Rupert cringed. “Are you sure this is safe to drink?”
“Positutely! I’ve brewed this one before with Nebby. It needs to sit for five days, but after that, it works great, I promise.” Witchling Two dipped a ladle into the potion and scooped a cup into Rupert’s empty water bottle. She pushed the potion into his arms with a wild grin. “Next Monday, make sure to take this right before Mrs. Frubblekunckle collects the papers. And think about her while you drink it.”
“You aren’t going to tell me any more than that?”
“You’ll see,” she said, in such a way that Rupert knew the conversation was closed.
Don’t Smell the Flowers
THE NEXT DAY, SCHOOL WAS A NIGHTMARE. AT first, everyone was so nervous about their papers on glowworms that no one even paid attention to Mrs. Frabbleknacker as she taught about the psychology of phobias. But Mrs. Frabbleknacker noticed — and she wasn’t happy. As punishment, Mrs. Frabbleknacker made Kaleigh read an entire novel in front of the class to cure her fear of public speaking, Francis sit in a janitor’s closet all day to cure his fear of small spaces, and Allison coddle a tarantula to cure her fear of spiders. Allison ran from the classroom crying.
Rupert was glad when school was over. He went home immediately and changed into black clothing and packed his backpack with emergency items — a flashlight, a water bottle, a whistle, a first aid kit — just in case.
He looked at the clock — Witchling Two was already five minutes late.
Rupert began to pace around his room as he thought about her. He was starting to get more nervous for Witchling Two’s Bar Exam than she was. They only had a week and three days until her exam, and she hardly seemed any better. Every time Rupert asked her to practice spells or her WHATs, she insisted on gathering ingredients or brewing. In only two days, they had brewed — and tested — fifteen successful potions, from flu-remedy potions, to hair-restoration potions, to sneezing potions, to tongue-twister potions, to flying potions — they had even made egg salad potion.
He knew Witchling Two just wanted to practice what she was good at, but he needed to do a better job at keeping her on task. She simply had to pass the WHATs and the spells portion of the exam — otherwise his only friend would be kicked out of Gliverstoll forever.
He tapped his pencil nervously on every object he encountered until Witchling Two popped up by his window. Rupert ran to let her in, and she toppled into the room with a goofy grin.
“Lair, lair, lair, lair! Lair, lair, lair, lair! Luh-luh-luh-lair, luh-lair! LAIR!”
“All right, all right,” Rupert said. “I get it!”
“We have to start walking over there in a half hour,” Witchling Two said. “That’s when their meeting officially starts. We have to get in and out. No talking to anyone. No stopping to smell the flowers. In and out. Got it?”
“In and out,” Rupert repeated. He twisted his hands. “Okay. Okay. This is going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”
“Okay? We’ll be great!”
Rupert fidgeted.
“So I’ve drawn a map of the Witches Council lair,” she said, laying a drawing of two wiggly circles and a star on Rupert’s bed. He laughed. It was the worst drawing he had ever seen.
“What is this?” Rupert asked.
“We’ll start… here!” She pointed to the left edge of the paper. “Then we’ll walk to there,” she said pointing at the star. “Got it?”
“No,” Rupert said, trying to make sense of the drawing.
Witchling Two jumped up. “Just follow me,” she said. Rupert followed her downstairs, and he locked the door behind him. He wondered for a moment whether he should leave a note for his mom — she would be home in an hour and probably wonder where he went — but he decided that if he told her about his excursion to the Witches Council lair, he would have to tell her about his apprenticeship. And if he told her about his apprenticeship, his mother would forbid it, and Rupert wasn’t ready to stop being Witchling Two’s friend. So he left no note and hoped for the best.
Rupert followed Witchling Two down Piggleswumpfer Court to Yammerstop Way. He saw the fish-and-chips restaurant down the hill, and his eye gravitated to the giant boulder behind the restaurant — the boulder that could only be seen at this street, at this angle. Witchling Two grabbed Rupert by the collar and pulled him behind a lamppost.
Rupert gulped, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Why are we stopping?”
Witchling Two shook her head and pointed at the boulder.
“What is that?”
“That’s where we’re going,” she said. “The Council meeting starts in platypus minutes.”
“Do you know where we’re going?”
Witchling Two flicked her hand. “Easy, peasy. When a witch turns ten, she’s allowed to take a tour of the Council’s lair for the first time. I know exactly where they have their meeting and exactly where they keep a record of all the WHATs. That’s where we’re headed — to the Filing Room!”
“Right,” Rupert nodded.
“Stay close to me,” Witchling Two said. “We can’t get separated.”
“Right.”
“And remember, don’t smell the flowers.”
“Right, we’re in a rush.”
“Yes, but don’t smell the flowers.”
“Right,” Rupert said. “Hurry. Yes. Got it.”
“Yes, but don’t smell the flowers.”
Rupert stamped his foot. “Okay!” he said. “I got it already!”
Witchling Two smiled. “Good!” she said, and then she ran.
Rupert followed her as closely as he could, sticking to her back like sweat. Together, they ran down the rest of Yammerstop Way, past the row of coral houses. They ran past the playground (though Witchling Two stopped for a moment to put a handful of sand in a jar). They ran past the quilting store. They ran past Kaleigh’s purple house (to which Witchling Two squealed, “Ooh! I want a house like that one!”). They ran past the fish-and-chips restaurant. And then they ran immediately left, to a grassy area where the boulder sat.
Rupert and Witchling Two panted for breath as they walked up to the giant rock. Witchling Two pressed her hand against the boulder, and it rolled aside, revealing an archway that led straight into the heart of the hill.
With two enormous gulps, they walked inside, and the boulder rolled back into place behind them. Rupert stared — the passageway had linoleum floors, pictures of fuzzy, smiling baby animals on top of powder blue wallpaper, and bright lights.
“This is… not what I expected,” Rupert said.
Witchling Two grabbed his hand, and they briskly jogged down the hallway, which led into a domed room with twelve golden chandeliers. Cawing blackbirds flew across the room then rested on the arms of the chandeliers, peering down at Rupert and Witchling Two with their beady eyes. Across the domed room were two carved doors and an archway. Rupert wandered to the center of the circular room, where he could hear the echoes of voices.
“Ve haven’t been ushering enough of ze tourists!” a gruff-sounding woman said. “Ze past month ’as been too slow on ze business.”
“It’s been fine,” a soft but firm voice said. Rupert recognized the voice — it was Nebby. “I’m more concerned about Justice Column Forty-six. The amendment for this article is still up for debate.”
“Pish posh!” said a nasally voice. “I’m more concerned about Witchling Two gallivanting with that human!”
“There is no reason to believe that she is still with the human,” Nebby said coldly.
“We caught her! We chased her! How can you deny this?”
“That was one time. There is no evidence that indicates she’s still with the boy, and now you’re spreading rumors and lies.”