make good use of your lesson time, then,” Mrs. Cicely said. “Mr. Bishop can really help you out.”
“Help out with what?” Mr. Cicely appeared in the doorway and set down his laptop bag. He smelled, as always, like a walking, talking cup of cocoa. It wasn’t possible to work at the Enchanted Chocolates factory all day long and not have a little of it rub off.
“We were just discussing Friday’s Young Witch Competition,” Mrs. Cicely said.
“Ah.” He sat down and kicked off his shoes. “B will clobber everyone else. I know she will. It runs in the family.”
“That’s what Geo …” B bit her lip. She almost let it slip that George knew about B’s magic! It was a major rule of the Magical Rhyming Society to never let any nonwitches know about the existence of magic.
“Hm? What was that?”
“Uh …” B couldn’t think of what to say.
“Now, Felix,” B’s mom said. “Hands off that guacamole. And B isn’t going to ‘clobber’ anyone. That’s
not
what the Young Witch Competition is about.”
Mr. Cicely abandoned the guacamole and went for the cheese sauce instead. “’Course not. ’Course not. Not about competition. It’s about … er … teamwork.”
“It’s about learning,” his wife corrected him. “And doing your best. So long as B works hard and tries hard, she’ll have nothing to fear.”
“Absolutely.” Mr. Cicely scooped more guacamole when his wife’s back was turned.
B was unconvinced.
Upstairs Trina’s recorded voice belted out the chorus to “Swagger” for the third time straight, while Dawn’s fancy footwork thumped with the beat. “Do your best” scarcely seemed like enough when your older sister was overloaded with both talent and magical skill.
“Dawn, come down for dinner!” Mrs. Cicely called up the stairs. “Dawn! Dawn! Oh, never mind.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “We’ll save her a plate. There’s no stopping her practicing. She’s one focused kid.”
B kept her face aimed down at the table. There was that lecturing tone creeping into her mother’s voice again.
“I’m sure that when
B
focuses on the Young Witch Competition, and decides what she wants to do, she’ll put together a performance we’ll be
very
proud of.”
“Yeah.” B swallowed a mouthful of dinner. It wasbad enough having to demonstrate her magical skills to an audience and panel of judges — that would inspire enough stage fright to render her clumsy and speechless for a week. But living up to Dawn was impossible, plain and simple.
“Why the long face, B?” her dad said.
“Oh, nothing,” B said. “Pass the nachos, please.”
Chapter 2
B entered the school building the next morning and wondered if she’d stumbled onto a Hollywood film set by mistake. Guys strummed unplugged electric guitars in front of their lockers. Two girls practiced their hip-hop dance while an eighth-grade boy belted out a rock ballad. Several cheerleaders practiced their backflips down the corridors, nearly annihilating an innocent sixth-grade bystander. A pimply boy walked around with his head tilted back, balancing a bowling pin on the bridge of his nose.
B ducked her head down and dodged the crowd until she reached her locker. She didn’t notice her friend approaching until Trina slid her arm through B’s.
“Hey,” B said, “what’s going on around here?”
“Everyone’s all wound up about the auditions,” Trina said.
“But they’re not until tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Trina replied. “Clifton Davro’s coming. That’s all anyone can talk about. This hubbub sort of reminds me of being on tour. All the road crew running around, the dancers and backup singers practicing all over the place …”
“You haven’t considered doing the talent show, have you, Trina?”
B’s friend shook her head. She looked each way to make sure no one could hear them. “Even if it didn’t conflict with the Young Witch Competition, I wouldn’t do it. I already
“Help out with what?” Mr. Cicely appeared in the doorway and set down his laptop bag. He smelled, as always, like a walking, talking cup of cocoa. It wasn’t possible to work at the Enchanted Chocolates factory all day long and not have a little of it rub off.
“We were just discussing Friday’s Young Witch Competition,” Mrs. Cicely said.
“Ah.” He sat down and kicked off his shoes. “B will clobber everyone else. I know she will. It runs in the family.”
“That’s what Geo …” B bit her lip. She almost let it slip that George knew about B’s magic! It was a major rule of the Magical Rhyming Society to never let any nonwitches know about the existence of magic.
“Hm? What was that?”
“Uh …” B couldn’t think of what to say.
“Now, Felix,” B’s mom said. “Hands off that guacamole. And B isn’t going to ‘clobber’ anyone. That’s
not
what the Young Witch Competition is about.”
Mr. Cicely abandoned the guacamole and went for the cheese sauce instead. “’Course not. ’Course not. Not about competition. It’s about … er … teamwork.”
“It’s about learning,” his wife corrected him. “And doing your best. So long as B works hard and tries hard, she’ll have nothing to fear.”
“Absolutely.” Mr. Cicely scooped more guacamole when his wife’s back was turned.
B was unconvinced.
Upstairs Trina’s recorded voice belted out the chorus to “Swagger” for the third time straight, while Dawn’s fancy footwork thumped with the beat. “Do your best” scarcely seemed like enough when your older sister was overloaded with both talent and magical skill.
“Dawn, come down for dinner!” Mrs. Cicely called up the stairs. “Dawn! Dawn! Oh, never mind.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “We’ll save her a plate. There’s no stopping her practicing. She’s one focused kid.”
B kept her face aimed down at the table. There was that lecturing tone creeping into her mother’s voice again.
“I’m sure that when
B
focuses on the Young Witch Competition, and decides what she wants to do, she’ll put together a performance we’ll be
very
proud of.”
“Yeah.” B swallowed a mouthful of dinner. It wasbad enough having to demonstrate her magical skills to an audience and panel of judges — that would inspire enough stage fright to render her clumsy and speechless for a week. But living up to Dawn was impossible, plain and simple.
“Why the long face, B?” her dad said.
“Oh, nothing,” B said. “Pass the nachos, please.”
Chapter 2
B entered the school building the next morning and wondered if she’d stumbled onto a Hollywood film set by mistake. Guys strummed unplugged electric guitars in front of their lockers. Two girls practiced their hip-hop dance while an eighth-grade boy belted out a rock ballad. Several cheerleaders practiced their backflips down the corridors, nearly annihilating an innocent sixth-grade bystander. A pimply boy walked around with his head tilted back, balancing a bowling pin on the bridge of his nose.
B ducked her head down and dodged the crowd until she reached her locker. She didn’t notice her friend approaching until Trina slid her arm through B’s.
“Hey,” B said, “what’s going on around here?”
“Everyone’s all wound up about the auditions,” Trina said.
“But they’re not until tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Trina replied. “Clifton Davro’s coming. That’s all anyone can talk about. This hubbub sort of reminds me of being on tour. All the road crew running around, the dancers and backup singers practicing all over the place …”
“You haven’t considered doing the talent show, have you, Trina?”
B’s friend shook her head. She looked each way to make sure no one could hear them. “Even if it didn’t conflict with the Young Witch Competition, I wouldn’t do it. I already
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