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cages are housed in long, narrow buildings with no windows. Each cage is locked inside a soundproof cell so there’s no communication at all between the prisoners. Meals are eaten in solitude, and there’s no talking on job duty. The guards make sure of that.”
    “Can they have visitors?” Megan said.
    “Absolutely not, and no letters from home, either. We don’t allow our prisoners any contact with the outside world.” The guard started to walk slowly up and down the aisles. “Our exact location is top secret, as I’m sure you all know. The only information we give out is that we’re on an island somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and”—here he pulled back his shoulders, beginning to swagger a bit—“I’m proud to tell you that our little island is fully self-sufficient. We grow all our own grapefruit and harvest an enormous oat crop twice a year for porridge.”
    “Truly impressive,” Miss Corns murmured. The guard gave her a brisk smile.
    “Just so as you’re all aware,” he suddenly barked, banging Fanny Freeman’s desk and scaring some of the girls right out of their seats. “Once you’re in Scrubs, you’re in Scrubs for life. Got that?” he shouted, spitting out a spray of saliva with his words.
    There was a long, drawn-out silence in the room until finally Miss Corns said, “Well, thank you for coming, Sergeant Murphy. I think the girls have heard enough.” She looked as pale as the rest of her class.
    “Happy to oblige,” the guard replied, clicking his heels together. He strode toward the door and held it open while the two other guards picked up the cage and marched out. “And remember, girls,” Sergeant Murphy said. “Just say no to evil. You do not want to end up in one of those.”
    As soon as the Scrubs party had left, Megan Roberts started to cry, loudly, and so did a handful of other girls. Poppy stared into space, feeling too stunned to make a sound. She couldn’t believe what she had just seen, that horrifying picture of Madeline Reynolds. She also couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit sorry for the poor witch. Nobody should be subjected to a life like that, and although there had been hatred in Madeline Reynolds’s eyes, Poppy felt certain she had glimpsed sadness in the photograph as well.
    “Magic is a gift you have all been given, girls,” Miss Corns said softly. “It’s up to each one of you to manage it wisely.”
    “But what if we don’t want to use our magic when we grow up?” Poppy questioned. “What if we want to do something else with our lives?” Miss Corns was silent for a minute, and then she gave a nervous laugh.
    “My goodness me, Poppy Pendle. You do say the strangest things. For a moment there I thought you were serious.” Poppy sighed and chewed at the end of her pencil. Even though she wasn’t trapped in a real cage with iron bars, that’s a bit how she felt right now, sitting inside Ruthersfield Academy, feeling so hot and stuffy she could scarcely breathe.

    When Poppy met Charlie down by the canal later on that afternoon, she was in a gloomy mood. “It was an awful day,” Poppy said, flinging her briefcase and broomstick at a patch of ferns and climbing on top of the wall. Poppy yanked the lid off the container of lemon bars and offered them to her friend. “I don’t want to talk about it, because it was so horrible.” Poppy picked up a handful of stones and threw them into the canal. She watched the circles ripple out, while Charlie sat beside her eating lemon bars. A goose waddled by, pecking at some crumbs on the ground. He gave a low honk, and Charlie giggled, throwing him a tiny corner of buttery crust.
    “These are delicious,” Charlie said softly, touching Poppy on the arm. A lump formed in Poppy’s throat.
    “I wish my parents thought so,” Poppy said. “All they care about is magic.” She scooped up another handful of stones and chucked them at the far bank. “I’m not even allowed to practice my cake