The Only Thing Worse Than Witches by Lauren Magaziner

sure to take this right before Mrs. Frubblekunckle collects the papers. And think about her while you drink it.”
    â€œYou aren’t going to tell me any more than that?”
    â€œYou’ll see,” she said, in such a way that Rupert knew the conversation was closed.

Don’t Smell the Flowers
    T HE NEXT DAY , SCHO OL WAS A NIGHTMARE . A T 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.
    â€œLair, lair, lair, lair! Lair, lair, lair, lair! Luh-luh-luh-lair, luh-lair! LAIR!”
    â€œAll right, all right,” Rupert said. “I get it!”
    â€œWe 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?”
    â€œIn and out,” Rupert repeated. He twisted his hands. “Okay. Okay. This is going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”
    â€œ
Okay
? We’ll be great!”
    Rupert fidgeted.
    â€œSo 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.
    â€œWhat is this?” Rupert asked.
    â€œWe’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?”
    â€œNo,” 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