Almost Magic

By Kathleen Bullock

Ever since she turned twelve, Apple Bramblewood's life has been plagued by visits from weird creatures from the magical realms.

It seems she is a rare Attractor, a Wizard whose sole talent is solving the clamorous demands of very odd beings, usually in the most unorthodox, haphazard, and klutzy ways. Apple doesn't want to be an Attractor; her most passionate goal is to attend the ordinary high school with ordinary kids where her perfect older sister, Cornelia, is allowed to go. Her parents have no doubts about Cornelia's magical prowess, but Apple seems destined to be home-schooled forever if she can't pass the entrance exam and perfect at least one magical enchantment.

Almost Magic is Apple's first-person account of that magic summer between childhood and adolescence and, in Apple's case, one filled with the most amazing, hilarious, and often dangerous events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spencer Hill Middle Grade
• Release date: Jun 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781939392121

Book preview

luck.

CHAPTER ONE

I stared at my arm. I had time on my hands. Literally.

In a failed attempt to impress my folks by shooting fireworks from my fingertips (supposedly a kid-friendly spell), I shot a backward spark that fused my new plastic rainbow-colored watch to my wrist. It stung like crazy, looked ridiculous, and made me feel more stupid than usual as we waited for Dr. DeCharmer, our family’s Magician Physician, to make a house call. I’m not really sure why he was the only one who could perform a reverse-spell to undo the damage. I suspect my mother and father were trying to make a point about the consequences of using magic without knowing how to fix the mistakes. Calling the doctor was like rubbing it in.

My sister Corny smirked (but only behind our parents’ backs). She, of course, would never cast a spell that left her wrist deformed for a whole week. Cornelia, it must be said, is practically perfect. (I said practically.) Not only is she smart, but she’s tall and beautiful—the total opposite of me. The definition of perfect in the Compleat Sorcery Handbook (pub. 1432 AD) describes Corny to a nicety, as my great-aunt Wisteria would say. P.E.R.F.E.C.T—Perseverant; Evenhanded; Resourceful; Faithful; Empathetic; Courageous; and Trustworthy.

Cornelia has never messed up (at least publicly) in her entire life. Because she’s so capable, my parents allow her to go to high school in town with the Ordinary kids. Following in her footsteps has become the most passionate goal of my life. Some wizards think mixing with Ordinaries (as we call them) is a horrible mistake. But the alternatives for me are dreadful—either perpetual home-schooling and isolation on Cashel Mountain (meaning no friends), or Miss Ridingcrop’s Boarding School for Refined Young Witches, an institution that hasn’t changed since tall pointed hats were in style.

If Corny gets to go to school in town, why can’t I?

Your sister Corny is an expert in the many intricacies of Spellcraft and has proven herself to be an extraordinary scholar as well. She earned the right to go to a non-magical high school. You, my beloved younger daughter— Grizzwald, my dad, always smiles patiently at this point and looks at me with loving acceptance. You have other gifts. We may not recognize them yet—but I guarantee you have them. All the Bramblewoods do.

I was tired of waiting for my Bramblewood DNA to kick in. I was already at an age where my magical gifts should be making themselves known. Not only am I without any particular talent, but every loud, messy, stinky, unusual, or clumsy thing that can find me usually does. My mother and father promised that I might get to go to a real school in the fall if I study hard enough to pass the state’s Academic Requirements test and master at least one Level-A wizarding skill to perfection.

With a deep sigh, I checked my wrist. At least the watch still worked, and it was time to take a break from my home-school studies. I grabbed an apple from the basket on the kitchen table and strolled out of the house and down through the woods to my private spot on Trickle Creek.

It was a quiet day. My father was busy in his workshop inventing something. Most wizards are impressed to learn that he was the one who invented the retractable wand—everybody has one—and the napkin tie (not quite as popular). Mom was in her studio finishing a painting for the new wing at Rest-A-Spell, the old witches’ retirement home. My mother, in addition to painting fruit and vegetables for pleasure, does portraits for other wizards and the occasional Ordinary person. Corny, naturally, was off having fun at school with her millions of friends.

I sat on a log near the water’s edge and dangled my feet as I munched my apple. Sunlight streamed through dappled leaves, and insects droned a late-spring song. With heavy-lidded eyes, I watched the minnows play. The world seemed so calm and serene in our forest. Would anybody notice if I played hooky and stayed there all day?

A glimpse of purple flashed in the distance. I flipped my head to the right. No one was there, and yet I was sure I’d seen something.

Then I heard the giggles.

Ah ha! Someone was in our woods. The noise had come from around the bend.

I plopped into the water. The cold river was shocking at first, but the goose bumps didn’t last. I snapped an overhanging branch to use as a walking stick as I waded.

When I rounded the bend, I found a little girl sitting on a grassy bank serving tea to china dolls. Her dark hair was bobbed, and she wore a huge purple bow on top of her head and a delicate white lace dress and button shoes. Her outfit seemed sort of old-fashioned to me. Cute, though. Hello, I said.

The child looked up and giggled. She clapped her small plump hands. Goody! We have company, daughters. And just in time for tea.

I climbed onto the bank beside her and stretched. A fresh breeze tickled the tiny wet hairs on my legs as I twisted excess water from the hem of my shorts. I wondered how the little girl had gotten here.

My name is Apple. What’s yours?

As expected, my name set off a fresh bout of giggles. Mine is Norafina Nebb. But you can call me Nora.

That’s a pretty name. Where’s your mom, Nora? I looked around. She must not know this is private property.

The little girl blinked and the corners of her mouth drooped. My mama passed when I was born. Her eyes were huge and hazel-green. And I know better than you whose property this is. My Granny and I live in the blue house yonder with the steeple and the dragon weathervane.

I laughed. Try again. That’s my house.

Nora jumped up and stamped her foot. No, it isn’t–isn’t–isn’t! That’s my Granny Nebb’s house.

I started to argue, but then I remembered—our house had once belonged to a family named Nebb. I snapped my fingers—the old witch who sold the house to my father was probably the little girl’s granny.

I’ll bet you used a Wishing Spell to get here, thinking this was still your granny’s house, right? Nora didn’t look much older than six, an age when anyone can get confused. I remembered it well. But there was something odd about the little girl showing up in our woods—I couldn’t quite figure it out. "Granny Nebb doesn’t live here anymore. Can you remember where you live?"

Silly! I told you, I live here, of course. She started to giggle, but changed her mind and narrowed her eyes. And you don’t! Then she erupted in smiles again and held up a doll-sized dish. Did you know that I’m very good at conjuring macaroons and peppermint sticks? The treats magically appeared on the plate. But Granny says I’m never to talk to strangers in our forest, and never to use magic without a grown-up near. Her eyes grew round with worry and the treats disappeared.

Delores, Esmeralda, Delphinia—we’d better go. The little girl stood up quickly and the dolls flew into her arms. The picnic cloth folded and the tiny dishes stacked themselves inside her basket.

Where are you going? I didn’t like the thought of little Nora transporting home alone—magic or not.

I’m going the way I came. The little girl fiddled with the white stones on the necklace she wore. She’s waiting.

Who’s waiting? I gestured through the trees at the peaked roof of our hilltop home. Corny’s pet pigeons circled against the blue sky. My mother is Magdella Bramblewood. She’s a sorceress. She’ll know how to send you home.

I turned back toward Nora, but the tiny girl had vanished. Hmmm. Well, she was quick and efficient, wasn’t she? A pang of jealousy made my stomach churn. Even Nora could perform magic better than I could. Glancing at my watch, I saw my free hour had flown away.

A little Witch, you say? My father nibbled at the drumstick Cornelia had made of soy, twelve vitamins and minerals, corn meal, and magic. She had recently converted to vegetarianism and our parents always indulged her whims. We’d all be vegetarians for as long as she was.

"Are you sure it wasn’t a lost Ordinary child?"

Emphatically! (My vocabulary word for the day—I liked the sound of it.) "Only a witch could have conjured a macaroon. And peppermint sticks. She was dressed in an old-fashioned costume—like for a play. But she was emphatic that our house belonged to her Granny Nebb."

My mother raised a finger. Believe it or not, old Witch Nebb is still alive, and coincidentally, she lives at the retired witches’ home where I’m going to hang my new painting. Why don’t we visit her tomorrow afternoon, Apple, and ask about her granddaughter? I suspect the child may be suffering from Wish Delusions and could need our help.

I nodded. It sure sounded better than the math quiz she’d promised. Maybe Mom would forget all about it… Yeah, like the day three little pigs fly.

My dad finished off his soy drumstick and twirled eggplant pasta around his fork. "Very tasty, Corny. Those home-ec classes at the high school have really served you well. Ha! Ha!"

I tried not to snort pasta up my nose. My father loves silly puns.

Corny tossed her long golden curls and licked a crumb from her little finger. I added my own secret ingredient, of course, Pop. She winked. Miss Stirwell thinks I’m a shoo-in to win first prize at the County Fair Cook-off this summer.

I fiddled with my pasta and mumbled. Sounds like cheating to me.

What? my dad asked.

A-hem. I cleared my throat. "I said, sounds like good eating to me."

The next day at noon, I ran down to the creek, hoping to see the little girl again, and wasn’t disappointed. Nora appeared dressed as before, with her dolls and her tea things around her. The child giggled (what else?) and clapped her hands. Goody! We have company, daughters, she said. Just in time for tea.

A feeling of déjà vu swept over me. Hello, Norafina.

The girl tossed her silky brown bobbed hair. How do you know my name?

We met yesterday. Don’t you remember?

"Yesterday was my birthday. Granny Nebb gave me a wonderful party. And you were not there. She dropped her chin and touched the necklace at her throat. Look what she gave me! Isn’t it bee-yoo-tiful?"

Yes, very. The string of white stones glowed when the girl touched them, and I felt that tingle you get around powerful magic. Perhaps you shouldn’t wear it when you play?

I will! I will. I will—if I want to. Her eyes teared and her body shook.

Whoa, settle down. I put up my hands. It was just a suggestion. I’d hate for you to lose it. I squinted over the treetops at the roof of my house. Maybe Nora would come up to the house with me if I asked her in the right way. Is Granny Nebb at home today? Will you take me up to meet her?

I wasn’t trying to fool her; I just wanted to help break the Wish Delusion spell she was under.

Nora jumped to her feet. No time! I have to go. She needs me! She packed her things magically fast and disappeared into the thick brush of the forest.

Well! I rubbed my nose. Mother and I were going to visit Granny Nebb at the home that afternoon. Maybe we’d learn something helpful.

The corridor at the Rest-A-Spell retirement home was eerily quiet. I peeked around the open door at the still figure on the bed. Old Witch Nebb seemed to be sleeping.

Nurse Clarian clasped her hands sadly. I’m so sorry you won’t be able to talk to her. Nebby’s been in a transcendent state since last Thursday. She mutters in her sleep sometimes, but never wakes. The nurse sniffled into a tissue. She’s already started to fade. The toes are nearly gone! The poor old thing. Always a joy to be around. Doctor thinks she’ll fade out altogether in a few days.

I was surprised by the nurse’s emotion. Granny Nebb must be special.

My mother patted the young nurse’s hand. I know it’s hard, Nurse Clarian, but you’re doing the best you can for her. Tell me, does Witch Nebb have any relatives? A granddaughter, or great-granddaughter, perhaps?

Oh dear, I couldn’t say. No one ever visits, that’s for sure. I assumed she was alone in the world, but I know very little about her past.

I was puzzled. What could have happened to separate Witch Nebb from her family? Somehow, I knew I was meant to find Nora in the forest and bring the two together again—before it was too late.

May I go in and see her for a minute? I asked. "I’ll be very,