The Power of Poppy Pendle Read Online Free Page A

here sometimes.”
    “Ahhhh.” Miss Corns nodded. “Noisy brothers and sisters at home?”
    “Not exactly,” Poppy confessed. “I’m an only child, actually, but my parents like to watch me study, if that makes sense.”
    “They watch you study?” Miss Corns walked into the room. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
    Poppy gave a nervous laugh. “Well, they care a lot about me being at Ruthersfield, you see. My great-grandmother Mabel Ratcliff went here, and they want me to do well.”
    “And I’m sure you will,” said Miss Corns.
    “But they care so much about me being a witch that it’s almost a bit, you know, smothering,” Poppy finished guiltily.
    “Smothering?” Miss Corns questioned, raising a gray, rather hairy eyebrow.
    “My mum always sits in the same room with me when I’m doing my homework,” Poppy explained. “She wants to keep me company, and she’s very quiet because she doesn’t want to disturb me, so she won’t read because of the pages’ rustling, and she doesn’t knit or anything. So she just sits there and watches me.” Poppy paused for a moment, then finished up. “It’s a bit hard to concentrate when someone’s staring right at you.”
    “I see,” Miss Corns said, and judging from the sympathetic look on her face, Poppy got the feeling that she really did understand.
    There was a companionable silence as Miss Corns moved around the room, straightening the odd book into place and dimming some of the lights. She paused in front of the long back wall, where a display of gilt-framed certificates hung. “Well, your great-grandmother Mabel certainly was an astonishing student,” she commented. “Come and take a look, Poppy. She was voted Witch of the Year six times at school.” Poppy got up and walked over to Miss Corns, who gestured at a row of certificates. Each one had Mabel Ratcliff’s name engraved on it in perfect gold script.
    “What do you have to do to be voted Witch of the Year?” she couldn’t help asking.
    “Simple,” Miss Corns replied. “You have to be the best. Nothing short of perfect. And it’s not just about the magic, either,” she said, tapping at her chest. “It’s about what’s in here. You must be committed to your art, passionate about it.”
    “Well, I’ll never be Witch of the Year.” Poppy sighed. “Which will disappoint my parents no end.”
    “Oh, Poppy, you’re an extremely talented young witch.”
    “Thank you.” Poppy nodded glumly. Tucking a clump of loose brown hair back into one of her braids, she walked along the wall, staring at the names of past witches who had achieved this highest of honors bestowed on a Ruthersfield girl. Poppy stopped in front of an empty space where a dusty rectangular outline was still visible. “Why was this certificate taken down?” she asked Miss Corns.
    “That was awarded to Madeline Reynolds.” Miss Corns lowered her voice. “She went over to the dark side and became one of the most evil witches this century has ever seen. Ended up in Scrubs Prison. Hard to believe she got voted Witch of the Year. Although,” Miss Corns admitted, “she was apparently rather famous for her spell chanting. Everyone always said Madeline Reynolds had the most extraordinary voice.”
    “Yes, she loved opera,” Poppy added. “I’m studying her for my biography project.”
    “Indeed. That’s an interesting choice.” Miss Corns gave Poppy a strange look, but she didn’t say anything further on the subject. “Turn the lights off when you leave, please, Poppy. The door will lock behind you automatically.”
    After Miss Corns had gone, Poppy sat back down at her table and stared at one of the books she had found. On the cover was a picture of the young Madeline Reynolds, smartly dressed in her Ruthersfield uniform. She was smiling at the camera, but it was an automatic “say cheese” sort of smile that didn’t reach beyond her mouth. Poppy was sure she could see a wistful longing in Madeline