Free Avis Blackthorn: Is Not an Evil Wizard! by Jack Simmonds Page B

be, it just looked
haughty and said: “ Boys are not allowed anywhere near girl’s
dorms!” Then it floated off back through the wall in a huff.
    Our attention with Tina’s quest (and Tina
herself) was all but abolished by Partington in one fell swoop the
next afternoon, when he announced the most terrifying news
ever.
    He ran into the room two minutes late,
skidding on the stone, sweating at the temples and looking round at
us with a terrified expression.
    “Now, there has been a slight… oversight in
this area and… it’s not my decision,” He said, polishing his
glasses, wiping his brow and pacing up and down. “But because of
Magisteer Grenadine’s illness, her form will not be taking part in
the friendly Riptide match tomorrow afternoon. Which means one form
had to take their place, and er… well, we were chosen.”
    There was a horrible intake of breath and
much farting. “What?…” called Simon. “But we don’t even know how to
play!”
    “I know,” said Partington. “If I would have
known our first game was tomorrow, we would have been out on that
pitch the very first day practicing! Our first match was not
supposed meant to be played until the second year!”
    Call me naive, but I didn’t know we had to do
any type of sports or activities at Hailing Hall. I just assumed
that we studied Magic and it would be a quiet boys utopia, but this
was beyond my coping mechanism and I felt a full blown meltdown
ready to exude at any moment.
    Partington carried on rather hurriedly. “So
today’s lesson is cancelled, instead we will be learning the rules
of Riptide.” Partington carried on in this rather rushed tone,
before Graham and Dawn managed to convince him to take ten minutes
to himself and come back. He said that was a good idea, and that he
would return with the rule book.
    When he went, we all burst into terrified
shouts.
    Jess: “How can this be happening!?”
    Simon: “I want to go home!”
    Graham: “You’re all a bunch of pansies!”
    Dawn: “In front of the whole school? You lot
better be good!”
    Florence: “Is the field muddy?”
    Robin: “I hate Sports!”
    Jake and Gret: “We love Riptide!”
    Ellen: “It sounds scary!”
    Joanna: “Oh my god.”
    Hunter: “What the hec is Riptide?”
    I didn’t say anything but let out a huge long
moan. How could they do this to us? Ten minutes later and after
much moaning, Partington appeared looking slightly calmer, but
still fraught.
    “I have a book with the rules, and I managed
to find out the location of the Condor’s Riptide Shirts. They all
come with your names on.”
    Oh god, this was all becoming so real! Surely
Partington would turn around in a second and laugh at his brilliant
joke? But he didn’t. He began with a big swig of coffee (or
something), and he was off, like an information machine gun…
“Right, Riptide… is a game… that’s been played here at Hailing Hall
since day zed. It’s a simple game yet complicated at first, with
twelve players and two substitutions. The aim of the game is to get
your flounder , or coloured ball, into the other team’s goal.
Yet there is more to it. The main points awarded are for getting
your ball into the other team’s bolt-hole, or goal. At the same
time, they are trying to do the same with their flounder. So you
have to attack and defend simultaneously.”
    This picture of a chequered pitch drew itself
on the board behind Partington. Twelve dots moved around on the
pitch, throwing a blue and a red ball to each other. “When you get
your ball in the other team’s bolt hole, you score a point…” this
jet of red light shot into the air from the bolt hole. “And light
shoots out into the sky. The goal which we call a bolt-hole is a
magical stone, looks like a stone fountain, you must get the ball
in there.” I was taking notes and trying to keep up furiously with
what he was saying. “But… you can also score points by stealing the
other teams ball and putting in their own