Witch Week Read Online Free PDF Page B

shot to Nan instead. “Shut up, you fool! You’ll set her off again!”
    But the possession seemed to have left Nan by then. She was able to whisper, with her head bent over her plate so that only the boys could hear, “Mr. Wentworth’s using his spoon. Look.”
    “Do you think we dare?” said Nirupam.
    “I’m going to,” said Charles. “I’m hungry.”
    So they all used their spoons. When the meal was at last over, they were all dismayed to find Mr. Wentworth beckoning. But it was only Nan he was beckoning. When she came reluctantly over, he said, “See me at four in my study.” Which was, Nan felt, all she needed. And the day was still only half over.

3

    T HAT AFTERNOON, Nan came into the classroom to find a broom laid across her desk. It was an old tatty broom, with only the bare minimum of twigs left in the brush end, which the groundsman sometimes used to sweep the paths. Someone had brought it in from the groundsman’s shed. Someone had tied a label to the handle: Dulcinea’s Pony. Nan recognized the round, angelic writing as Theresa’s.
    Amid sniggers and titters, she looked around the assembled faces. Theresa would not have thought of stealing a broom on her own. Estelle? No. Neither Estelle nor Karen Grigg was there. No, it was Dan Smith, by the look on his face. Then she looked at Simon Silverson and was not so sure. It could not have been both of them because they never, ever did anything together.
    Simon said to her, in his suavest manner, grinning all over his face, “Why don’t you hop on and have a ride, Dulcinea?”
    “Yes, go on. Ride it, Dulcinea,” said Dan.
    Next moment, everyone else was laughing and yelling at her to ride the broom. And Brian Wentworth, who was only too ready to torment other people when he was not being a victim himself, was leaping up and down in the gangway between the desks, screaming, “Ride, Dulcinea! Ride!”
    Slowly, Nan picked up the broom. She was a mild and peaceable person who seldom lost her temper—perhaps that was her trouble—but when she did lose it, there was no knowing what she would do. As she picked up the broom, she thought she just meant to stand it haughtily against the wall. But, as her hands closed around its knobby handle, her temper left her completely. She turned around on the jeering, hooting crowd, filled with roaring rage. She lifted the broom high above her head and bared her teeth. Everyone thought that was funnier than ever.
    Nan meant to smash the broom through Simon Silverson’s laughing face. She meant to bash in Dan Smith’s head. But, since Brian Wentworth was dancing and shrieking and making faces just in front of her, it was Brian she went for. Luckily for him, he saw the broom coming down and leaped clear. After that, he was forced to back away up the gangway and then into the space by the door, with his arms over his head, screaming for mercy, while Nan followed him, bashing like a madwoman.
    “Help! Stop her!” Brian screamed, and backed into the door just as Miss Hodge came through it carrying a large pile of English books. Brian backed into her and sat down at her feet in a shower of books. “Ow!” he yelled.
    “What is going on?” asked Miss Hodge.
    The uproar in the room was cut off as if with a switch. “Get up, Brian,” Simon Silverson said righteously. “It was your own fault for teasing Nan Pilgrim.”
    “Really! Nan!” said Theresa. She was genuinely shocked. “Temper, temper!”
    At that, Nan nearly went for Theresa with the broom. Theresa was only saved by the fortunate arrival of Estelle Green and Karen Grigg. They came scurrying in with their heads guiltily lowered and their arms wrapped around bulky bags of knitting wool. “Sorry we’re late, Miss Hodge,” Estelle panted. “We had permission to go shopping.”
    Nan’s attention was distracted. The wool in the bags was fluffy and white, just like Theresa’s. Why on earth, Nan wondered scornfully, did everyone have to imitate