The Only Thing Worse Than Witches

Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun…

THEY SCAMPERED UP YAMMERSTOP WAY AND didn’t stop until they were just outside Rupert’s house. Then they leaned on his porch for support and panted.

“We were almost toast!” Rupert said.

“And they didn’t even suspect that anything was rabbit!”

Rupert shook his head. “Fishy. That rabbit thing will never catch on,” he said. “But anyway, who was that girl? Witchling Four?”

Witchling Two went pale and started stammering. “Well, you see, um, er, uh, erm…”

“She was horrible. An absolute nightmare. Is that why you won’t practice with the other witchlings? That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?”

“No, I really thought you would be useful with your, erm, ability to do things non-magically…”

“Tell the truth.”

“Okay, fine,” Witchling Two said. “I don’t really get along with the other witchlings. I guess you could tell that I’m a bit… different, and they make fun of me a lot. And I was… I was… I was…”

“Lonely,” Rupert finished for her.

Witchling Two nodded.

Rupert understood that feeling quite well.

Except at that moment, for the first time in a long time, Rupert didn’t feel lonely at all. When he looked at Witchling Two and thought about all their crazy misadventures, he actually felt a lot better. And even though he hadn’t known her for that long, and even though she was a bit batty, and even though they weren’t supposed to be friends, she was the best friend Rupert had ever had.

The screen door flew open, and Rupert’s mother burst out with two bowls of ice cream. “Hello, kids! Would you like a treat? Or if you don’t want this, I can make you something microwavable.”

Witchling Two’s eyes narrowed, and she crinkled her nose. “What is that?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Gummyum’s homemade carrot ice cream.”

Witchling Two’s jaw dropped, and she wore a horrified expression. “Carrot?” she said. “Carrot ice cream?”

“Yes, dear. Try a spoonf—”

“BUUUNNNYYYYYYYYYYY! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she screamed, bolting all the way down Piggleswumpfer Court and out of sight.

“Your friend is an odd little duckling,” his mother said.

Rupert shrugged.

His mother sat down on the porch step, and Rupert crawled next to her. They began to eat the ice cream in silence, just enjoying the warmth of the sun and the hush of the ocean and the crispness of the salty air.

But Rupert wasn’t feeling that hungry, and after a few bites, he put down his bowl. Sitting next to his mom reminded him of what he saw in the witches’ lair — the horrible realization that he now belonged to the witches because of something his mom had done many years ago.

“Mom… What did you steal from the witches?” He didn’t mean to say it, but it just sort of burbled out of him.

His mother’s spoon flew out of her hand, and she scurried to pick it up again. “What?” she said. “What did you say?”

“What did you steal?”

“How could you possibly know that?” she whispered.

Rupert froze. How could he be so stupid? Of course, she’d want to know how he knew… but he couldn’t tell her about Witchling Two or their trip into the witches’ lair.

His mother put down her bowl. “Rupert?” When he didn’t answer her, his mother’s eyes began to water.

She began to cry, and she pulled him close to her, holding him tight. He hugged her back and tried to comfort her, but it was hard when he didn’t understand why she was crying.

When she calmed down, he tried again, “What did you take, Mom?”

She hugged her knees and stared off into the sea. “This is important — which witch have you been talking to, Rupert?”

“None of them! Honest!” And it was the truth. Technically, Witchling Two wasn’t a witch… yet. Rupert took a deep breath. “I was walking near Digglydare Close, and I overheard two witches talking,” he paused. “But I didn’t talk to them, and I wasn’t on the witch street.”

“But you were lingering by it?” She took his hand. “Don’t ever do that again,” she scolded, but it sounded more like pleading. “How many times have I told you, stay away from that side of town.”

“Why?” Rupert said. “Why do I have to stay away from the witches? And what did you steal? And why did you do it? And why do we stay in Gliverstoll if you hate the witches so much? Why do you keep all these secrets?”

She stood up and walked over to the porch swing. “I’m trying to protect you, Rupert.”

“I don’t want that. I just want answers.”

When it was clear she wasn’t going to discuss the witches any longer, he walked into the house. For hours, he listened to his mother rocking back and forth in her porch chair. When he finally went to bed, she was still rocking.