floor got suddenly lighter under their feet and they found themselves shooting
upwards, away from the polished parquet tiles.
Class Six came to a stop about half a metre up, and all you could hear after the echo of the scream had died away was the soft thudding of people’s gym shoes falling down to the floor.
‘That’s right, dears,’ said Miss Broom, smiling round at them. ‘Do kick your shoes off. We don’t want them falling down and hurting anyone, do we?’
Class Six stared at each other. They all had pale faces and a hanging-from-a-coathanger look. Everyone’s hair, affected by Miss Broom’s spell, was standing on end, so that they
looked like toilet brushes.
Miss Broom looked round with great satisfaction.
‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘Now. Right arm up in the air, everyone and then,
scoop
downwards. That’s it. Now the other arm. Good. Good. Watch where you’re going,
Slacker, dear!’
And Class Six were having their first ever flying lesson.
It was scary for about twenty seconds, until they worked out how to stop themselves rolling giddily round and round. And then they got the hang of scooping themselves along, and suddenly they
were having the most fun they’d ever had, including that time in Year Two when Mr Holiday spilled glue all down his trousers.
The whole room was filled with great big grins, and children swooping through the air going
wheeeeee!
Miss Broom sat herself down on a window sill and began to drink a cup of tea that had appeared from somewhere or other, and Class Six did every flying experiment they could think of. What they
couldn’t
do was land—when you got to within about half a metre of the floor the air went all thick, like sponge cake, and you sort of bounced back off it. It was the same with
the ceiling and the walls. All in all, it was like being on a huge bouncy castle where you never came down to earth.
Only better. Much, much better.
Emily found she could use one of the curtain rods as a barre for aerial ballet, and some of the boys discovered that they could use the vaulting horse to do the sort of somersaults and spins
that would have won them Olympic gold medals in no time flat. Winsome flew determined, fast circuits of the room, and Slacker lay back on the air and managed to find a way to rock himself gently
from side to side just as if he were in a hammock.
Serise and some of the other girls raced each other in slaloms through the gym ropes, moving as easily as a shoal of fish.
It was brilliant. It was tremendous. It was wonderful. It was out of this…
Miss Broom stood up, threw her cup and saucer over her shoulder, where it vanished, and beamed round at them all.
‘Standing up straight, now, all of you,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid it’s time to go back to class.’
At once everyone in Class Six felt an odd feeling in their insides as if something had been punctured. And they began to sink. Down and down and down…
The floor felt very hard under their feet.
‘Now, find your gym shoes, please,’ said Miss Broom. ‘We’ve got to go across the playground.’
The children’s arms and legs felt heavy. Pulling on their gym shoes was really hard work.
‘Yes, flying is very tiring, at first,’ said Miss Broom, as if she had read their minds. ‘You’ve been using muscles that have never been used in that way before. But
you’ll soon get used to it. Now, line up, all of you!’
Rodney ended up next to Winsome.
‘Do you still believe there’s no such thing as wer-wer-wer?’ she asked him, grinning like a watermelon. ‘As a…you know! As a pointy-hatted magic lady?’
Rodney looked surprised to be asked.
‘Of course there isn’t.’ He frowned so his forehead wrinkled into channels of golden velvet skin, and his green eyes glowed. His teeth were looking pretty pointy, too.
‘Everybody knows that.’
Winsome was used to Rodney, of course. But this time she was so astonished that she could only stand and watch him as he
upwards, away from the polished parquet tiles.
Class Six came to a stop about half a metre up, and all you could hear after the echo of the scream had died away was the soft thudding of people’s gym shoes falling down to the floor.
‘That’s right, dears,’ said Miss Broom, smiling round at them. ‘Do kick your shoes off. We don’t want them falling down and hurting anyone, do we?’
Class Six stared at each other. They all had pale faces and a hanging-from-a-coathanger look. Everyone’s hair, affected by Miss Broom’s spell, was standing on end, so that they
looked like toilet brushes.
Miss Broom looked round with great satisfaction.
‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘Now. Right arm up in the air, everyone and then,
scoop
downwards. That’s it. Now the other arm. Good. Good. Watch where you’re going,
Slacker, dear!’
And Class Six were having their first ever flying lesson.
It was scary for about twenty seconds, until they worked out how to stop themselves rolling giddily round and round. And then they got the hang of scooping themselves along, and suddenly they
were having the most fun they’d ever had, including that time in Year Two when Mr Holiday spilled glue all down his trousers.
The whole room was filled with great big grins, and children swooping through the air going
wheeeeee!
Miss Broom sat herself down on a window sill and began to drink a cup of tea that had appeared from somewhere or other, and Class Six did every flying experiment they could think of. What they
couldn’t
do was land—when you got to within about half a metre of the floor the air went all thick, like sponge cake, and you sort of bounced back off it. It was the same with
the ceiling and the walls. All in all, it was like being on a huge bouncy castle where you never came down to earth.
Only better. Much, much better.
Emily found she could use one of the curtain rods as a barre for aerial ballet, and some of the boys discovered that they could use the vaulting horse to do the sort of somersaults and spins
that would have won them Olympic gold medals in no time flat. Winsome flew determined, fast circuits of the room, and Slacker lay back on the air and managed to find a way to rock himself gently
from side to side just as if he were in a hammock.
Serise and some of the other girls raced each other in slaloms through the gym ropes, moving as easily as a shoal of fish.
It was brilliant. It was tremendous. It was wonderful. It was out of this…
Miss Broom stood up, threw her cup and saucer over her shoulder, where it vanished, and beamed round at them all.
‘Standing up straight, now, all of you,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid it’s time to go back to class.’
At once everyone in Class Six felt an odd feeling in their insides as if something had been punctured. And they began to sink. Down and down and down…
The floor felt very hard under their feet.
‘Now, find your gym shoes, please,’ said Miss Broom. ‘We’ve got to go across the playground.’
The children’s arms and legs felt heavy. Pulling on their gym shoes was really hard work.
‘Yes, flying is very tiring, at first,’ said Miss Broom, as if she had read their minds. ‘You’ve been using muscles that have never been used in that way before. But
you’ll soon get used to it. Now, line up, all of you!’
Rodney ended up next to Winsome.
‘Do you still believe there’s no such thing as wer-wer-wer?’ she asked him, grinning like a watermelon. ‘As a…you know! As a pointy-hatted magic lady?’
Rodney looked surprised to be asked.
‘Of course there isn’t.’ He frowned so his forehead wrinkled into channels of golden velvet skin, and his green eyes glowed. His teeth were looking pretty pointy, too.
‘Everybody knows that.’
Winsome was used to Rodney, of course. But this time she was so astonished that she could only stand and watch him as he
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