Free Missing Magic by Lexi Connor

hadn’t found your magical powers yet.”
    B shook her head. “The Magical Rhyming Society was worried about
me
?”
    Mr. Bishop nodded. “Waiting for magic to emerge is hard on anyone. We all remember what it was like. In my department, I study different kinds of magic. You, B, have an extraordinary gift — a rare and powerful form of magic.”
    B felt like she was wading through molasses, justtrying to keep up with this information. “You mean … Mr. Bell didn’t win the lottery?” she said.
    Mr. Bishop laughed. “He did win. But, it may not have been entirely by chance.” He winked. “I suspect he misses you kids, and when he’s done loafing around on a Hawaiian beach, he may even want his job back. Not right away, though. I’m enjoying myself here. And it’s clear that the average sixth-grader in this town has a lot to learn about the power of words. I think I’ll stick around.”
    “Good.” B smiled. And, she realized, she meant it. She always knew there was something she liked about Mr. Bishop, even when he was hard on her. This explained everything.
    Almost everything.
    “I didn’t steal the tickets, you know,” she said, relieved that she could finally set the record straight. “I was thinking about them when I spelled the word ‘disguise.’”
    Mr. Bishop threw back his head and laughed. “I should have known! My biggest clue about your spelling magic was the chaos you’d caused. But Inever made the connection with ‘disguise.’ You must have figured it out yesterday, when I caught you in the room with the tickets.”
    “I had a little help,” B said. She looked over at Mozart. “S-P-E-A-K.”
    “Well, it’s about time you two knuckleheads figured this out,” Mozart squeaked. “I’ve been trying to tell both of you: She’s a witch, and he’s a witch, and nobody took the tickets, she just hid ‘em is all, and I’ve been squeaking myself hoarse over here, and does anybody pay any attention to the hamster?
Nooo,
you just go on being dunderheads, having your spelling bees and blaming the wrong people left and right. Every time that girl got up to spell, I had to burrow deep in my sawdust for protection. No telling what might happen! And you! Big guy there, who should have known better, giving her the word ‘explosion'? Next time, just bring a stick of dynamite into the classroom. That’s what that girl is. Dynamite.”
    “Enough!” Mr. Bishop clapped his hands over his ears. “I agree with you, Mozart, but enough already.”
    “Sorry, Mozart,” B said. “S-P-E-E-C-H-L-E-S-S.” And Mozart went back to softly cheeping in hamster-talk.
    “I was sure you were going to tell everyone I was the thief,” B continued.
    “I just had a feeling that I should hold out,” Mr. Bishop said. “I was right, B. Your magic is powerful indeed. There are very few witches alive today who can do things like make animals talk. And your spells last awhile, don’t they?” He laughed. “The firemen had a terrible time getting the alarm system turned off. And Coach Lyons is still growling about the athletic field being covered in sand…. Did you have a hand in that, I wonder?”
    B felt guilty again, but Mr. Bishop put his hand on her shoulder and spoke a rhyme.
    “B’s power is sure to bring her notoriety.
    Bring her now to the Magical Rhyming Society!”
    A strong wind rushed around her and Mr. Bishop. The room seemed to spin and blur, and in a moment they were transported to the most enormous library B had ever seen — a circular room several stories high, with bookshelves lining everywall, and hundreds of magicians in glittering robes climbing the ladders and walkways to reach the books. The whole room positively hummed with rhymes. Whorls of sparkling light and showers of twinkling stars danced in the air with every spell cast. A wonderful fragrance, like berries in spring, and summer roses, filled the air.
    “Welcome, B, to the Magical Rhyming Society,” Mr. Bishop said. “Only