Author's Disclaimer
Raggedy Ann and Andy and all related characters are the property of Johnny Gruelle and the CBS network.
The Adventures of Raggedy Ann & Andy The Little Witch Adventure
Featuring:
Raggedy Ann~Raggedy Andy~Grouchy Bear~Sunny Bunny Cracklen~Gabriella~Sammie~Bobby *********************************************************
Chapter 1: I Wanna Be A Witch!
YAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEE!!!"
Cracklen shook his head, half in humor and half in pity for his ten-year- old niece as he watched her struggling to stay on her broomstick as it glided swiftly through the air from where he was standing down below on the ground, cheering her on. "You're doing splendid, Sammie. Just keep holding on tight!"
"I am," Sammie called, her eyes shut firmly as she sat with her arms locked firmly around the broom. "Uncle Cracklen, can I please come down? I think I'm going to be sick!"
"In a minute. And open your eyes! How do you expect to pass your flying exam if your eyes are always closed?"
"That's easy. I'll just wear sunglasses. Then nobody will be able to tell."
"Nice try. Now open your eyes, young lady!"
"All-all right." Sammie opened one eye slowly, and then the other. She sat up carefully on the broom, and then focused sharply ahead of her. To her horror she realized that she was headed straight for a tree. Instead of panicking, which was what she usually did in these types of situations, she pushed upwards on the broom and disappeared into the leaves of the tree, avoiding the lumber. Cracklen watched as Sammie shot through the top, clutching her purple witch's hat as she rose even higher into the air. "How do I come down?" Sammie called.
"Aim towards the ground!" Cracklen shouted up to her. "Okay, here it goes." With all of her strength, Sammie pushed down hard on the broom, and within seconds she felt both herself and the broom hurtling in the direction of the ground. She screamed. "Uncle Cracklen, I can't stop it! I'm going to crash! Do something!"
Cracklen shook his head and then muttered a spell, waving his right hand. A thin bolt of electricity escaped from his finger and ascended through the air where it surrounded Sammie and her broom. It slowed down just seconds before it could crash, and she found herself floating only a few inches above the ground on her broomstick.
"So," Sammie said, "how was I?"
"Not bad," Cracklen replied as he approached her. "Except you need to concentrate more on handling your broom. You can't always count on my magic to save you when you find yourself in a tight spot, particularly on the day of your final exam."
"I know that. I just want to be as good a wizard as you someday."
"It will happen. All you need to do is practice."
"But that's all I ever do, and it never gets me anywhere."
"That's because you're impatient. Just don't think about what you want so much, and your wishes will come true in time."
Sammie was awakened that night by a thunderous blast that she recognized at once as her uncle's sneezing. She sat up in bed and stared across the room at the closed door. "Oh no," she said. "Not again. I hate it when this happens to him." She slid out of bed and ran across the cold stone floor to the door. She pushed it open and stepped quietly out into the hallway.
She padded silently down the hall of the humongous castle, following the violent sneezes that seemed to echo every five seconds and grow louder with each step she took. The sneezes led her straight to Cracklen's quarters, and Sammie could feel her heart just beginning to beat out of control. "This is so unfair," she said just before pushing the door open.
As Sammie stood in the doorway, she immediately caught sight of Cracklen sitting on his bed blowing his long nose into his handkerchief. "Excuse me, Uncle Cracklen? I heard the noise from down the hall-is everything all right?"
He smiled at her. "Yes," he replied, his voice nasal. "Just a reaction to something.probably a plant of some kind."
"Do you want me to go outside and check it out? If I find anything I'll just move it far away from the castle."
Cracklen looked surprised. "You would do that?"
"Of course. I'll be right back." Sammie turned and scampered out of the room.
As she walked rapidly down the hall, tears rushed into her usually happy blue eyes. Everyone knew Cracklen's weakness, including his own niece, and that was his allergies to just about every type of animal hair on the planet, especially that of a cat. Sammie had heard the nasty jokes around the village of how everyone was surprised at how her uncle wasn't allergic to himself. It infuriated her so much at times that she would often attempt a fight with whoever was making the joke, mostly the kids at school, which she supposed was why she didn't have any friends. In her opinion she told herself that she didn't need them, that the more friends you had would only cause more problems; but she knew deep down that all she wanted was a friend. Even one would be okay. Aside from being the oddball of the school, she struggled to prepare for her final exam in which she would have to demonstrate how to properly ride a broomstick and thus measure off to a junior witch. But even though she studied hard and did the very best she knew how, it never seemed to pay off. She had fallen off her broom more times than she liked to remember in front of her class, receiving not applause but cruel laughter from everyone; even her teacher. Trying to protect not only Cracklen's name but her own as well seemed to always end in the same way: people laughing and Sammie crying.
A short time later, Sammie stopped at the front door and flung it open. As she marched out into the dark cold night, she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. It was so dark out that she needed to squint in order to see better. As she wandered through the night, she spotted a patch of goldenrod that was beginning to grow that had been only a few inches from the window of Cracklen's bedroom. "So that's it," Sammie said as she approached the goldenrod. "That must be what's making him sneeze. I wonder how it got here? Probably from all the rain we've been getting lately." Sammie used all of her strength to yank the plants out of the ground, which were rooted so deep into the earth that she found it impossible to snatch up more than a few of the upper stems, and to no avail did she succeed. "They won't even budge! Come on, you stupid things!"
Sammie finally gave up. She collapsed on the ground and began to cry.
"I can't do anything right," she sobbed miserably. "I can't fly a broomstick, do magic, or even do something as simple as pulling a bunch of weeds out of the ground! What good am I to anyone if all I do is make mistakes all the time? And the only reason Uncle Cracklen puts up with me is because Mom and Dad dumped me on him and he feels like he has to." Suddenly, another sneeze exploded from inside the castle, and Sammie was whisked out of her state of self-pity. "That's it! I'm going to do something about this right now!" She leaped to her feet and took up her wand.
"There stands before me a great burden, But I will be the one who takes care of it, Now believe me when I say, If you don't disappear right now then you shall pay, |And with a wave of my wand, You shall be gone!"
As Sammie completed the spell, she was frustrated but not surprised to see that the patch of goldenrod was still in its original place. "Darn it! Why the heck didn't it work? I said all the words right!" In a fit of annoyance, jumped on top of the weeds and began stomping as hard as she could on top of them.
"Sammie?"
She immediately stopped what she was doing, and stood perfectly still. She turned her head over her shoulder and saw Cracklen standing in the doorway of the castle. "I." Sammie started. "I.I found some goldenrod but I couldn't even budge it. I mean I tried, but it's buried too deep in the ground. And then I tried to use magic on it, only that didn't work either."
"Stand aside," Cracklen said. "I'll show you how it's done." Sammie moved to one side, and listened to her uncle as he recited the same spell she had, only with one difference: Instead of using his wand, which he kept hidden in a chest in the castle dungeon, he shot a bolt of electricity from his hand. It encircled the goldenrod and in a single neon blue wink it disappeared. "You see? It's all in the wrist-" Cracklen bellowed another sneeze, and Sammie could almost feel her heart leap into her throat.
She flung open her arms. "There, you see?" she practically shouted, and Cracklen looked at her in astonishment. "I can't even perform a simple spell. And what's worse, I'm making you suffer. What am I doing trying to become a witch anyway? All I do is screw up over and over again!" Sammie suddenly found herself unable to control the tears that she had known were coming ever since she had awakened to her uncle's sneezing. "Why in the world do you put up with me anyway?" As she said this, the tears were streaming down her cheeks in great drops.
"Oh, Sammie dear," Cracklen replied, and held out his arms to her, "come here." He knelt down on one knee as his niece broke across the lawn and jumped into his arms. As she sobbed piteously into his chest, he held her close, running his long fingers through her soft brown hair. "Ssshhh, it's all right. Don't cry."
"But I hate seeing you suffer like this. And when I try to help, I just mess up."
"But don't you see, Sammie? You did help me-that's what you're always doing for me. Just because you make a mistake doesn't mean you didn't do everything in your power to make it right." "I know." Sammie sniffed back a sob and looked up at her uncle, her face cherry-red from crying.
"Here." Cracklen reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a handkerchief, which he handed to Sammie. "Now, how about you dry those crocodile tears?"
She smiled as she accepted the handkerchief. She wiped her face and blew her nose, which made both her and Cracklen laugh.
That night as Cracklen carried his niece into the castle and back down the hall to her bedroom he wasn't surprised to find that she had fallen fast asleep in his arms. "You did well today, little one," he said as he laid Sammie down in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. "I am so very proud of you, and you should be too." Cracklen kissed Sammie's cheek, turned out the light, and tiptoed quietly out of the room.
The following day at the Blue Mountain School for Wizards and Witches, Sammie found it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open. She was resting her chin between her palms, which was the only way she could prevent her head from slipping and hitting the desk. When her teacher, Mrs. Fuller, asked her how to turn a common frog into a handsome prince, Sammie, who had already fallen asleep at her desk, replied, "Mmmmmm.gloom brownies."
The entire class erupted in laughter, and Sammie sat bolt upright in her seat. Mrs. Fuller had her arms crossed over her chest and was glaring at her. "As usual, Sammie, you are incorrect. My suggestion is that you get your sleep at night and not during my class. Maybe then you will be able to answer a simple question."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fuller," Sammie replied, embarrassed. "I was up late last night. I promise, it won't happen again."
At recess that afternoon, Bobby MacMagic, a boy from Sammie's class, cornered her. "Hey, Sammie," the he said. "How's your uncle these days?"
"He's fine," she replied.
"That's good. And his allergies?"
"What about them?"
"I hear these days it's cats that get him going." Bobby paused as Sammie's face twisted into a heated expression. "One more thing: You do know that's a wizard's outfit you've got on, don't you? Girls are supposed to dress in witch's attire, or are you so stupid you didn't know that?"
"My uncle made this outfit for me, and I'm proud to wear it," Sammie replied indignantly.
"Is that so?" Bobby said. "Here, I have something I want you to give him for me."
"What?"
"This." Bobby scooped up a rather large stone and pelted Sammie with it.
"Ouch, that hurt!" Sammie said. "What did you do that for?"
"Because I don't like little wanna-be magic users in my school," answered Bobby, and he hit her with another stone.
Sammie fell to the ground, rubbing her forehead where the stone had struck. When she drew her hand away and looked at it she saw that it was smeared with blood. She glared up at Bobby and in seconds had leaped to her feet. "You creep!" she screamed, and rushed madly at him. Before he knew what was happening, Sammie had trampled him to the ground and was swinging punches at his face from every direction. Bobby managed to get in a few of his own, slamming his fist into Sammie's nose and lower lip, causing them both to bleed. He pulled hard at the sleeve of Sammie's cloak and tore it, which only made her angrier. She punched Bobby in the eye, leaving behind a black and blue mark. It was only when Mrs. Fuller came over a moment later and pulled them apart that both children were forced to discontinue their fighting.
"What is going on here?" Mrs. Fuller demanded.
"She started it, Mrs. Fuller," Bobby said. "Honest. All I did was say hello and she started punching me."
"You're such a liar!" Sammie cried.
"Hush!" Mrs. Fuller snapped.
"But it's true," Sammie insisted. "He started throwing stones at me-"
"Enough! I don't want to hear anymore. I want the both of you to stay for an hour after school and write me an essay on the consequences of fighting."
That afternoon when the dismissal bell rang at 3:15, instead of lining up at the door of the classroom with the other students Sammie and Bobby remained in their seats. After everyone had left, Mrs. Fuller handed them each a piece of loose-leaf paper and instructed them on how to write a four- paragraph composition on the "consequences of fighting."
"And neither of you are leaving until you've completed the assignment," Mrs. Fuller finished firmly.
"I'll get you for this, Sammie," Bobby whispered to her from his desk across the room.
"Whatever, Bobby," muttered Sammie, and began to write.
The Consequences of Fighting By Sammie De Spell
The desire to fight is a very bad quality to have. You can get into trouble or worse, get hurt. Even when people tease you or make jokes about one of your friends or somebody in your family, it still doesn't give you the right to get into a fight. Some people get into fights because they're board or just plain like to fight. But this still doesn't make it okay. People should be polite and friendly to each other, but when we do things like get into fights what kind of exa`ple are we setting for children? That's right, not a very good one. If they see older kids or grown-ups fighting, then they will think it is all right. We all need to be polite and nice to each other so that children will see us and act just like we do. Sometimes people will fight over silly things, like who will get the last free swing on the swing set or the last cookie in the cookie jar. Instead of fighting, we should be polite and offer the last of something to the other person. That way we can avoid a fight. Fighting doesn't get us anything except maybe a black eye or a detention. We should all try to be a little more polite to other people and that way we can avoid getting into a fight with them.
Sammie was the first to complete her essay, and she raised her hand. "Mrs. Fuller, I'm finished."
Mrs. Fuller looked up at Sammie from her desk at the head of the room. "All right, Sammie," Mrs. Fuller replied. "Bring it here and then you may go."
Bobby glared at Sammie as she scooped up her satchel, which was propped up against the right leg of her desk. After she handed Mrs. Fuller her composition, Sammie was heading toward the door when Bobby stuck his tongue out at her. In return she stuck out hers before Mrs. Fuller could notice. Sammie then slipped through the door and headed down the path back to Cracklen's castle.
On her way home from school, Sammie kept thinking about what her uncle was going to say when she showed up an hour late. He'll probably turn me into a toad, she thought, although she highly doubted it. Cracklen had always been very kind to her, and if she did something that he didn't approve of the worst he could do was send her to her room.
When she arrived at the castle, Sammie hesitated about opening the door. However, she figured that the longer she waited, the angrier Cracklen would be. So Sammie pushed open the door as quietly as she could and stepped into the hallway, being careful not to make a sound. As she sauntered down the hallway in the direction of the library where her uncle usually spent his afternoons, a voice stopped her in her tracks. "So there you are."
"Eeep," Sammie squeaked, and peered into the dungeon to see Cracklen standing over a bubbling cauldron.
"Where have you been for the passed hour?" he demanded. "And what happened to your face? That's quite a nasty-looking cuts you've got there. And your cloak is torn."
Sammie sighed. "I was in detention."
"Detention?" Cracklen's face looked as shocked as his voice sounded. "For what?"
"Fighting."
"You? Fighting? Sammie, I'm surprised at you. You aren't one to-"
"But it wasn't my fault. It was Bobby MacMagic. He started throwing stones at me." Sammie didn't mention the part about Bobby mocking Cracklen, since she knew it would only infuriate her uncle. Like Sammie, he too didn't appreciate the jokes others made concerning his allergies.
"Well," Cracklen said, "I suppose you're not completely to blame. But the next time something like this happens I don't want you to resort to violence. Instead you are to come to me or another adult. Now come in and let me wash that cut. Afterward we'll go into the library and I will mend your robe."
Sammie sat down on a stool while Cracklen gently disinfected her forehead and dabbed a wet washcloth on her bottom lip. "Ouch," Sammie cried, and drew back, "that stings!"
"Stop flinching," Cracklen said. "I'm almost finished."
After Cracklen had tended to Sammie's injuries, they exited the dungeon and went into the library. While Cracklen sat in the big armchair with the robe thrown over his lap stitching the torn sleeve, Sammie sat at his feet staring up at him in complete awe. "So, tell me about this bully of yours," Cracklen said after a moment.
"There's nothing much to say about Bobby," Sammie replied. "Except that he's a big jerk!"
"People who do things such as throw stones at others are usually jerks."
"No kidding. Uncle Cracklen, are there any spells you can cast on Bobby so he'll stop bothering me?"
"Unfortunately that's not something I can do. You must learn to handle things on your own, Sammie. Remember I won't always be there to help you out of every unfortunate situation you come across. What are you going to do when you grow up?"
"Oh, by then I'll know plenty of magic."
"Magic shouldn't be used to solve every one of your problems. Some, but not all the time."
"Why not? What's wrong with using magic all the time?"
"Because if you use it too often, then you won't learn to do things for yourself."
"Kind of like when Mom and Dad tell me to clean my room and I cast a spell that puts all my toys and books back on the shelf-well, if I knew the first thing about casting a spell then I could do it."
Cracklen smiled. "That's right."
"Do you know the first thing I'm going to do once I learn to use magic right?"
"What's that?"
"I'm going to create a special potion that will rid you of your allergies. Then it won't matter how many flowers bloom in the springtime and we won't have to worry about animal hair either."
"That's sweet, Sammie," Cracklen replied. "Thank you. And look." He held up her cloak, the tear in the sleeve now patched together. "I've mended your cloak."
A wide grin spread across Sammie's face, and she got quickly to her feet. "Oh, thank you, Uncle Cracklen!" she exclaimed. "It's perfect!" She bounced onto his lap and gave him a tight hug. "You're the greatest uncle in the world!"
Raggedy Ann and Andy and all related characters are the property of Johnny Gruelle and the CBS network.
The Adventures of Raggedy Ann & Andy The Little Witch Adventure
Featuring:
Raggedy Ann~Raggedy Andy~Grouchy Bear~Sunny Bunny Cracklen~Gabriella~Sammie~Bobby *********************************************************
Chapter 1: I Wanna Be A Witch!
YAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEE!!!"
Cracklen shook his head, half in humor and half in pity for his ten-year- old niece as he watched her struggling to stay on her broomstick as it glided swiftly through the air from where he was standing down below on the ground, cheering her on. "You're doing splendid, Sammie. Just keep holding on tight!"
"I am," Sammie called, her eyes shut firmly as she sat with her arms locked firmly around the broom. "Uncle Cracklen, can I please come down? I think I'm going to be sick!"
"In a minute. And open your eyes! How do you expect to pass your flying exam if your eyes are always closed?"
"That's easy. I'll just wear sunglasses. Then nobody will be able to tell."
"Nice try. Now open your eyes, young lady!"
"All-all right." Sammie opened one eye slowly, and then the other. She sat up carefully on the broom, and then focused sharply ahead of her. To her horror she realized that she was headed straight for a tree. Instead of panicking, which was what she usually did in these types of situations, she pushed upwards on the broom and disappeared into the leaves of the tree, avoiding the lumber. Cracklen watched as Sammie shot through the top, clutching her purple witch's hat as she rose even higher into the air. "How do I come down?" Sammie called.
"Aim towards the ground!" Cracklen shouted up to her. "Okay, here it goes." With all of her strength, Sammie pushed down hard on the broom, and within seconds she felt both herself and the broom hurtling in the direction of the ground. She screamed. "Uncle Cracklen, I can't stop it! I'm going to crash! Do something!"
Cracklen shook his head and then muttered a spell, waving his right hand. A thin bolt of electricity escaped from his finger and ascended through the air where it surrounded Sammie and her broom. It slowed down just seconds before it could crash, and she found herself floating only a few inches above the ground on her broomstick.
"So," Sammie said, "how was I?"
"Not bad," Cracklen replied as he approached her. "Except you need to concentrate more on handling your broom. You can't always count on my magic to save you when you find yourself in a tight spot, particularly on the day of your final exam."
"I know that. I just want to be as good a wizard as you someday."
"It will happen. All you need to do is practice."
"But that's all I ever do, and it never gets me anywhere."
"That's because you're impatient. Just don't think about what you want so much, and your wishes will come true in time."
Sammie was awakened that night by a thunderous blast that she recognized at once as her uncle's sneezing. She sat up in bed and stared across the room at the closed door. "Oh no," she said. "Not again. I hate it when this happens to him." She slid out of bed and ran across the cold stone floor to the door. She pushed it open and stepped quietly out into the hallway.
She padded silently down the hall of the humongous castle, following the violent sneezes that seemed to echo every five seconds and grow louder with each step she took. The sneezes led her straight to Cracklen's quarters, and Sammie could feel her heart just beginning to beat out of control. "This is so unfair," she said just before pushing the door open.
As Sammie stood in the doorway, she immediately caught sight of Cracklen sitting on his bed blowing his long nose into his handkerchief. "Excuse me, Uncle Cracklen? I heard the noise from down the hall-is everything all right?"
He smiled at her. "Yes," he replied, his voice nasal. "Just a reaction to something.probably a plant of some kind."
"Do you want me to go outside and check it out? If I find anything I'll just move it far away from the castle."
Cracklen looked surprised. "You would do that?"
"Of course. I'll be right back." Sammie turned and scampered out of the room.
As she walked rapidly down the hall, tears rushed into her usually happy blue eyes. Everyone knew Cracklen's weakness, including his own niece, and that was his allergies to just about every type of animal hair on the planet, especially that of a cat. Sammie had heard the nasty jokes around the village of how everyone was surprised at how her uncle wasn't allergic to himself. It infuriated her so much at times that she would often attempt a fight with whoever was making the joke, mostly the kids at school, which she supposed was why she didn't have any friends. In her opinion she told herself that she didn't need them, that the more friends you had would only cause more problems; but she knew deep down that all she wanted was a friend. Even one would be okay. Aside from being the oddball of the school, she struggled to prepare for her final exam in which she would have to demonstrate how to properly ride a broomstick and thus measure off to a junior witch. But even though she studied hard and did the very best she knew how, it never seemed to pay off. She had fallen off her broom more times than she liked to remember in front of her class, receiving not applause but cruel laughter from everyone; even her teacher. Trying to protect not only Cracklen's name but her own as well seemed to always end in the same way: people laughing and Sammie crying.
A short time later, Sammie stopped at the front door and flung it open. As she marched out into the dark cold night, she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. It was so dark out that she needed to squint in order to see better. As she wandered through the night, she spotted a patch of goldenrod that was beginning to grow that had been only a few inches from the window of Cracklen's bedroom. "So that's it," Sammie said as she approached the goldenrod. "That must be what's making him sneeze. I wonder how it got here? Probably from all the rain we've been getting lately." Sammie used all of her strength to yank the plants out of the ground, which were rooted so deep into the earth that she found it impossible to snatch up more than a few of the upper stems, and to no avail did she succeed. "They won't even budge! Come on, you stupid things!"
Sammie finally gave up. She collapsed on the ground and began to cry.
"I can't do anything right," she sobbed miserably. "I can't fly a broomstick, do magic, or even do something as simple as pulling a bunch of weeds out of the ground! What good am I to anyone if all I do is make mistakes all the time? And the only reason Uncle Cracklen puts up with me is because Mom and Dad dumped me on him and he feels like he has to." Suddenly, another sneeze exploded from inside the castle, and Sammie was whisked out of her state of self-pity. "That's it! I'm going to do something about this right now!" She leaped to her feet and took up her wand.
"There stands before me a great burden, But I will be the one who takes care of it, Now believe me when I say, If you don't disappear right now then you shall pay, |And with a wave of my wand, You shall be gone!"
As Sammie completed the spell, she was frustrated but not surprised to see that the patch of goldenrod was still in its original place. "Darn it! Why the heck didn't it work? I said all the words right!" In a fit of annoyance, jumped on top of the weeds and began stomping as hard as she could on top of them.
"Sammie?"
She immediately stopped what she was doing, and stood perfectly still. She turned her head over her shoulder and saw Cracklen standing in the doorway of the castle. "I." Sammie started. "I.I found some goldenrod but I couldn't even budge it. I mean I tried, but it's buried too deep in the ground. And then I tried to use magic on it, only that didn't work either."
"Stand aside," Cracklen said. "I'll show you how it's done." Sammie moved to one side, and listened to her uncle as he recited the same spell she had, only with one difference: Instead of using his wand, which he kept hidden in a chest in the castle dungeon, he shot a bolt of electricity from his hand. It encircled the goldenrod and in a single neon blue wink it disappeared. "You see? It's all in the wrist-" Cracklen bellowed another sneeze, and Sammie could almost feel her heart leap into her throat.
She flung open her arms. "There, you see?" she practically shouted, and Cracklen looked at her in astonishment. "I can't even perform a simple spell. And what's worse, I'm making you suffer. What am I doing trying to become a witch anyway? All I do is screw up over and over again!" Sammie suddenly found herself unable to control the tears that she had known were coming ever since she had awakened to her uncle's sneezing. "Why in the world do you put up with me anyway?" As she said this, the tears were streaming down her cheeks in great drops.
"Oh, Sammie dear," Cracklen replied, and held out his arms to her, "come here." He knelt down on one knee as his niece broke across the lawn and jumped into his arms. As she sobbed piteously into his chest, he held her close, running his long fingers through her soft brown hair. "Ssshhh, it's all right. Don't cry."
"But I hate seeing you suffer like this. And when I try to help, I just mess up."
"But don't you see, Sammie? You did help me-that's what you're always doing for me. Just because you make a mistake doesn't mean you didn't do everything in your power to make it right." "I know." Sammie sniffed back a sob and looked up at her uncle, her face cherry-red from crying.
"Here." Cracklen reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a handkerchief, which he handed to Sammie. "Now, how about you dry those crocodile tears?"
She smiled as she accepted the handkerchief. She wiped her face and blew her nose, which made both her and Cracklen laugh.
That night as Cracklen carried his niece into the castle and back down the hall to her bedroom he wasn't surprised to find that she had fallen fast asleep in his arms. "You did well today, little one," he said as he laid Sammie down in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. "I am so very proud of you, and you should be too." Cracklen kissed Sammie's cheek, turned out the light, and tiptoed quietly out of the room.
The following day at the Blue Mountain School for Wizards and Witches, Sammie found it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open. She was resting her chin between her palms, which was the only way she could prevent her head from slipping and hitting the desk. When her teacher, Mrs. Fuller, asked her how to turn a common frog into a handsome prince, Sammie, who had already fallen asleep at her desk, replied, "Mmmmmm.gloom brownies."
The entire class erupted in laughter, and Sammie sat bolt upright in her seat. Mrs. Fuller had her arms crossed over her chest and was glaring at her. "As usual, Sammie, you are incorrect. My suggestion is that you get your sleep at night and not during my class. Maybe then you will be able to answer a simple question."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fuller," Sammie replied, embarrassed. "I was up late last night. I promise, it won't happen again."
At recess that afternoon, Bobby MacMagic, a boy from Sammie's class, cornered her. "Hey, Sammie," the he said. "How's your uncle these days?"
"He's fine," she replied.
"That's good. And his allergies?"
"What about them?"
"I hear these days it's cats that get him going." Bobby paused as Sammie's face twisted into a heated expression. "One more thing: You do know that's a wizard's outfit you've got on, don't you? Girls are supposed to dress in witch's attire, or are you so stupid you didn't know that?"
"My uncle made this outfit for me, and I'm proud to wear it," Sammie replied indignantly.
"Is that so?" Bobby said. "Here, I have something I want you to give him for me."
"What?"
"This." Bobby scooped up a rather large stone and pelted Sammie with it.
"Ouch, that hurt!" Sammie said. "What did you do that for?"
"Because I don't like little wanna-be magic users in my school," answered Bobby, and he hit her with another stone.
Sammie fell to the ground, rubbing her forehead where the stone had struck. When she drew her hand away and looked at it she saw that it was smeared with blood. She glared up at Bobby and in seconds had leaped to her feet. "You creep!" she screamed, and rushed madly at him. Before he knew what was happening, Sammie had trampled him to the ground and was swinging punches at his face from every direction. Bobby managed to get in a few of his own, slamming his fist into Sammie's nose and lower lip, causing them both to bleed. He pulled hard at the sleeve of Sammie's cloak and tore it, which only made her angrier. She punched Bobby in the eye, leaving behind a black and blue mark. It was only when Mrs. Fuller came over a moment later and pulled them apart that both children were forced to discontinue their fighting.
"What is going on here?" Mrs. Fuller demanded.
"She started it, Mrs. Fuller," Bobby said. "Honest. All I did was say hello and she started punching me."
"You're such a liar!" Sammie cried.
"Hush!" Mrs. Fuller snapped.
"But it's true," Sammie insisted. "He started throwing stones at me-"
"Enough! I don't want to hear anymore. I want the both of you to stay for an hour after school and write me an essay on the consequences of fighting."
That afternoon when the dismissal bell rang at 3:15, instead of lining up at the door of the classroom with the other students Sammie and Bobby remained in their seats. After everyone had left, Mrs. Fuller handed them each a piece of loose-leaf paper and instructed them on how to write a four- paragraph composition on the "consequences of fighting."
"And neither of you are leaving until you've completed the assignment," Mrs. Fuller finished firmly.
"I'll get you for this, Sammie," Bobby whispered to her from his desk across the room.
"Whatever, Bobby," muttered Sammie, and began to write.
The Consequences of Fighting By Sammie De Spell
The desire to fight is a very bad quality to have. You can get into trouble or worse, get hurt. Even when people tease you or make jokes about one of your friends or somebody in your family, it still doesn't give you the right to get into a fight. Some people get into fights because they're board or just plain like to fight. But this still doesn't make it okay. People should be polite and friendly to each other, but when we do things like get into fights what kind of exa`ple are we setting for children? That's right, not a very good one. If they see older kids or grown-ups fighting, then they will think it is all right. We all need to be polite and nice to each other so that children will see us and act just like we do. Sometimes people will fight over silly things, like who will get the last free swing on the swing set or the last cookie in the cookie jar. Instead of fighting, we should be polite and offer the last of something to the other person. That way we can avoid a fight. Fighting doesn't get us anything except maybe a black eye or a detention. We should all try to be a little more polite to other people and that way we can avoid getting into a fight with them.
Sammie was the first to complete her essay, and she raised her hand. "Mrs. Fuller, I'm finished."
Mrs. Fuller looked up at Sammie from her desk at the head of the room. "All right, Sammie," Mrs. Fuller replied. "Bring it here and then you may go."
Bobby glared at Sammie as she scooped up her satchel, which was propped up against the right leg of her desk. After she handed Mrs. Fuller her composition, Sammie was heading toward the door when Bobby stuck his tongue out at her. In return she stuck out hers before Mrs. Fuller could notice. Sammie then slipped through the door and headed down the path back to Cracklen's castle.
On her way home from school, Sammie kept thinking about what her uncle was going to say when she showed up an hour late. He'll probably turn me into a toad, she thought, although she highly doubted it. Cracklen had always been very kind to her, and if she did something that he didn't approve of the worst he could do was send her to her room.
When she arrived at the castle, Sammie hesitated about opening the door. However, she figured that the longer she waited, the angrier Cracklen would be. So Sammie pushed open the door as quietly as she could and stepped into the hallway, being careful not to make a sound. As she sauntered down the hallway in the direction of the library where her uncle usually spent his afternoons, a voice stopped her in her tracks. "So there you are."
"Eeep," Sammie squeaked, and peered into the dungeon to see Cracklen standing over a bubbling cauldron.
"Where have you been for the passed hour?" he demanded. "And what happened to your face? That's quite a nasty-looking cuts you've got there. And your cloak is torn."
Sammie sighed. "I was in detention."
"Detention?" Cracklen's face looked as shocked as his voice sounded. "For what?"
"Fighting."
"You? Fighting? Sammie, I'm surprised at you. You aren't one to-"
"But it wasn't my fault. It was Bobby MacMagic. He started throwing stones at me." Sammie didn't mention the part about Bobby mocking Cracklen, since she knew it would only infuriate her uncle. Like Sammie, he too didn't appreciate the jokes others made concerning his allergies.
"Well," Cracklen said, "I suppose you're not completely to blame. But the next time something like this happens I don't want you to resort to violence. Instead you are to come to me or another adult. Now come in and let me wash that cut. Afterward we'll go into the library and I will mend your robe."
Sammie sat down on a stool while Cracklen gently disinfected her forehead and dabbed a wet washcloth on her bottom lip. "Ouch," Sammie cried, and drew back, "that stings!"
"Stop flinching," Cracklen said. "I'm almost finished."
After Cracklen had tended to Sammie's injuries, they exited the dungeon and went into the library. While Cracklen sat in the big armchair with the robe thrown over his lap stitching the torn sleeve, Sammie sat at his feet staring up at him in complete awe. "So, tell me about this bully of yours," Cracklen said after a moment.
"There's nothing much to say about Bobby," Sammie replied. "Except that he's a big jerk!"
"People who do things such as throw stones at others are usually jerks."
"No kidding. Uncle Cracklen, are there any spells you can cast on Bobby so he'll stop bothering me?"
"Unfortunately that's not something I can do. You must learn to handle things on your own, Sammie. Remember I won't always be there to help you out of every unfortunate situation you come across. What are you going to do when you grow up?"
"Oh, by then I'll know plenty of magic."
"Magic shouldn't be used to solve every one of your problems. Some, but not all the time."
"Why not? What's wrong with using magic all the time?"
"Because if you use it too often, then you won't learn to do things for yourself."
"Kind of like when Mom and Dad tell me to clean my room and I cast a spell that puts all my toys and books back on the shelf-well, if I knew the first thing about casting a spell then I could do it."
Cracklen smiled. "That's right."
"Do you know the first thing I'm going to do once I learn to use magic right?"
"What's that?"
"I'm going to create a special potion that will rid you of your allergies. Then it won't matter how many flowers bloom in the springtime and we won't have to worry about animal hair either."
"That's sweet, Sammie," Cracklen replied. "Thank you. And look." He held up her cloak, the tear in the sleeve now patched together. "I've mended your cloak."
A wide grin spread across Sammie's face, and she got quickly to her feet. "Oh, thank you, Uncle Cracklen!" she exclaimed. "It's perfect!" She bounced onto his lap and gave him a tight hug. "You're the greatest uncle in the world!"