The Only Thing Worse Than Witches (13 page)

The Last Class

I
N THE MORNING,
N
EBBY,
S
TORM, AND
S
ANDY
walked Rupert to the nearest bus stop. Sandy rubbed her eyes, trying to contain her tears. Storm did not have the same restraint
—
she sobbed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robes. Rupert was flattered that Storm felt so strongly about him
—
until she whispered, “That morning sun is so lovely!”

Rupert looked up at Nebby, who reached out a hand to help Rupert up.

“You must leave town
—
as quickly and quietly as you can,” Nebby reminded him. “You and your mother should be safe once you get far enough away.”

“And don't forget to mind your Z's and two's,” Storm said.

“And don't worry about Mrs. Frabblecrackers,” Sandy said. “The sand potion should still be in your system from yesterday, at least for a little while. I don't think she'll give you any trouble.”

“Can I use the leftover potion in my water bottle?” Rupert asked.

Sandy shook her head. “That should be stale. We could have made a new one, but . . .” Sandy whimpered. And that whimper turned into a snivel. And that snivel turned into a weep. And that weep turned into a cry. And that cry turned into a wail. And that wail turned into a sob. And that sob turned into a blubber.

“I'm sorry!” Sandy said, wiping her face on her arm. “I know I'm only supposed to cry when I'm happy! But you were the best friend I ever had!”

Watching her, Rupert was gutted. “Me too,” he said miserably. He tried to memorize her round face, her freckles, her blond hair tucked in a high ponytail, her big teeth
—
he couldn't believe that this was the last time he would ever see Sandy.

“Do well on your Bar Exam,” Rupert said. “You only have three days left, so you better practice a lot.”

“I will,” Sandy sniffled.

Rupert nodded. “You'll be the best Sand Witch anyone has ever seen.”

They hugged, and the emptiness grew inside his chest.

The bus came, and Rupert went to the very last row so he could wave to Sandy as the bus drove him to the worst place in the world. At first Sandy waved back, but then they grew farther and farther apart, until she was just a speck in his field of vision
—
and then she was gone altogether.

Rupert turned around, crossed his arms, and scowled.
Just
when he found a friend that Mrs. Frabbleknacker couldn't take away, he still couldn't be friends with her, all because of another horrible adult
—
the Fairfoul Witch. The more he thought about it, the more steamed he became. Who was Mrs. Frabbleknacker to stop him from talking to his friends? And who was the Fairfoul Witch to make him leave town?

When the school bus finally arrived, Rupert shuffled into the hallway, walked into his classroom, and took his seat. A few jaws dropped when he walked in, and poor brave Bruno leaned over and whispered, “We thought you were a goner.”

Rupert shrugged. He hurt in the bottom of his chest, in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to cry.

But he put on a brave smile and said to Bruno, “Nope, I'm just fine.”

“What did Mrs. Frabbleknacker do?” Allison asked. “Did she pull your hair?”

“Did she stomp on your toes?” said Kaleigh.

“Did she poke you in the side with a spoon?” said Hal.

“Did she sock you in the stomach?” squeaked Manny, from his little glass jar on the windowsill.

“She didn't do anything,” he said. And he sat down in his seat, very aware that the rest of the class was staring at him with awe.

Not a moment later, the door burst open, and Mrs. Frabbleknacker blew in. She sniffed and looked around the room very carefully. Her eyes stopped when she reached Rupert's desk, but Rupert noticed that she squinted slightly as she stared at him, as if he was blurry and she couldn't quite see him.

“Children,” she said, as though she was saying something truly awful like
Ingrown Toenail
or
Hairy Ice Cream.
“Today is for mathematics.”

Everyone groaned.

“Hush!” Mrs. Frabbleknacker said, crinkling her criggly nose. “Now I know you may be disappointed. I know you thought that because we hadn't done mathematics thus far, we weren't going to do it ever. But you were wrong. You're always wrong. If you are always wrong and never right, then what percentage are you wrong?”

“One hundred percent,” the class droned.

“WRONG!” Mrs. Frabbleknacker jumped up. “You are wrong hyrax percent!”

Rupert scratched his head and wrote
hyrax = 100
in his notebook.

Mrs. Frabbleknacker walked to the front of the classroom, her heels clicking. She stopped when she got to the jar that trapped Manny. She stared at him. “If I say that Manny is two plus three inches tall, then how tall is he?” Mrs. Frabbleknacker whipped around, her eyes bulging. “Allison!”

“F-five?”

Mrs. Frabbleknacker jumped in the air and pointed at Allison. “FIVE? FIVE?” Mrs. Frabbleknacker walked over to Allison. The whole class cringed. Rupert stood very still, his stomach sinking. Surely, Allison was in for it now.

Mrs. Frabbleknacker's face broke into a smile. A very waxy, cold-looking smile, as though she didn't quite know how to upturn her lips.

“Did you hear that, class?” Mrs. Frabbleknacker said. “Two plus three equals
five!
Well done, my dear Allison! Well done!”

She held out her hand for Allison to shake. Allison awkwardly held her own limp hand out to Mrs. Frabbleknacker. But instead of shaking Allison's hand, Mrs. Frabbleknacker yanked her out of her desk.

“WRONG!” Mrs. Frabbleknacker shouted. “TWO PLUS THREE IS
NOT
FIVE!”

She pulled both of Allison's arms over her head and tied them in a pretzel knot. Allison squeaked. Then she ran from the classroom crying, yet again.

Mrs. Frabbleknacker walked to the front of the classroom. “Now who can tell me what two plus three is? Anyone?”

The whole class was silent.

Mrs. Frabbleknacker stamped her foot on the ground. “IF YOU CAN'T ANSWER THIS SIMPLE QUESTION,” she shouted, “THEN HOW ARE YOU GOING TO LEARN HARD MATH? HOW WILL YOU BE ABLE TO ANSWER JACKAL DIVIDED BY BELUGA? OR PARAKEET MULTIPLIED BY CAMEL?”

Rupert's heart stopped, and his head grew light and dizzy. Jackal? Beluga? Parakeet? Camel? And . . . Hyrax? No wonder he didn't know that
hyrax = 100.
Hyrax wasn't a word for one hundred
—
hyrax was an animal. And if Mrs. Frabbleknacker expected them to multiply and divide with animals, it could only mean one thing.

“Now we'll try this again,” Mrs. Frabbleknacker said. “Two plus three is
—
”

“Honeybee,” said Rupert.

He locked eyes with Mrs. Frabbleknacker, and she grinned.

The Worst Witch of All

T
HE
WHOLE
CLASS
LOOKED
AT
R
UPERT
. B
UT
Rupert didn't have time to worry about them. His thoughts buzzed and hummed and flung around like Silly Putty in a slingshot. Every witch-like moment that had made him suspicious about her suddenly rushed back to him, and all the pieces made perfect sense. The cruel punishments
—
that was very witch-like behavior. The animal math
—
that was witch math. Mrs. Frabbleknacker didn't
buy
her potions
—
she made them. Probably with the frog guts that she got from his class. She didn't even hate the witches
—
she must have been pretending because she didn't want anyone to know that she
was
a witch
.
This whole time.

Mrs. Frabbleknacker turned her back toward Rupert and scratched the chalkboard with a ruler. The sound made Rupert shudder, and when she stepped away from the board, Rupert read:

LIFE IS FAIR, AND FAIR IS FOUL.

Rupert's mouth went dry. Warning words fired in his brain. Fair. Foul. Fairfoul. Fairfoul Witch. Not only was Mrs. Frabbleknacker a witch, but she was the
Fairfoul
Witch, the only witch that made Nebby, Storm, and Sandy quake in their boots.

Rupert's eyes darted for the door. He had to get out.

Mrs. Frabbleknacker
—
or the Fairfoul Witch
—
drifted dangerously close to Rupert's only escape, as if she read his eye movements. Rupert weighed his options. He could make a break for the window, or he could distract her as he dashed for the door. But deep down, he knew that neither of these would work. The Fairfoul Witch had powerful and unlimited magic on her side, and Rupert only had the sand potion in his veins, which was just about expired.

Rupert wondered if the Fairfoul Witch would really hurt him in front of the rest of the class. That would be a liability, right? She would get fired. She could go to jail.

Who was he kidding? The Fairfoul Witch didn't care about that stuff. She could use her magic to escape
—
and who would believe the fifth-grade witnesses anyway?

Rupert felt sick
—
nauseous in the pit of his stomach, clammy sweat on his neck. The Fairfoul Witch had him trapped and cornered.

He was dead meat.

He looked up at the Fairfoul Witch again, and she seemed to be watching him with upturned lips and a twinkle in her eye. Rupert forced himself to calm down
—
he focused on his breathing. In and out. Inhale and exhale. The more he focused on his breathing, the calmer he got, and the more disinterested the Fairfoul Witch became.

She turned back to the board with a click of her heels and pointed to her clawed message on the chalkboard:
LIFE IS FAIR, AND FAIR IS FOUL.

“This is our new class motto,” the Fairfoul Witch said. “Repeat.”

“Life is fair. And fair is foul,” the class droned.

“Louder!'

“LIFE IS FAIR, AND FAIR IS FOUL.”

The Fairfoul Witch sniffed, her grandflubbing nose twitching. “Today's lesson is about a little boy. A little boy who broke the rules. A little boy who spends his afternoons gallivanting with a witchling. A little boy who tried to trick me.” She licked her lips. “Tell me, class, what should I do with a little boy like that?”

No one said anything.

“Today's lesson,” the Fairfoul Witch continued, “is one that will be important for the rest of your lives. The first part is that life is fair. A little boy disobeys and sneaks?
—
well, he gets his proper punishment. The second part is that fair is foul.” She smiled, revealing a mouth of crooked teeth. “Punishment is not pleasant. Punishment for bad actions
—
though fair
—
is often foul. Tragic
,
” she said, as if she was already anticipating newspaper headlines. She loomed close to Rupert, her clawed hands outstretched like she was ready to strangle him.

Rupert dug into his backpack for something
—
anything
—
to stop the Fairfoul Witch. His fingers grazed books, pens, notebooks
—
his hand closed around his water bottle of sand potion. It wouldn't work
—
Sandy said it was stale. He quickly undid the cap anyway.

The Fairfoul Witch loomed over him. “You're finished!” she crowed.

Rupert took the potion out of his bag and splashed the Fairfoul Witch in the face. She howled and hissed as if her eyes sizzled. “AUGHHHHHHHHH! POTION IN MY EYES!”

Rupert dropped his backpack, ducked around her, and made for the door. His sweaty palms clasped around the doorknob
—
he turned the knob and kicked the door open. Outside the classroom door were nine women and four girls in black cloaks. Rupert recognized Witchling Four, the Storm Witch, and the Nebulous Witch among them. The other women, he assumed, must be the rest of the Witches Council. And the girls must be the other witchlings.

“Nebby! Storm! Please! My teacher Mrs. Frabbleknacker is the Fairfoul Witch! Help!”

But Nebby just leered at him. Storm began to cackle, and soon all of the witches were tittering, snorting, crowing, and guffawing.

He could feel his face getting hot with rage
—
how could he be so
stupid
?

This time,
thought Rupert,
there really is no escape.