then
the bottle was on the floor in pieces, and all the sand and rosemary and drawing pins were scattered all over the carpet.
Miss Broom heaved a huge sigh.
‘Thank you, Algernon,’ she said. ‘Oh dear, though, what a dreadful thing to find in the classroom. I wonder how it got here.’
Her orange eyes swept round the class. Everyone tried their hardest to shrink down behind their desks. It was much harder for Slacker than any of the others, but Slacker wasn’t where Miss
Broom’s eyes stopped.
They stopped on Anil, whose teeth started to chatter like icicles in an earthquake.
Miss Broom looked at Anil very carefully, and as she did, Anil began to change. First of all Class Six found they could see the veins under his skin wriggling through his muscles; and then they
found they could see his bones; and then they could see all his insides. His heart was pumping away like anything. Class Six could even see the mixture of pizza and custard that was being squeezed
gently backwards and forwards in his stomach.
Everyone opened their mouths to say
eeergh
—and then didn’t dare.
Now Anil’s skull had changed to something like ripply glass, and inside there was a grey thing like a giant curled-up prawn. There were lots of tiny bits of forked lightning flicking
through it, and just sometimes, like a cloud, you could see the shape of a football, or a laptop, or a stuffed rabbit.
And then Miss Broom gave a sharp I-thought-so sniff and Anil was back to normal, except for being a bit pale and cross-eyed.
‘I see,’ said Miss Broom. ‘This is very clever of you, my dears, but really, you mustn’t worry. Why, you should be delighted and overjoyed. Just think, you’ve got a
teacher who’s a witch. That’s wonderful. Magical. Remember all those boring lessons where you’ve sat there trying to learn the capital of Outer Mongolia, or when Richard the Third
died, or how to use capital letters? Why, with a small spell, I can make it so you never make a mistake with capital letters again. I can make it so you never forget about Ulan Bator, or what
happened in 1485. Yes, being a witch is the best thing ever. Being a witch means I can do anything at all! Anything I like!’
Class Six sank as far as they could get behind their desks.
Miss Broom could do anything she liked?
Yes. That was what they were all afraid of.
‘What have you stuck on your face?’ demanded Rodney’s gran irritably that evening. ‘You look like something from outer space!’
Rodney looked at himself in the mirror. He had antennae with scarlet pom-poms on the ends growing out of his forehead. Gran was right. He
did
look like something from outer space.
‘That’s funny,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember ever going in a space ship. I suppose it must have been ages ago, when I was too young to remember.’
‘And stop making your eyes spin round in circles!’ snapped Gran. ‘It’s enough to put me off my tea.’
‘Is it?’ asked Rodney, brightening. ‘So can I eat your piece of cake, then?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Gran.
‘My mum put gunky stuff all over my head last night to get rid of the nits,’ Jack reported glumly in the playground the next morning. ‘It stank like anything.
And
then
my mum didn’t find any nits in the comb afterwards, so it was all a waste of time.’
‘These nits are bound to be immune to ordinary nit-gunk,’ said Winsome.
‘They’re probably immune to everything,’ said Anil, who was looking as if he hadn’t slept much.
‘Yes,’ sighed Jack. ‘It’d probably take a nuclear explosion to wipe out these wer-wer-wer—oh blast it, these
whatever
nits.’
Serise was giving Anil a suspicious look.
‘Your voice is beginning to sound a bit deep,’ she said. ‘You haven’t caught it too, have you?’
‘No I haven’t
! ’ snapped Anil—but his voice boomed on the last word like an owl in an oil drum and made everyone jump.
‘Oh all right, all right,’ he went on, crossly.
the bottle was on the floor in pieces, and all the sand and rosemary and drawing pins were scattered all over the carpet.
Miss Broom heaved a huge sigh.
‘Thank you, Algernon,’ she said. ‘Oh dear, though, what a dreadful thing to find in the classroom. I wonder how it got here.’
Her orange eyes swept round the class. Everyone tried their hardest to shrink down behind their desks. It was much harder for Slacker than any of the others, but Slacker wasn’t where Miss
Broom’s eyes stopped.
They stopped on Anil, whose teeth started to chatter like icicles in an earthquake.
Miss Broom looked at Anil very carefully, and as she did, Anil began to change. First of all Class Six found they could see the veins under his skin wriggling through his muscles; and then they
found they could see his bones; and then they could see all his insides. His heart was pumping away like anything. Class Six could even see the mixture of pizza and custard that was being squeezed
gently backwards and forwards in his stomach.
Everyone opened their mouths to say
eeergh
—and then didn’t dare.
Now Anil’s skull had changed to something like ripply glass, and inside there was a grey thing like a giant curled-up prawn. There were lots of tiny bits of forked lightning flicking
through it, and just sometimes, like a cloud, you could see the shape of a football, or a laptop, or a stuffed rabbit.
And then Miss Broom gave a sharp I-thought-so sniff and Anil was back to normal, except for being a bit pale and cross-eyed.
‘I see,’ said Miss Broom. ‘This is very clever of you, my dears, but really, you mustn’t worry. Why, you should be delighted and overjoyed. Just think, you’ve got a
teacher who’s a witch. That’s wonderful. Magical. Remember all those boring lessons where you’ve sat there trying to learn the capital of Outer Mongolia, or when Richard the Third
died, or how to use capital letters? Why, with a small spell, I can make it so you never make a mistake with capital letters again. I can make it so you never forget about Ulan Bator, or what
happened in 1485. Yes, being a witch is the best thing ever. Being a witch means I can do anything at all! Anything I like!’
Class Six sank as far as they could get behind their desks.
Miss Broom could do anything she liked?
Yes. That was what they were all afraid of.
‘What have you stuck on your face?’ demanded Rodney’s gran irritably that evening. ‘You look like something from outer space!’
Rodney looked at himself in the mirror. He had antennae with scarlet pom-poms on the ends growing out of his forehead. Gran was right. He
did
look like something from outer space.
‘That’s funny,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember ever going in a space ship. I suppose it must have been ages ago, when I was too young to remember.’
‘And stop making your eyes spin round in circles!’ snapped Gran. ‘It’s enough to put me off my tea.’
‘Is it?’ asked Rodney, brightening. ‘So can I eat your piece of cake, then?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Gran.
‘My mum put gunky stuff all over my head last night to get rid of the nits,’ Jack reported glumly in the playground the next morning. ‘It stank like anything.
And
then
my mum didn’t find any nits in the comb afterwards, so it was all a waste of time.’
‘These nits are bound to be immune to ordinary nit-gunk,’ said Winsome.
‘They’re probably immune to everything,’ said Anil, who was looking as if he hadn’t slept much.
‘Yes,’ sighed Jack. ‘It’d probably take a nuclear explosion to wipe out these wer-wer-wer—oh blast it, these
whatever
nits.’
Serise was giving Anil a suspicious look.
‘Your voice is beginning to sound a bit deep,’ she said. ‘You haven’t caught it too, have you?’
‘No I haven’t
! ’ snapped Anil—but his voice boomed on the last word like an owl in an oil drum and made everyone jump.
‘Oh all right, all right,’ he went on, crossly.
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