Read Online The Only Thing Worse Than Witches by Lauren Magaziner - Free Book Online Page B

Frabbleknacker finds out that you’ve made friends with someone in Miss Snugglybuns’s class, she’ll probably make you swallow all those toothpicks whole!”
    â€œMaybe,” said Rupert, suddenly feeling brave and daring. He peeled his eyes away from the shortbread cookies and looked directly at Kyle. “You’re probably right . . . and maybe I’ll get stomach splinters, but it’s a whole lot better than not having any friends.”
    Rupert marched to where Witchling Two was beaming with pride. He wheeled the cartful of potion ingredients to the cashier and paid with the emergency money his mother gave him. Then, he grabbed the bags of groceries and headed out of the store with Witchling Two in tow.
    As they walked home, Rupert hoped he wouldn’t regret talking to Kyle. He had disobeyed Mrs. Frabbleknacker’s orders. And was what he said to Kyle even true? Was having friends really worth swallowing toothpicks?
    Rupert hugged the paper grocery bag to his chest as he listened to Witchling Two chatter on and on about how right Rupert was.

What?
    W HEN R UPERT AND W ITCHLING T WO ARRIVED at Rupert’s house with their groceries, they sorted them into different shelves. Witchling Two gleefully chattered about the health benefits of lollipops, but Rupert hardly even listened.
    Sometimes a very good mood can turn very sour in a matter of minutes, and that’s exactly how Rupert felt. His stomach twisted, his palms sticky, his mouth dry — Rupert knew he had made a mistake. He definitely, positively, without a doubt should not have talked to Kyle. And he shouldn’t be talking to Witchling Two, either, because a horde of witches, not to mention his mother, would disapprove. It was the wrong thing to do.
    â€œRupert?” Witchling Two said. “What do you think?”
    â€œHuh? Think about what?”
    Witchling Two sighed a long exaggerated sigh. “Cherry-flavored lollipops versus watermelon!”
    Rupert rolled his eyes.
    Witchling Two nodded vigorously. “That’s exactly how I feel. They are
both
subpar to grape.”
    Rupert scrunched his face real tight in anticipation of what he knew he had to say. “Witchling Two,” he said, “would you mind going home for the night?”
    â€œGo home?” Witchling Two said meekly, her voice soft and hushed.
    Rupert cringed for fear that she would burst into tears again.
    â€œWhy, that’s a splendid idea!” she shouted, leaping to her feet.
    â€œIt is?” Rupert said, sounding less convinced.
    â€œOf course! You want me to go home and take a written exam, right? Oh, Rupert! You are such a wonderful apprentice — you keep me on task!”
    â€œY-yes,” Rupert said. “Perhaps you should take a written exam.”
    â€œRight! Because we need to let the ingredients rot a bit before we can use them, and goodness knows I’m rubbish at spells, so the only thing left for me to practice is the WHATs.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWHATs!”
    â€œWhat’s what?”
    â€œWhat’s WHATs?”
    Rupert scratched his head. “I’m confused,” he said. “What are we talking about?”
    â€œThe WHATs — the Witchling Handwritten Aptitude Test! It’s part of my examination. I need to pass the written WHATs and the two practical tests: brewing and spell casting. And you’re right, Rupert . . . I’ve been focusing too much on brewing and spell casting.”
    â€œI said that?”
    Witchling Two nodded.
    Rupert escorted her to the basement window to see her off.
    Witchling Two turned to Rupert, an expression of resolve on her face. “Cheers, Rupert!” she said. “I’m off to . . . what’s that human expression? I’m off to kiss the crooks!”
    â€œHit the books,” corrected Rupert.
    â€œYes, assist the cooks,” Witchling Two said as she made her way to the