LITMIR.BIZ

      Perched on her wooden seat in the third row of the narrow classroom, ElsBeth Amelia Thistle, the youngest witch on Cape Cod, was completely, out-of-her-head wild with excitement.

      What an adventure they were going to have — a class field trip — all the way to Boston! “Beantown” itself, home to all kinds of fascinating history, and the greatest baseball, football, basketball and hockey teams ever. At least that is what her pesky classmate Robert Hillman-Jones said.

      Being a genuine witch, ElsBeth didn’t really pay much attention to ordinary boys. But Hillman-Jones was convincing when he spoke about local sports. The fellow second-grader seemed unshakably certain that Boston was a sports town above all others.

      ElsBeth was nervous about the upcoming trip, though. Her grandmother usually totally supported her interests, but this time Hannah was reluctant for the little witch to go.

      “Too many ghosts and ghouls around that town. Mean spirited, too, most of them,” the older witch added each time the field trip was mentioned.

      But it had become difficult for ElsBeth to have any serious discussion at all with her grandmother lately. She was completely preoccupied with all the odd happenings around town.

      Now that ElsBeth was almost through second grade, she was beginning to take herself and her school life pretty seriously indeed. After all, how many witches made it through a whole year with Ms. Finch as their teacher? Well, almost made it.

      The only time this entire school year that Ms. Finch had been at all nice had been on Halloween, when ElsBeth and her good friend Johnny Twofeathers had rescued Robert Hillman-Jones and several of the other second-grade boys from the notorious pirate Billy Bowlegs and some nasty treasure hunters cleverly disguised as bird watchers.

      Ms. Finch had even given the children candy then. Why couldn’t it always be Halloween, ElsBeth wondered philosophically?

      But that was a long time ago. Now, it was May. And though all of Cape Cod was fresh and green and alive with spring, Ms. Finch was her same mean, old, stuffy self.

      These thoughts ran through ElsBeth’s mind while she daydreamed during long division class.

      “Ms. Thistle … Ms. Thistle … MS. THISTLE!”

      ElsBeth looked up, horrified to see a red-faced Finch leaning over her.

      “I SAID, ‘What is the quotient of 21 and 7?’ ”

      Quotient, quotient? ElsBeth’s mind raced. What was a “quotient” again? Oh, no. ElsBeth had totally forgotten what a quotient was.

      The little witch sat hard on her hands so she didn’t cast a “holding spell” by accident. Or an accident-on-purpose. Even if that would have given her time to look up the answer. She was definitely not allowed to use magic at school.

      ElsBeth decided honesty was her only hope. It was less risky than making up an answer, or guessing, especially wrongly.

      “A quotient … I don’t remember what a quotient is,” she stuttered.

      But ElsBeth had just broken at least three Finch rules:

      One — she didn’t know the answer.

      Two — she hadn’t been paying attention.

      And Three — she forgot to end her statement with, “I’m sorry, Ms. Finch.”

      Boy, was she in for it now.

      Ms. Finch turned sharply. “Double assignments, Ms. Thistle, for the rest of the week. You lack discipline, young lady!

      “And I’m just the one to fix that,” the teacher sneered.

      Ms. Finch walked away with a pleased look on her prunish face. She loved any excuse to give ElsBeth trouble.

      Something about that girl just seemed to annoy Ms. Finch to no end. And ElsBeth’s latest crime was worthy of punishment for the whole week.

      The stick-thin Ms. Finch rubbed her hands together in delight.

      ElsBeth began to sweat. She was already behind in her magic lessons at home. A whole week of extra assignments would make it a lot worse. How would she ever catch up?

      But the school day went on from there as it always did, and somehow, despite the horrifying beginning, ElsBeth managed to make it through with no further disasters.

      When the end-of-school bell rang, her classmates began to pack up and head out.

      Her good friend Veronica stopped and said, “ElsBeth, you’ve got to get it together. Daydreaming in math class is just asking for trouble. You don’t want extra work next week. Four Seas Ice Cream Parlour is opening for the season, and everyone is going over to Centerville.”

      Veronica tossed her head artistically. She had practiced

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