The Worst Witch to the Rescue (5 page)

‘No, dear,’ said Miss Mould. ‘That girl next to you with the ponytail and the black hair ribbon. What is your name?’

Ethel stood up, seething inwardly. ‘Ethel Hallow,’ she said clearly, with a defiant toss of the ponytail.

‘Ethel,’ said Miss Mould, ‘your coils look as if they’ve been made by a three-year-old. They’re
much
too short and too fat – your pot would be only
two centimetres in diameter if, in fact, you could get the coils to bend without cracking. Perhaps Mildred could change places with the girl next to you and give you a hand. In fact, change places now, then the class can file past and see the two examples next to each other.’

Mildred and Drusilla changed places, carefully lifting their boards containing the rolls of clay and the remaining clay lump. Ethel was sending out an invisible, almost electric, current of rage as Mildred took the place next to her and everyone began fling past.

‘Sorry, Ethel,’ mumbled Mildred, not wishing to ruin their good start. ‘Your coils aren’t
that
bad, they’re just a bit short.’

‘Shut up, Mildred Hubble!’ snapped Ethel under her breath. ‘I don’t need
you
to teach me anything.’

‘Sorry,’ said Mildred in an even smaller voice.

Form Three settled down again and Mildred tried to forget Ethel, vibrating with rage next to her, as she began arranging the coils one by one on top of each other.

Ethel suddenly leaned across. ‘Sorry, Mildred,’ she said, much to Mildred’s surprise. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off. Look – are these a bit better? I’ve tried to make them thinner – like yours.’

Mildred gave a nervous smile.

‘They’re
much
better,’ she said, grateful that Ethel had pulled herself together.

‘Could you cut the ends like yours,’ said Ethel, ‘so they’re just a bit smaller each time? Mine get sort of squashed when I try to do them.’

‘Of
course
,’ said Mildred, a wave of relief sweeping over her that Ethel had not nosedived into a full-blown feud, as she usually did if the tiniest thing upset her.

‘Let’s change places for a mo,’ said Ethel. ‘I can study the way you’re building up your coils while you grade my ends for me.’

‘OK,’ said Mildred. ‘Move up then.’

Ethel sat gazing intently at Mildred’s pot. She picked up the four remaining
coils, passing them very carefully through her fingers, then delicately held the half-completed pot in both hands.

‘I think I’ve got the hang of it now,’ she said.

‘That’s great,’ said Mildred. ‘I’ve graded your coils for you.’

They changed places again and Ethel put a friendly hand on Mildred’s shoulder. ‘You really
are
good, Milly,’ she said. ‘Your pot will make everyone sit up and take notice, just you wait and see.’

iss Mould looked up from her desk.

‘Whoever is making that noise,’ she said sharply, ‘would they please stop it.’

The hum of conversation had dwindled to a standstill as the pupils had begun concentrating in earnest. Now everyone looked around as they tuned into the noise that Miss Mould had mentioned. She was right. There was a definite noise, which came in a burst every few seconds, then stopped abruptly. It sounded as if somebody had hidden a maraca from the school orchestra cupboard and was shaking it under a table. The noise stopped.
Everyone strained their ears, but it didn’t happen again.

‘Thank you,’ said Miss Mould crisply.

Mystifed, the girls went back to their coils, all except Mildred, who felt distinctly uneasy as the strange rattling noise seemed to be coming directly from her table. She dropped her smoothing tool on purpose and bent down to pick it up so that she could check beneath the table, but there was nothing there except a piece of ancient chewing gum. The noise started again and this time it seemed to be directly
above
her. It went on for longer, becoming insistent, almost angry, and as Mildred raised her head there was a piercing scream from Ethel.
Mildred cracked her head on the table as she jumped up and found herself face to face with the most terrifying sight she had ever seen. The coil pot was no longer a neat pile of damp clay coils. It was a rattlesnake, quivering its awful tail as a warning, its head pulled back as if to strike. Crouched behind the table was Ethel, white as a sheet, her mouth still open as her scream died away. The other four clay coils had turned into four smaller rattlesnakes, growing larger by the minute. They all slithered to the edge of the table and arranged themselves in a hissing, spitting row, lunging forward every so often and striking the air.

As soon as the girls saw what was happening on Mildred and Ethel’s table, there was pandemonium.

‘Quickly, girls!’ yelled Miss Mould, who could scarcely believe her eyes. ‘
Move!
’

Everyone stampeded for the door, all except Ethel, who stopped as soon as she had two tables between herself and the ghastly sight of the writhing rattlesnakes. ‘I think I can help, Miss Mould,’ she called across the room. ‘I’m sure I can remember a spell to get rid of them.’

‘No, Ethel!’ called Miss Mould, frantically beckoning Ethel towards her. ‘You mustn’t put yourself in any danger!’