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

make ear wax, and how the hippo cleans its teeth.’
    Anil sighed and sat down on his hands.
    ‘That all sounds so brilliant,’ he said longingly. ‘I wish…I do wish I
wasn’t
going to die. I’d love to learn all that stuff.’
    ‘You haven’t got time just to tell us about the ear wax, have you?’ asked Winsome wistfully.
    ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Miss Broom. ‘Because this is really much too serious. In fact, I think you had all better sit at your tables.’
    Numbly, Class Six did as they were told.
    ‘Now,’ said Miss Broom sweetly.
    And she began to dance.
    It was an old-fashioned sort of dance. It looked the sort of thing a cannibal might do round a cauldron; or perhaps like the dance a bear might do who was celebrating finding an enormous hive
full of honey.
    Class Six watched her, and even though Miss Broom looked really funny they didn’t feel like laughing at all.
    ‘Look!
’ shouted Serise.
    There was a thing like a tiny white rugby ball flying through the air towards the front of the classroom.
    ‘There’s another one!’ cried Slacker.
    They were everywhere now, a whole blizzard of tiny white capsules, streaming through the air and heading for…
    Miss Broom shivered happily and patted gently at her springy sandy hair.
    ‘Lovely,’ she murmured, as Class Six gaped in horror. ‘Beautiful. There’s nothing like a community of nice active witch-nits charging round one’s veins to perk up
one’s magic. But only if one is a witch, it seems. Otherwise I’m afraid these nits really are agents of doom.’
    There was a kerfuffle at the front of the classroom and Rodney’s head and pink bare shoulders popped up behind Miss Broom’s desk. He gazed round at everyone, screamed, and ducked
down again.
    Slacker put up a huge hand to feel for his antennae. They weren’t there.
    ‘I can’t pick up Foodie FM any more,’ he said. ‘Blow it! There was going to be a recipe for blackberry and ginger crumble on the half hour.’
    ‘My arms have got shorter,’ whispered Jack, as if he could hardly believe it.
    ‘And my trunk,’ said someone.
    ‘And my chest isn’t hairy any more.’
    ‘But of course,’ said Miss Broom. ‘Well, I couldn’t let my whole class drop dead, could I? People would have noticed. Your parents might have been upset. Complained,
even. Especially if you’d all turned into leopards first.’
    ‘So do you mean…we’re cured?’ asked Winsome, hardly able to believe it.
    ‘Of course!’ said Miss Broom. ‘Well, you’re back to normal, anyway. Yes, just as you were before, except for being a little older and possibly just a tiny bit wiser. And
as for the nits, snacking on your odd non-witchy brainwaves has perked them up no end. Yes, I can feel them fizzing away inside my brain like sherbet.’
    ‘You mean you’ve got all our nits
on your own head
?’ Serise said.
    ‘That’s right. They’re a great help. I’m not sure what I’d do without them. Probably be rather evil, I should imagine.’
    Class Six looked at each other.
    ‘So…
aren’t
you evil, then, Miss Broom?’ asked Anil, at last, politely.
    ‘I mean, we know you’ve been really nice so far,’ said Winsome. ‘Teaching us our tables and all that. And PE was fantastic. But…’
    Miss Broom seemed rather offended. ‘Really!’ she said. ‘Do I
look
evil?’
    Class Six looked at each other some more.
    ‘Not really,’ said Winsome at last.
    ‘Not
really
?’
    ‘It’s just that the things we see in your eyes are a bit frightening sometimes,’ explained Anil. ‘You know, all those ruined temples and pterodactyls and screaming ghosts
and stuff.’
    ‘And the skeletons,’ said someone, feelingly.
    Miss Broom put her hands up to her face in dismay. ‘Skeletons?’ she echoed.
    ‘And hands with huge claws,’ said Emily. ‘Wearing black nail varnish.’
    Miss Broom clutched at her sandy hair in horror.
    ‘Oh
no
!’ she said. ‘That’s just
terrible
! Oh my dears, you poor things.