Page 6 of Hexed Up

Unfortunately, as I yank my shirt down my body and get a look for the first time at the officer inspecting my kitchen, I find my prayer has not been answered. Because the officer scowling right at me is none other than my older sister, Primrose.

Chapter Three

“Hey Prim,” I chirp, attempting my most relaxed and not-guilty-at-all smile.

Why did it have to be her? Why not any other officer in the entire witching universe?

Prim adjusts her tortoiseshell glasses and peers down at her clipboard.

She sighs with disappointment and, as hard as I try, the smile slips from my face.

Prim is the very definition of a perfect witch, epitomised by the fact, despite the tropical temperatures, she’s dressed in a smart black suit, sensible brogues, and even bloody tights. Her Magical Enforcement badge is pinned to the lapel of her jacket; every strand of her chestnut bob neatly arranged, and her white shirt expertly pressed.

Her makeup is not smudged; there’s no sheen of sweat on her face, and as always she looks as cool as a cucumber.

She passed the Witching Academy with top marks, won a prestigious apprenticeship at the Witching Authorities, and quickly rose to become one of the most decorated Magical Enforcement Officers in the country.

My parents, and most of my extended family, are bursting with such pride, I’m surprised they haven’t popped a blood vessel.

Unfortunately, I am the polar opposite of my sister, flunking out of the academy, struggling to hold down a job and unable to iron my own shirt – with or without magic.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” I say, attempting to keep up the cheerful and totally innocent act.

Behind my sister, Damien rolls his eyes at my appalling acting skills.

Prim taps her fountain pen against her clipboard.

“We’ve had a report of a magical explosion, Molly,” she says with that same disappointment. Why does every member of my family have to talk to me with that same tone? “This is the third time this month.”

“And like those other two times, I have no idea why such a report was made. There’s been no explosion.” I shrug my shoulders.

“No explosion at all,” Damien adds.

Prim spins on her heels and registers my friend for the first time.

“Oh, hello Damien.” She smiles. My sister actually likes my friend despite all his devious attributes. It’s only my exploits she can’t tolerate. I guess because it reflects badly on her. And I do feel bad that my ‘job’ doesn’t reflect well on her, but a girl has got to eat.

“Looking beautiful as always,” he says with a wink, and my sister’s cheeks pinken. Then she collects herself, coughing into her fist before she focuses back on me, finding McGruff sniffing around her feet.

“Oh, and hello to you too,” she says to him, reaching down to pat his head. She frowns. “Why is he pink?”

“You don’t like it?” I ask, totally ignoring her question. I’m an awful liar. I try my best to avoid it altogether, especially when it comes to my sister.

Prim tickles McGruff under his chin. “Blue would suit him better.” She stands up straight. “This explosion, you know, I can’t take your word for it, Molly. You know I’m going to have to carry out an inspection and file a report.”

“Can’t you just pretend you carried out the inspection and file a report anyway?” Damien asks her, but she shakes her head. Prim sticks to the rules; she always has. I can’t even hate her for it. She’s one of those people with a strong sense of moral right and wrong and unshakeable integrity. There’s no grey for Prim, only black and white. Maybe I would hate her, but she’s also too darn nice. Even when she used to snitch on me for smuggling toads into my bed or enchanting my pen to do my homework for me, I couldn’t hate her because she’d opt to stay in every night with me and keep me company while I was grounded.

If they locked me in the Witching Prison, I expect she’d volunteer to be locked in with me. Not that it will come to that. Just a hefty fine I can’t afford to pay.

“Go ahead,” I say, sweeping my arm around the flat. “Search away.”

She pushes her glasses up her nose and strolls across to the scene of the crime – the kitchen.

Damien has done a pretty good job of removing all the incriminating evidence, but Prim didn’t achieve a streak of As in her witching-levels for nothing. She’s observant and bright. If Damien missed one speck of evidence, Prim will find it.

I nibble on my nails and Damien shoots me a look which says, ‘don’t be so damn obvious’.

I pin my hands behind my back, but end up chewing on my lip instead.