The Magic School for the Utterly Hopeless (Completed/First Draft)

Chapter Five

When the carriage drops me off back home, I race upstairs and change.

Keeping the RED TUNIC OF SHAME on for longer than I have to is just not happening. Yeah, no thanks. NO WAY. Also, it's getting really prickly and itchy. Seriously, what are they made from? Poisoned dragon talons or something?

Then it's off to my parent's shop. It's located right next to The Magical Institution. It's not that far away. I take my bicycle.

With all the other children down the street boarding at their schools, my neighbourhood is deserted. I'm glad. I have no desire to be snickered at again.

I then make a few turns and come to the city's day market. It's busy. I see a wizard selling giant bloodsucking snails -- for some reason people like eating those things -- and the same old hag trying to peddle cheap wands.

I bought one of her wands a few years back, hoping it may improve my magic. The wand blew up in my face after I tried casting a simple unlocking spell on a cookie jar. My eyebrows were singed to a crisp.

After the market, I get to the shop. And before I go inside, I stare across the street to The Magical Institution. It's a palace. Like a fairy-tale palace. I can see students with smiles on their faces walking through the courtyard.

I'm not joking, there's a fountain in the middle of it flowing with loomba juice. It's like liquid slithering silly snakes.

I wish I was there. It looks like they're having so much fun. I wonder what they did today? Definitely not trying to levitate a pinecone that's for sure.

Uh, oh. I see the teacher who gave me the entrance exam. She got hit by one of the hare's cannonball turds. That was painful to watch. Did I mention they were exploding too?

I don't stick around and bolt inside.

Monster Ghost Hunters Inc. That's the name of my parents' business.

My mom's behind the counter. She's talking to a customer right now. It's a conjuror with a brilliant purple robe.

Waiting, I glance at all the shelves lined with different colored and shaped bottles. Each one holds the ghost of a monster, all captured by my parents and Hank's.

The conjuror soon leaves.

'What did he want?' I ask, walking up to the counter.

'He has a ghost of a rapsor haunting his owlery,' mom replies. 'No dead owls yet but that could change.'

A rapsor is a grotesque flying monster with pustule sores and bat-like wings.

'Yeah, he should definitely get rid of it,' I say. 'And sooner rather than later.'

'So, how was your first day?'

'It was interesting.'

Well, it was.

'And I didn't wreck anything.'

I could tell her about my magical mishaps but I want to forget them.

'That's always good,' says mom.

'Did you go hunting today?'

'We sure did. The ghost of a jackag made a home under someone's sink. The witch thought her pipes were just acting up. Then she looked. She had such a scare.'

'Did it give up a fight?'

The ghosts of monsters aren't as dangerous as the living versions but they're still dangerous. They can still cause damage and cause harm.

'It took a swing at your dad. He's all right. He may have a black eye tomorrow, though.'

Yikes.

'You captured it, right?'

'Of course. We're not titled the best monster ghost hunters in the city for no reason.'

'Where is dad?'

'He's in the back with Bob. They're about to bottle the jackag.'

Ooh. Fun.

And Bob's Hank's dad, by the way.

I step into the back. It's filled with empty bottles and, of course, the Bottling Machine. It's a huge contraption, taking up most of the room. It has a lot of turny valves, buttons, a big door, a tube and pipes sticking out in all different directions.

My parents told me how it works but I forget. Honestly, like most things they say, it just goes in one ear and out the other. But if I'm going to be a monster ghost hunter one day I should really know.

A ghoulish growl hits me and I see my dad and Bob wrestling the wispy apparition of a jackag. Spells of vibrant gold pulsate from their wands and engulf the transparent monster.

The rat-like creature with its bulging eyes, spikes on its back and long claws is trying desperately to escape. It's stretching and wriggling all over the place.

But with a heave of wands, the ghost is thrown inside the Bottling Machine. Bob then slams the door shut. My dad turns a few valves, presses several buttons and that's it. A big red bottle pops out of the tube.

'That looked tough,' I say.

'It sure was,' dad replies, breathing heavily. He takes a seat and so does Bob.

My dad's the spitting image of me. Scrawny with brown hair. Or is it, I'm the spitting image of him?

I walk over to the Bottling Machine, grab the red bottle and lift it up to get a better look. Inside is a swirl of compact monster ghost. Small, squished eyes are staring right at me. It looks mad. Eddy comes to mind.

'How was school?' dad asks.

I give him the same reply I gave mom. 'Interesting.'

'Is Hank with you?' asks Bob, scratching his big belly.

'No, he got dropped off at your place.'

'And how was he?'

'We didn't obliterate the place, so it went well.'

I mean, it was already obliterated before we got there.

'Your magic will get better, trust me,' says Bob. 'And when it does, you and Hank can join us hunting.'

That's the dream. I want to become the best monster ghost hunter not just in the city but all the land.