Crandall, face turning red, let go of the Necessary and turned toward Mr. Appleblossom. He hovered over the little instructor, his hands balling into fists.
Mr. Appleblossom’s eyes narrowed. A small smile played on Ms. Morning’s lips as she watched.
Crandall glanced at Prize, and then they both looked at Mr. Appleblossom. Just as Crandall pulled his arm back to take a swing, he jumped back in surprise. “Ouch!” he cried out, spinning around. “Ow!” He looked this way and that, his eyes wild, his hands swatting at his body.
Soon Crawledge Prize was hopping and exclaiming in pain as well.
Ms. Morning’s smile turned into a look of surprise, for she had not released a spell, and neither had Mr. Appleblossom as far as she could tell. As the two Wanteds gave up and ran for the gate, Ms. Morning spied the instigators, Cole Wicket and Meghan Ranger, who had been meeting on the lawn a short distance away, and now came running toward them.
“Are you all right?” Meghan asked.
Mr. Appleblossom watched the two governors’ sons until they were out of sight in Quill. He lifted his hand to his forehead and patted away any sweat that might have formed, though everyone suspected it was more of an act than a necessary gesture. “I’m well,” he said, finally turning to the students. “The ruffians have fled to Quill.” He turned to the Necessaries. “Now, you two friends are shaken quite, perhaps. A fizzy drink may calm you, if you will. Please, Claire? I must to class with these two chaps.”
Meghan raised an eyebrow at being called a chap, but she knew Mr. Appleblossom often overlooked minor details in his quest for perfect rhymes, and like most students, she was okay with it.
“Of course, Siggy,” Ms. Morning said. “Interesting choice of spells, Meghan. What did you use?”
“Oh, it wasn’t me,” Meghan said. “It was Cole’s quick thinking.”
Cole’s face turned red. “Fire ants,” he said. “It’ll wear off in fifteen minutes or so.”
“I doubt they’ll try that again,” Meghan said.
Ms. Morning nodded, but her face was troubled. “I’m glad it wasn’t a permanent spell, or we might be in for more than we wished for.” She led the Necessaries toward the mansion’s kitchen while Mr. Appleblossom, Cole, and Meghan headed for the tubes to the theater.
A Mostly Normal Day
On rare occasions Alex was late for class, and this was one of those times. While Cole sent fire ants upon ruffians, Alex scrubbed his face and tried to run a comb through his tangled wet hair, but gave up as Clive chided him from the living area of his room.
“Late,” Clive said every thirty seconds.
“Stuff it. I know.” Alex shoved his books and notebook into his backpack and searched frantically for his component vest. He was presenting a new spell today in Actors’ Studio so he needed it.
“Late.”
“Seriously, Clive!” he said through clenched teeth. “I am aware of that.”
Clive tilted his head. “What rhymes with Appleblossom?” he asked. “Not much. But I know what would be worse.”
Alex ignored him.
“Orangeblossom,” Clive said. He chuckled to himself. “Orangeblossom. Get it? Nothing rhymes with orange, so it would be . . .” Clive glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen. “Late,” he said again.
Alex found his component vest and slipped it on. He grabbed his backpack and stepped into the tube. “Bye,” he said sarcastically.
“Don’t die,” Clive said. He’d been saying that since the day of the battle with Quill, and since it had worked, Clive said it daily.
Alex didn’t mind. He knew that deep down Clive was rather fond of him, and while normally quite annoying, the blackboard generally did whatever he could for the boy.
A moment later Alex stepped from the tube into the theater, where Mr. Appleblossom was already addressing the class. Alex slid into a seat next to Meghan.
“Shush,” she said.
“I didn’t say anyth’” Alex said, but Meghan glared at him. He sighed and set his backpack on the floor in front of him, pulling out his notebook and a pencil as quietly as he could.
Mr. Appleblossom, blind to Alex’s lateness, waxed on. “In times like these I do despair this place, kerfuffles and commotion follow me. But one must hurly-burly through the race, for flicker, flap, and ruction ever be.”
Alex blinked. He raised an eyebrow at Meghan but dared not speak.
She scribbled in his notebook, “There was a skirmish on the lawn this morning.” She turned her attention back to the instructor.
Alex’s eyes widened. He scribbled back. “Who’s Flickerflap and Ruction?” He poked the corner of the notebook into Meghan’s leg to get her attention.
Meghan let out a frustrated breath and read the note. “Shh!” she said, and pushed it away.
Alex, who hadn’t said a word, wrote, “I AM NOT MAKING ANY NOISE, SO STOP SHUSHING ME!” He poked it into her leg again.
Meghan ignored him.
Alex gave up and listened as Mr. Appleblossom talked about their next production, And Then Everyone Dies, The End, another Appleblossom original’a musical comedy this time based loosely on the Purge, which sounded . . . kind of weird. Samheed, leaning forward in his seat, was nearly drooling over the lead part already.
After the announcement came “spells” time, wherein a few students introduced their latest theater spells to Mr. Appleblossom and the class. A few were fairly useless, but Alex and Lani tended to offer a decent lot that were sometimes practical for everyday life in theater, and sometimes potentially lethal, should Artimé be forced to fight again.