“What do you mean by ‘whoever you really are’?” asked Miss Blossom, peering out from under her huge eyelashes. “Haven’t we just established that?”
“You have,” I said with the best sneer I could manage under these conditions. “You … you could be just about anybody, for all I know.”
“Well, then,” said Miss Blossom, “please wipe that silly look off your face, step outside the classroom, close the door behind you, then stand and wait until I call you.”
My chance to escape! The school doors were all unlocked on the inside. I could easily get away and race home. Instead, all I did was wipe, step, close, stand like a dumb dodo—and wait.
“What’s up?” came the voice from my pocket.
I groaned. “Don’t even ask,” I said, hoping I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life.
I couldn’t have waited more than three minutes, when the order was given from behind the door: “You may return now, Rupert!”
I did, and was I ever glad I hadn’t turned chicken and run off! Standing right where Miss Blossom had stood was a familiar figure all in black—black dress, long black cape, and over long, charcoal-black straight hair, a tall, pointed black hat. From under the brim of the hat, a pair of eyes, slanted and glassy green, shot out sparks that fell hissing onto the teacher’s desk. The mountain of lemon-yellow curls was gone. The long eyelashes were gone. The pink dress with the bows and frills was gone.
No, not quite gone. Because those items were all lying on a desk—mine, as it turned out. The yellow curls that were now nothing but a collapsed wig, the eyelashes that looked more than ever like a pair of dead centipedes, and the ridiculous pink dress. That was, for the moment, all that remained of Miss Blossom.
7
The Stupidest Man Alive
“Satisfied?” inquired Miss Switch.
“Well … well, why did you have to go and disguise yourself in that loony outfit?” I asked, rising to my own defense. “No … no wonder I didn’t know who you were.”
“Loony?” said Miss Switch.
Oops! I could tell by the tone of her voice that I had made a huge mistake. On a scale of one to ten, it was several million degrees below the temperature of ice. I could practically feel her glass-green stare boring a hole in my lame brain.
Now I have to admit that much as I liked Miss Switch, every time I met up with her as her actual self, it was pretty scary It always took me a while to get used to the idea of what she was. I mean, when you’ve spent all your life thinking certain things about certain kinds of people, it’s hard to start thinking something else on a moment’s notice. So even though I knew I’d be crazy to think good old Miss Switch would ruin my future by turning me into a toad or a bat or a lizard just to prove a point, still, a witch is a witch is a witch. There are certain things in life it pays to bear in mind, and it seems to me that’s one of them.
“What I meant to say is ‘unusual,’ Miss Switch. It’s really okay. Actually, not bad at all,” I said, backpedaling like crazy. “How did you come up with that … er … interesting hairdo?”
“That came from a picture in a fashion magazine I found while I was swooping around one night,” Miss Switch said. “Of course it wasn’t exactly a new magazine.”
I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut on this one. “Where did you find it?” was all I asked.
“I happened to float by a house where some people were clearing out their attic. I spotted the magazine, and went floating back for it later. And I found the dress there as well. What a find! Don’t you agree?”
“Sure do!” I replied, getting smarter by the minute.
“I designed the eyelashes myself!” Miss Switch said proudly
“The finishing touch!” I said.
“Of course, I had some trouble with the lip paint,” Miss Switch said, giving me a narrowed, sideways look.
“It … it looked fine to me,” I said.
“Now I know you’re lying, Rupert!” Miss Switch snapped. “But the point is, does your fertile mind have any ideas as to how to modify the fashion picture?”
This sounded like a question loaded with land mines. I hesitated. Then I hesitated further.
“Oh, come, come, Rupert,” said Miss Switch. “I need some help here.”
“Well,” I said, “how about … how about getting rid of some of the frills and bows on the dress.” My heart was going a mile a minute as I waited to see how Miss Switch would take this.
Her eyes narrowed further. Her eyebrows raised. Then she dropped down at her desk, picked up a pencil, and started making notes. “Rid of frills and bows,” she muttered as she wrote. “Next?”
I was feeling a little bolder. “You might trim the eyelashes,” I suggested.
“Trim eyelashes,” wrote Miss Switch. “Next?”
“I’d work a little harder on the … er … lip paint,” I said. “Straighten it out a bit.”
“Work on lip paint,” wrote Miss Switch. “Next?”
“That leaves the wig,” I said, and gave a deep sigh. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you about that.”
“Hopeless?” said Miss Switch.
“Sort of,” I replied.
“Hopeless. Do the best you can,” wrote Miss Switch. She laid down her pencil with a thump. “Now that’s done with, but I can’t tell you how good it feels to be back in my own cozy outfit. Even that gray number I wore in the past is better than my latest disguise.”
“Then why don’t you just go back to it, Miss Switch?” I asked. “The class would sure be glad to have you back.”
“Impossible!” said Miss Switch. “I can’t blow my