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

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СКАЧАТЬ even sure she’d be allowed to go.

      Her mind drifted, imagining everyone going — Robert Hillman-Jones, Johnny Twofeathers, Nelson, Amy — all the kids. Even the Nye twins, who were being home schooled, were going to go.

      Out of the corner of her eye, ElsBeth thought she saw a face disappear behind the apple tree in the back of the school playground.

      She started toward it to investigate. She could hear a rustling noise behind the tree as she got near. And the air smelled funny, like it does after a summer thunderstorm.

      She got closer, and felt cold, and began to feel afraid. Then … the bell rang.

      All the second-graders exploded toward the door. No one ever took a chance on being late to Ms. Finch’s roll call — ever. ElsBeth had to go, but who … or what … was behind the tree?

      NATIVE AMERICAN HISTORY LESSON

      The last class period was history, one of ElsBeth’s favorite subjects. And today they were learning about Native American tribes in New England.

      The Algonquins, the Iroquois, the Nipmucs, the Abenakis and the Wampanoags, to name a few. Johnny Twofeathers was essentially Wampanoag royalty, though you’d never know it.

      He wasn’t stuck up or anything. In fact, he seemed embarrassed today. Perhaps it was because Ms. Finch kept calling the Native Americans “savages.” And each time she said the word she glanced over at Johnny, as if she expected him to protest. ElsBeth thought Ms. Finch was trying to get Johnny to lose his temper.

      What Ms. Finch didn’t understand was that Johnny never lost his temper. He was the least likely to ever get deserved punishment.

      It wasn’t that he was a goody two-shoes like Robert Hillman-Jones tried to be sometimes. Johnny was just a truly good person. ElsBeth counted herself lucky to have such a friend.

      She started thinking about all the different Native Americans she knew, daydreaming again.

      Ms. Finch interrupted ElsBeth’s thoughts with a sharp rap of her wooden pointer on the blackboard.

      It appeared that many of the students had drifted off while the teacher had gone on and on about the least interesting aspects of Native American culture — which was a hard thing to do, since Native American culture is actually completely fascinating. Luckily ElsBeth wasn’t caught out for daydreaming, this time.

      In fact, it turned out that Ms. Finch had moved onto an entirely different subject.

      “I need all your permission slips for the trip to Boston. Please hand them forward.”

      Oh, no. ElsBeth had totally forgotten they were due today. She hadn’t even had another chance to talk to Grandmother about going.

      She looked around self-consciously. Everyone seemed to be pulling a note from his or her lunch box or backpack. Everyone except Robert Hillman-Jones. Was it possible his parents didn’t want him to go, either?

      Hillman-Jones raised his hand, smiling brightly at Ms. Finch. The Finch’s face seemed to crack as a small smile broke through her frown lines. “Yes, Robert?”

      “My father is in New York this week and my mother is in L.A, so I don’t have a note. My father said he would call the principal this evening and give their OK for me to go.”

      Ms. Finch’s face almost cracked again, but not with a smile this time. Robert was, hands down, her favorite, but the crabby teacher hated any, that is any, deviation from the rules.

      “Permission slips are required, Robert.” She turned her back on the shocked student and faced the blackboard.

      Hillman-Jones had rarely been refused anything in his short, expensive life. For once he was speechless.

      “Now children, pass in the slips!” Ms. Finch also hated repeating herself.

      They hurried to follow her directions before some sort of Finch-eruption took place.

      Nelson Hamm dropped his slip several times. Ms. Finch always got to Nelson. His ears were practically neon red right now. He finally got it together and passed his slip forward.

      Veronica whispered, “ElsBeth, where is your note?”

      Before ElsBeth could answer, the shifty black cat suddenly appeared again on the windowsill. He grinned. ElsBeth dared to hope.

      And just as suddenly, Mr. North Wind burst in the open window and through the classroom, creating mini whirlpools as he swept and swirled down the aisles. He seemed to howl with laughter as he whipped up Ms. Finch’s hair to a spiky peak and blew off her glasses.

      Permission slips rose in a funnel cloud, lifted out the window and scattered every which way over the playground.

      Ms. Finch’s hair continued to stand at attention. Whether this was because she spotted Sylvanas staring at her, or because the wind kept whipping about her head, wasn’t clear.

      “ElsBeth!” the teacher shouted. “Get that cat out of here!”

      In response Sylvanas leapt several feet in the air, sailed in a most graceful fashion for such an oversized cat, and landed neatly in the center of Ms. Finch’s tidy oak desk. He slowly arched his back and hissed again at the Finch.

      Casually, then, he turned and soared back through the window. North Wind followed, with more permission slips trialing after, as he, too, dramatically dashed away.

      The students stared stunned.

      Ms. Finch, usually extremely well organized and in control, was at a loss. The trip was tomorrow.

      She would have no time to get new slips printed and sent home. At least three days notice to parents was required. How could she explain this to the principal? In the heat of the moment, under pressure, she made a snap decision.

      “Right. Very well. It looks like we’ll all be going. Class dismissed.”

      ElsBeth floated above her body. She could go on the trip! Down deep she knew it wasn’t completely honest to go without Grandmother’s permission. But a little voice inside quickly piped up with several excuses …

      “Grandmother never exactly said I couldn’t go, she was just concerned. If I’m very careful there will be nothing to worry about. I’m just a small witch and hardly count, and won’t be in Boston more than twenty-four hours. I get along well with most all magical creatures. Grandmother will never know, and I shouldn’t bother her with this right now. Besides, Sylvanas wouldn’t have helped me unless he thought I should go.”

      In short order ElsBeth had it well and completely justified why she should not tell her grandmother. Though she couldn’t help struggling with feeling it wasn’t quite right.

      Finally, she made up her mind. I’m almost through second grade. I’m going to have to make my own decisions and take responsibility for my own life sooner or later. It might as well be now.

      And so, that decided — and with only a few niggling guilt feelings still prickling at her conscience — the young witch headed out from school.

      On her СКАЧАТЬ