“No crying!” he said. “From now on, you can only cry when you’re happy… like humans.”
Witchling Two nodded.
Rupert handed her a bucket, retrieved a mop from the closet, and the two of them set off on a long afternoon of very arduous manual labor.
There’s Such a Thing as Too Friendly
RUPERT HAD TO ADMIT — HE REALLY LIKED BEING a witchling’s apprentice. Now that they were all hidden from the Witches Council and the basement was no longer flooded with tears, Rupert felt better about his new job and his new friend.
For the past few days, they had spent each day after school preparing Rupert’s basement to be Witchling Two’s new lair. In the dead of night, Witchling Two had trudged back to her old lair and dragged her state-of-the-art copper cauldron and a few jars of unusual ingredients to Rupert’s house. Rupert had felt guilty that she had to do it alone, but her lair was still human booby-trapped.
Besides, Witchling Two was really sneaky about getting her items out of her lair and into Rupert’s house. She did it while the Witches Council was in session, and then she hid in a tree until Rupert’s mother had left for work. After Rupert’s mother was gone, Rupert had no qualms about helping Witchling Two lug her stuff inside.
He made Witchling Two set up her lair in the back corner of the room, so that his mother couldn’t immediately see it from the top of the steps. Plus, he didn’t think his mother had been in the basement for years. The thick cobwebs were proof of that. With her three jobs, she was just too busy to do anything except collapse when she got home from work.
Rupert had put Witchling Two’s ingredients on bookshelves covered with old drapes full of mothballs, and he hid the cauldron underneath a tarpaulin. Then, they devised a sneaking system, so that Witchling Two could get in and out of her lair without being caught. This involved Rupert unlatching the basement window, which was just large enough for Witchling Two.
The system was working great so far, and Rupert’s mom didn’t suspect a thing. Everything was working perfectly — except for Witchling Two’s magic. With all the hustle and bustle of getting her lair organized, unfortunately, they didn’t have any time to practice. She only had three weeks left until her Bar Exam, and she was just as terrible as ever.
Witchling Two chattered constantly about the potions they would brew and the spells they would cast, but much to Rupert’s disappointment, he and Witchling Two still hadn’t actually practiced any magic. Witchling Two claimed they needed some more fresh ingredients for her potions, but Rupert had the sneaking suspicion that she was trying to avoid practicing the subjects she didn’t like.
On Saturday, Rupert dragged Witchling Two to the grocery store to get the ingredients she needed.
“What do we need to buy?” Rupert asked Witchling Two as she skipped around the fresh produce.
Witchling Two paused and thought. “We need some rhubarb, parsley, chicken bones, and lollipops.”
Rupert stopped walking. “Lollipops?” he said. “For the potions?”
“Well, sure… if we need some loll or pop in a potion we could always just put one in.”
Rupert was not convinced. “So, the lollipops aren’t for the potions, then.”
Witchling Two smacked her lips. Rupert thought he detected a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth.
“You are an addict,” he said, “and you have a problem.”
Witchling Two grinned and kept skipping.
“When are we going to get back to practicing your magic?” Rupert asked. “Don’t you need to pass your Bar Exam?”
The witchling turned a sickly shade of gray. “Well, strictly speaking, technically, theoretically, notionally, supposedly, hypothetically, in principle, maybe, perhaps, possibly, yes,” she stammered.
“What happens if you don’t pass your Bar Exam?”
Witchling Two stopped in front of the cauliflower, her eyes wide and terrified. “Expulsion,” she whispered. “Exile. Shame. They strip me of my powers, and then I’m forced to leave my family and wander nomadically, never to return home again.”
“And I thought being grounded was bad.”
“Not passing the Bar Exam is the worst thing that can ever happen to a witch.”
“So why aren’t we working on your spells?”
“More ingredients, Rupert. More, more, more. We can’t brew a proper potion without more ingredients.”
“But I thought you were worse at spells than potions—”
“MORE INGREDIENTS! MORE, MORE, MORE,” she shouted, plugging her ears.
Rupert laughed and slipped his hands in his pockets.
He followed Witchling Two as she inspected vegetables with one eye open. Occasionally, she would sniff an item, and very rarely she took a nibble. Whenever she did nibble on something, she put it back on the shelves.
Rupert cringed. No wonder his mother always insisted on microwavable food.
When they got to the sweets and candies aisle, Rupert saw Kyle shopping with his father. Rupert and Kyle looked at each other and froze. Then Rupert backed out of the aisle, dragging Witchling Two by the arm.
“We don’t need candy,” Rupert said. “Let’s just go — please.”
Witchling Two looked behind her, then back at Rupert, trying to understand what just happened. “Who was that boy?” Witchling Two said. “Is he trouble? A bully? Do I need to teach him a lesson?” she said, cracking her knuckles.
Rupert shuddered from the sound. “No!” he said. “It’s just a boy in my class… we used to be friends…”
“What, what?” Witchling Two begged, her eyes growing wide. “What happened?”
“Mrs. Frabbleknacker,” Rupert said. “She won’t let any of us be friends anymore. We’re not allowed to talk to each other in class or outside of class — hey, wait!” Rupert said as Witchling Two marched toward the candy aisle. “Wait — no! What are you doing? No! Stop it—no!”
Rupert ran to the candy aisle, but it was too late — Witchling Two was already at the end of the aisle, next to Kyle and his dad. She stuck out a hand and smiled brightly. “Hello!” she said. “What’s your name?”
Kyle looked like he was going to explode. He looked at Rupert for help, but Rupert looked down. He couldn’t be caught talking to Kyle, and if Kyle knew what was best for him, he’d ignore Witchling Two as well.
“Er… I’m Kyle Mason-Reed.”
“Kyle Mason-Reed, huh? I think I’ve seen you at school. Well, Rupert and I were wondering if you’d like to come to the movies with us next weekend.” Witchling Two smiled at Kyle’s father and batted her eyes innocently. “Would that be okay Mr. Mason-Reed?” she asked Kyle’s father.
“It’s just Mr. Mason,” Kyle’s father said. “And Kyle is at his mother’s house next weekend — but it should be okay with her. It’s certainly okay with me.” Kyle’s father rolled the shopping cart out of the candy aisle and called for Kyle to meet him after he exchanged numbers with the nice girl.
Kyle grabbed Witchling Two on the arm. “I am not going to the movies with you and Rupert.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to stay alive.” Kyle looked around the supermarket and lowered his voice to the faintest whisper. “You must be from Miss Snugglybuns’s class, so you probably don’t understand. But I’m in Mrs. Frabbleknacker’s class, which means that I can’t talk to Rupert. She’ll know. I shouldn’t even be talking to you!”