assigned a three-page essay on the Salem witch trials. Like everyone else at school, Miss Taykin had no idea that for B, the subject was personal.
B was so depressed by the time the bell rang for third period that she almost forgot where she was going. Then she remembered. English! Her favorite class. Her first class of the day with George.
George had lived next door to B since preschool, and they did everything together. Well,
almost
everything. Anything witch-related, B had to keep a secret. But it wasn’t like she was keeping a secret from George, since she didn’t appear to have witching powers anyway.
She plopped down in her seat beside George. He was a head taller than any other sixth-grader, with his crazy curly blond hair spilling over his glasses, and, as always, a Wilmington Warlocks soccer jersey worn over his T-shirt.
“Hey, B,” George said. He looked around for their teacher, Mr. Bell, then slipped B his open package of Enchanted Chocolate Nuggets.
“Ahhh,” B said, “just what I needed. Thanks.” She took a huge handful.
“Got a new joke for you,” George said. “How do you fix a flat pumpkin?”
“Um … how?” It was hard to talk with a mouthful of chocolate.
“With a pumpkin patch!”
B swallowed. “That’s pretty good.”
George mimed shooting a basket. “Two points for me,” George said. “Got another one: What happens when a ghost gets lost in the fog?”
B shook her head. “I give up.”
“He is mist!”
B grinned. George always cheered her up. “Where’d you get these?”
George popped some Nuggets in his mouth. “Found a Halloween joke book in the attic.”
Just then Jason Jameson came into the room and B remembered the bus incident.
“Uh-oh,” George said. “That’s not your happy face. What’s the matter?”
There wasn’t much about her horrible day she could tell George. Except for one thing.
“It’s Jason,” she began. “He was being mean on the bus this morning.”
“And I heard he shut a fourth-grader in hislocker before second period.” George shook his head.
B fumed. Why did Jason have to be so horrible?
Just then, her ears caught the sound of Mozart, the class hamster, squeaking in his cage. She turned to see that Jason had the top off and was prodding Mozart with a pencil.
“Jason Jameson.” B jumped out of her seat, storming over. “Leave poor Mozart
alone!”
B grabbed for the lid to the cage, ready to force it back on.
“Hey, these guys are going to fight,” shouted Jenny Springbranch, who sat next to the cage. The other kids all stood up to see.
Just then, the lights in the room flickered off and on. A man stood by the door, his hand on the switch.
Jason hid his pencil behind his back.
B stared at the man. He was taller and leaner than Mr. Bell, with a black goatee that curled to a point, and quick, darting eyes that seemed to take everything in. His clothes were dark, just like hisnarrow horn-rimmed glasses and cowboy boots. Something about him reminded B of Nightshade, her cat.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, his eyes resting on B.
B suddenly realized she was standing there holding the lid to Mozart’s cage like she was ready to whack Jason in the face with it. This did
not
look good.
“Everyone, sit.” The man didn’t yell, but his voice was stern. The kids filed back to their seats.
“Are you a sub?” Jenny Springbranch asked.
The man shook his head, still watching Jason and B. Jason pointed an accusing finger at B, as if she were the one who had started the trouble, and slipped back into his seat. B replaced the lid to Mozart’s cage and returned to her desk, still angry, but also hoping she wasn’t going to get into trouble.
“Nice job, Bumble,” Jason muttered as B passed his desk.
The man walked over to the chalkboard and started writing in the upper left corner.
“Mr. Bishop,” he wrote, and turned back and faced the class. “I’m Mr. Bell’s replacement.”
A few kids whistled in
B was so depressed by the time the bell rang for third period that she almost forgot where she was going. Then she remembered. English! Her favorite class. Her first class of the day with George.
George had lived next door to B since preschool, and they did everything together. Well,
almost
everything. Anything witch-related, B had to keep a secret. But it wasn’t like she was keeping a secret from George, since she didn’t appear to have witching powers anyway.
She plopped down in her seat beside George. He was a head taller than any other sixth-grader, with his crazy curly blond hair spilling over his glasses, and, as always, a Wilmington Warlocks soccer jersey worn over his T-shirt.
“Hey, B,” George said. He looked around for their teacher, Mr. Bell, then slipped B his open package of Enchanted Chocolate Nuggets.
“Ahhh,” B said, “just what I needed. Thanks.” She took a huge handful.
“Got a new joke for you,” George said. “How do you fix a flat pumpkin?”
“Um … how?” It was hard to talk with a mouthful of chocolate.
“With a pumpkin patch!”
B swallowed. “That’s pretty good.”
George mimed shooting a basket. “Two points for me,” George said. “Got another one: What happens when a ghost gets lost in the fog?”
B shook her head. “I give up.”
“He is mist!”
B grinned. George always cheered her up. “Where’d you get these?”
George popped some Nuggets in his mouth. “Found a Halloween joke book in the attic.”
Just then Jason Jameson came into the room and B remembered the bus incident.
“Uh-oh,” George said. “That’s not your happy face. What’s the matter?”
There wasn’t much about her horrible day she could tell George. Except for one thing.
“It’s Jason,” she began. “He was being mean on the bus this morning.”
“And I heard he shut a fourth-grader in hislocker before second period.” George shook his head.
B fumed. Why did Jason have to be so horrible?
Just then, her ears caught the sound of Mozart, the class hamster, squeaking in his cage. She turned to see that Jason had the top off and was prodding Mozart with a pencil.
“Jason Jameson.” B jumped out of her seat, storming over. “Leave poor Mozart
alone!”
B grabbed for the lid to the cage, ready to force it back on.
“Hey, these guys are going to fight,” shouted Jenny Springbranch, who sat next to the cage. The other kids all stood up to see.
Just then, the lights in the room flickered off and on. A man stood by the door, his hand on the switch.
Jason hid his pencil behind his back.
B stared at the man. He was taller and leaner than Mr. Bell, with a black goatee that curled to a point, and quick, darting eyes that seemed to take everything in. His clothes were dark, just like hisnarrow horn-rimmed glasses and cowboy boots. Something about him reminded B of Nightshade, her cat.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, his eyes resting on B.
B suddenly realized she was standing there holding the lid to Mozart’s cage like she was ready to whack Jason in the face with it. This did
not
look good.
“Everyone, sit.” The man didn’t yell, but his voice was stern. The kids filed back to their seats.
“Are you a sub?” Jenny Springbranch asked.
The man shook his head, still watching Jason and B. Jason pointed an accusing finger at B, as if she were the one who had started the trouble, and slipped back into his seat. B replaced the lid to Mozart’s cage and returned to her desk, still angry, but also hoping she wasn’t going to get into trouble.
“Nice job, Bumble,” Jason muttered as B passed his desk.
The man walked over to the chalkboard and started writing in the upper left corner.
“Mr. Bishop,” he wrote, and turned back and faced the class. “I’m Mr. Bell’s replacement.”
A few kids whistled in
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