Return to Groosham Grange by Anthony Horowitz

to happen, Jill. And soon . . .”
    “Maybe you should go to the heads, David.”
    “And tell them what?” David sighed. “They’d never listen to me.”
    “Look out!” Jill gestured in the direction of the school. “I think your parents are coming back.”
    “Do you want to meet them?”
    “No thanks.” Jill hurried off. She stopped a few paces away and turned round. “Don’t worry, David,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on Vincent.”
    Over by the tent, Vincent glanced suddenly toward them. Had he overheard what she had just said?
    But then Mr. Helliwell reached David, still pushing his father in the wheelchair.
    “An excellent school,” Mr. Eliot was saying. “I am most impressed. Of course, it is a little unnatural for boys and girls to be here together. At Beton College, where I went, there were only boys. In fact, even the headmaster’s wife was a boy. But I suppose that’s progress . . .”
    “Absolutely.” Mr. Helliwell smiled politely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” The teacher hurried off toward the tent.
    Mr. Eliot turned to his son. “Well, David,” he said. “I can see it was a good decision to send you here.”
    “Your father does make wonderful decisions,” Mrs. Eliot agreed.
    “I have suggested to Mr. Helliwell a little more use of the cane,” Mr. Eliot went on. He nodded to himself. “What I always say is that a good beating never hurt anyone.”
    Mrs. Eliot frowned. “But, darling, if it didn’t hurt, how could it be a good beating?”
    “No, my love. What I mean is—”
    But before Mr. Eliot could either explain or demonstrate what he meant, a bell rang. The prize-giving was about to begin.
    Mr. and Mrs. Eliot, Mildred and David joined the other parents. What with the narrow entrance and the number of people trying to get in, it was another quarter of an hour before they finally took their places. David looked around him, at the rows of seats stretched out underneath the canvas and the platform raised at the far end with the staff of Groosham Grange taking their places along it. He saw Vincent, sitting on his own. Then Mr. Kilgraw stood up and everyone hushed.
    But already there was something wrong. David looked one way, then another. Something had caught his eye. What was it? And then he saw, right at the back, near the entrance, an empty seat.
    Mr. Kilgraw had begun to speak, but David didn’t hear a word. He was scanning the audience, searching through the faces, the boys and the girls, the teachers and the parents . . .
    But she wasn’t there. The empty seat.
    Jill had promised to keep an eye on Vincent. Vincent had overheard her. And now Jill had disappeared.

Cracks
    G ood afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Kilgraw began. The flaps had been drawn across the tent to protect him from the sun, but just to be safe he was also wearing a slightly incongruous straw hat. “Welcome to Groosham Grange on this, our annual prize-giving day. May I begin by apologizing on behalf of the heads, Mr. Fitch and Mr. Teagle, who are unable to attend today. Mr. Fitch has yellow fever. Mr. Teagle has scarlet fever. If they get too close to each other, they go a nasty shade of orange.
    “This has been a very successful year for Groosham Grange. Some might even say a magical year. I am pleased to tell you that our new biology laboratory has been built by workmen who were actually created in our old biology laboratory. Well done, eleventh graders! Our Ecology Club has been busy and we now have our own Tropical Rain Forest on the south side of the island. Congratulations also to the Drama Club. They really brought Frankenstein to life. So, for that matter, did our physics class.
    “It’s not all work at Groosham Grange, of course. Our French class visited France. Our Ancient Greek class visited Ancient Greece. A school inspector visited us. And if you happen to pass through the cemetery, I hope you’ll visit him. As usual, our staff has made many sacrifices. I would like to