Groosham Grange. There was, after all, one exam still to go—Advanced Cursing. And David had to remember, it was also possible to lose points. You could have them deducted for bad behavior, for being late . . . and for being caught cheating in a Sports Day race.
“Do you like him?” David asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have a crush on him?”
“That’s none of your business.” Jill sighed. “Why are you so bothered about him?”
“I don’t know.” David shivered. The waves were whispering to him, he was sure of it. But he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His hand felt cold where it had touched the stone. “There’s something wrong about him,” he said. “Something phony. I can feel it.”
In the distance, a bell rang. It was a quarter to four, almost time for the last two classes of the day: French with Monsieur Leloup, then general witchcraft with Mrs. Windergast. David wasn’t looking forward to French. He was almost fluent in Latin and spoke passable Ancient Egyptian, but he couldn’t understand the point of learning modern languages. “After all,” he often said, “I can summon up fourteen demons and two demigods in Egyptian, but what can I ask for in French? A plate of cheese!” Nonetheless, Groosham Grange insisted on teaching the full range of academic and college-prep subjects as well as its own more specialized ones. And there were serious punishments if you traveled forward in time just to miss the next class.
“We’d better move,” he said.
Jill took hold of his arm. “David,” she said. “Promise me you won’t cheat again. I mean, it’s not like you . . .”
David looked straight into her eyes. “I promise.”
Ahead of them, Groosham Grange rose into sight. Even after a year on the island, David still found the school building rather grim. Sometimes it looked like a castle, sometimes more like a haunted house. At night, with the moon sinking behind its great towers to the east and west, it could have been an asylum for the criminally insane. The windows were barred, the doors so thick that when they slammed you could hear them a mile away. And yet David liked it—that was the strange thing. Once it had been new and strange and frightening. Now it was his home.
“Are your parents coming?” Jill asked.
“What?”
“In two weeks’ time. For prize-giving.”
David had hardly seen Edward and Eileen Eliot since the day he had started at Groosham Grange. Parents very rarely came to the school. But as it happened, he had received a letter from his father just a few days before:
Dear David,
This is to inform you that your mother and I will be visiting Groosham Grange for prize-giving on October 31. We will also be bringing my sister, your aunt Mildred, and will then drive her home to Margate. This means that I will be spending only half the day at the school. To save time, I am also sending you only half a letter.
And that was where it ended. The page had been torn neatly in two.
“Yes. They’re coming,” David said. “How about yours?”
“No.” Jill shook her head. Her father was a diplomat and her mother an actress, so she hardly ever saw either of them. “Dad’s in Argentina and Mom’s acting in The Cherry Orchard.”
“Has she got a good part?”
“She’s playing one of the cherries.”
They had reached the school now. Jill glanced at her watch. “It’s two minutes to four,” she said. “We’re going to be late.”
“You go ahead,” David muttered.
“Cheer up, David.” Jill started forward, then turned her head. “You’re probably right. You’ll win the Grail. There’s nothing to worry about.”
David watched her go, then turned off, making his way around the East Tower and on through the school’s own private cemetery. It was a shortcut he often used. But now, just as he reached the first grave, he stopped. Before he knew what he was doing, he had crouched down behind a gravestone, all other thoughts having emptied out of
“Do you like him?” David asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have a crush on him?”
“That’s none of your business.” Jill sighed. “Why are you so bothered about him?”
“I don’t know.” David shivered. The waves were whispering to him, he was sure of it. But he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His hand felt cold where it had touched the stone. “There’s something wrong about him,” he said. “Something phony. I can feel it.”
In the distance, a bell rang. It was a quarter to four, almost time for the last two classes of the day: French with Monsieur Leloup, then general witchcraft with Mrs. Windergast. David wasn’t looking forward to French. He was almost fluent in Latin and spoke passable Ancient Egyptian, but he couldn’t understand the point of learning modern languages. “After all,” he often said, “I can summon up fourteen demons and two demigods in Egyptian, but what can I ask for in French? A plate of cheese!” Nonetheless, Groosham Grange insisted on teaching the full range of academic and college-prep subjects as well as its own more specialized ones. And there were serious punishments if you traveled forward in time just to miss the next class.
“We’d better move,” he said.
Jill took hold of his arm. “David,” she said. “Promise me you won’t cheat again. I mean, it’s not like you . . .”
David looked straight into her eyes. “I promise.”
Ahead of them, Groosham Grange rose into sight. Even after a year on the island, David still found the school building rather grim. Sometimes it looked like a castle, sometimes more like a haunted house. At night, with the moon sinking behind its great towers to the east and west, it could have been an asylum for the criminally insane. The windows were barred, the doors so thick that when they slammed you could hear them a mile away. And yet David liked it—that was the strange thing. Once it had been new and strange and frightening. Now it was his home.
“Are your parents coming?” Jill asked.
“What?”
“In two weeks’ time. For prize-giving.”
David had hardly seen Edward and Eileen Eliot since the day he had started at Groosham Grange. Parents very rarely came to the school. But as it happened, he had received a letter from his father just a few days before:
Dear David,
This is to inform you that your mother and I will be visiting Groosham Grange for prize-giving on October 31. We will also be bringing my sister, your aunt Mildred, and will then drive her home to Margate. This means that I will be spending only half the day at the school. To save time, I am also sending you only half a letter.
And that was where it ended. The page had been torn neatly in two.
“Yes. They’re coming,” David said. “How about yours?”
“No.” Jill shook her head. Her father was a diplomat and her mother an actress, so she hardly ever saw either of them. “Dad’s in Argentina and Mom’s acting in The Cherry Orchard.”
“Has she got a good part?”
“She’s playing one of the cherries.”
They had reached the school now. Jill glanced at her watch. “It’s two minutes to four,” she said. “We’re going to be late.”
“You go ahead,” David muttered.
“Cheer up, David.” Jill started forward, then turned her head. “You’re probably right. You’ll win the Grail. There’s nothing to worry about.”
David watched her go, then turned off, making his way around the East Tower and on through the school’s own private cemetery. It was a shortcut he often used. But now, just as he reached the first grave, he stopped. Before he knew what he was doing, he had crouched down behind a gravestone, all other thoughts having emptied out of
Similar Books
Best Australian Short Stories
Douglas Stewart, Beatrice Davis
After We Fell
Anna Todd
Storykiller
Kelly Thompson
The Courtship
Catherine Coulter
The Uncrowned Queen
Posie Graeme-evans
Seven Brief Lessons on Physics
Carlo Rovelli
Rescuing Rose
Isabel Wolff
Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance
Natasha Knight
The Poisonous Seed
Linda Stratmann