The Marvelous Magic of Miss Mabel (6 page)

“Fascinating,” Mabel murmured, shoving her glasses up her nose. She wasn't sure what she had done exactly,
but the results were certainly interesting. “Ouch!” Mabel cried, feeling the curved end of Nanny Grimshaw's umbrella hook under her armpit. With another loud “ouch!” she was yanked to her feet.

Nanny Grimshaw looked her up and down. “Your pinafore is dirty, your braids need tidying, and you have crumbs around your mouth. You are a disgrace, Mabel Ratcliff. Is this how we dress for school?”

“No, Nanny, sorry, Nanny.”

“You have ten minutes to eat breakfast and make yourself presentable before your chaperone group comes by. Now, get going,” Nanny Grimshaw said, giving Mabel a smack on the bottom with her umbrella.

T
HERE WERE SEVEN SENIOR STUDENTS
who had the privilege of being Ruthersfield chaperones. These girls got to fly around the streets of Potts Bottom and collect all the young witches on their route. Every morning and afternoon, the chaperones could be seen flying sedately along, trailing a line of little girls behind them. They were not allowed to fly more than two feet off the ground or go any faster than the front walker. And the twelfth former on Mabel's route was the “perfect” Violet Featherstone. Like the rest of the upper class, she wore her skirts down past her ankles and pinned up her hair. But it was the corsets the twelfth
formers were obliged to wear that Mabel dreaded the most. This torturous undergarment squeezed your stomach in so tightly it was difficult to breathe. It was a well-known Ruthersfield fact that the twelfth formers competed with each other to see who had the smallest waist. That's why they were constantly fainting, Mabel thought, because they couldn't get enough air into their lungs. And it must make broomstick riding so uncomfortable. Not that you would ever guess this if you saw Violet Featherstone. She took great pride in perching sideways on her broomstick, her legs pressed together and her shoulders pulled back. Even her cat had impressive riding posture, his hind paws tucked under and his tail flagpole straight.

“No running,” Violet said, as Mabel came dashing out of her house. “And put your hat on, please.”

“Yes, Violet,” Mabel panted, pulling on her hat as she joined the end of the line behind her friend Tabitha.

From somewhere close by a bell started ringing, and Mabel turned just in time to see their magic hands teacher barrel past on one of the big two-wheeled contraptions she had read about in the newspaper but never actually seen before. Wind blew in Mabel's face and a fizz of excitement rushed through her. “Look, a bicycle!” she shouted, as Miss Seymour sped by, curls blowing in her face, her long purple cloak streaming
out behind. Mabel was so busy staring at the huge metal machine that she stumbled into Tabitha. “Sorry!” Mabel apologized, watching their teacher wobble and swerve her way down Trotting Hill. “I just can't believe Miss Seymour's riding a bicycle!”

None of the girls had seen such a sight before, and Violet Featherstone landed shakily on the pavement, her mouth dropping open in shock. Pulling some smelling salts out of her pocket and waving them under her nose, she gawked at Miss Seymour.

“Where's her broomstick?” one of the year-two witches squealed. “Why isn't she flying to school?” Most mornings Miss Seymour would pass Mabel's chaperone group, but never on a bicycle. In fact, as far as Mabel knew, this was the first bicycle sighting in Potts Bottom.

Dashing out of line, Mabel began to run down the hill. She had to see that machine up close, examine what happened when the pedals were pushed. It was like a mechanical horse that didn't need feeding, and Mabel wondered how fast it could go.

“Mabel Ratcliff,” Violet called out, not raising her voice but making it clear enough and loud enough for Mabel to stop in her tracks. “Two demerits for disruptive behavior.” Violet pointed her wand at Mabel, and two black
X
s flew through the air, attaching
themselves to the front of Mabel's pinafore. “One more this week and you will find yourself in Miss Brewer's office,” Violet cautioned. Mabel swallowed the retort that was trying to escape from her mouth. She'd only get another demerit if she spoke back to Violet, and she could question Miss Seymour about her bicycle later.

“Sorry about your demerits,” Tabitha said, holding her hand out to Mabel as they walked. “This will make you feel better. Quickly,” she whispered, “before Violet sees.”

“Chocolate?” Mabel gasped, taking the smooth brown square.

“My papa always brings me a bar back when he goes down to London on business.”

“Oh, Tabitha, thank you. You are the nicest person. I only get it at Christmas as a special treat.” Mabel sniffed the thick square, breathing in the sweet, chocolaty aroma. “I shall save this for after lunch.”

“To take away that nasty liver taste,” Tabitha said, shuddering in agreement. Every Monday they had liver, a day when the girls sat in miserable silence, staring at slabs of dense, evil-flavored organ meat lying on their plates. It was a Ruthersfield rule that you couldn't leave the table until your plate was clean, so Monday lunchtimes were always the longest in the week, with tears and groans and enough leftovers to feed all the school cats. “I hate liver.” Tabitha gagged. “It is the
most disgusting, foul-tasting food in the whole world, and it should be illegal to serve it to children.”

“Ruby always gets sick after Monday lunch,” Mabel said. “Would you mind if I gave this chocolate to her, Tabitha? I think she hates liver even more than I do.”

“I wish liver tasted like chocolate,” Tabitha sighed. “Wouldn't that be marvelous?”

Mabel didn't answer. Her mind had drifted off the way it always did whenever she was thinking about one of her ideas. The girls were used to it, and Mabel made little muttering noises as she walked. It was only as they climbed up the steps into school that she slid her arm through Tabitha's and said, as if there had been no break in the conversation, “I think I can do it!”

“Do what?” Tabitha asked, looking puzzled.

“Make liver taste like chocolate.” Mabel gave an animated little skip. “Remember the taste enhancer potion we made last week?”

“A hostess's best friend.” Tabitha mimicked Miss Mantel's voice. “When you want your meals to sparkle and your dinner party to be the talk of the town, use taste-enhancing potion to give food that magical lift.”

“Yes, and those plain boiled potatoes we sprinkled it on in class were delicious,” Mabel said. “The most potatoey potatoes I've ever eaten. Like you could taste the rain and the sun and . . .”

“Mabel, where are you going with this?” Tabitha said nervously, as they walked toward the fortune-telling room.

“If I melt chocolate with the taste enhancer powder, stir it into wishing well water, which makes an excellent base solution, and then drizzle it over the liver”—Mabel paused a moment and gave another excited skip—“it should make the liver taste of chocolate.”

“You know you're not allowed to experiment,” Tabitha whispered. “You'll get in so much trouble.”

“I won't because the teachers will never know. They'll be happy because we'll eat all our liver, and we'll be happy because the liver will taste like chocolate.”

“You are mad,” Tabitha said. “Completely crazy. Totally insane.” And then looking around to make sure no one was listening, she asked, “Do you really think it will work?”

“I don't see why not. We've already made the taste enhancing powder and that's the hard part. I'll just mix it all together at the end of potions class.”

“Which is right before lunch,” Tabitha said with a grin. “The girls are going to love this!”

Luckily, in potions class they were using cauldrons to make unicorn milk soap, guaranteed to give you a soft, milky complexion, and since Mabel finished early, she
was able to rinse out her cauldron and mix up her liver potion without Miss Mantel noticing.

“I thought we were only meant to use a pinch of enhancer,” Ruby whispered, watching Mabel liberally sprinkle powder over the tiny puddle of melted chocolate.

“This is liver we're talking about, not potatoes,” Mabel said. “It's going to need a great deal more enhancing.”

Mabel and Ruby cleaned up as fast as they could and managed to make it into the dining room ahead of most classes. One group of year-four girls was already there, sitting at a table, glumly staring at their plates of liver.

“Poor things,” Mabel whispered. “If only they had come in a little later.”

When they got to the head of the line, Mabel waited until Mrs. Bainbridge, the cook, had turned her back for a moment to stir a pot of peas, and then quickly, before she noticed, Mabel poured her homemade potion all over the liver. There was a hissing noise, and a cloud of brown steam rose from the pan.

“Smells delicious,” Mabel said, as Mrs. Bainbridge turned around. She gave Mabel a suspicious glare. The girls behind her smothered their giggles, and Mabel guessed that Tabitha had been spreading the word.

“Smells
like it always smells,” Mrs. Bainbridge said, scooping a large piece onto Mabel's plate. “Like liver.”

Except as Mabel lifted the plate to her nose, a lovely chocolaty waft of steam blew into her face. She carried her lunch to an empty table and sat down. Ruby and Tabitha followed. Mabel sliced off a tiny corner of liver and put it cautiously between her teeth. The other girls watched as Mabel closed her eyes for a moment and moaned softly. “It's delicious,” she said. “Really delicious.” Warm, creamy chocolate flooded her mouth, and Mabel laughed in delight. “The best thing I've ever eaten.” Not hesitating, she cut a large chunk of liver and shoved it into her mouth.

“Oh, it is so good,” Ruby sighed, nibbling a piece off her fork. She looked around the dining room, sounding panicky. “I hope there's going to be enough for seconds.” Picking the liver up in her hands, Ruby started gulping it down.

“Mabel, this is amazing,” Tabitha gushed, forking up liver as fast as she could. “I can't stop eating it.” Her cheeks bulged like a hamster's.

Groans of pleasure filled the dining hall as girls gobbled down their liver at alarming speed. Lucy Habersham was hunched over her plate, licking up chocolate juice.

“What is going on?” Miss Seymour cried out,
watching Winifred grab a piece of liver out of Diana's hands. Nancy Cox stole the last piece off her best friend, Emily's, plate, and turned away to eat it before Emily could snatch it back.

“Sit down at once,” Miss Reed, the flying teacher, barked, pushing aside her plate of chicken. The teachers had a separate menu on Mondays—all except for Miss Lyons, who taught palm reading, and was one of the only people in the school who actually liked liver. Miss Lyons had shoved back her chair and was making a mad dash toward the food line.

“Seconds,” Charlotte Monroe screamed, charging after Miss Lyons. There was a scraping of chairs, and a stampede of girls suddenly hurtled toward the counter.

Most of the teachers had reached for their smelling salts, while Miss Brewer banged her cane on the floor over and over again. “Will you stop this right now!” Her face was puce colored and her mouth still moved, but there was so much noise in the dining hall it was difficult to hear what she was saying.

The big metal tray that was now empty of liver clattered to the floor, and girls elbowed each other out of the way, getting down on their knees and slurping up the juice. When the last fleck of liver had been sucked, chewed, and licked out of sight, a shameful hush settled over the room.

Mabel's
palms were damp, and a sick dread sloshed in her stomach. “I'm not quite sure what happened,” she murmured.

“Don't say a word,” Tabitha hissed. “Do not confess, Mabel.”

“We're in this together,” Ruby agreed, touching her friend's arm.

“Winifred won't be. If she knows it's me, she's bound to tell.”

Miss Brewer stood on the teacher's podium, looking around at the girls. When she spoke, her voice was tight with anger. Words ricocheted around the hall like pistol bullets. “Would someone care to explain what just happened? Because however good a cook Mrs. Bainbridge is, I don't think her liver can be responsible for causing a riot.”

None of the girls spoke, although Winifred cleared her throat rather loudly and gave Mabel a pointed look.

“It tasted of the most delicious chocolate,” Miss Lyons explained, walking back to her seat. She bowed her head in embarrassment as she passed Miss Brewer. “I do apologize for my behavior.”

“If the girl or girls responsible for this don't own up, the whole school will receive a punishment,” Miss Brewer announced. There was some whispering, but still no one spoke.

Mabel sighed and got to her feet, “It was me, Miss Brewer. I did it.”