The Spoon in the Bathroom Wall Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned to chaos. Pandemonium. Bedlam. A total hullabaloo.
    â€œWe’re cooked!” roared Rufus, scared out of his skull.
    â€œWe’ll be torched! Scorched! Blistered! Burnt to a crisp! Toast!” shrieked his gang. They were too rattled to dash for the door. They scrunched themselves into comers like roaches and whimpered.
    Marthur was surprised to realize that she wasn’t frightened. In fact, she felt pretty calm. Her father’s slogan rang in her head:
Show them you’re a Snapdragon!
    She pulled herself up to look as tall as she possibly could (about four feet). “Dragons!” Marthur shouted over the din. “My father’s old! He works to the bone! He’ll be pretty upset to come home to this mess. You’re having lots of fun. But stop,
please!
” Her mind raced. Even if the dragons relented, how could she ever clean up? (At least she didn’t have to do laundry; they’d burned that.) Her voice quivered a little, but she held fast—a Snapdragon at her best.
    Marthur’s words slowed the dragons down a bit. But they were too full of razzmatazz to quit.
    â€œCEASE AND DESIST THESE PYROTECHNIC ANTICS!” thundered a furious voice.
    At once the dragons ceased and desisted charring the premises. They went stiff—except for their mischievous glittering eyes.
    â€œFerlin!” cried Marthur. “Thank goodness!”
    â€œRun for it!” screeched Rufus. “I’ve seen her in action. She’s a witch!”
    â€œThe proper term is
wizard!
” snapped Ferlin.
    The boys hotfooted it away. As they shot past, the dragons spouted sparks at the seats of their pants. Rufus turned back to yell, “Wait till Klunk hears that Daddy’s dragons are trashing school property!”
    Whang!
Marthur slammed the door in his pinched-in weevil face. She looked at the devastation, then at Ferlin.
    â€œFunny!” Marthur shouted. “In spite of everything, I feel good!”
    â€œSlamming doors has that effect!”
    â€œAre you really a lizard like you told Rufus?” Marthur asked.
    â€œ
Wizard.
”
    â€œBut I thought wizards were—”
    â€œMen? Oh
my
, no. Some of the greats are women.”
    â€œAre you one of the greats?”
    â€œLet’s just say I have a certain... Reputation.”
    Ferlin raised a hand and commanded, “Aroint thee! Out! Begone!” With that, the smoke sucked itself out the door. All signs of havoc vanished. “As you were,” Ferlin ordered the dragons.
    With a clashing of claws and a flurry of shell shards, once again they were eggs. “And put on your shoes.”
    Grumbling, the eggs obeyed. Then they hopped back into the purple carton—the carton decorated with the weird old spoon.
    â€œThat settles that,” Ferlin said, dusting ashes from her hair.
    â€œSorry about the eggs.” Tears glazed Marthur’s eyes. “I didn’t want—”
    â€œI know what happened,” said Ferlin gently.
    â€œFerlin?” said Marthur, still shaky.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œCan’t you use your—er—
special techniques
to nicen-up Klunk and Rufus?”
    â€œI’m afraid not, Marthur. People must change by themselves. Tricks don’t count,” Ferlin said. “Well, don’t forget our little class tomorrow. After school.” Then, her handbag bulky with dragon eggs, she swooped out.
    â€œGood night,” Marthur whispered.
    She thought she heard “Good night” float back.
    The eggs were safe. And the next day (Hold fast!) she’d learn how to teach. Marthur should have slept well. But she kept hearing Rufus’s threat: “
Wait till Klunk hears that Daddy’s dragons are trashing school property!
”
    Even though the boiler room was clean again, Marthur knew her troubles weren’t over. Why couldn’t that weird saying be true? Why couldn’t there
really
be a king on the way to Horace E.