The Cat-Astrophe Page 7

  “He flies through the air with the greatest of ease…,” warbled Hermes, floating belly up and pretending to backstroke. His altitude was dropping. B plucked him from midair before he bumped into the grandfather clock.

  “I say!” the skunk cried indignantly. “Another flying spell, please!”

  “S-P-E-E-C-H-L-E-S-S,” B spelled before he could lecture her any further. Then she returned to her chair.

  “Awfully kind of you to rescue my skunk. And my clock,” Madame Mel said.

  “Not at all,” B said. “My pleasure.”

  “Ahem. Yes, well, I do apologize for asking anything more of you, B, but we must be moving on with the test. I have another student waiting, and I’d hate to inconvenience him. If you’d be so kind, for your final exercise, would you turn this globe” — she gestured to the magnificent antique globe of the world behind her desk — “into cheese?”

  “What an interesting challenge,” B said. “I’d be honored to give it a try.” Holy cats! B thought. This politeness potion is a doozy! I can’t get it out of my head.

  She focused on the spinning model of the world and thought about cheese. Cheese, cheese, a world of cheese. She thought of the magic-run creamery her mother frequented, the Magical Moo, and all the delicious cheeses they sold from around the world. Swiss, Camembert, Manchego, Stilton, American, Cheddar, provolone …

  This was it. Would she pass the test? Were her other spells enough?

  “C-H-E-E-S-E.”

  Madame Mel gasped with delight. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a tray covered with assorted crackers.

  “What a masterpiece!” she exclaimed. “Parmesan for Italy, all the little Swiss cheese holes in the Alps.” She dipped a cracker into the Pacific Ocean and tasted it. “Mmm … you have an artist’s touch. Not many students would have thought to make a blue cheese dip for the oceans.”

  B dipped a cracker into the British Isles and tasted the soft, nutty Cheddar.

  Madame Mel clapped both her hands, and the door to her office opened. Mr. Bishop appeared, smiling. “Bravo,” Madame Mel said. “Your pupil did a marvelous job today. She passes the test with flying colors.”

  “And flying skunks,” B said.

  “Now, then, B.” Madame Mel slipped Hermes a cracker, then put the tray away. “You’ve earned a reward for your performance today. You may conjure it up yourself. Would you spell ‘CHARM,’ please? And concentrate on the experience of taking this test.”

  “C-H-A-R-M,” B said as soon as she felt ready. She held out her wrist, where she always wore the silver charm bracelet she’d received when she first figured out her powers. A new charm appeared next to the sparkling silver “B.” It was a smiling skunk nibbling a wedge of cheese.

  B showed it to Hermes. “Now I’ll never forget you, Hermes,” she said. He nuzzled her hand in reply.

  “Lovely to visit with you two, but I must get on to my next appointment,” Madame Mel said. “Whew! That politeness potion is only just beginning to clear up. Strong stuff, B. Excellent work. See you soon!”

  Chapter 11

  Back in Mr. Bishop’s classroom and with the test behind her, B still couldn’t relax. She remembered the other events of the day — especially the surprise news about Trina’s magic, and how it put an end to the Black Cats. There must be some way to help her out.

  “You’ve tutored other beginner witches besides me, haven’t you, Mr. Bishop?”

  Her teacher nodded. “Many of them. Why do you ask?”

  Should she divulge the secret? If it could bring Trina some help …

  “You know Katrina, the new student, right?” B paused. “She’s a, well, did you know —”

  “She’s a witch,” Mr. Bishop interrupted. “She’s got a special brand of magic, just like you.”

  B’s eyes widened. “You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was her secret to tell,” Mr. Bishop said, taking a seat on his desk.

  “Then you know about her problem?” B began to pace from Mozart’s cage to Mr. Bishop’s desk and back again. Should she reveal the secret about the Black Cats, too? “Well, um, Trina’s sad about the singing thing, because … she really loves to sing, and she’s great at it, only since that’s how her magic works, she doesn’t dare. It’d be kind of like me competing in spelling bees. Not the best idea.”

  Mr. Bishop opened a desk drawer and began searching for something. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, have a particular reason for being interested in this dilemma, would you?” He grinned. “A reason that has something to do with that sweatshirt you have on?”

  B stopped pacing for a second and looked down at her borrowed band sweatshirt. “Is there anything you can do to help?”

  Mr. Bishop leaned back in his chair and laughed. “I know all about Trina. And about the Black Cats.” He pulled a parcel from his pocket and unwrapped the tissue paper wrapping. “I’ve been working on something to help her. This is an amulet to block her magic if she wears it when she sings.” He held up a necklace with a silver pendant shaped like a treble clef. “I’ve been having a bit of trouble making it work. Amulets are a tricky business. Maybe you can help.”

  “Me?” How could she help? She was good at making messes, not cleaning them up.

  “Yes — you know Trina and the Black Cats better than I do.” Mr. Bishop began to swing the amulet back and forth. “We can make it your next lesson. Complex spells.”

  “What?” She’d just passed her first M.R.S. exam. She wasn’t sure she was ready for anything complex.

  “Some magic requires a series of spells. I’ve prepared the amulet to provide lasting protective powers, but I need someone to cast the spells specific to Trina.” He handed the necklace to B. “I know you can do it. Take your time.”

  B stared at the amulet and thought about Trina, her voice, and all of the Black Cats songs B loved. She imagined the concert and how badly she’d wanted to go.

  “S-I-N-G-I-N-G,” B began. The treble clef pendant rotated in midair on its silver chain. “S-P-E-L-L C-A-S-T-I-N-G.” A ripple of rainbow prism color flashed across its surface. “S-H-I-E-L-D.” B finished her triple-spell incantation, and the silver amulet glowed with silver-white light.

  “Singing. Spell casting. Shield,” Mr. Bishop repeated. “It could work!”

  “Do you think so?” B asked, trying not to smile too widely.

  “Strong desire makes strong magic,” Mr. Bishop said. “There’s only one way to find out. Why don’t you present this to Trina yourself?”

  The next morning, B and George cornered Trina by her locker. B looked both ways to make sure no one was close by to hear. “I’ve got something for you,” she said.

  Trina opened the package and pulled out the necklace and pendant. “Wow, thanks! That’s so pretty. You didn’t have to do that.” Trina fastened it around her neck, obviously pleased.

  “It’s not just a necklace,” B said. “It’s an amulet to shield your singing magic. If you wear this when you sing, you won’t create crazy spells.”

  Trina’s eyes were wide. She fingered the treble clef. “You made this?”

  B blushed. “Well, I did have some help from a friend.” She grinned. “I am your biggest fan, you know.”

  “Watch it, there,” George said. “I think I am.”

  Trina’s eyes shone. “Is it really true? Can I sing again?”

  “Try it and see,” B said.

  “What, here? In school?”

  “Trust me,” B said, crossing her fingers and toes and holding her breath. It had to work. It just had to.

  Trina bit her lip. “Okay. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll sing the first song that ever produced a spell for me. It was at my cousin’s birthday party just a few days after my eleventh birthday.” She pointed to George.

  “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!

  You look like a monkey, and you smell like one, too!”

  George sniffed his underarms. Trina and B leaned in and sniffed, too.
/>
  Trina laughed delightedly. “You’re fine. I don’t even want to tell you what happened to my cousin Andrew.”

  They all laughed. Trina flung out her arms and spun around. “I can’t believe it! I can sing again!” She stopped and grinned at her friends. “I’ve got to go call my manager right away. The concert tour is back on!” She ran off.

  “Holy cats!” B whooped.

  “What’s the matter, B?” Kim Silsby said, pausing on her way down the hall.

  “The Black Cats are back!” B cried. “The Black Cats are BACK!”

  “George, have you ever heard so much noise in your entire life?” B yelled.

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘Have you ever heard so much noise in your entire life?’”

  “What?”

  “Never mind!” Even screaming, she couldn’t make George hear her.

  It was Saturday night. They had pushed their way through the throngs of screaming Black Cats fans that filled the stadium, heading for their front-row seats. The opening band was finishing its act, but the fifteen thousand people gathered to see the Black Cats were too excited to pay much attention to them.

  “Hey, this is us,” George said. “Front and indent!” He bounced up and down in the springy seats. “Can you believe it? Front row at the Black Cats, all for winning a spelling bee?”

  “You were the winner, not me,” B reminded him.

  “Yeah, well, you would have won if it weren’t for your magic,” George said. He dug in his pocket. “Backstage passes, too!”

  B nodded. She scanned the crowd behind them. The stadium was full now, and the crowd had begun chanting, “Black! Cats! Black! Cats!”

  “How much longer until they start?” B asked. George peered at his watch.

  Just then the lights went out. For a second the arena fell almost silent. Then strobe lights began to flash. The audience whistled and stomped their feet. A massive spotlight swirled around on the back curtain, way up toward the ceiling.

  Loud guitar chords ripped through the massive speakers. Everyone screamed. Drums kicked in, and everyone went wild.

  Then, from high above the stage, a giant crescent moon suspended by cables appeared in the spotlight, with girls in black perching on its inner curve, and Trina on the very tip.

  “Kat! Kat! Kat!” screamed the fans.

  “Trina! Trina!” George and B added. She looked so different in her cat costume and makeup.

  The moon descended slowly. The band members swayed to the beat.

  “Look at her up there! Can you believe it?” George said, elbowing B. “Does it seem possible that that’s our poetry project partner?”

  “Not really,” B said, laughing.

  When the moon was about three feet off the ground, it halted. Kat, dressed in a black catsuit studded with rhinestones, leaped off the platform, landing in a catlike crouch.

  “Midnight in the alley,” she sang. “The cats are on the prowl, they see the full moon risin’….”

  Just then a pair of security guards in black clothes appeared in front of George and B. “This way, please,” one of them said.

  “What’s the matter?” said George, panicked.

  “Just follow us, please,” one security guard shouted over the music.

  B’s pulse pounded in her ears, louder even than the bass drum. She hurried after the stage guards, who urged them on, moving aside the cordons that kept fans away from the stage. Were they in trouble? She didn’t want to miss a moment of the show — not after everything she’d done to bring back the Black Cats.

  “This way,” the security guard said. B gasped as the man lifted her up at the waist and set her on the stage!

  Blinding spotlights, screaming fans waving flashlights … B stopped in her tracks. It was an ocean of people! Talk about stage fright. Trina smiled and waved them over. B couldn’t move. George prodded her from behind. Trina danced over and grabbed B’s and George’s hands and led them to indent stage.

  “But they’re no match for street cats, who bare their claws and YOWL, yowl, yowl….”

  Trina cupped a hand over her headset microphone. “Thanks, guys, for everything.”

  B inched away, but Trina roped her back in. She put an arm around each of them. Together they all belted out, “Night’s the hour for keeping secrets. But us Cats don’t want no secrets, want the whole wide world to hear us YOWL!”

  Preview

  B’s charmed adventures continue in

  Read on for a sneak peek!

  “Pinch me, B.”

  Beatrix Cicely, called B for short, looked in surprise at her best friend, George, who had pulled back his sleeve and thrust his arm out in front of her.

  “Seriously. Pinch me! I must be dreaming. There’s no other possible explanation for today.”

  B gave George’s arm a harmless pinch. “Don’t be silly, George! I told you that sooner or later, my dad would let you have a tour of Enchanted Chocolates. It was just a matter of time.”

  George leaned back in Mr. Cicely’s office chair and spun around. He inhaled, long and deep. “Just smell that chocolate!” He sat up and pointed at B. “I’ll bet I buy more Enchanted Chocolates than anybody else in the world. I’ll bet I do. That makes me their number one customer.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” B said, grinning at her friend. She tossed a dart at the dartboard on the wall. It had the logo for Pluto Candies, her father’s biggest competitor, taped right at the indent of the bull’s-eye. She missed. “Thanks for keeping my dad’s job secure.”

  George looked out the window onto the large factory room where workers packed cases of candy. “There goes a truckload of Caramelicious Cremes. And that lady? She’s loading a pallet full of Mint Fizzes. That guy’s got Peanut Butter Pillows.” George slumped down in the office chair. “Oh, man. I’m in heaven.”

  “No, you’re in my chair,” B’s dad said, entering at just that moment. “C’mon, George. If you think the pallet loading’s good, you haven’t seen anything yet. You, too, B. I’ve got a surprise for you both.”

  They followed Mr. Cicely down the corridor onto an elevator. George tugged on his sleeve. “Wanna hear my idea for what your next new chocolate should be? You’ll love this.”

  “Actually, today …”

  “It’s a candy bar. You start with a simple, flat cracker base. A rectangle. Then you coat it with a layer of peanut brittle. See what I mean? A nice, crunchy, sweet layer of peanut brittle. Drizzle a little caramel over that, then dunk it in chocolate.”

  “Thanks George, I …” B could tell her dad had other things on his mind. But then he paused. “Wait. Did you say, peanut brittle over a cracker?”

  George nodded.

  “With caramel? Then chocolate?”

  “That’s right.” George’s chest was sticking out a mile.

  The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out onto a shiny new wing of the factory that B had never seen before. Her dad was still mentally forming that new candy bar. His voice sounded far away. “The perfect combination of salty and sweet … crunchy and smooth … And nobody else has done it yet.” He whipped out his Crystal Ballphone — any nonwitch would think it was a cell phone — and started punching buttons with his thumbs.

  “What’re you doing, Dad?” B asked.

  “Just texting myself a note to have the kitchens try this out.” He finished and snapped the phone shut, then ruffled George’s hair. “Keep it under your hats, okay, guys? I may have to put you on the payroll, George.”

  B feared her friend might faint with happiness. “Better not,” she said. “He’d eat sweets all day long. After a couple of weeks, you’d have to roll him out the door.”

  They came to a door, and B’s dad swiped a pass-card, which let them through. A second door, moments later, required a numeric code, and a third scanned his fingerprint.

  “Where are you taking us, to meet the president?” George asked.

  “Better than that,” Mr. Cicely said. He lowered his voice
to a whisper. “You will both get to see the dipping debut for our brand-new, top secret line of chocolates.” He paused for impact.

  George shook his head in wonder. “This is a day to remember for the rest of my life.”

  Special thanks to Julie Berry

  Other Books in the B Magical Series

  B Magical #1: The Missing Magic

  B Magical #2: The Trouble with Secrets

  B Magical #3: The Runaway Spell

  B Magical #4: The Cat-Astrophe

  About the Author

  LEXI CONNOR loves word searches, crosswords, and word puzzles. When she was younger, she won her county bee and traveled to the regional competition, where, in a moment of extreme stage fright, she misspelled “C-E-M-E-T-E-R-Y.” She lives with her black cat named Abbey in Massachusetts.

  Copyright

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Working Partners Limited, Stanley House, St. Chad’s Place, London WC1X 9HH, United Kingdom.

  Copyright © 2010 by Working Partners Ltd.

  Cover art by Tuesday Mourning

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012. SCHOLASTIC, APPLE PAPERBACKS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  This edition first printing, May 2011

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.