The Power of Poppy Pendle Read Online Free

spectacular horsey sneer. The girls at the table giggled, and Megan Roberts whispered behind her hands, “Poppy is so weird!” Megan was flipping through the May issue of Young Witch , and had stopped at a page showing a smiling girl in a black-and-green-striped leotard, sitting astride a broomstick. At the top of the page, in bold letters, it said, TEN EXERCISES TO HELP YOU TONE YOUR BROOMSTICK-FLYING MUSCLES . Sucking in her stomach, Megan sat up straight and looked around the table. “Stomach in, shoulders back when you’re riding a broomstick,” she said. All the other girls copied, except for Poppy, who was staring at a glossy picture of a caramel tart.
    “Poppy doesn’t need to practice her exercises,” Megan said, carefully balancing a spoon across the tip of her index finger. “She’s been flying in secret.”
    “I have not!” Poppy said, feeling her face grow warm. “I’ve never even held a broom before today, except to sweep the floor with.”
    “Then how come you were so good?”
    “I don’t really know, but I didn’t like it,” Poppy admitted. “It actually made me feel a bit sick.”
    Megan smirked at her friend Fanny Freeman. “That’s so dumb!” she said.
    “I couldn’t even get my broomstick off the ground,” Fanny groaned, slumping forward over the table. “Being a Novice was so much easier. All this extra hard work they’re piling on. I’m never going to graduate.”
    “Do you want to be a witch, then?” Poppy asked, and Fanny lifted her head to stare at Poppy.
    “Of course I want to be a witch, cake head. What’s the point of getting the gift if you don’t use it?”
    “I’m not sure,” Poppy said softly, chewing the end of her braid. She didn’t have an answer for that.

    In history class, their first big project as Intermediate Witches was to pick one famous Ruthersfield alumna to write about. Poppy chose Madeline Reynolds, which caused quite an upset because she was a witch who had gone over to the dark side. Miss Jenkins, the history teacher, tried to steer Poppy toward someone else. “We have so many marvelous witches from our past to admire. What about Betty Tumly, who invented the lost-and-found tool? You simply program in what’s been lost, a glove, your house keys, even your homework. Then sweep the finder around and it will beep when the missing item has been located. Or Katherine Jones?” Miss Jenkins suggested. “Now, there was an extraordinary woman. She used her magic to invent chocolate-flavored brussels sprouts, all the nutrition of regular sprouts but delicious for children to eat. And let’s not forget your great-grandmother Mabel Ratcliff.”
    “Oh, I’ll never forget her,” Poppy said.
    “That quick-growing hair potion she came up with is terrific for bald-headed men, and you can get it in such lovely colors.” Miss Jenkins scrunched up her face in concern. “These woman were amazing, Poppy. Why pick Madeline Reynolds?”
    “Because she interests me.”
    “She was head girl at Ruthersfield, a straight-A student, and then she went on to become the worst storm brewer in history. Joined the dark side. We had monsoon weather for six straight years until she was put behind bars.” Miss Jenkins shuddered. “It was Madeline Reynolds who washed away the whole bottom half of Italy. Why would you write about someone like that?”
    “To find out why she did it,” Poppy said. “I think she must have been very unhappy.” And then under her breath so Miss Jenkins couldn’t hear, she whispered, “Maybe she didn’t like being a witch.”

    That afternoon Poppy stayed late in the library, sitting at one of the long tables, surrounded by a stack of books on the life of Madeline Reynolds.
    “You can check those out if you like,” Miss Corns, the magical management teacher, said, poking her head around the door. It was strangely quiet. Even Ms. Gilbert, the librarian, had left.
    “I know.” Poppy looked embarrassed. “It’s just easier to work