Dropping Out of School: A Clarissa Spencer Cozy Mystery, #3

DROPPING OUT OF SCHOOL

Alaine Allister

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Copyright © 2016 A. Allister

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This is a work of fiction.  All characters and events depicted are products of the author’s imagination.  The cover is for illustrative purposes only.  All rights reserved.

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A freak accident...or was it an accident?

Clarissa Spencer’s to-do list:

-Learn to make her broomstick fly (hopefully without injury)

-Get her kooky Aunt Matilda to stop casting spells on her

-Determine whether her boyfriend has fallen victim to a love potion

-Find out who pushed the dean of Green City University out of his office window

There’s never a dull moment in Clarissa’s life!

Why, oh why can’t there ever just be a dull moment?

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 01

Come on, you stupid thing!

Clarissa Spencer glared at her opponent, unwilling to give up.  She was trying to do the impossible, really.  It was no wonder she seemed to be engaged in a losing battle.  But the young news reporter was determined.  She wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

Her blue-green eyes flashing with defiance, Clarissa stared down her opponent.  She took a deep breath in an attempt to maintain her composure.  Then she reached out, grabbed the old broom in her hands and jumped.

To an outsider, Clarissa would have looked quite silly.  In fact, she probably would have looked downright insane.  She was talking – rather angrily – to an inanimate object.  And now she was attempting to ride it. 

Yep, her behavior certainly seemed crazy. 

It wasn’t at all what one would expect a normal person to do.

But Clarissa wasn’t a normal person. 

One night a while back, her life had been forever changed.  After being struck by lightning in the woods behind her house, Clarissa had begun to experience strange things.  At first, she hadn’t known what was going on.

Her eccentric Aunt Matilda had gleefully informed her she was a witch.  Matilda claimed to be a witch, too.  It had sounded like the ravings of a lunatic...and Clarissa’s loopy aunt could be kind of nuts sometimes. 

But then the spells Clarissa had tried on a whim had worked!

After that, there had been no denying that Matilda spoke the truth.  Clarissa possessed supernatural abilities – she had seen the effects of her spells and potions first hand.  Apparently the jolt of electricity had awoken her powers.  It was official:  she believed in magic now.

Clarissa Spencer was a witch.

It sounded cool in theory, but in practice it was often an exercise in frustration.  Clarissa was a novice witch.  Practicing magic was like learning to ride a bike...and she definitely still needed her training wheels. 

Casting spells didn’t come easily to Clarissa.  In fact, witchcraft required a surprising amount of practice and precision.  As much as she would have loved to dive right in, she couldn’t.  She had to start out slow and fine tune her craft.  Some days she simply didn’t have the patience for it.

Ouch! Clarissa hissed as she and the broomstick both fell to the kitchen floor.

Meow, said her housemate. 

The black stray had turned up on Clarissa’s doorstep a while back.  She had made the mistake of feeding it.  Then it had refused to leave.  The fickle feline was the single most aggravating creature Clarissa had ever encountered – or close to it, anyway.  The little beast apparently thought Clarissa was its slave and treated her accordingly.

Clarissa and her unwanted guest-turned-dictator had developed a tentative truce.  It basically consisted of the young reporter doing everything the cat demanded in order to stay on its good side.  It was a rather one-sided truce, but it kept the peace.

What are you looking at, Cat? Clarissa muttered.

The cat stared at her, unblinking.  Its black fur was shiny and sleek.  Its tiny pink nose wiggled, almost as though the creature was snorting in amusement.  It looked...well, it looked rather smug.  Could cats smirk?  If so, this one was definitely smirking. 

The novice witch was pretty sure the feisty feline was mocking her.  Actually, its tail was now flitting back and forth, signifying excitement and delight.  Apparently her inability to get the broom up off the ground for more than a second or two at a time was very entertaining. 

The little beast probably enjoyed watching her fall, too, sadistic creature that it was.

You’re a jerk, Clarissa grumbled.

The cat yawned and curled up into a ball. 

Apparently sleeping in the middle of the kitchen floor made perfect sense if the sun was shining in the window.  Sleeping on hardwood didn’t look the least bit comfortable.  Cat logic was something Clarissa would never, ever figure out.  Some days she wasn’t even sure cats possessed any logic at all.

But at least if the cat was sunbathing in the kitchen, it wasn’t shedding all over the furniture in the living room.  That was a welcome change.

Clarissa stood back up, her legs sore.  After countless tumbles, she was sure her knees and backside were going to be black and blue.  But a few bruises would be well worth it if she was finally able to master the art of flying on a broom.

Determined, she climbed up on a kitchen chair with the broom in hand.

I’m going to get this if it’s the last thing I do, Clarissa whispered to herself sternly.

Then, as she looked down at the kitchen floor, it occurred to her that it very well could be the last thing she did.  She hated heights.  She was terrified of them, really.  But the lure of being able to fly was too tempting to pass up.

Besides, her rain gutters weren’t going to clean themselves. 

Living in a quaint cottage-style home on the outskirts of town had its perks.  The craftsmanship was stunning, the location was private and the view was gorgeous.  But living on the cusp of a forest meant there were a lot of leaves clogging up her rain gutters!

Climbing a ladder seemed far more terrifying than flying atop a broom. 

Clarissa couldn’t quite explain why that was.  Then again, she wasn’t always known for being logical or level-headed.  Sometimes she could be downright irrational...though compared to her kooky aunt and her lunatic of a cat, Clarissa seemed quite normal indeed.

Mrow.

Don’t look at me like that, Clarissa told the cat. It’s psyching me out!

The cat mewled at her unapologetically. 

Clarissa teetered precariously on top of the wooden chair.  She was tempted to give up and get down before she hurt herself.  But her stubbornness prevailed.  She was determined to master the art of flying! 

Maybe I just need to be higher up, Clarissa told the cat in a wavering voice.  The higher up I am, the better I’ll fly.  That makes sense, right?  Oh, who am I kidding?  None of this makes any sense.  What should I do?

The cat ignored her.  Batting its paw at an imaginary foe was apparently more interesting.

Careful to maintain her balance, Clarissa slowly bent her knees.  Then she positioned the broom beneath her so that she could sit on it.  She was gripping the wooden handle so tightly that her knuckles hurt. 

Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty.  She felt light-headed and very, very tense.  The cautious, rational, skeptical part of her brain was screaming at her to stop.  It was also calling her an idiot.

Before she could lose her nerve, she closed her eyes and jumped.

Chapter 02

The new witch braced herself for a hard fall.  In fact, she expected it. 

After a moment, she realized she wasn’t sprawled on the kitchen floor.  Her bottom wasn’t sore from yet another tumble.  In fact, there had been no impact at all. Confused, Clarissa opened her eyes to assess the situation.

The first thing she saw was the clock on the wall.

That was odd, because she was eye level with it.  Normally, she had to look up to see it.  That could only mean one thing.  Wide-eyed, Clarissa hurriedly looked down at the kitchen floor.  Then her mouth fell open in shock.

Her toes were a good six inches above the hardwood!  Clarissa was so stunned by her success that she could hardly believe it!  The broom was suspended in midair, and she was seated on top of it.  She was levitating!  It was an incredible feeling.

Look! Clarissa told the cat, eager to share her accomplishment.  Look at me!

The cat ignored her. 

Hey, Cat! Clarissa tried again.  Over here!

The cat rolled over, turning its back on her.

Why was it that the little monster was always front row and center to witness Clarissa’s failures, but had no interest in celebrating her victories?  It wasn’t fair.  But the excited young woman wasn’t about to let the fickle feline’s indifference spoil her impressive feat.

She was flying!

Well, technically she was hovering.  But that was one step closer to flying!

Clarissa decided to try to move the broom. 

She wasn’t quite sure how to do it. 

Somehow she needed to harness her magic and channel it into the broom.  It always looked so easy when fictional witches on TV flew around on their broomsticks.  But Clarissa was quickly concluding that fictional witchery was very different from the real thing.

Okay, what now? Clarissa whispered to herself.  How do I make the broom do what I want?

Although Clarissa’s aunt was her self-appointed guide in all things witchy, Matilda wasn’t particularly helpful.  She was far too easily distracted to provide much proper guidance.  All she had told Clarissa was that she needed to concentrate.  Sure, it sounded easy enough.  But what did it even mean?

Screwing her eyes shut, Clarissa tried to focus all her attention on the broom beneath her.  She forced herself to visualize what she wanted.  Maybe she needed to picture her goals before she could attain them.

Okay, that sounded like something a motivational speaker would say, not a witch!

But it was still worth a try.  It wasn’t like Clarissa had a better idea.

Move! the novice witch whispered, urging the broom forward.  Go over there!

The broom did nothing.

It was almost as uncooperative as the cat.

Come on, come on!

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Clarissa’s eyes popped open.  Her concentration broken, the broom fell to the ground. 

The startled young woman crashed down with it. 

Ow! she complained as her backside broke her fall.

The cat, of course, was once again watching Clarissa with great interest. 

The knocking on the door grew more insistent.

I’m coming! Clarissa called, wincing as she climbed to her feet.

Standing out on the porch was none other than Aunt Matilda. 

With her arched eyebrows, full lips and high cheekbones, Matilda looked like a slightly older version of Clarissa.  She was wearing a long purple bohemian style dress, casual flip flops and approximately a dozen necklaces.  Her crimson colored hair cascaded down her shoulders.  She really was very pretty, in an eccentric, free-spirited sort of way.

Matilda was pacing around, pausing every few steps to peer in the window.  When she finally saw her niece, she smiled brightly.  Waving enthusiastically, she motioned for Clarissa to hurry up and unlock the door.

Matilda!  What are you doing here? Clarissa asked in surprise.

After college, Clarissa had returned to her hometown.  Sugarcomb Lake was Minnesota’s best kept secret, and it held a special place in her heart.  She liked the sleepy small town – well, most of the time.  It had its quirks, sure.  But it was home.

Matilda, however, didn’t live there.  She had spent her youth gallivanting all over the world.  She’d lived a nomadic life.  She’d had experiences most people could only imagine.  She had finally settled down in Green City.  There, she taught history at the university. 

Though Green City