“Thank you for coming out to meet me,” she said with a wave of her hand, “now good-bye.”
“What, that’s it?” Rupert said. “What about the part where we talk about my qualifications? And why I want this job? And my future ambitions?” He knew all about job interviews, since his mom had been on so many, and he had prepared thoroughly.
The witch drummed her fingers on the table. “Fine then, what are your qualifications? Have you ever worked with a witch before?”
“Well, no but I—”
“Then you have no qualifications.”
Rupert could almost feel the job slipping away from him. “I’m — I’m a hard worker! Just give me a chance!”
“Anything else?” the witch said, looking bored.
“Why do you want an apprentice anyway?”
The witch put her hands on her hips. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out. Now, if you have no more questions, then you may go.”
“But—”
“Go now,” the girl said. “Before I bake you into pudding.”
Rupert kicked the ground. “Thank you for your time,” he mumbled.
He stumbled out the door, his cheeks growing hot. How could he have botched the interview so badly? He insulted her, couldn’t answer a single one of her questions, and then had no qualifications for the job. He climbed the steps up to his house, certain he would never hear from the witch again.
The Chase
THE NEXT MORNING, THE PHONE RANG.
“Hello, I’d like to speak to… Rupert Campbell please.”
“This is he.”
“Hi, Rupert, this is… erm… the witch. I’d like to offer you the job. What do you say?”
Rupert nodded vigorously, too stunned to find his voice.
“Erm… hello?” the witch said. “Darn these stupid things — Storm, the phone is broken again! I can’t hear a thing!”
Rupert heard a voice in the background, shouting: “Smack it on the table! Stupid mortal devices — give it a good thump on the rump!”
“Don’t!” Rupert shouted. “You’ll only break the phone!”
He heard a crack, and then the witch said, “Oh, there you are! Oh, no, there you were. Now there are lots of loud fuzzy noises.”
“That’s because you’re not supposed to thump phones on the rump!” Rupert said.
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
Rupert pulled the phone away from his ear. “Ow! Stop yelling!”
“WITCH TO BOY, WITCH TO BOY — CAN YOU HEAR ME? IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, START WORK IN ONE HOUR. MEET AT THE FISHING DOCK. WEAR PURPLE. IF YOU CAN’T HEAR ME, THEN MEET ME AT MAIN BEACH IN TWO HOURS, AND WEAR ORANGE.”
Rupert shook his head. How would he know to meet her at Main Beach if he couldn’t hear her?
“THIS IS FUN! LA LA LA! DO YOU EVER NOTICE THAT WORDS SOUND FUNNY IF YOU SAY THEM TOO MANY TIMES? ESPECIALLY WORM. WORM. WORM. WORM, WORM, WORM. WORM, WORM, WORM, WORM, WORM-WORM-WORM. ACTUALLY, BRING LOLLIPOPS TO THE FISHING DOCK!”
There was a click, and the dial tone started again.
Rupert’s mother walked in the room with the clean laundry and set it on the kitchen table. She danced around the kitchen table and wiggled her butt, doing what she called a “funky little boogie dance,” and Rupert laughed. Watching her reminded him of all the times he used to dance around the kitchen with her when he was younger. She used to grab him under the armpits and swing him up onto the kitchen table, where he would dance until he was out of breath. Then he would count to three before jumping from the table. His mother always caught him and spun him around in circles. That is, before she was too busy to do anything but work.
His mother stopped dancing and winked at him.
“Who was that on the phone?” she asked, folding Rupert’s shirt.
“No one,” Rupert said. He tried to lie smoothly, but he could feel his cheeks and neck growing red.
His mother raised one eyebrow. Rupert was always amazed at the way she was able to raise just her left one. No matter how hard he practiced in the mirror, he could never quite get it to look right. Whenever he tried, he ended up looking like a scrunched up meatball.
Rupert looked his mother in the eye, his heart racing. “It was just Kaleigh,” he said. “From school. She got bored and wanted to talk. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe you,” his mother said. “I know you better than you know yourself, and I know you know that I know you’re lying. I don’t know what you’re up to, Rupert, but when I find out, I better like it.”
“You won’t find out, so you won’t have to,” Rupert muttered, dumping his empty cereal bowl in the sink.
A half hour later, Rupert set out for the fishing dock, wearing purple and carrying lollipops.
The witch was lying stomach-down on the dock, her face just above the water. Her blond hair was tied up in a very high ponytail that rested almost at the top of her head, and Rupert thought she looked especially unwitch-like in her short white pants and pink tank top. In fact, she looked just like any normal girl.
The dock creaked under Rupert’s feet, and the witch turned around to hush him. Rupert tiptoed the rest of the way.
“Get down,” she hissed, and Rupert obeyed.
With his face near the water, Rupert asked, “What are we looking for?”
“Here, fishy fishy fishy!” the witch called. “Come here you cute widdle fishy!”
“Are we trying to catch a fish?”
The witch turned to him, her eyes wide in horror. “Shhh! They have ears, Rupert! You’ll scare them away!”
Rupert laughed. “Well, you’ll never catch a fish like that! You think a fish is going to come running when you call it?”
“Why not?” the witch asked defensively. “My cat comes when I call it!”
“This is a fish,” Rupert said, shaking his head. “F-I-S—” But before he could finish spelling the word, the witch made kissy noises, and hundreds of fish leaped out of the water. Rupert had never seen anything like it — it was like jumping trout or leap-ing salmon or mini-dolphins — it was utterly amazing.
The witch reached out and grabbed a fish just before it descended into water, and Rupert looked at her with his mouth agape.
“I suppose you’ve never gone fishing either?” the witch said. “What a useless apprentice I’ve taken on!”
She started to walk away, and Rupert scrambled to keep up.
“Why am I wearing purple?” he said. “Does this have to do with some spell you’re going to do?”
The witch shrugged. “No, I just like the color purple.”
“And what about these lollipops?”
The witch snatched them out of his hands and popped three in her mouth. Her cheeks bulged like an overstuffed coin purse.
“I WUV WOWWYPOPS,” she hummed, and continued walking.
Rupert ran after her. She blew past Digglydare Close, and to Rupert’s surprise, she blew past Pexale Close, too. Rupert tried to ask her where they were going, but she put a finger to her lips and shook her head.
Rupert’s stomach did a kick. He had the oddest feeling — like something bad was following him — but when he turned to look over his shoulder, he saw nothing there.
Rupert caught up to the witch and took a sideways look at her face. She looked nervous, too. Rupert couldn’t help feeling that her wobbly expression was somehow related to his feeling of being followed. But when he took a breath to ask her about what was happening, the witch clamped her hand over his mouth.
“Mmmm!” Rupert said.
“I think they’re on to us!”
“Mmmm?”
“The Fairfoul Witch, that’s who!”
“Mmmm mmmm?”
“My lair must have been booby-trapped for humans. I could smell the magic when we got close,” the witch said. She let go of his mouth and grabbed his hand instead. She pulled him up the stairs that led away from the beach and up to the roads and restaurants of Gliverstoll.