Weava the Wilful Witch (3 page)

Jemima James was sulking on the stairs outside her flat. She hated Brimstone Buildings.

‘Jem-
mime
-a!' her mother called.

When Jemima didn't answer, Mrs James came out of the flat, wearing a green wig and carrying a pink one. ‘Cheer up, dear,' she said to Jemima, plopping the pink wig on her head.

‘Ugh,'
said Jemima, pushing off the wig.

‘Come on, sweetie…get into the party spirit,' said Mrs James.

‘You're the one who likes parties, not me,' muttered Jemima.

‘I wish you'd make an effort,' said her mother. ‘I'm starting this children's party business for you. I want you to have lots of fun.'

Jemima sighed.
‘I
don't think fancy-dress parties are fun,' she said.

‘Nonsense!' Mrs James waved her hand. ‘Guess what? Mary Charm's little sister is here for a visit. Her name's Wendy, I think. Now you'll have someone to play with.'

Jemima stayed sitting on the stairs after her mother had gone. ‘Wendy Charm is a silly name,' she said aloud.

‘I agree,' said a voice.

Jemima jumped as a girl appeared. She was Jemima's size, and she had curly hair. She wore a long black dress that came almost to her ankles. Under that were striped stockings and buckled shoes. She held a broom in her right hand.

‘Where did you come from?' Jemima asked the girl.

‘My sister's flat,' said the girl. ‘I sneaked out when she wasn't looking.'

‘Is your name Wendy?' said Jemima.

The girl frowned. ‘It's
Weava.
Get it right. Names are important to witches.'

Jemima looked at Weava again. ‘Why are you wearing a witch costume? Mum hasn't started her stupid dress-up children's parties yet.'

‘I
am
a witch.'

‘You are not,' said Jemima. ‘There's no such thing.'

‘I am so,' said the girl. ‘Merry's one, too.'

‘Who's Merry? Do you mean
Mary
from next door?'

‘Yes, she's my sister. But her name's not Mary.' The girl sat down beside Jemima. ‘That woman with the green hair got her name wrong, too.'

‘That's my mum,' said Jemima. ‘How do you know what she said? You weren't here.'

‘I
was
here,' said Weava. ‘You just didn't see me.'

‘But——' Jemima began to protest. Suddenly, Weava wasn't there any more.

‘Weava?' Jemima glanced up and down the stairs. ‘Where did you go?'

‘Nowhere,' said Weava's voice, out of thin air.

Jemima blinked. There Weava was again, sitting on a stair. ‘You're a ghost?'

‘A witch,' said Weava. ‘I didn't go anywhere. I just put on my DNM spell so you couldn't see me.'
^*

‘Witches aren't real,' said Jemima.

Weava smiled. ‘Yes, they are. I'll prove it to you. Let's go to my room.'

Jemima got up off the stair. ‘OK.'

Weava got on her broom, and patted the stick behind her. ‘Jump on!' she said.

Jemima got on and put her arms around Weava. Weava whispered something, and the broom lifted into the air and glided down the stairs.

Jemima gasped. ‘I thought we were going to your room!'

‘We are. Through the outside window,' said Weava.

Jemima clung to Weava as the broom shot through the entrance hall, out the doors, and bounced into the air in the street outside.

‘Duck!' said Weava.

Jemima ducked as the broom swept upwards, close to the back wall of Brimstone Buildings.

Then the broom swooped through a window and landed in a bedroom.

‘This is my room,' said Weava. She sat on the bed and nodded to Jemima to sit down, too.

Jemima was glad to obey. Her insides felt as if she'd gone up in a lift very fast and then dropped back down again.

‘See,' said Weava. ‘I told you witches were——' She stopped short and stared at the foot of the bed.

‘What?' said Jemima.

‘Hush,' said Weava. ‘No, no,' she said, still staring at nothing. ‘This is part of my bad deed.' She paused. ‘Yes, I'm sure. Take off your DNM spell, so I can introduce you.'

Jemima's eyes widened as a black kitten appeared on the foot of the bed. At least, it
looked
like a kitten, but it was spikier
than any kitten should be. ‘What's that thing?' she asked.

‘I'm not a
thing.
I'm the kit-fae,' said the creature. It stretched two furry wings.

‘Uggg
…' said Jemima. ‘It talks!'

‘It's fairy-breed, like me,' said Weava. ‘There are lots of us about.'

‘Then how come I've never seen any before?' asked Jemima.

‘That's ‘cos we use DNM, or Don't Notice Me, spells to make sure you don't,' said Weava.

She frowned. ‘Well, mostly. My sister isn't using hers now. She's living like a human. She wants me to do it, too. I'm trying to force her to do a spell so she'll
have
to stop pretending. But it's difficult.'

Jemima felt as if her brain was being stretched out of shape. ‘Um…what kind of spell?' she asked.

‘I was going to give you some black magic cake, so you'd get a tummy ache,' said Weava. ‘I thought Merry would do a spell to fix that, but instead she threw the cake away. She didn't need magic for that.'

‘It was mean of you to hope I got a tummy ache!' said Jemima. ‘I've never done anything bad to you!'

‘That's the point,' said Weava. ‘I have to do something really naughty, otherwise Merry will ignore it. Besides—I must do a bad deed so I can win my Badge of Badness. I can't get into the Abademy without it.' She smiled at Jemima. ‘The Abademy of Badness is a special school for fairy-breed. Once I'm there, I'll be happy.'

‘I'd be happy, too, if Mum would stop trying to
make
me have fun,' said Jemima.
‘I wish she'd listen when I tell her I don't
want
to go to costume parties.'

‘Your mum and my sister should stop meddling,' said Weava. ‘Maybe you could help me teach my sister a lesson, and I'll do the same with your mum?'

‘It's a deal,' said Jemima.

‘I've thought of a
wandiful
bad deed, Jemima,' said Weava. ‘It will teach your mother a lesson,
and
force Merry to do something witchy.'

She jumped off the bed. ‘Broomstick time! We'll ride around this building and in and out of the windows.
Everyone
will see us. Your mother will be scared, and Merry will
have
to do a spell to get us
down. Then she'll do a forgettery-spell on everyone who saw us.'
^*

The kit-fae was delighted. ‘Now you're talking, witchling!' it yowled. ‘That's big. That's bad. The hags love a grand performance.'

Weava took her broom in one hand. ‘You come, too,' she said to the kit-fae. It sprang up and crawled under her cloak. ‘Come on,' she said to Jemima.

They walked into the lounge room.

Merry was labelling bottles. ‘Are you going to be good now?' she asked, without looking up.

‘Of course not,' said Weava. ‘Jemima and I are going for a broomstick ride.'

Merry jumped up, goggling at Jemima. ‘Where did you come from?'

‘Through the window,' said Weava.

‘Through the…' Merry's gaze shifted to the broom in Weava's hand. ‘No!' she said. ‘Weava, you can't take that broom outside. And take your costume off!'

‘Give it up, Merry,' said Weava. ‘Jemima knows you're a witch, and she thinks it's wandiful, don't you, Jemima?'

Jemima nodded.

Merry took Jemima's hand and drew her aside. ‘Weava sometimes tells fibs. Don't encourage her.'

‘I heard that!' said Weava. ‘Come on, Jemima.' She tugged Jemima's other hand.

‘No!' said Merry. She let go of Jemima and grabbed Weava's broom. She pulled hard. Weava pulled back.

Jemima backed away. She was
wondering if she should go home when someone banged on the front door.

Merry grabbed Weava's hand and pried the broom out of her fingers.

‘Yoo-hoo!'
Mrs James opened the door and put her head in. ‘Mary, have you seen…? Oh,
there
you are, Jemima!' she said. She came right into the flat, smiling. ‘You must be
Wendy,'
she said to Weava.
‘Love
the costume, sweetie.'

Merry began to sweep the floor with the broom. Her cheeks were bright pink.

‘Hello, Mrs James,' she said. ‘I expect you want your daughter.' She turned to Jemima and said, ‘Off you go, dear.'

‘Oh no,' said Mrs James. ‘I only wondered where she was.' She strode across the flat and smiled at Weava. ‘Maybe the girls would like to play witches in the park? It's a lovely day.'

‘No way!' said Merry.

‘Please don't shout,' said Mrs James.

‘Sorry, but we're busy,' said Merry. ‘My sister's about to tidy her room while I sweep the floors.' She pushed Weava into her room and shut the door.

Then she bustled her bewildered neighbours towards the front door. ‘Goodbye,' she said.

‘Just a minute!' Mrs James paused. ‘I have an invitation for you.'

‘An invitation?' Merry glanced at
Weava's closed bedroom door. ‘What for?' she whispered.

‘I'm throwing my first fancy-dress party this Friday. I'm inviting all the local children,' Mrs James said. She held out an envelope. ‘Do bring Wendy.'

Merry took the invitation. Then she opened the front door.

Mrs James and Jemima went out.

Merry ripped the invitation into pieces and dropped it down the waste disposal.

*

In the spare bedroom, Weava sighed. ‘Kit-fae, what can I do? Merry is so stubborn, and now she's got my broom.'

‘Choose a new deed that doesn't involve your sister,' said the kit-fae.

Weava shook her head. ‘No,' she said. ‘Merry's a witch. I'll make her behave like one if it's the last thing I do.'