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The Girl, the Dragon, and the Wild Magic by Dave Luckett. Our newest book club tradition is to have sleepovers when we meet. This month the timing was perfect -- Halloween! And, of course, I had to pick the perfect book for the perfect occasion. I get totally freaked out with scary stories, so I wanted to find something that wasn't creepy but still good for Halloween. When I saw The Girl, the Dragon, and the Wild Magic I knew it was right for us. The story revolves around this girl Rhianna, who's totally cool but always seems to be messing up at magic school. She's very upset that she can't seem to do her spells right and is always getting picked on for it. But then a wizard who shows up and tells her that she's not REALLY messing up, but that she is a "Wild Talent." That means that her ability to do magic is greater than the other people in the town, which leads to all sorts of other problems. Not to mention, the dragon! I loved this book because it was full of adventure, but what made me pick it up was the cover. I wish I had a "Wild Talent" for painting - then I would be able to paint pictures as beautiful and magical (hee, hee!) as this one.

	Q. What made you want to write about magic? A. I think it's because it stands for other things, but you can suit yourself how you handle it. For instance, magic has rules. There's things you can do with it and things you can't. I get to write the rules myself, which is great, but there's lots of things in life with rules, and it crosses over. So I can write a story about someone coming into their full magical powers, and it's also a story about growing up. And I can write about a dragon, because there's plenty of dragons to face, even if they don't wear scales and breathe fire. Q. Do you believe in the magic you write about in your books? A. No. Do I believe that human beings need to think about magic? Yes. It's one of the ways we deal with the world. We tell ourselves stories about things that aren't real, so we can handle things that are. Bears don't talk or live in houses, but we tell the story of Goldilocks because we need to handle the idea that you shouldn't take stuff that belongs to other people. Wolves don't get into bed and put on Grandma's nightcap, but we tell the story of Little Red Riding Hood because we need to handle the idea that people might not be what they seem. Nobody really has magic, Wild or any other kind, but I tell the story of Rhianna because we need to handle the idea that our strengths and talents have to be used and controlled - and that we are responsible for what we do with them. Q. There are so many great characters in your book. How do you keep track of them all when you write? A. I just let them talk in my head. Then I write down what they say. I let them act, and sometimes they act in ways that surprise me. I don't know how this happens. It just does. If I let them talk and act as they want, they keep track of themselves. Q. You are from Australia. Are there any places or things there that inspire parts of your stories? A. Oh, yes. For instance, Rhianna's village is a place on the south coast of New South Wales where we used to go on vacation. The Eldra lands, which you find in the second book, are the hardwood forests of the far southwest of Western Australia. But Australia isn't like that, mostly. I'll be using a bit more of the Australian landscape in the fourth book, if I get around to it.

	Rhianna watched much more closely than usual and followed Mrs. Greenapple with care. A flicker of the fingers to show the fire, and then a soothing, broad sweep of the arms to show it being snuffed out. Fanning the face to invoke the heat of the flames, and hands across the eyes to show the sharp, burning glow. Now, water signs: fingers twitching, hands falling to show rain. A rolling of the arms and shoulders to invoke the waves of the sea. Rhianna watched Mrs. Greenapple's hands and did everything she did, making sure the water gestures were stronger than the fire gestures, so that the fire would be put out. Perhaps she should make them a little stronger still, to be perfectly sure . . . She was concentrating hard, trying to get it all exactly right, just this once. Concentrating so hard that she didn't hear Rose's yelp of surprise. She didn't even feel the first drops of rain. It wasn't until she heard the first little clap of thunder that she realized something was amiss. There was a phut! sound like a bag of sand being dropped on a floor. Then a sharp spark of lightning. The other children were edging away from her and pointing. Mrs. Greenapple had stopped conjuring and was staring at her. Or rather, she was staring at a place above Rhianna's head. Rhianna looked up. A cloud was floating between her and the ceiling. It was small but inky, like a mass of black cotton wool. As Rhianna watched, it grew even darker and expanded like a balloon being blown up. It spat a sudden fork of lightning, thin as a thread, but blue-white and dazzling. Another crackle of miniature thunder sounded. It began to rain harder. And there was something on the floor, something clear and wobbly like a jelly, and it was coming towards her, leaving a trail of water that soaked into the floorboards. It rolled like a great big drop of water, but it was getting bigger and bigger, gathering itself from some place that Rhianna couldn't see. The rain from the cloud fell on it, and on her. She realized that she was soaked to the skin. Mrs. Greenapple found her voice. "Out! Everyone out!" she cried. "Open the door!" The door slammed open. The nearest children tumbled out, and the other followed, while Mrs. Greenapple waved her arms in drying gestures. She started a drying spell: "Desicca inati evapo summa . . ." But the words took no hold. The bubble of water, clear as glass, slid up to Rhianna and rubbed itself against her like a cat, growing larger all the time. Rhianna couldn't move. She knew she ought to do something about this, and she knew, in some dark place in her mind, that this was all her fault, but she stood numb with surprise and dumb with amazement. Then a shadow fell across her, and she heard a new voice. "Dear me. What to-do."

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