Suitcase S(witch), page 3
“Don’t worry, I can do that for you.” Daria grabs another gemstone and recites another spell. Suddenly, the outfit I had picked for the competition is on my body, freshly ironed. “It feels good to be using magic again,” she says.
I smile. “If I was a witch, I’d use magic every day!”
Daria laughs. “I do! But living like you for a weekend was fun too. Your clothes are really cool. I love your shoes, especially.”
I grin. “Thank you. But I hope you don’t mind that I wore some of your clothes? And I used some spells too. One of them made my dad’s food taste better …”
I worry for a moment that Daria will be annoyed, but she just laughs.
“You can keep my shoes,” I offer, as a way of thanking her. “If you like them so much?”
Daria widens her eyes. “Really? That would be so cool. It means we’d be able to keep in touch too, because I’ll have something of yours.”
I laugh now. “Don’t you have, like, a phone or a laptop?” I ask.
Daria scrunches up her face. “The frequency of things like that sort of messes with the magic. But anyway, you’ll also need something of mine. Is there anything you’d like in particular?”
I think about the pyjamas, but I’m not sure I want to summon hundreds of cats to my room again. The boots are a definite no after embarrassing me in public. The cloak is cool, but I doubt Mum and Dad would let me fly regularly once they found out about it. I shrug and say, “You decide!”
Daria grins. “You have a poetry competition in a minute, right? I have just the thing …”
CHAPTER 9
The Poetry Competition
I make it backstage just in time, and my nerves catch up with me all at once. There are a bunch of people, all my age, from all over the country. A few look as nervous as I am, and the one who’s just been up to read their poems is crying quietly in the corner. It doesn’t help me feel better AT ALL.
I’m glad to be back in my clothes, which feel familiar and safe, but I now also have the witch’s brooch pinned to the collar of my dress. It’s shaped like a dragonfly, with gems making up its body and wings.
The brooch shimmers orange and blue in the light and something about it makes me feel a bit less afraid. I don’t know what magic it does, but Daria promised me the brooch wouldn’t embarrass me like the shoes did and that it’ll help. She wanted it to be a surprise, though …
“You’re up!” a woman with a headset and clipboard says to me, gently ushering me to the side of the stage.
As I walk out, it feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Hundreds of people are seated on chairs in front of me, watching my every move.
There’s a podium and microphone. When I step up to it, the microphone gives out a sharp squeaking noise, which makes me jump and a few people in the audience gasp.
This isn’t going well so far.
I clear my throat and the sounds blasts across the room. Oh dear.
I’m not really looking at everyone, but my teacher told me I should try to. She said I should move my gaze across the room so I’m not just staring at one person.
I introduce myself and my school, in a voice that’s a little shaky from the nerves. I look out into the audience, and I see Mum and Dad, front row with the other parents, smiling at me. Their familiar faces in a sea of strangers helps calm me.
Then the weird, tingling sensation happens as the magic Daria promised comes to life.
All of the scary adults in the audience in front of me transform. Now they’re wearing silly outfits like flippers and swimming goggles, or cat ears and fluffy tails.
Something about seeing them like this makes me grin, and I recite my poems confidently and clearly, exactly how I practised.
When I’m done, the crowd cheers, and when I go backstage, I don’t want to cry or throw up – I want to buzz around with excitement!
Then it’s time for the announcements from the judge:
“Our third‑place winner, for her wonderfully magical poems, is … Zahra!”
Everyone claps politely, except Mum and Dad – they give me a standing ovation while cheering loudly. And because my brooch is still on, they’re wearing fruit costumes. Mum is a banana and Dad is a bunch of grapes.
I haven’t won first place and a £500 voucher for my school, but I do get a medal. What’s even better is that I’m told my sonnet has been selected to be published in a book of poems next year! The girl who I saw crying is declared the winner, and I’m glad because her sad tears turn to happy ones.
“Let’s celebrate!” Dad says when we leave through the swivelly doors again. “I found a lovely little dessert shop that does your favourite … cookie dough and chocolate chips!”
Dad doesn’t know I already secretly ate that for breakfast, so I get to have it all over again. Turns out, this has been the best weekend EVER.
CHAPTER 10
When Magic Follows You Home
We’ve been back home for a few weeks now, and Daria and I have kept in touch. Right now, a magically projected version of her is lounging on my bed. I’m telling her about school and how I spent my thirteenth birthday, and she’s telling me more about what it’s like to be a witch.
Mum and Dad enjoyed our weekend away so much we’re going to visit the same town again in the summer holidays, but for a whole week. And Daria has promised to show me lots more magic.
I use the brooch now whenever I’m feeling worried, like during a school exam or if I have to go to the dentist. It makes everything feel a little less scary and a lot more silly. Even Mum and Dad have noticed how confident I’ve been.
While Daria and I are chatting, Dad calls me from downstairs. He sounds a bit worried, so I rush down, hopping two steps at a time.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, out of breath from running.
Dad’s standing by the open door of the house. “Come here!”
I do, and I see the little kitten with the white chest sitting on the doorstep. “What are you doing here?” I ask. I quickly realise that might sound confusing to Dad, but he doesn’t seem to suspect anything.
“I know,” Dad says. “This kitten has just been sitting there, watching us. I’ve not seen her around before, and she hasn’t got a collar …”
The kitten responds, but of course Dad doesn’t hear her. “I want to be your familiar!” she explains. “You were so wonderful and kind, and I know you’re not a full witch, but I don’t care. Please, may I?”
I bite my lip, wanting to reply directly to the kitten, but of course I can’t because Dad’s standing right there. So instead I say, “Can we keep her? She’s so sweet and deserves the best home ever, which I think we could give her.”
I expect Dad to say a big NO, but in fact he says, “Only if she doesn’t have another owner and your mum says yes. Why don’t you go and get her? I’ll watch the kitten.”
I rush into the living room, where Mum was busy working earlier, and gasp. Mum is ASLEEP on the sofa. I guess she isn’t a vampire after all. After I wake her, Dad and I show her the kitten, and Mum says, “As long as you promise to clean up her poop and feed her—”
“Yes, yes, yes!” I say, hopping up and down.
So now, like a proper witch, I have a familiar and a little magical brooch. Daria’s life seems pretty cool, but I think that’s just enough magic for me.
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COPYRIGHT
First published in 2023 in Great Britain by
Barrington Stoke Ltd
18 Walker Street, Edinburgh, EH3 7LP
This ebook edition first published in 2023
www.barringtonstoke.co.uk
Text © 2023 Aisha Bushby
Illustrations © 2023 Coralie Muce
The moral right of Aisha Bushby and Coralie Muce to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in any part in any form without the written permission of the publisher
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library upon request
eISBN: 978–1–80090–263–3
Aisha Bushby, Suitcase S(witch)
