Class Six and the Nits of Doom by Sally Prue Page A

convention.
    ‘Great icicles of Snark,’ said Miss Broom. ‘How utterly terrible. I’d no idea what a simple nit infestation could do to human children. I mean, your symptoms are bad
enough, but those witch-nits have set up such nasty brain-waves in your poor human heads that they actually sent me most of the way to Timbuktu. You’ve no idea what a shock it was for me to
find myself in the Sahara desert. I’m not sure the camels will ever get over the surprise.’
    Miss Broom looked round at them all again.
    ‘This is highly dangerous,’ she said.
    ‘Yes!’ said Emily. ‘Rodney wants to eat us!’
    ‘I can see that,’ said Miss Broom. ‘But that’s not the worst of it. Now, all of you, listen to me. A witch-nit infestation obviously does all sorts of strange things to
humans.’
    ‘It gives you green toes,’ said Anil.
    ‘And purple fluff in your belly button,’ said Slacker Punchkin.
    ‘And even worse, they seem to make your veins clog up so in the end they will stop working altogether,’ finished up Miss Broom, sadly.
    Everyone gasped.
    ‘But that would kill us!’ said Winsome, aghast.
    ‘They
are
nits of doom!’ said Anil.
    ‘I don’t want to die,’ Emily said, very quickly. ‘I don’t want to die! I want to grow up and wear high heels and worry if my handbag’s the right
shape!’
    ‘Handbags?’ echoed Serise, outraged. ‘Blow handbags! This is just
so
unfair. This means I’ll never get to start a weapons factory or become president of the
universe.’
    Winsome nodded sadly.
    ‘Or be a doctor,’ she said.
    ‘Or drive a car!’
    ‘Or be a model!’
    ‘Or have my own horse!’
    ‘Or a restaurant!’
    ‘Or a huge train lay-out!’
    Miss Broom shook her head sorrowfully.
    ‘I suppose I must have left the cupboard door unlocked,’ she said. ‘And someone tried my hat on. That must have been Rodney, mustn’t it, as he’s the most
changed.’
    Jack spoke up. ‘Will we
all
turn into animals first?’
    ‘My dear Class Six,’ said Miss Broom. ‘Turn into animals? Die all over the place? Great turnips of Tresco, I hope not! But you must all be very brave and clever. The really
hugely important thing is that you
mustn’t scratch
. You see, all the nits have come out of your pores, now you’ve called them, and they’re sitting on your skin. But if you
scratch or move suddenly you’ll frighten them and they’ll go back in and refuse to come out again. So
don’t scratch
. All right?’
    At once Class Six’s skins begin to shiver and itch.
    And itch and itch and itch.
    Class Six clenched their fists and screwed up their faces and tried as hard as they could not to scratch, even though they had little tickles and prickles and creepy feelings as if spiders were
running about all over them.
    ‘I’ve just got to scratch,’ said Jack desperately.
    ‘Don’t!’ said Winsome.
    ‘I must!’ said Anil. ‘I feel as if I’ve got earwigs in my ears.’
    ‘Don’t!’ said Winsome.
    ‘It’s no good,’ gasped Serise. ‘We’re all going to die!’
    ‘I can’t stand it!’ squeaked Emily. ‘I’ve got to scratch, I’ve got to—’
    ‘Great bananas of Bongo!’ exclaimed Miss Broom. ‘My dear Class Six, what am I?’
    Class Six blinked at her.
    ‘Winsome,’ Miss Broom said. ‘You tell them. What am I?’
    Winsome frowned with concentration, holding her hands together to stop herself scratching. ‘You’re a…a…a…
ditch
, Miss Broom.’
    Miss Broom laughed a strange mad laugh that raised the fur on the back of all their necks.
    ‘Nearly right,’ she said. ‘I’m a
witch
. That’s what I am, a witch, a witch, a WITCH! That means, amongst other things, that I’m the best teacher in the
world. I can take you down to the centre of the earth to see the continents floating along on their oceans of molten rock. I can take you up in an invisible balloon to watch the comets screaming
through the sky. I can show you the secrets of the gnome-finch, the way you