Diary of an accidental w.., p.1
Diary of an Accidental Witch, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Reviews
Little Spellshire Map
Private Top Secret
Monday 13th September
Tuesday 14th September
Saturday 18th September
Saturday 19th September (Going-to-New-School Eve!)
Monday 20th September (Aaaaaaaaaarrgh!)
Tuesday 21st September
Wednesday 22nd September
Thursday 23rd September
Friday 24th September
Saturday 25th September
Sunday 26th September
Monday 27th September
Tuesday 28th September
Wednesday 29th September
Thursday 30th September
Friday 1st October
Wednesday 6th October
Thursday 7th October
Friday 8th October (First Moon Eve! Eeeeeek!!!)
Saturday 9th October
Sunday 10th October
Monday 11th October
Tuesday 12th October
Friday 15th October
Saturday 16th October
Sunday 17th October
Monday 18th October
Thursday 21st October
Friday 22nd October
Thursday 28th October
Friday 29th October
Saturday 30th October (Halloween Eve!!!!!)
Sunday 31st October (Halloweeeeennnn!!!!!)
About the Author*
Copyright
It’s our first full day in Little Spellshire and Dad has given me this diary to ‘celebrate’ moving. I know a bribe when I see one – he might be ‘celebrating’, but I never wanted to move here. It’s quite disappointing how little my opinions count in this family. Who decides to move somewhere just because it’s got funny clouds? Only my dad, that’s who.
On the upside, a bribe’s a bribe and I’ve wanted my own diary since I was in Year Three and Milly Strudel had one that smelled of strawberries. This one doesn’t smell of anything except new paper, but it’s still really nice. I’m going to write down everything that happens to me and I’m never going to miss a day.
Except … probably NOTHING will happen to me because now I’m literally living in the middle of nowhere and there’s NO RELIABLE PHONE SIGNAL and I haven’t got any friends. I suppose that means I’ll have time to faithfully record all my deep thoughts.
I HAVE A FRIEND! Well, hopefully…
He’s called Ashkan (but he says everyone calls him Ash except his mum). He lives next door and, even though his mum had obviously dragged him over to be neighbourly, he seems really nice. It was very sunny so we sat in the garden and had lemonade. Mrs Namdar wanted to know why we’d moved here and Dad explained that he was a weather scientist and was writing a book about Little Spellshire’s famously freaky microclimate. Then they got on to schools – Ash is in Year Seven too – and they talked for AGES over our heads about how good Spellshire Academy is and how it’s much better than the other school in town blah blah blah.
When they finally drew breath, Ash said he’d show me round the Academy after school tomorrow if I wanted (yes!) and asked if I like cakes (YES!). Then he went to his house and came back with a plate piled with little green cakes he and his mum had baked as a Welcome-to-Piggoty-Lane treat for us.
Then there was a sudden and surprising SNOWSTORM and we all had to run for cover.
It’s stopped snowing, the sun is scorching again and we’re having the cakes for tea. Yummy.
I’ve only got a few days of F R E E D O M before it’s back to English and History and MATHS, eurgh! I’m not meeting Ash for ages, so I’m going to explore Little Spellshire. From what I saw when we drove through town the other day, it’s nothing like where we used to live. I asked Dad if I could go on my own and he said of course I could because, if I was ever going to turn out to be a scientist, the more exploring I did the better. I was pretty sure I’d need to be better at actual science to be a scientist, but I didn’t argue with him. NO IDEA what I want to ‘turn out to be’ but exploring is one of my MOST favourite things to do.
On the upside, I’m sitting writing this in a cosy teashop next to a fire with a little black kitten curled up on my lap. On the downside, unless this storm passes soon, I’m going to be seriously late meeting Ash.
I think it might have been a weeny bit of an understatement when I said Little Spellshire was nothing like where I used to live – it is very, EXCEEDINGLY, UNRECOGNIZABLY different.
For a start, it’s TINY! Our house is at one end of Piggoty Lane and backs on to the path to the forest (that’s my next place to explore), but at the other end – past lots of ordinary little houses like ours – the lane comes out on to a funny-shaped green all dotted with trees and pretty weeds called the Common – or maybe the UnCommon depending on which sign you believe. There are hardly any people around and only a few cars (mostly orange and bubble-shaped for some strange reason), but there are gazillions of CATS – they’re everywhere, curled round street lamps, chilling on postboxes and sleeping on the steps of the library.
All around are thatched cottages and wiggly old shops. The shops are NOT what I was hoping for. Most of them are ordinary, if a bit old-fashioned – like the greengrocer’s with its barrels of turnips and red apples outside and a butcher’s with gross dead things hanging in the window. But a few are more … peculiar, like Mr Riggle’s Emporium, which has a sign in its cloudy glass window saying Get your fresh cuckoo spit here!
I didn’t go into Old Bertie’s Bookshop because the old man peering at me from his perch on top of a teetering tower of cobwebby leather books scared me off and I obviously didn’t go into the pub either (it’s called The Moon & Broomstick and it’s so covered in ivy that it looks like it’s growing out of the ground).
Except for New Street, which is as straight as a ruler and lined mostly with modern houses, all the roads running off the UnCommon are twisty with more wonky old buildings. The Academy is at the end of New Street so I saved that one for later and checked out the High Street. Spellshire’s Sensible Store sells boring stuff like beans and bacon and bin bags, and there’s a chemist’s with a sign saying Regular Prescriptions Only and a neat display of nit treatments. But my favourite was Rhubarb & Custard because, as well as selling newspapers, it has SWEETS – a whole wall of them in big, old-fashioned, labelled jars.
And I might have found a pet shop too. I could see a couple of owls sitting on a branch suspended from the ceiling and a handful of frogs hopping over the counter, but just as I was rattling the handle to see if it was open, the sky went black, there was a peal of thunder so loud several startled cats fell out of trees and it started to POUR with rain.
“Quick! In here!” The door of the only tearoom on the street flew open and an arm reached out and pulled me inside. “You’ll get soaked!”
Too late – I was already DRENCHED – but the arm belonged to Taffy and her tearoom turned out to be a very nice place to shelter. Especially when she brought me a hot chocolate and a big slice of millionaire’s shortbread for free. She was very smiley and didn’t do that tut thing because I wasn’t grown up and she let me hang my coat and socks by the fireplace to dry out.
I’ve eaten all the shortbread, the kitten is purring and my socks are nearly dry, but it’s still TIPPING it down.
Good news – it’s finally stopped storming and, if I run fast, Ash might still be waiting at the Academy.
Just back from checking out MY NEW SCHOOL!
Unlike anything else I’ve seen in this place, the Academy is mega-modern, with lots of glass and steel and upbeat quotes about excellence stuck everywhere:
There are all-weather sports pitches that look AMAZING too! It’s not as big as the secondary school I’d have gone to if we hadn’t moved, but it’s still sort of scary, especially because term’s already started.
I told Ash I was nervous and he said he’d introduce me to all his friends. “You’ll like it! It’s just an ordinary school,” he said, as if that was something to be very proud of.
I wanted to go and see the other school – the one called the School of Extraordinary Arts that I’d heard Mrs Namdar talking about – but Ash said we didn’t have time because it’s in the forest and it was getting late. It’s true that the forest is very DARK and DEEP and TANGLY, but it’s literally at the end of our gardens and it’s not that late. I don’t think that was Ash’s only reason for not giving me a tour. He says the Academy is the only ‘proper’ school here and that I should forget about the other one. I don’t know what he meant by that – maybe the schools have an epic rivalry like Arsenal and Spurs.
On the way home, I saw two more orange bubble cars with what looked like bright purple sparks coming out of their exhausts. Ash just shrugged and said I’d get used to it. Odd.
Dad said Ash could stay for tea, but Ash had to go home and do his homework. It was probably for the best because tonight’s menu was burnt sausages with a side of custard creams. Dad might know everything there is to know about thunder-snow, but he is a disaster in the kitchen.
Must add ‘Learn to cook’ to my list of Things I Will ACHIEVE This Year Now I Have No Friends Only One Friend.
Missed a few days, but only because I lost misplaced tidied my diary in the bread bin.
Anyway, the only interesting thing that has happened to me in the last four days has been BAD.
I found out that I am NOT g
“I’m sure the School of Extraordinary Arts is just as good,” was what he said when he finally summoned up the courage to tell me what he’d done. “It’ll be fine.”
“But I don’t even have ONE friend there,” I wailed.
“You’ll make friends.” Dad made it sound like the easiest thing in the world. “And, until you do, you’ll have more time for maths!” He laughed. I didn’t. Instead, I demanded asked nicely that he UNregister me ASAP.
But, although he said he was sorry about a hundred times and looked as sheepish as an actual sheep and gave me the last fluffmallow in the house, apparently school transfers are tricky and the best he could do was promise to try. “But give it a good go first, Bea,” he said hopefully. “Maybe it’s fate…”
It’s not FATE – it’s a DISASTER.
Maybe he’ll feel so guilty he’ll buy me a puppy.
* Or funny rain as normal people call it.
I’m not asleep. Well, obviously I’m not because otherwise I couldn’t be writing this but, more to the point, I’m too scared EXCITED to sleep. OK, I am a tiny bit scared, but that’s because Ash came over earlier and went on and on in a not-at-all-reassuring way about how the extraordinary thing about the School of Extraordinary Arts was how WEIRD it was. I said it was just school and how strange could it be? And he said, “Have you seen the uniform?” and laugh-snorted so hard some of the Coke he was drinking came out of his nose.
Of course I’ve seen the uniform. I’m looking at it right now – freshly ironed (Dad only burned through the fabric once) and folded up on the stool at the bottom of my bed. I don’t hate it, but it’s … distinctive.
Ash might think it’s HILARIOUS, but he has a dressing gown covered in Daleks so I don’t see why he’s suddenly the authority on fashion.
TODAY’S THE DAY! I should probably go to sleep now.
I should definitely go to sleep now…
What are Extraordinary Arts? I wish I was better at drawing.
Just woke up, panicking that I’d overslept.
How could Dad let me oversleep?!
I don’t know why I was up half the night, worrying about school. I should have been worrying about BREAKFAST. How can my dad be a scientist and not know the difference between salt and sugar? That’s the kind of detail that makes all the difference to Good Luck Pancakes.
I tell him they’re YUMMY and manage to eat nearly a whole one so as not to hurt his feelings. He says, “I’m sure you’ll be FINE!” about a hundred times so I don’t think he’s that sure. “You’ll find your feet in no time,” he promises.
Talking of feet, the stripey socks look even brighter this morning. I’m basically glowing from the knees down. Then Dad asked me if I was OK walking to school on my own on the first day and I said of course I was because I knew he had an important meeting with a snowflake specialist from Greenland, and anyway all I had to do was follow the path that started at the end of our garden. I’d be fine. Probably.
“I KNOW everything will go really well today,” says Dad. Mmm, well, I guess it can’t get worse than the pancakes.
I was WRONG.
I haven’t even been to class and I’m already sitting outside the headmistress’s office.
I think it might be because I squashed her cat.
I didn’t mean to, obviously. I’m not EVIL, and it wasn’t because I prefer dogs (which is something I’m going to have to keep quiet about because of Little Spellshire being the Cat Capital of the United Kingdom and possibly the world). It was a Very Unfortunate Accident and mostly the broom’s fault.
I was already running late because of the whole sleeping in and suffering-through-the-pancakes thing and I was barely five minutes down the forest path when it suddenly got super foggy and I’d have got lost if I hadn’t spotted a pair of capes flashing gold through the trees ahead. I followed them at double speed past a swampy green pond, through a brambly patch and out into a clearing. The fog lifted as suddenly as it had dropped and I could see the school! It had tall, twisty chimneys and grey turrets like a castle! Huge iron gates were propped open by what looked like big PUMPKINS and more caped students in groups of twos and threes were streaming through.
Eeeek! I was only halfway up the drive when the loudest bell I’d ever heard shook one of the towers. I was pretty sure that meant I was LATE. I made a run for it and, if someone hadn’t left a broom right in the doorway, I might have made it all the way to registration without a DISASTER.
But they did and I didn’t.
Obviously, I tripped over it and skidded across the marble entrance hall.
“LOOK OUT!” someone yelled – I was heading straight for the lady at the reception desk! I quickly swerved and landed instead with a terrible thump on something soft … that yowled…
I was too scared to look.
There was a hissing noise like air escaping out of a balloon and then SILENCE (broken only by nervous giggles and gasps from the audience of other students). But, after a few seconds of extreme and worrying FLATNESS, the little black cat – because that’s what I’d landed on – sort of puffed back into three dimensions, got up, gave me a hard stare and walked away with its tail in the air.
Phew! There was a smattering of applause. But the receptionist (who was extremely old and looked a bit like my grandad’s tortoise if it had been wearing a black frilly dress) was NOT HAPPY.
“That’s all this school needs,” she said. “Another one.”
“Another what, Mrs Slater?” asked a boy in a cloak that was about ten sizes too big.
“Pupil,” she replied in the sort of tone other people would use for words like ‘black widow spider’ or ‘plague’. She came out from behind the desk to check that I, no, that the BROOM was OK. “Too many children,” she muttered darkly, placing it in a very large cupboard full of other brooms. So many brooms! I guess it must be hard to keep this place tidy – even the entrance hall was three storeys high with a big fireplace and the sort of cobweb-decorated staircase that looked like it belonged in a ghost story.
I was trying to distract myself from the crisis-at-hand with a little daydream of sliding down the wiggly banisters when a tall girl about my age, wearing the neatest sports kit I’ve ever seen in my life, said snippily that, “Only a toadbrain wouldn’t jump over a broom.” Then she informed me that I’d assaulted the headmistress’s cat and now I’d be in for it and laughed. And, sure enough, two minutes later Mrs Slater was telling a scary senior to show me to the headmistress’s office…
So here I am.
In for it.
Well, that was a lot better than I was expecting. Turns out Ms Sparks, the headmistress, had only sent for me because she wanted to say hello on my first day! She said it must be very intimidating for someone like me to come to a school like this. I said – without specifically mentioning the squashing-her-pet thing – that I’d certainly had a rocky start.
“We can’t have that,” she said, all twinkly, and gave me a biscuit so of course I felt guilty and confessed. But she just laughed and told me not to worry about Zephyr because there was “more to her than meets the eye”. And the cat, who’d been staring at me in a very judgey way from the top of a bookcase full of ancient books, leaped down and settled smugly on her mistress’s shoulder.
