I awoke the next morning, sunk deep into a bed far too warm for me to ever want to get out of, and glanced up at the ornate porcelain clock on my night table, its numbers so intricate that it took me a moment to figure out how to decipher them: nine fifty-five.

  Groaning, I sat up. We were all supposed to be downstairs before ten, and with Nora’s bed already made, the room stood quiet and empty.

  Still in a stupor, I looked out the window to the garden, now visible by the light of day: rows of lilac and yellow flowers sat behind an ivy-covered archway while a well-kept dirt path led through to a nearby field. The flowers on the arch were haphazardly arranged, and its paint was peeling in places, giving it a perfect rustic charm.

  Getting up, I peeked out into the corridor. It was empty.

  Then the door across the hall opened, and Victoria stumbled out, looking groggy. Apparently, she had just woken up too.

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “Where is everybody?”

  “I don’t know. You think we’re late for something?”

  She huffed at me, turned away, and paced down the hall with her hands balled into fists.

  I followed, though not too close, until we got to the main dining hall where everyone else was sitting. A few stares were directed our way, and most of the girls gathered in close to the main table when we entered.

  “Ah good,” Ms. Windsor announced, “We won’t have to send someone to find you. I know most of you must be starving, but you can’t eat, not until you’ve completed your first task.” She had an oddly smug look on her face.

  “That’s child abuse.” Victoria raised her hand.

  “I wouldn’t call it that…” Ms. Windsor raised a finger.

  “Then what would you call it… refusing to feed us until we do your bidding?”

  Ms. Windsor gave an eye roll as a murmur of discontent rose from the girls. “I’d call it—the Great Cupcake Hunt!”

  The murmur cut off.

  “If you’re square, you’ll be late, but if you’re not in a hurry, you’ll be early,” The headmistress said with gusto.

  “What?” One of the girls asked.

  “It’s the first clue, obviously,” Wilhelmina said dryly.

  Ms. Windsor nodded. “Yes, break into your teams, and go search the town. Every time you get to where you need to be, there will be cupcakes waiting, along with the next clue.”

  “What sort of cupcakes?” asked Victoria.

  Ms. Windsor gave her an annoyed glance. “You’ll have to go and find out…”

  “That can’t be healthy. What if someone has a food allergy?”

  “No one does. Except me. I’m celiac.” Ms. Windsor motioned to the door, and most of the teams rushed out…

  Except ours.

  “What if we don’t want cupcakes?” Victoria asked.

  “Then you’re more than welcome to stay here and eat Cheerios with me.”

  Nora started for the door. “Come on, Victoria. Be difficult on your own time.”

  The rest of us followed Nora outside and, just as Christie was asking, “Do you think we should go without her?” Victoria’s head of red hair shot through the door. She looked relieved we hadn’t left.

  “If you’re square, you’ll be late, if you’re not in a hurry you’ll be early?” Nora repeated the clue, and everyone turned to Wilhelmina.

  She was looking up at the sky, pretending not to notice everyone staring, but eventually gave in and offered, “It might be a reference to the town’s features.” She shrugged like she didn’t know, but there was something about the puzzled expression on her face that didn’t look quite genuine.

  When the others weren’t looking, she looked at me and mouthed, Not Square.

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  “So not the town square…” I said, “I guess we’d be late…” and was surprised to see everyone looking to me, though Wilhelmina did so with one brow raised.

  “What’s the opposite of a square? Is there a town circle?” I asked.

  “Well, there is the old market round-a-bout?” Christie offered.

  “Lead the way,” Nora said, and we were off.

  I halted when I saw the little red sign on the edge of the clothing enforced zone. The girls were fine; they were all in their school uniforms: white blouses and brown skirts. Christie was even wearing a broad tie that hung like a scarf. But I was there in cargo shorts and a black ‘AC/DC’ t-shirt. One more reminder I did not fit in.

  The girls didn’t miss a step, hadn’t noticed my hesitation, so all I could do was look over my shoulder, and when I didn’t see any authority figures, I took a deep breath, and stepped through as a knot formed in my stomach.

  The middle of the round-a-bout was a small grassy circle with benches and a lamp post. It was surrounded by quaint buildings: a cafe, a florist, and shops.

  “What now?” asked Nora. And while the rest of the team was repeating the clue: “If you’re not in a hurry, you’ll be early,” Wilhelmina was innocently watching the horizon. Pulling her mouth to one side, she glanced to a building with the sign, ‘Hurley’s Flowers.’

  “Well, I guess that rhymes,” Nora said, looking to where I had looked, without noticing Wilhelmina, “Nice one, Harper!” And as the girls made for the entrance, the knot in my stomach twisted even tighter, and I filed in last.

  Behind the counter, a portly man with a smiling face held a tray of mini-red velvet cakes with floral leaf frosting on top. After all the girls had gone up and grabbed one, I shuffled up.

  “These are for the girls at the school, and…” The man’s face went sour as he pointed to a little red sign indicating his shop was in the clothing enforced zone. “You really shouldn’t be in here.”

  Red-faced, I turned and left, and met the rest of the team, already outside, working to solve the next clue, the one that hadn’t been offered to me.

  I followed along behind, feeling very much like I was living in that sort of dream: you know… the one where you forgot to wear pants to a test you hadn’t studied for. Even Suzi was having fun, despite not speaking the language; she was bouncing around, already in a sugar rush.

  At the next location, a toy shop in the village square, I didn’t even bother going in. Wilhelmina came out first. She studied my face for a second before lifting a pink frosted scone.

  She opened her mouth and, looking into my eyes to study my reaction, carefully stuffed the entire thing in. Then chewed.

  My stomach let out an audible whine just as Nora and Christie stepped out, discussing the next clue. Nora hadn’t noticed what was going on. She was too wrapped up in the scavenger hunt, and I was too happy to see her finally having fun to want to force my awkwardness on her.

  At the next place, this time a riverside pub, again Wilhelmina stepped out first… and again, she studied my face, this time holding up an éclair. Then she held it out to me.

  My stomach gurgled as she pulled it past my face.

  “What did you do to it?” I asked, touching the pastry.

  She pulled it back, tore off a quarter of it, put that in her mouth, chewed, and again offered the rest to me.

  The crème filling was sickly sweet, the crust, perfectly flaky. But with the odd look she was giving me, it didn’t quite sit right in my stomach.

  The next location had little apple strudels.

  Again, Wilhelmina came out first. And again, she offered me her dessert. “Look, Harper, sometimes I get caught up overanalyzing things, I am sorry.”

  I took it and began munching just as the others were pushing through the door.

  “Last clue,” Nora announced, “Not Sett, three, six, nine, a hundred tines. At last, you see, before I spoke.”

  “And it’s a strange spelling of sett, with two tees,” Nora said.

  “Three, six, nine… Maybe it has something to do with the clock in the square?” Christie asked.

  “Maybe…”

  When we got there, another group of girls was already going from shop to shop.

  “I say we just wait and see, let them do the work,” Victoria said with a moan.

  Wilhelmina huffed, turning her back to the group.

  “Well, you’re not helping!” Victoria scolded her. “You pretend to be so smart, but you haven’t figured out a single clue.”

  Wilhelmina turned back around to see the rest of the group glaring at her.

  “Ahh, very well,” she sighed, “The last cake is back two blocks, in Madam Devereux’s Bespoke Gifts.”

  “What?” Victoria's mouth fell open. “The numbers and tines, it’s got to mean a clock, it’s got to be in the square… by the clock”

  “No, no,” Wilhelmina shook her head. “The first clue is—not—sett. See these stones?” She pointed at the ground. “They’re sett stones, rectangular and flat, common in the nineteenth century. There is one street however, over there…” She pointed from the nine on the clock to an adjoining road. “…Paved with round stones, cobblestone, and on it is a store with be-spoke in the title. We passed it on the way here.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Nora asked.

  Wilhelmina shrugged. “I didn’t want to spoil the fun.”

  The girls all went inside and were getting cakes, and I was once again feeling out of place when—

  “You there! Boy! Well well, what have we here...” a comically cruel male voice boomed from behind.

  I spun to see a tall, knobby man in what looked like a bobby uniform and an overly thick mustache pointing his billy club at me.

  “I can tell by your outlandish clothes and otherwise sus-pic-cous behavior that you must be a witch!”

  A small crowd was gathering by the edge of the clothing-enforced zone to watch.

  “I must therefore arres—”

  “Graham!” Ms. Windsor called from behind, and I turned around to see her waving the man over.

  “Not this one.” She scowled at him. “I need him right now…”

  “I am sorry, madam!” Graham shouted as much to the crowd as to us, “but thee law is thee law, and I cannot abide by those who cannot abide by thee law.”

  “Oh, can’t you ever give it a rest!” she growled at him as she pulled me behind her. “—Run—I know you enjoy these puerile—Run—shows of masculine thuggery—Run—but I have a school to… Run!” She shoved me away.

  As I bolted around the corner, Ms. Windsor waylaid the sheriff with a flurry of insults and fifty cent words.

  She found me a few blocks away hiding in a shop entrance. “Sometimes that… man… can be so annoying,” she gasped, catching her breath. “Don’t worry. He found a tourist to accost. The coast should be clear… for a while… at least.”

  “The Museum of Witchcraft?” I said, reading the sign above the door.

  Ms. Windsor rolled her eyes. “Oh that, that’s not really a ‘museum.’ It’s more like the woman couldn’t bother to clean up her clutter, so she decided to charge admission.”