Caution: Witch In Progress by Lynne North Page B

would say, had been born to a most unfortunate
name. The other, more cruel ones, would say her name could not have been more
appropriate. When Bertha walked, when Bertha merely moved, everything Bertha
had to bob, bobbed. Bertha was a very fat girl, so unfortunately, she had a lot
to bob. She made it worse by never being seen without something to eat in her
hand, or in her mouth, or both.
        On this particular day, Gertie was walking along one of the
dark, grand, echoing stone corridors when the sound of voices assailed her.
Turning the corner she saw Bertha, backed into a corner, surrounded by jeering
young witches and warlocks. The one doing the most jeering was Fang.
        ‘Look at her,’ he jibed. ‘If she fell over she wouldn’t hurt
herself. She’d just bounce back!’
        The others laughed in appreciation. Fang’s dark, evil good looks
had made him very popular already at the Academy.
        ‘Imagine the size of the broomstick she’ll need!’ Fang was saying.
‘And,’ he continued in triumph, ‘she isn’t like us anyway you know. She wasn’t
given a place here. She had to pay.’
        The others roared with laughter, and poor Bertha began to cry.
        ‘Leave her alone,’ called Gertie bravely, feeling upset herself
at seeing someone cry.
        Fang turned his narrow black eyes on her. How dare anyone
interrupt him, his expression said.
        ‘What’s it got to do with you, Blondie,’ he insulted her.
        ‘You’re very mean, and very wicked,’ replied Gertie, ‘and I
DON’T like you.’ There, she had said it. Whether it was polite or not.
        ‘You won’t get around me with flattery,’ said Fang with a
grimace, ‘and anyway, you are the last one to interfere.’
        A mumbled hush went around the group. Bertha still stood in the
corner, but had stopped crying. She seemed relieved the attention had been
distracted from her.
        ‘What do you mean?’ said Gertie, wishing she hadn’t asked as
soon as the words left her mouth.
        ‘What do you mean?’ Fang mimicked in a soppy little voice. ‘What
I mean Blondie, is that YOU don’t deserve to be here either. The whole village
knows you only got in by paying.’
        Gertie stared at Fang in horror. It hadn’t occurred to her how
she had been accepted into the Academy. She just knew Ma and Gran had sorted
it.
        ‘It isn’t true,’ she said in a small voice.
        ‘Tis too!’ Fang jibed.
        ‘Tis too, tis too,’ the group joined in.
        ‘WHAT is going on HERE?’ Miss Wick’s voice resounded off the
stone walls.
        ‘Nothing, Miss Wick,’ replied Fang calmly, baring his teeth at
the Head Witch.
        ‘Oh, it’s you, Fang,’ she said, patting him on his bullet shaped
head. ‘Oh,’ she continued, ‘It’s YOU, girl, I might have known you would be
involved in this.’
        ‘But,’ Gertie began.
        ‘DON’T interrupt me, girl. Fang, tell me what is going on.’
        ‘I was simply explaining, Ma’am,’ Fang replied almost
reverently, ‘that not all of us are lucky enough to have been taken in by the
Academy on merit.’
        ‘Hmmmm,’ listened Miss Wick.
        ‘And that the Academy is good enough to give chances to
everyone, for a small donation to the upkeep of this great famous school. Even
those who don’t, quite, make the grade. Like Gertie and Bertha, Miss Wick.’
        ‘Yes Fang, that is true. So, what is all this commotion about,
Gertie?’
        ‘Nothing, Miss,’ replied Gertie in a very humbled voice.
        ‘Well, don’t let it happen again. Come along, children. I’m sure
there’s somewhere you should all be.’ Miss Wick clapped her hands, then carried
on down the corridor.
        With a look of triumph, Fang walked away. The others closely
followed him. Soon, Gertie and Bertha were left alone.
        ‘I’m sorry, Gertie,’ Bertha began.
        ‘Sorry, why are you sorry?’ asked