The New Kid at School Read Free Page A

was better than no sword at all.
    Zelnoc glanced at Daisy. “What about the pig?” he asked. “Does she have a wish?”
    “If only she could talk, she might tell you,” Wiglaf answered.
    “Talk?” Zelnoc’s eyes lit up. “I have just the thing! My speech spell!”
    The wizard pushed up his sleeves, stretched his hands toward Daisy, and began to chant: “Oink-a-la, doink-a-la, fee fi fig! This pig shall be a talking pig!”
    Daisy blinked, and very softly she said, “Iglaf-Way?”
    “She speaks!” Wiglaf cried. “Yet in what strange tongue?”
    “Maybe Greek?” the wizard guessed.
    “E-may, alking-tay!” Daisy burbled happily.
    “I know!” Wiglaf exclaimed. “‘Tis Pig Latin!”
    “Excuse me?” Zelnoc said.
    “Pig Latin,” Wiglaf said. “You know—where you take the first sound in a word and put it at the end. Then you add the ‘ay’ sound. Pig becomes ’ig-pay.‘ Do you see?”
    “Pig Latin, my foot!” Zelnoc moaned. “My spell went wrong!”
    “O-nay idding-kay!” Daisy scoffed.
    “Stop, pig!” Zelnoc cried. “That crazy language makes my beard twitch.” He shuddered. “I’m in worse shape than I thought. And the Wizards’ Convention is only two weeks away.”
    Zelnoc turned and began gliding back to the center of the bog.
    “Good-bye, Waglap!” he called. “Good luck with the dragons!”
    “Good-bye!” Wiglaf called back.
    “O-say ong-lay!” Daisy squealed.
    Then, with a loud slurp, the quicksand swallowed up the wizard, this time hat and all.

Chapter 4
    Wiglaf checked his map by the light of the full moon. Yes, this had to be the place—Dragon Slayers’ Academy.
    “In truth, this is not what I expected,” Wiglaf muttered.
    “Uck-yay,” Daisy agreed.
    Wiglaf and Daisy stood at the edge of a moat filled with greenish, foul-smelling water. It reminded Wiglaf, in many ways, of Molwena’s cabbage soup.
    A rickety drawbridge led over the water to a gatehouse set in the middle of the broken-down castle wall. A tattered blue banner waved above the door. Bold letters on it spelled out DSA.
    Wiglaf drew a deep breath and started across the drawbridge. Daisy trotted at his side.
    Wiglaf pulled a chain by the gatehouse door. A bell sounded from deep within.
    After a time, the door cracked open. A short man with big eyes stared out at the travelers. He held a torch in one hand.
    “Yes?” he said.
    “I am Wiglaf, sir,” Wiglaf offered. “I am here to study.”
    “Welcome to DSA!” the man said, opening the door. Wiglaf saw that he wore an apron. “Odd time to arrive, midnight,” the man went on. “And school started two weeks ago. But no matter. First things first.” He held out his hand. “Seven pennies, please.”
    “Alas,” Wiglaf sighed. “I have no pennies.”

    The door began to close.
    “Wait, sir!” he called. “I—I have half a cabbage dumpling!”
    The door banged shut.
    “I am a willing worker!” Wiglaf added. “I wash dishes and—”
    The door opened a few inches. The man stuck his head out.
    “You are skilled at washing dishes?” he asked.
    Wiglaf nodded. “Very skilled.”
    “Well, that suits me better than seven pennies any day.” The man opened wide the door. “Come in, come in. I am Frypot, school cook. And former dishwasher.”
    “Oh, I thank you, kind sir!” Wiglaf exclaimed.
    “But say not a word of this to Headmaster Mordred,” Frypot warned. “He will put the thumbscrews to me if he finds out.”
    “Not a word, sir,” Wiglaf promised. Then he and Daisy started through the door.
    “Hold up now!” Frypot cried. “No pigs allowed!”
    “But, sir,” Wiglaf began. “This is no ordinary pig! Just listen. Daisy, say hello to the kind man.”
    “Ello-hay, Ypot-Fray!” Daisy said.
    “Zounds!” Frypot exclaimed. “A pig that speaks Pig Latin!”
    Frypot knelt down next to Daisy.
    “Ello-hay, iggy-pay,” he said slowly and loudly. “Oh, I shall make you a comfy pallet in the henhouse! Yes, just as soon as I sign in our