The Mystwick School of Musicraft

The Mystwick School of Musicraft

Humor and heart shine in this middle grade fantasy about a girl who attends a boarding school to learn how to use music to create magic, perfect for fans of Nevermoor and The School for Good and Evil series. Amelia Jones always dreamed of attending the Mystwick School of Musicraft, where the world’s most promising musicians learn to create magic. So when Amelia botches her audition, she thinks her dream has met an abrupt and humiliating end—until the school agrees to give her a trial period. Amelia is determined to prove herself, vowing to do whatever it takes to become the perfect musician. Even if it means pretending to be someone she isn’t. Meanwhile, a mysterious storm is brewing that no one, not even the maestros at Mystwick, is prepared to contain. Can Amelia find the courage to be true to herself in time to save her beloved school from certain destruction? "The concept of musicraft—producing magic by playing music—feels fresh and is undeniably appealing, and who is going to say no to a trip to another magical boarding school? The storytelling flows, pulling readers along, and some particularly grand, magical sequences (including a legitimately epic ending) make this stand-alone fantasy a memorable adventure...full of heart, clever plotting, and strong world building that young readers, musicians and otherwise, will enjoy escaping to."— Booklist "A toe-tapping fantasy novel mixes music and mystery."—Kirkus "For fans of Harry Potter  who don’t want to stray too far from Hogwarts but are in need of new adventures." — School Library Journal "At the core, this is a feel-good story about believing in one’s ability, musical or otherwise." — The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books Jessica Khoury is the author of multiple books for teens and young readers. In addition to writing, she is an artistic mapmaker and spends far too much time scribbling tiny mountains and trees for fictional worlds. Her spare hours are spent video gaming, painting, or cooking badly. She lives in Greenville, South Carolina, with her husband, daughters, and sassy husky Katara. Chapter One Prelude for a Chicken IT’S HARDER TO CHARM A CHICKEN than you might think.       I guess it’s because they have such tiny brains. Nothing against the chicken, of course—it’s not like it asked to be stupid.       That’s just the way it is.       Not that I’m in any sort of position to judge.       After all, I am lying flat on my back on a ground definitely covered in chicken poop, my upper half wedged under a shed and my flute clenched between my lips as I shimmy farther in. It’s hard to charm a chicken in any position, but doing so while wedged under a shed is not exactly ideal. I’m pretty sure my music teacher would confiscate my instrument if she saw me like this.       But sometimes, life requires you to rescue a trapped chicken with a bit of magic, even if it means getting a little dirty.       Taking my flute out of my mouth—after thoroughly wiping my grubby palms on my jeans, of course—I try the regular, nonmagic route one more time:       “Here, chicken, chicken!”       The little rebel I’m after is crammed just above me, between the shed and the fence on the other side. She’s attempting an ambitious escape, pecking at the metal fence wire.       Sighing, I turn my head just slightly and purse my lips over the flute’s embouchure. It’s an awkward angle, with my face half planted in dirt, and I wonder if this is really worth the five dollars Mrs. O’Grady offered me.       “Just a simple chicken charm, Amelia,” she’d said this morning, standing on our front porch, her cheeks ruddy from working in her little vegetable garden. “It’s that Rooter. She’s got herself jammed again, I’m afraid.”       Well, I do need the five dollars.       My fingers find the flute’s keys, arranging themselves in preparation.       Before I start, I take a few deep breaths. It’s no good playing when your heart’s bouncing around your chest like a basketball in a washing machine. I might set Rooter and me and the whole chicken coop on fire.       As the First Rule of Musicraft states: A spell can charm or do great harm. Before you play, clear the way.       When I’m good and still inside, I purse my lips, then launch into the spell that usually works on Rooter: “The Ants Go Marching.” A simple tune, good for calming someone’s nerves and, if that someone’s a chicken, luring them out from under a shed. I could play it in my sleep, but it’s not just about hitting the right notes. It’s also about keeping tempo and staying focused, or I won’t produce any magic at all. Go too fast or slow, and the spell will fall apart. Play it in the wrong key, and its effects could reverse, and I could end up scaring Rooter away rather than drawing her to me.       Anyone can pick up a flute and blow into it, but to turn music into magic, you have to play it right.       Mrs. O’Grady could have probably played the spell on her old harmonica and d