“That, or seventy years of pain and torture. Maybe even death. Depends on how the head witch is feeling, but we may be able to butter her up with lollipops. Anyone can be buttered up with lollipops.”
Rupert grimaced.
“Don’t worry, Rupert! I’ll keep you safe! I promise!” She looked down at her feet. “It’s just… Gliverstoll is my home. I can’t be exiled and drained of my magic. The exam is getting closer, and I’m not getting any better. And I’d really love your help.”
The punishments were scary sounding, but Witchling Two had promised to protect him. He had to trust her. And he knew, deep down, that that this might be his only opportunity to save his best friend.
“Let’s do it,” Rupert said, and that was that.
The Worstest Assignment Ever
AT SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY, RUPERT WALKED INTO the classroom, and to his surprise, Bruno had finally figured out how to stack the toothpicks in a perfect tower. It took him almost two weeks, and over the course of those weeks, poor Bruno had lost about five pounds. He looked delirious.
Of course, when Mrs. Frabbleknacker entered the classroom, all the toothpicks immediately blew to the ground. Bruno pulled at his hair with his fingers, looking as though he might explode. But Mrs. Frabbleknacker ignored him.
“Children,” she said, as though she was saying something truly awful like Eye Gunk or Tuna Milk- shake. “Today is a day for science.”
Rupert sat up straight in his seat and tried to look as ordinary and calm as possible. Over the months, Rupert had observed that Mrs. Frabbleknacker usually didn’t notice when kids were being ordinary and calm. She only seemed to call on kids who looked nervous or frightened. And she only seemed to torture the kids who talked out or answered incorrectly. Rupert knew that the more ordinary he looked, the less likely it was that she would call on him, which made it less likely for him to be wrong, which made it less likely for him to be tortured.
“How about an experiment?” Mrs. Frabbleknacker said.
She put three glasses on the table and retrieved three thermoses from her bag. She tilted the thermoses and poured into each of the glasses. Each liquid was a different color and consistency. The first was dark and chunky, and it resembled black curdled milk. The second liquid was smooth looking, but it glowed a frightening shade of neon yellow. The third smelled. Really badly. Even from half-a-classroom’s-length away, Rupert caught the whiff of skunk and sweaty sock mixed together. The third liquid was also so thick that it got stuck in the thermos. Mrs. Frabbleknacker had to knock on the bottom of the thermos to coax the liquid out.
She licked her lips and looked around the room.
Don’t look at me, don’t look at me! Rupert thought.
“Hal!” Mrs. Frabbleknacker said.
The boy who sat behind Rupert walked to the blackboard.
“Manny!”
The boy who sat in front of Rupert walked to the blackboard.
Mrs. Frabbleknacker walked up to Rupert, but Rupert continued looking straight ahead. She bent down over his desk, and Rupert could feel the beads of sweat start to form on the back of his neck. He was more frightened than he had ever been in his life, but he was determined not to show emotion. He looked straight ahead. He held his breath. He didn’t blink, not even when Mrs. Frabbleknacker blew banana breath in his face to make his eyelids tremble. She banged her fist on his desk, but Rupert did not move one nanometer.
Then, Mrs. Frabbleknacker took a huge whiff of air. Rupert was certain that she was about to send him to the front of the classroom, but then the strangest and most amazing thing happened — Mrs. Frabbleknacker’s nostrils twitched, and she recoiled away from him.
“Allison Gormley!” she shouted.
A nervous Allison Gormley took her place at the front of the classroom, her knees knocking.
“Now, class,” Mrs. Frabbleknacker said. “All of these potions come directly from the witches, and these drinks contain horrible chemicals that may seriously injure, harm, maim, wound, hurt, disfigure, mutilate, mar, or even kill your classmates. But just remember, this is science. And science must be explored. Sometimes, for the purpose of knowledge, we must sacrifice brave little boys and girls in order to make scientific progress. So Hal, Manny, Allison — we all thank you for volunteering.”
Hal, Manny, and Allison exchanged glances that seemed to say but we didn’t volunteer! Mrs. Frabbleknacker walked to the front of the room and hovered over the three trembling students. “Pick your poison,” she said gleefully.
Allison quickly nabbed the black curdled milk, looking quite pleased with herself.
Hal cautiously picked up the neon yellow drink.
Which left Manny with the thick, smelly drink.
“Down the hatch, Allison,” said Mrs. Frabbleknacker.
Allison tipped her glass up and gulped down the drink. When she was done, she slammed her glass on the table and wiped her mouth with her arm. She grinned and raised her hands above her head— she was a hero! A champion!
And then came the tiniest noise, so small it was almost impossible to hear.
Twoinggggg.
A hair sprouted on Allison’s chin. She froze in horror.
TWOINGGGGG. TWOINGGGGG. TWOINGGGGG.
Another hair sprouted. Then another. Then another. One after the other — until Allison had sprouted a full mustache and beard. She put her hands to her face, and the skin behind her new facial hair went completely ashen. Then Allison ran from the classroom crying. Again.
Mrs. Frabbleknacker nodded at Hal, who tenderly swirled the neon liquid in his glass and brought it to his lips. He pinched his nose and chugged the entire drink in a matter of seconds. He turned to the class with puckered lips, and Rupert thought — without a doubt — that Hal was going to hurl.
But when Hal opened his mouth, a glowworm popped out. Hal covered his mouth with his hands, and Rupert leaned in closer. He squinted just a little bit as he studied Hal’s mouth.
Hal burped, and five glowworms jumped out. He turned to Mrs. Frabbleknacker and looked like he was trying to say something, but he just coughed up fifteen more glowworms. Hal grabbed his throat and ran out of the classroom, a trail of glowworms falling to the floor in his wake.
By this time, Manny’s hands trembled around his tonic. For a split second, Rupert hoped that Manny would refuse to drink the smelly, thick liquid, but as soon as Mrs. Frabbleknacker looked at him, Manny turned his glass upside down. Five minutes later, the thick liquid finally touched his lips. Ten minutes later, Manny had downed the entire skunky, sweat-scented juice.
He looked positively ordinary for a moment. Then one of his arms began to shrink. Then the other arm. Then his legs and torso. And with a small HISS, Manny’s head became the size of an apple.
Mrs. Frabbleknacker swooped down and pinched Manny between her two fingers. She held him far away, as though he reeked. Then she dropped him in a glass jar and screwed the cap tight. Mrs. Frabbleknacker poked holes in the top with scissors and put the glass jar on the windowsill, ignoring the tiny high-pitched shouts and the soft thumps of Manny’s fists on the glass.
“Class,” Mrs. Frabbleknacker said, picking up a writhing glowworm off the floor and crushing it between her fingers, “I want you to write a five-hundred-thousand-word essay on glowworms to be handed to me next week.”
No one said anything.
“And if it’s not on my desk in exactly one week, you all will participate in science next time.”