Ms. Hardwick didn’t seem to mind me not holding up my end of the conversation as she prattled on. “And you’re the new dream-seer, so they say. Surprising, but then maybe fitting, too.”

I wanted to ask her what she meant, but she never gave me a chance as she chattered on. In no time at all, we were climbing the slope from the tunnels into Jefferson Tower. Any ideas I’d had at getting a chance to catch my breath were short-lived as Ms. Hardwick marched to the staircase and headed up.

“We’ll start at the top and work our way down,” she announced.

“Great.” I’d meant the response to sound sarcastic, but it came out so soft and breathless, she probably mistook it for agreement.

We reached the restrooms on the top floor at last, and I slumped against the nearest stall, panting.

“Tsk, tsk,” said Hardwick. “You children just don’t spend enough time focused on your health these days. Too much entertainment, I daresay.”

I would’ve rolled my eyes, but it wasn’t worth the effort.

“I suppose I will summon the cleaning supplies for you then.” Hardwick walked over to the nearest wall and traced a rectangle with her finger while she muttered an incantation. A moment later, a cupboard door appeared in the wall. She pulled it open, revealing several shelves of cleaning supplies—everything a girl could want for getting the job done. Awesome.

“There you are,” said Hardwick, clapping her hands. “Let’s get to it, lots of bathrooms to go.”

Sighing, I selected a pair of rubber gloves, a toilet brush, bleach cleaning spray, and a handful of rags. Then I bent to work. Ms. Hardwick conjured a chair out of thin air and sat down, watching me with her ferret eyes. I did my best to ignore her.

When I finished the last stall, I straightened up, stretched the crick out of my back, and said, “Done.”

Hardwick flashed her too big smile and stood up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve cleaned my fair share of toilets before.” Maybe not public ones, but I was trying not to think about that so much.

Hardwick entered the first stall, bent her head toward the toilet, and sniffed long and deep like a starving person over a pot of stew. I stuffed the heel of my hand into my mouth, trying not to gag. For a moment I was certain she would start licking it.

Hardwick stepped out of the stall, letting out a contented sigh. “I don’t think so, my dear. I can still smell the foulness. You’re going to have to scrub harder with that brush of yours.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Hardwick flashed her teeth and said in that same falsely sweet voice, “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Uh, no.” I glanced down the row of stalls. “I guess I’ll do it again then.”

Three attempts later, Hardwick pronounced the work satisfactory, and we moved on to the men’s. My hands felt raw already despite the gloves, and my muscles felt tense and achy. It was going to be a long night.

And so it went, stall after stall, floor after floor. If I’d disliked Dr. Hendershaw before, I despised her now. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.

By the time we reached the second floor, I was ready to throw myself in front of a bus rather than clean another toilet. I opened the door to the men’s and was greeted by the biggest mess I’d ever seen in my life.

“Oh, screw this,” I said, taking in the three inches of water on the floor, the clogged sinks with the taps turned on full blast, and from the looks of it all ten toilets and urinals overflowed.

“My, my, what a mess. I wonder what happened in here?” Ms. Hardwick said, wading inside.

I had a pretty good guess as I spotted a joker playing card floating in the puddle of muck, “3–2” written on it in big black letters. Lance Rathbone. I could’ve killed him.

“Not to fret.” Hardwick pulled out a cell phone from the front pocket of her housedress and flipped it open. The cell chirped in a perfect imitation of R2D2 as she dialed.

“Hello?” she said a moment later. “It’s Emma. I’m in Jefferson Tower. We’ve got a problem on the second floor … uh-huh … looks that way … yes, we’ll wait. Oh and why don’t you bring my package along with you?… Yes, I know it’s early, but it’s been a long week. You know I’m good for it … of course … good-bye.”

She stowed the cell away again, turned off the faucets, and we stepped out. Then she conjured two chairs for us, and we sat down. “It’ll be just a few moments then.”

Grateful as I was for a break, I wanted to get done with this already. “Can’t you just magic the mess away?”

“Afraid not. All the bathrooms at Arkwell have anti-magic spells on them, which block everything save glamours and the simple cleaning spells I employ, which aren’t nearly enough for that mess.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why’s it blocked?”

Hardwick began to pick at something in her teeth. “To prevent students from playing pranks, for one thing. And there’s the issue of animation of course. The administration likes to keep the liveliness in the bathrooms down to a minimum.”

“Nothing worse than a talking toilet,” I muttered.

Hardwick nodded. “But unfortunately the spells don’t prevent a highly motivated student from disrupting things the manual way.”

That was Lance, all right, highly motivated to make my life difficult. I wondered how he knew about my detention.