The Wayward Witch and the Feelings Monster Page 6

  While this may well be a heroic feat from young Polly Proggett, Malorie’s mother, Mrs Deidre Halloway, provides us with some more sobering thoughts to end on: ‘It’s not right,’ she says from her lounge room in New Hanwood, ‘that the government allows monsters to mix freely with our witches and warlocks. It must be stopped. This was a near crisis that was luckily averted by some quick work on Polly’s part. But what if she hadn’t been there beside my young Malorie? Who knows what those monsters would have done to my daughter! Or any of the young witches or warlocks at the gallery, for that matter. It’s terrifying to even think about.

  ‘I believe this is all the proof we need that it’s well and truly time to crack down on monsters. They are a menace to our society. And I’m not the only one who thinks so.’

  Do you agree with Mrs Halloway’s opinion? Phone in to the Warlock Times and we will publish your thoughts on the Monster Dilemma tomorrow.

  Polly looks up slowly. Her head is spinning.

  Is that really what Malorie thinks happened?

  But even as she’s thinking this, Malorie leans over to give Polly a massive hug.

  ‘Thank goodness for you, Polly! You’re my best friend,’ she sighs.

  Despite her confusion, Polly’s heart soars. Best friend? Did she really hear that right? Polly can’t contain the huge smile that stretches across her face. Polly has never had a witch as a best friend before.

  ‘I brought you a present,’ Malorie says. ‘To thank you for everything you did for me. It’s not much but …’ As she is talking, she reaches into the pocket of her school uniform.

  Polly gasps when she sees what Malorie is giving her. ‘Your mood pen? No, I can’t take that!’

  Malorie’s mood pen is famous. It’s the newest fashion in stationery, but Malorie is the only witch with parents rich enough – and indulgent enough – to buy one for her. A mood pen’s ink changes colour, depending on what mood you are in.

  As Polly tests it out on the edge of the newspaper, it changes from sparkly pink to purple, then lilac.

  ‘That means you’re happy,’ Malorie says, grinning. ‘Which I think means you should absolutely take it.’

  ‘Oh, wow! Really?’ Polly says. ‘I mean, are you sure …?’

  Polly feels like the right thing to do would be to hand it back to Malorie. It was, after all, a very expensive gift from her parents. But watching the ink change colour as she doodles over the newspaper, she finds she can’t quite let it go.

  And for a moment, Polly feels so happy it’s as if her chest might burst. A new best friend and a mood pen! She can’t imagine how life could be any more perfect.

  ‘Of course you should have it, Polly,’ Malorie says. ‘Gosh, it’s nothing compared to what you did for me yesterday. You’re a hero! Everyone says so. We all missed you at school today!’

  ‘Really?’ Polly says. ‘We?’

  ‘Of course!’ Malorie says. ‘Everyone’s dying to see you – now that you’re a hero! I was the only one allowed to come and visit you, though. You know, seeing as I’m your best friend.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Polly mumbles.

  It’s so hard for her to believe this is all real. It feels like a dream. A very strange dream indeed. Only the day before, Polly had no friends at school. And now everyone wants to know her.

  This is what it must feel like to be popular, she thinks. She decides she likes the feeling very much.

  ‘Oh! I haven’t even asked how you are,’ Malorie says.

  ‘Better.’ Polly shrugs, then smiles. ‘Thanks to him.’

  She opens her bedside drawer a crack for Malorie to peer inside.

  ‘Ew! Is that a toad?’ Malorie grimaces. ‘You didn’t have Doctor Firestone over, did you?’ Malorie claps her hand over her mouth.

  Polly laughs, nodding wildly.

  ‘Did she do the smoke thing?’

  Polly nods again, laughing even harder.

  ‘And the crystals?’

  ‘Yes!’ Polly squeals. ‘And the chanting!’

  ‘Oh no! Not the chanting? The one that sounds like a grunt …’

  ‘Mixed with a cow mooing!’

  ‘Yes!’

  The two witches roll around on the bed, snorting hysterically. Polly’s stomach hurts from laughing.

  But then suddenly, mid-laughter, Malorie stops and sits up. She puts her finger on her lips, eyes wide.

  ‘Shhh!’ she says. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Polly listens. There is a rattling at her window. Her stomach sinks.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ she lies.

  ‘Listen! There’s definitely something there,’ Malorie says. ‘Open the curtains!’

  ‘It’s nothing!’ Polly insists. ‘Just the tree outside my window. It bangs against the glass sometimes.’

  Then they hear a low, gentle calling.

  ‘That. Is. Not. A. Tree,’ Malorie says slowly.

  Polly sighs and crawls over to the window. She pulls the curtain open a crack, but Malorie is right behind her.

  Buster’s big hairy face is pressed to the window.

  ‘Is that a … monster?’ Malorie says in disgust. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘He just lives next door,’ Polly says. ‘I can’t help it if he keeps coming around.’

  She feels angry at Buster for humiliating her like this. For spoiling this moment. She never asked him to come around!

  ‘Go away!’ she shouts. She yanks the curtain closed.

  ‘Oh, how awful!’ Malorie says. ‘Was that the monster from the gallery? The one that was waving at you? Have you told your mother he just turns up at your window like that?’

  ‘No!’ says Polly quickly. ‘No. It’s not like that. He’s not dangerous or anything. He doesn’t mean any harm. He just … hangs around a bit.’

  Her voice peters out. She looks up at Malorie, wondering how much she can tell her.

  ‘We used to … play together. When we were little. His family’s quite nice, really,’ she ventures. ‘His mum is kind. She looks after other monsters. The ones that no-one else wants.’

  She is almost pleading now. Hoping that Malorie will see things a little differently, hoping she will see Polly’s point of view.

  But Malorie’s expression grows stony. Her pretty top lip curls into a sneer, and she tosses her plaits over her shoulders.

  ‘Polly, I don’t think I can be best friends with someone who mixes with monsters,’ she says coldly. ‘Imagine what the witches at school would say.’

  Polly panics. She feels Malorie’s interest in her slipping away with every second, and with it, any chance of being popular. ‘Don’t tell anyone, Malorie. Please don’t. I won’t play with him again. I promise.’

  Malorie looks at Polly, unblinking. ‘Promise?’ she says.

  ‘Yes, I promise,’ Polly pleads. ‘I don’t like monsters either!’ she says, a little too forcefully. ‘In fact, I hate them!’

  A slow smile moves across Malorie’s face.

  ‘All right,’ she says. ‘Then I suppose we can still be best friends.’ She stands up and brushes down her skirt. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at school then?’ she says briskly, and before Polly can entice her to stay a little longer, Malorie is out the door.

  Polly sits back on her bed, deflated. Then she hears a shuffling at her window and a gentle cracking of branches.

  Oh no! she thinks. Was Buster listening?

  She rushes to open the curtain to try and explain.

  There, on her windowsill, is a bedraggled posy of flowers, damp and wilted from the heat of Buster’s paws.

  ‘She’s here!’ Rosemary yells at the top of her voice.

  She runs up to give Polly a huge hug. Polly stands awkwardly in Rosemary’s arms. She has only been in the playground a moment, and already she is surrounded by excitable witches.

  ‘Willow! Malorie!’ calls Rosemary. ‘Polly’s here!’

  Malorie runs up to them, and Rosemary lets go of Polly to let Malorie in. After all, Malorie is P
olly’s best friend.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re better!’ Malorie says. ‘We didn’t know how long you’d be away from school.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Willow agrees. ‘We had to start the club without you. But now you’re here, you can be in charge.’

  ‘What club?’ Polly asks.

  Malorie smiles. ‘Witches Against Monsters.’

  Polly’s head starts to buzz a little. ‘I don’t know that game,’ she says.

  Malorie snorts. ‘It’s not a game, Polly,’ she says slowly, like Polly isn’t very smart. ‘It’s a movement. Haven’t you heard? Our newspaper article received heaps of calls from witches who are sick of monsters hanging around our streets. They are horrible. Noisy and smelly and even dangerous. Mum has always said so, and now other witches and warlocks are agreeing. Look! Mum even made us badges to wear.’

  Malorie points to a small round badge on the lapel of her school blazer with a black ‘W’ printed on it.

  Polly looks at the witches huddled around her. They are all wearing the same badge, and before Polly has a chance to protest, Malorie is pinning one onto her uniform, too.

  ‘That’s “W” for witch,’ Malorie says as she’s pinning. ‘You need to make it clear whose side you’re on. Some witches are still in support of monsters, but this shows you’re with us.’

  ‘Um, I don’t know if I really want to wear this,’ Polly says anxiously. She loves the thought of being in a club, but she is not sure this is the kind of club she wants to be a part of.

  Malorie narrows her eyes. ‘But if you don’t wear it, how will people know you’re not a friend of monsters? Are you a friend of monsters?’

  Polly feels her cheeks heat up. She looks at Willow and Rosemary, and sees them watching her closely. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.

  Willow’s face falls. ‘Oh. You’re not a friend of monsters, are you? Polly?’ She takes a step back.

  Rosemary steps back, too. ‘My mother told me I wasn’t to talk to friends of monsters,’ she says nervously.

  ‘No, no, of course not!’ Polly says, finally finding her voice. ‘I just don’t think they’re dangerous, that’s all. They might be noisy and sometimes even a bit smelly, but they’re not dangerous.’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ Malorie corrects her. ‘They attacked us in the gallery! If it wasn’t for you, I might not be standing here today.’ She turns to the other witches. ‘She doesn’t remember it very clearly,’ she explains. ‘When she passed out, her brain got all muddled. And she’s been sick, too. Isn’t that right, Polly?’

  Polly chews her lip. ‘I don’t know,’ she mumbles, and she really doesn’t know anymore. She doesn’t know what she thinks. She doesn’t know what she remembers. It all feels so long ago now, and she has been unwell.

  The bell rings.

  ‘Come on, let’s go!’ Malorie says cheerily. ‘Or we’ll be late for class.’

  She grabs Polly’s hand and steers her through the playground. Along the way, Malorie waves at the witches and warlocks who are staring at them. Some of them hold up three fingers in the sign of a ‘W’.

  Malorie and the other witches hold up three fingers in return.

  Polly is not sure about everyone suddenly looking at them like they are famous, but Malorie seems to be loving it.

  As they head into the classroom, Polly looks around for Miss Spinnaker. She will know what Polly should do.

  But Miss Spinnaker is not there.

  At the front desk is old Mrs Crabbe, their replacement teacher, scowling at the witches as they drift in.

  ‘Well, if it’s not our local hero,’ she says to Polly, screwing her face into an almost-smile. ‘The Defeater of Monsters. You’ve caused quite a sensation this week, haven’t you?’

  ‘Miss Spinnaker isn’t here today,’ Malorie tells Polly as they walk down the long aisle to the back of the class. She is still holding tightly onto Polly’s hand.

  ‘Where is she?’ Polly asks, her voice rising into a squeak. She looks towards Valentine, who has a worried expression on her face.

  Valentine whispers, ‘Maybe she’s sick?’

  Polly feels a chill pass through her as she looks down at her desk. Someone has placed a newspaper there. This time, there is a photo of Polly on the front page. A more recent one this time. And the headline:

  LOCAL WITCH’S HEROICS TRIGGER LONG-AWAITED WITCHES AGAINST MONSTERS MOVEMENT

  ‘See?’ hisses Malorie. ‘You’re famous! Exciting, isn’t it?’

  Polly folds the paper in half and places it in her desk. Then she looks towards the board, breathing slowly to calm herself.

  When the bell rings for playtime, Malorie grabs Polly’s hand again and pulls her outside into the sunshine. The other witches follow them. They make their way to the bench underneath the old lallypod tree, with its brilliant show of autumn leaves.

  There are already two witches sitting there from another class, and they wave excitedly when they see Polly.

  ‘Polly! Polly! Sit with us!’ Gretel and Capsum call, and Polly feels her chest fill with pleasure.

  All around the playground, when witches and warlocks see Polly, they point and smile and wave. Even though she still has a not-quite-right feeling at the pit of her stomach, Polly is beginning to enjoy all the attention. Only a couple of days ago, no-one wanted to sit next to her. Now she feels like a star!

  ‘What do you have for playlunch?’ Malorie asks, peering into Polly’s tidy plastic lunchbox. It’s divided into neat little compartments. Polly peels off the lid of one of the smaller plastic containers nestled inside and wrinkles up her nose.

  ‘Bats’ ears,’ Polly sighs, holding up a crispy brown triangle.

  ‘Swap?’ Malorie asks, holding up a beancake. ‘I love bats’ ears. Especially the salted ones.’

  ‘Sure!’ says Polly. She takes the beancake gladly, and sinks her teeth into the sweet powdery pastry. ‘Thanks! We hardly ever have beancakes. Mum only gives us healthy food.’

  ‘My mum’s the same,’ Capsum says sympathetically.

  ‘Oh!’ Rosemary says, suddenly noticing Malorie’s pen pointing out of Polly’s top pocket. ‘You’ve got a mood pen, too! I’m so jealous.’

  Malorie grins and grabs Polly’s hand. ‘No, it’s mine. I gave it to Polly to thank her for saving my life in the gallery.’

  ‘Oh, you’re so lucky,’ Rosemary and Willow say, their voices twisting slightly with jealousy.

  And right then Polly does feel lucky. Perhaps she’s the luckiest witch in the world. Malorie is the most popular witch in class, and she has chosen Polly to be her best friend.

  Polly has felt lonely at school for so long that she decides she’s going to enjoy this new feeling. She loves Buster to bursting, but Polly needs witch friends, too.

  At that moment, three cute warlocks from the class above them wander past. Markus, whom all the witches in Polly’s class have a crush on, tilts his chin in Polly’s direction and raises his eyebrows in a solemn hello.

  ‘Pretty smackin’ spell you did the other day,’ he says, and the other warlocks nod in agreement. ‘What’s your name again?’

  Willow jabs Polly in the ribs and Polly’s voice comes out in an annoying squeak. ‘Um, Polly!’ she says, then clears her throat.

  ‘Polly,’ repeats Markus approvingly, and then he and his friends keep walking.

  As soon as they are out of hearing range, the witches squeal in excitement.

  ‘Oh my jiddering sorcery!’ Willow gasps. ‘Markus said hello to you, Polly. Markus!’

  ‘You are so totally a hero in school right now,’ Gretel sighs.

  ‘How about those monsters?’ Rosemary says. ‘So scary, right?’

  Polly takes another bite of the beancake and slides her eyes across to Malorie. She has been loving the attention up until this moment, but now that the conversation has again turned to what happened in the gallery she begins to feel sticky with discomfort.

  ‘I know!’ says Malorie. ‘We were so scared, were
n’t we, Polly? I didn’t know what they might do.’

  Polly chews slowly. The beancake catches in her throat.

  ‘But you were amazing, Polly!’ Gretel says, slapping Polly on the shoulder. ‘Incredible! I wish I’d seen that spell you did.’

  ‘Me too,’ Capsum agrees.

  ‘We had no idea you could do spells like that,’ says Rosemary in awe.

  Malorie puts her hand on Polly’s knee, nodding sombrely. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there to protect me.’ She looks straight into Polly’s eyes as she says this.

  Polly stares back, like she’s trying to read a message there.

  But then Malorie tosses her plaits back over her shoulders and turns to the other witches. ‘And how cool is it that I got into the paper?’

  ‘So cool!’ Gretel says. ‘You looked so pretty in that photo. Were you wearing lipstick?’

  Malorie smiles and shrugs. ‘Maybe?’

  ‘Were you scared?’ Willow asks Polly.

  Polly looks down at the half-eaten beancake in her hand. She doesn’t feel very hungry anymore.

  ‘I don’t really feel like talking about it, if that’s OK?’ she mumbles.

  She just wishes everyone would stop talking about what happened at the gallery.

  ‘Come on, guys,’ Malorie says, putting her arm around Polly’s shoulder. ‘It was a pretty scary time. I’m not surprised Polly doesn’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘I know. Let’s play witches versus monsters!’ Rosemary says, dropping her half-chewed trotter into her lunchbox.

  ‘Um … how do you play?’ Polly asks, relieved the moment has passed.

  ‘It’s easy,’ Malorie says. ‘The one who is the monster has a scarf tied over their eyes so they can’t see. Everyone else runs around them in a circle and tries to tap them with their hand. If the monster catches one of them, then they become a witch and the one who’s caught becomes a monster. Get it?’

  Polly nods. Gretel is first up as the monster. The witches run around her in a circle, getting faster and faster.