.
Apparently last Ghastly night, Sassy the Snoop “just happened” to drop in to the Deep Ditch in Wizton—a favorite Familiars' haunt.
While she was there, it “just happened” that the High Hags' Familiars came in.
(Well, surprise, surprise, as everyone knows they always go to the Deep Ditch on Ghastly night.)
It also “just happened” that their tattlechat was all about HA and how their Hags suspect she's trying to become less of a witch and more of an Othersider with every moon that passes.
I can imagine the Snoop couldn't get home fast enough to tell Pondernot. And, furnished with this information, Pondernot has been making HA feel like complete GRUBSPIT
Not by harrying and pointing her pointing finger. She never does that. But by getting under HA's skin with sharp little needles of “deep disappointment.” Somehow making HA feel GUILTY for getting HER a bad reputation by association.
Now, while on the one paw I wish I had Pondernot's ability to do this, on the other I'm glad I do not.
For one good reason: feeling guilty does not suit Haggy Aggy.
It puts her in a mood so dark it's as if she's under a personal eclipse of the sun and moon and can't see her own foot in front of her.
And that's the mood she's in right now—the mood that's making her sleep so badly I can no longer see what I'm writing for all the straw. Mind you, no point in wasting good napping material.
I think I'll take thirty-one winks.
Good night.
Back at Thirteen Chimneys after Getting Lost and Diverted by the JIM
Dear Diary,
We're home, thank the stars. Back from the Far Quagmires, though by no means out of the “quagmire.”
To continue: what with the grubspit feelings of guilt and having to sleep over—by the time the fog lifted and we came to leave Pondernot's—HA's mood was so dark she could hardly see her way out of the front door.
Though I was standing there ready with our broomstick, she walked straight past me and nearly fell into one of the bog fires in what Pondernot fondly calls her “garden.”
This put HA into an even fouler mood. Followed by an even fouler one, when Pondernot said with a crooked smile, “Now, my dear, you know how much it would upset me to see a fully fledged witch being flown by her Familiar. So I hope you'll be flying that broomstick home yourself as any AUNT-RESPECTING witch would do.”
With a thundery snarl, HA grabbed our broomstick, mounted it, and took off with barely time for me to leap on behind.
Well, the truth is, Diary, in the dark mood she was in, HA should NOT have been flying anything, anywhere. Let alone from the Far Quagmires to Wizton-under-Wold.
It requires much alertness of the stars above and landmarks below. It should NEVER be attempted by one in a personal eclipse and hardly able to see her own flying hand in front of her.
So, inevitably, in spite of my attempts to navigate from the back of the broom, WE WENT THE WRONG WAY.
We went so wrong, we ended up crossing the Horizon and flying uselessly hither and thither on the Other Side, until HA said she was feeling so sick she was going to fall off.
I took my life in my paws, clung and clawed my way past her to take over the flying, and quickly brought us down—as I thought safely—on the nearest suitable landing place.
As it turned out, it wasn't safe or suitable.
It was the roof of a building in which, HA was soon to discover, Otherside children go to do JIM (similar to cathastics, if a clumsier version).
And now that we were off-broomstick and away from guilt and the Far Quagmires, HA's dark mood suddenly lifted.
Her sun and moon came out again.
She dangled cheerfully from the water pipes of the building, so she could peer in and eavesdrop at a half-open window.
“Oh RB,” she cried, “do take a look.
“There are darling girls in there doing what they call ‘JIM’—leaping, tumbling, propelling, and turning free through the air. No springs on their feet, no wings on their shoulders! Oh, how I'd love to be what they be and do what they do. And do you know what? Because I would love to, I've decided I will! ”
Well, you know Haggy Aggy.
Once she's decided, she's decided.
So forget Pondernot's guiltifyings about being more Other Side than This Side.
An otherside JIM girl what HA is going to be!!
I mean, we've only been home five tads of tell and she's already turned herself into a JIM Girl Lookalike.
And magicked up a JIM bag full of JIM wear so tomorrow she can join the “darling JIM girls” in their JIMMY activities.
She is in her room now, trying out a spell she made me invent the moment we came in the door—namely The Triple-Turn-in-Air-without-Landing-in-a-Complete-Splat spell.
I don't know how but I've got to keep this from the tattlechat at the Deep Ditch.
Imagine if Sassy the Snoop hears of it and informs Aunt Pondernot?
All I can say is, dark moodwise, better not ponder it!
JIM Day the First Night
Dear Diary,
Talk about being exhausted. I've had to spend all afternoon in that JIM building tucked down in HA's JIM bag, “OBSERVING AND LEARNING SO AS TO HELP HER BECOME A GREAT JIMMER.”
And then, since we got home, I've had to invent four more spells, “using what I've observed and learned.”
All, please note, when I was supposed to be somewhere quite else—at practice for the Grand Steeplechase Race!!
More of that later.
For here are all five spells (which she's asked me to set in a booklet she can tuck into her JIM pants for easy reference).
Spell 1
THE TRIPLE-TURN-IN-AIR-WITHOUT-LANDING-IN-A-COMPLETE-SPLAT SPELL
Tuck yourself up tight as a catkin bud in a witch's hat and chant:
My feet are sprung like springy springs
My feet so sprung will give me wings
And stepping from this witch's hat
I'll fly up from the gymnast's mat
And in a wondrous sky-high bound
I'll have the time to turn me round
Not once, not twice, but three times over
Then land as if I land in CLOVER.
Spell 2
THE FIY-OVER-THE-HORSE SPELL
Make your broomstick invisible using any reliable invisible Broomstick spell. Lie on “the horse” and chant with authority:
You are no longer lifeless
You are a living horse
As vaulting you I must he
You'll help me in my course
And as I come a-flying
You'll be there for my hands
While making very, very sure
You're NOT there when I lands.
Spell 3
THE GLUED-ON-A-BEAM SPELL
Mix one dollop spider's web jam, one dollop burr jelly, one dollop pine tree goo. Just before you mount the balance beam, apply mixture to soles of your shoes or feet and chant:
I will stay, I will stick
I will never stumble
See my feet return so neat
From each leap and tumble
I'm so stable, I'm so able
I can make the team
I am glued on like I'm screwed on—
TO THIS BALANCE BEAM.
Spell 4
THE NO-HANDS-SWING-BARS SPELL
When called to mount the bars, twirl on your left foot backwards seven times while chanting inwardly:
I am so sure between these bars
I circle, swing, release
It seems I am a Spinning Wheel
My speed I don't decrease.
I am supreme between these bars
I hardly need them there
One giant swing and look—no hands—I am at home in air.
Spell 5
THE ELEVENTEEN-TUMBLES-IN-A-ROW SPELL
Sprinkle yourself liberally with sawdust eleventeen times, and on the eleventeenth shout:
/> Eleventeen tumbles in a row
Here I go, here I go.
Nothing can stop me,
No one can top me
I'm the One-Witch-Girl-Tumble Show!
Not bad, given I've only been acquainted with JIM for SOCKS, SOCKS, TADPOLES IN SOCKS!
What's going on. The whole house is shaking. Is it the end of the universe? Be back when I've found out
Later
Dear Diary,
Sorry to keep you in suspense. It wasn't the end of the universe or even Wizton-under-Wold.
Apparently, at JIM, HA made friends with two JIM GIRLS named Zinnia and Tulip. They've invited her for a shake at a nearby Shake Shop after JIMMING tomorrow.
So, because HA always has to be the best at everything (except being a proper witch), she has been practicing her shake.
Well, I hope they don't invite her every day.
I mean, look at this place!
I'll be working till dawn unshaking it.
HA Gets an Even Worse Invitation Day Night
Dear Diary
Can you believe this? HA got it all wrong. A Shake Shop is not a place you go to shake yourself till the universe trembles. It is a kind of Gatheria where you meet with your friends—to slurp googuff through hollow reeds called straws.
When HA discovered this, she picked up her JIM bag (me in it) and rushed to the Shake Shop bathroom. Here, she had the nerve to give me an ear-wigging!
