ElsBeth and the Privateer, Book II in the Cape Cod Witch Series. J Bean Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ knew what a quotient was now, and she knew several practical reasons why anyone would even want to know about such a thing. Mathematics had become a very useful tool, in her opinion.

      She was finally ready for Ms. Finch.

      “Just go ahead and ask me for a quotient,” ElsBeth muttered to herself and frowned as she passed through the tall oak doors of Capeside Elementary School.

      Hillman-Jones bumped into her, accidentally on purpose, and said quietly under his breath, so there were no witnesses, “You’ll never pass second grade, ElsBeth. Too bad you’re so dumb.”

      ElsBeth lost her temper, an unfortunate failing of hers, and pushed him back — just as Ms. Finch appeared outside the classroom door. Was the teacher a mind reader?

      “I saw that, Ms. Thistle! Apparently no one has taught you how to act like a young lady. Perhaps we need to make your double work assignments permanent. No, maybe …”

      The teacher’s complicated mind was working overtime. ElsBeth could feel, and almost see, dark thoughts flash by in Ms. Finch’s head.

      “Maybe you should stay back and study ‘proper behavior’ while everyone else goes on the field trip to Boston next week. Yes. That will teach you a lesson.”

      At that point the school principal Dr. Titcomb popped his silver head out of his office and frowned at Ms. Finch.

      “Elvira, could I see you in my office for a moment?” Dr. Titcomb’s words came out more like an order than a question.

      Ms. Finch looked a little afraid and resentful at the same time. She glanced sharply at ElsBeth and headed down the hall.

      Five minutes later Ms. Finch came back to the classroom looking flushed, and ElsBeth was relieved that nothing more was said about her not going to Boston.

      Spelling and reading flew by that morning. Today math came right after lunch, and ElsBeth was actually looking forward to it for a change. She was completely prepared, thanks to Professor Badinoff’s superb instruction.

      Ms. Finch put a question up on the board, squealing the chalk for as long as possible. The students covered their ears and grimaced in pain.

      The question she asked today was … “100 divided by 5=?”

      Wow, Professor Badinoff had even guessed Ms. Finch’s exact question.

      ElsBeth shot her hand straight up. She would prove to Ms. Finch and that rotten Robert Hillman-Jones she was not dumb.

      Ms. Finch, however, turned a blind eye to ElsBeth. It was as if the young witch didn’t exist. ElsBeth quickly looked down at her body to make sure she hadn’t gone invisible — a thing that she knew could sometimes happen with a witch. But she was still there.

      Ms. Finch glared down each row. No one else had raised a hand. Finally she spotted a victim.

      Her eyes stopped at Nelson Hamm. Nelson’s ears were bright red again, and sticking out particularly far today, due to an unfortunate haircut at Barber Bernie’s Hair Emporium last Saturday.

      Nelson had been staring at Amy’s blond curls, and was far away in thought. He imagined saving little Amy from a ferocious, fire-breathing dragon. He was right at the critical moment when … Ms. Finch’s icy voice cut through.

      “Mr. Hamm, what is the quotient for this problem?” She tapped the blackboard loudly to intimidate him.

      Nelson had no idea what a quotient was and sputtered several times before finally guessing.

      “Twenty?” he whispered.

      He had the correct answer so Ms. Finch could only criticize his hesitancy. “Well, are you quite sure about that?” she snapped at him.

      Nelson sputtered some more.

      Ms. Finch turned her stony face toward Robert Hillman-Jones and softened a bit. Robert was her favorite. “Robert, I’m sure you know the answer to this problem and won’t have to equivocate.”

      Robert Hillman-Jones wasn’t sure that twenty was the answer, either. And he definitely wasn’t sure what “equivocate” meant. But he figured it had something to do with sounding uncertain.

      So he took a chance and answered boldly. What the heck, he thought, the weirdo teacher liked him anyway and he might score some more points with her if he were right.

      “Ms. Finch, the answer to this problem is clearly twenty!”

      Ms. Finch sent a rare smile in Robert’s direction. “Yes, Robert.”

      Then she frowned at the rest of the class and added, “At least one student in this class has been paying attention.”

      ElsBeth was ready to blow a gasket. For most of the day Hillman-Jones had been shooting dried wasabi peas through a straw at the girls.

      The last thing he had been doing was paying attention. ElsBeth was not going to stand by silently while he got away with this. It was wrong! She started to huff.

      Ms. Finch raised an over-plucked eyebrow in ElsBeth’s direction.

      Fortunately, however, just at that moment, Sylvanas the cat, in all his feline majesty, plopped his fluffy black self on the windowsill, distracting ElsBeth from doing something she was sure to regret.

      Sylvanas let out a distinct hiss aimed directly at Ms. Finch.

      The teacher’s head snapped to the window. She jumped back behind her desk, panic stamped on her pinched face.

      Sylvanas was quite satisfied with this reaction. Ms. Finch would not dare mess with ElsBeth, no matter the circumstance, when he was there to intervene.

      His action on ElsBeth’s behalf complete, and having several other bits of mischief in mind to stir up elsewhere just then, he vanished from the windowsill, quicker than smoke. Only the little witch and the teacher had observed his mysterious and brief appearance.

      ElsBeth cooled off. That was a close one. Disaster had been narrowly avoided. She owed Sylvanas. Again.

      Chapter 6

      Trouble Between the Witches

      That evening, after another double work assignment, during which even she would have to admit her penmanship had improved nicely, ElsBeth again wound up in the garden with Bartholomew.

      The huge frog leaned back against the maple tree, deep in thought. ElsBeth sat on the green garden stool and looked at her friend.

      Before she said anything, the frog croaked sympathetically, “I know, Ms. Finch isn’t fair.”

      ElsBeth was taken by surprise. “How did you know what happened, Bartholomew?”

      “Sylvanas,” Bartholomew replied. No further explanation was needed.

      ElsBeth and everyone else with the slightest magical perception for miles around were quite aware that Sylvanas was a compulsive gossip and meddler. Of course he would have passed on this juicy tidbit.

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