The Only Thing Worse Than Witches (10 page)

“Catfish minutes
—
we really have to go!”

This trip was a failure,
Rupert thought as he stood up,
but this room is so messy it's no wonder we couldn't find anything
. He grabbed Witchling Two's hand and pulled her through the vapors, which were now erupting in spurts. “Come on
—
let's get out of here!”

Witchling Two followed him but stopped dead just before the door. She walked to the wooden table in the corner.

“Come on!” Rupert said. “We have to get out of here!”

She gasped.

“Rupert!” She hovered over the table, and when she turned around, she held up a piece of parchment. “Your mom.”

Rupert's heart leaped into his throat. “What?”

Witchling Two cleared her throat. “
Joanne Campbell punished under article nineteen. Caught stealing forbidden potions from the Witches
—
”

“That's my mom!”

“But that's not everything!” she said, her face growing pale. “There's more. It says,
Punishment: Firstborn child.
”

Witchling Four

“W
HAT DOES THAT MEAN?
A
M
I
A P
UNISHMENT?”

“No,” Witchling Two said. “I think it means . . . you belong to the witches. They've claimed you.”

“B-but I
can't
belong to the witches. I'm not allowed to go near them! This doesn't make any sense.”

Witchling Two scratched her head.

“Why was this file on the table?”

“Nebby and Storm
—
they knew you had become my apprentice. They must know that we didn't stop seeing each other after that day in the Brewery, and they must have wanted to read up on your family history.”

He looked at the piece of paper again.

“What did she steal? What's a forbidden potion?”

“Oh, it could be lots of things. Love potion, death potion, revival potion, fertility potion, intelligence potion, obedience potion. The witches keep all sorts of potions that are forbidden for humans. For moral reasons.”

He looked at Witchling Two quizzically, but she turned to her watch.

“Honeybee minutes!” she squealed.

She grabbed Rupert's hand, and the two of them sped down the hallways. They ran past the flowers so fast that Rupert didn't even have time to inhale. The entrance to the Dome Room was just ahead of them
—
and they leaped into the room like two gazelles.

“Well, well, well!” said a snotty-sounding voice. “Little miss witchling breaking
all
the rules.”

Witchling Two froze, and Rupert turned around the room. Leaning against the wall was a short girl who looked well on her way to becoming the scariest witch Rupert had ever seen. She had tangled brown hair and small, squinty eyes. Her face was sharp and angular, her lips thin and curled. And as she grinned, she bared her small, jagged teeth.

“You brought a
human
inside the Witches Council lair?” the small girl said, smacking her lips in delight. “Witchling Two, you're in so much trouble. I mean, they'll probably make you clean the dome with your tongue. You always do this, you know
—
make us
real
witches look bad. You're a joke
—
an insult to the name witch.” The small girl cracked her neck. “And you could never pass your exam, not even if the entire Witches Council gave you private lessons. I don't know why you even try.”

Witchling Two looked down. A blush crept on her freckly face, and she shuffled her feet.

Rupert squeezed her hand. “Go on,” he whispered. “You're better than that! Now tell her off.”

Witchling Two looked up and beamed. “Hello, Witchling Four!” she said.

Witchling Four looked nervous at Witchling Two's sudden change of attitude. “Did you hear what I just said? You're getting in trouble! They'll never let you take the exam, and you and your
niceness
will be banished forever,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the word
niceness,
as if there was no worse insult in the world.

“Wait . . . are you threatening to tattle on her?” Rupert said.

Witchling Four nodded.

“You wouldn't,” Witchling Two said. “You can't
—
because if you tell, you'll have to admit that you were here, too. And then you'll be in just as much trouble.”

The sound of a gavel and cries of
Meeting Adjourned!
echoed throughout the room. Rupert tugged on Witchling Two's sleeve in panic. She nodded toward his backpack, and Rupert handed it over to her.

“At least
I
didn't bring a human in here!” Witchling Four shouted.

“Human?” Witchling Two said, reaching deep into the backpack. She pulled out the jar full of sand and handed Rupert back the bag. She smiled as she twisted the cap of the jar open. “I don't see a human. Do you see a human?” she said to Rupert.

Rupert caught on fast. “I don't see anything!”

Rupert closed his eyes and his mouth, and Witchling Two dumped the jar of sand all over Rupert's head.

Witchling Four's eyes slid off him, and Rupert and Witchling Two dashed toward the boulder. They ducked around the corner and hid for a moment so that they didn't make too much noise as they scurried toward the exit. Behind him, he heard the doors open and a few witches cry, “Witchling Four! You naughty child!”

“Quick!” Witchling Four shouted. “Witchling Two is here with a human boy!”

“Quiet, you! Stop spreading rumors and lies,” said a squeaky voice. “I'm so ashamed of you right now! You know you're not supposed to be here!”

“But Coldwind!” Witchling Four whined.

“No buts, bums, bottoms, tushes, tails, rears, fannies, or glutei maximi, missy! You've brought me shame and humiliation. No saliva slushie for you tonight!”

Witchling Two tugged on Rupert's sleeve, and he tiptoed behind her as they made their way through the passageway with the framed smiling animals. At last, they made their way to the boulder, and it sat just ahead of them
—
but then the lights flicked off, and they were stuck in darkness.

“What happened?” Rupert whispered, frightened. “Are they gone?”

“No, it's our new environmental conservation plan. They like to turn off the lights when this portion of the hallway isn't being used. We're very concerned about the environment, too.”

“But why aren't the witches leaving the lair? Isn't their meeting over?”

Witchling Two giggled. “We were really lucky Witchling Four was there
—
they're dealing with her in the punishing room. Now let's get out of here.”

And she dragged Rupert toward the exit.

Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun . . .

T
HEY
SCAMPERED
UP
Y
AMMERSTOP
W
AY
AND
didn't stop until they were just outside Rupert's house. Then they leaned on his porch for support and panted.

“We were almost toast!” Rupert said.

“And they didn't even suspect that anything was rabbit!”

Rupert shook his head. “Fishy. That rabbit thing will never catch on,” he said. “But anyway, who was that girl? Witchling Four?”

Witchling Two went pale and started stammering. “Well, you see, um, er, uh, erm . . .”

“She was horrible. An absolute nightmare. Is that why you won't practice with the other witchlings? That's why you hired me, isn't it?”

“No, I really thought you would be useful with your, erm, ability to do things non-magically . . .”

“Tell the truth.”

“Okay, fine,” Witchling Two said. “I don't really get along with the other witchlings. I guess you could tell that I'm a bit . . . different, and they make fun of me a lot. And I was . . . I was . . . I was . . .”

“Lonely,” Rupert finished for her.

Witchling Two nodded.

Rupert understood that feeling quite well.

Except at that moment, for the first time in a long time, Rupert didn't feel lonely at all. When he looked at Witchling Two and thought about all their crazy misadventures, he actually felt a lot better. And even though he hadn't known her for that long, and even though she was a bit batty, and even though they weren't supposed to be friends, she was the best friend Rupert had ever had.

The screen door flew open, and Rupert's mother burst out with two bowls of ice cream. “Hello, kids! Would you like a treat? Or if you don't want this, I can make you something microwavable.”

Witchling Two's eyes narrowed, and she crinkled her nose. “What is that?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Gummyum's homemade carrot ice cream.”

Witchling Two's jaw dropped, and she wore a horrified expression.
“Carrot?”
she said. “Carrot ice cream?”

“Yes, dear. Try a spoonf
—
”

“BUUUNNNYYYYYYYYYYY! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she screamed, bolting all the way down Piggleswumpfer Court and out of sight.

“Your friend is an odd little duckling,” his mother said.

Rupert shrugged.

His mother sat down on the porch step, and Rupert crawled next to her. They began to eat the ice cream in silence, just enjoying the warmth of the sun and the hush of the ocean and the crispness of the salty air.

But Rupert wasn't feeling that hungry, and after a few bites, he put down his bowl. Sitting next to his mom reminded him of what he saw in the witches' lair
—
the horrible realization that he now belonged to the witches because of something his mom had done many years ago.

“Mom . . . What did you steal from the witches?” He didn't mean to say it, but it just sort of burbled out of him.

His mother's spoon flew out of her hand, and she scurried to pick it up again. “What?” she said. “What did you say?”

“What did you steal?”

“How could you possibly know that?” she whispered.

Rupert froze. How could he be so stupid? Of
course
, she'd want to know how he knew . . . but he couldn't tell her about Witchling Two or their trip into the witches' lair.

His mother put down her bowl. “Rupert?” When he didn't answer her, his mother's eyes began to water.

She began to cry, and she pulled him close to her, holding him tight. He hugged her back and tried to comfort her, but it was hard when he didn't understand why she was crying.

When she calmed down, he tried again, “What did you take, Mom?”

She hugged her knees and stared off into the sea. “This is important
—
which witch have you been talking to, Rupert?”

“None of them! Honest!” And it was the truth. Technically, Witchling Two wasn't a witch . . . yet. Rupert took a deep breath. “I was walking near Digglydare Close, and I overheard two witches talking,” he paused. “But I didn't talk to them, and I wasn't
on
the witch street.”

“But you were lingering by it?” She took his hand. “Don't
ever
do that again,” she scolded, but it sounded more like pleading. “How many times have I told you, stay
away
from that side of town.”

“Why?” Rupert said. “Why do I have to stay away from the witches? And what did you steal? And why did you do it? And why do we stay in Gliverstoll if you hate the witches so much? Why do you keep all these secrets?”

She stood up and walked over to the porch swing. “I'm trying to protect you, Rupert.”

“I don't want that. I just want answers.”

When it was clear she wasn't going to discuss the witches any longer, he walked into the house. For hours, he listened to his mother rocking back and forth in her porch chair. When he finally went to bed, she was still rocking.