Evie Everyday Witch

MEET EVIE EVERYDAY. She's a witch with a cast of zany sidekicks including, Nip the talking cat, Sylvie the kind bat, and Pops the emotional popping corncob. Evie's no different to any girl her age. She wants to fit in, be liked, and believe she's good enough. Will she get what she wants? Read book 1-6 now and find out! Perfect for reluctant readers, the pages practically turn themselves!

✓ Ages 7-12      ✓ Chapter Book      ✓ Short Attention Spans      ✓ Funny



My name is Evie Everyday and I’m a witch.

But all I’ve ever wanted is to be a Lamron. That’s the word normal spelled backward. Anyways, now I have the chance to go to a regular school and be a regular girl I’ll do whatever it takes to fit in.

Fitting in is easy. All I have to do is:

  • Keep my magic a secret
  • Swap my favorite colorful clothes for boring black ones
  • Suck up to scary Mrs. Rogers, the school principal
  • Keep my pet cat, bat and corncob from causing any trouble
  • And stay away from Izzy. She’s all colorful and funny and awesome…. and not helpful for fitting in.

But when everything starts to go wrong, there’s only one way to save my new school… use magic. And only one person who can help me… Izzy!

Secret Magic (Evie Everyday Witch Book 1) by Elena Paige is a seriously good book for younger children.

Not only is it a good story, but it is also written in very easy to understand language and is helped along by the addition of illustrations, useful in truly bringing the story to life.

This is a very well-written story that moves at a good pace. Evie and Izzy and other well-developed characters come to life in your mind as you read. All kids love stories about witches and magic and this is a story that will encourage even the most stubborn of readers (or non-readers) to get involved.

Colorful characters, a great little plot, all pulled together in one neat package. Thoroughly enjoyed it, great for kids everywhere.

Anne-Marie Reynolds

Elena Paige’s adventure fantasy, Evie Everyday Witch, Book 1, is a deliciously clever story about a girl who just wants to be normal. I loved how her best friend actually turns out to be someone who wants to be anything else but.

Paige’s plot is engaging and imaginative, and her characters are finely honed and authentic. Mrs. Rogers is absolutely terrifying, and Pops seems the perfect friend to have hanging out in one’s knapsack.

I had a grand time reading this first book in Paige’s Evie Everyday Witch series, and am looking forward to future installments. Secret Magic: Evie Everyday Witch, Book 1 is most highly recommended.

Jack Magnus

Evie is the perfect young protagonist. She’s quirky and charming with a bubbly personality that won’t let anything get her down. When faced with a problem, she looks for a solution yet, at the same time, she’s just like any young girl wanting to fit in with her peers, making her a very relatable figure.

Her friend, Izzy, is equally likable. She embodies what it means to be a good friend, which is an important attribute to convey to young children at a time when they’re learning to develop friendships that can sometimes be fickle and turn hurtful.

The narrative in Secret Magic is age-appropriate and easy to follow. Paige does a good job combining elements of magic within the storyline without letting it overpower the central theme of her story.

The character of Mrs. Rogers is a little over the top but appropriate in context with the nature of the story. A likable young protagonist and a bit of hocus-pocus make for a winning combination in Secret Magic, the first Evie Everyday Witch book in what promises to be a great series.

Marta Tandori


Have you ever met a witch before?

No? You have now. Hi. I’m Evie. Evie Everyday. My mom calls me her everyday witch. My dad calls me his little rebel witch because I never practice magic like I’m supposed to. I read instead. Both my parents are witches too.

All I’ve ever wanted is to be a regular girl and go to a regular school. In the books I read, normal kids are friendly and kind, and learn fun stuff like maths, English and geography. Instead I go to a school for witches, called Pergoria. We learn boring stuff, like how to make potions, how to fly on broomsticks, how to disappear and reappear in different places. You know? Everyday witch stuff. Nothing special. Or useful. And the kids there are plain old mean.

We just moved into a new town called Wyndemere. No witches here. It’s full of normal people. How exciting is that? We used to live in Fancy Hollow with other witches, but dad had enough of our neighbor Mr Garbunkle. He would practice calamity magic all night long and keep dad awake. In case you’re wondering, calamity magic is where you make furniture come to life. If you ever get the chance - trust me, don’t try it! Furniture gets really rowdy and noisy when it has a personality. Anyways, Mr Garbunkle spread rumors that dad attacked his couch and broke his dining chairs. Which totally isn’t true. So dad decided we needed a fresh start.

The first thing I did when we moved here was find the local school, Wyndemere Elementary.

Every night when Mom and Dad would tuck me into bed, I would ask, “Can I go to Wyndemere? Please?” And every night they would say no. They made me fly all the way to Pergoria every day. But this past Halloween, when I asked if I could dress up in an orange school building costume, my parents finally got the hint.

The next day, Mom said I could go to Wyndemere in the new school year. Yes, she did! Dad grumbled about it. But Mom’s the boss in our family.

Me, Evie Everyday, finally gets to be an everyday kid!

* * *

Today is my first day in sixth grade, and my knees are shaking like I’m about to be attacked by a giant bulldog.

Did I mention dogs don’t like witches? It’s true. One time, Mrs. Parker, the town snoop, walked her dog all the way to the top of the hill where we live. No one comes up this way. Normal people are too scared. But not Mrs. Parker. I bet she’d sell one of her own children for fresh gossip.

Our house looks like an old haunted shack from the outside, and people keep away. Anyways, her dumb dog ran through our house, scared my cat Mr. Nipkins half to death, and knocked over my mom’s new potion set. She wasn’t happy. Nope. Not one bit.

Luckily, Mrs. Parker could only see what we wanted her to: an old empty shack that came to life, moving and shaking and talking. It frightened the bejeebers out of her. I still laugh thinking about how fast she bolted down the hill with her ditzy dog. I sent some whizzing firecrackers after them for good measure. At that speed I reckon they could have both launched to the moon. Anyhow, Mrs. Parker hasn’t come back since. Neither has her dog.

As I walk up the giant steps of Wyndemere, I elbow my backpack. Sylvie is making scritch-scratch noises from inside. She’s my pet bat. Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t got a real live bat in my bag. Bats aren’t allowed in school, silly. At least, I don’t think they are.

I turned Sylvie into a pair of glasses. She’s awesome to look out of. When I put her on, I can see things about people. Like what their favorite food is, and whether they own a cat or not. You know, useful information.

“Stop right there,” comes a voice from behind me.

I turn around slowly, scared to see who that big bossy voice belongs to. Just my luck. It’s a teacher.

“Are you new?” she asks. She’s tall and skinny and dressed in a tight, black gym suit. She looks like a balloon that’s about to pop. Her hair is tied into a bun so tight her eyes look like tiny ninja slits.

“Yes, I am. A new normal kid. At this normal school. Brand new. That’s me.” I hate the way I stutter when I’m nervous and say stupid stuff.

She looks me over, suspicion squinting from both her eyes. She scrunches her nose at me. “Name?” she commands.

“Evie. Evie Everyday. Nice to meet you.” I reach my hand out for hers. Mom told me it’s polite to shake hands with Lamrons. That’s what I call normal people. It’s the word normal spelled backward, get it? I made it up myself.

Drool drips from the teacher’s mouth onto my honey-colored braids. She’s twice my height and hunched over me now, the way I imagine Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty when she turns into a dragon. Talk about terrifying.

She eyes my clothes. “It’s important to fit in at this school. We don’t like troublemakers.” She snorts at me like I imagine a pig would. I don’t know for sure as I’ve never met a pig.

I have a feeling this is her way of being extra polite because I’m new. She lunges away in her tight exercise gear. I’m guessing she’s the gym teacher. I had been looking forward to gym. But now, not so much.

I let go of all self-control and my knees start shaking again. Other students are starting to arrive. Why are they all wearing black? I should have done my research.

They look pretty boring in black, but that doesn’t change the fact that I look like a clown at a funeral. I reach for my bag and wonder if there’s time to change my outfit without anyone noticing. I’m trying really hard not to use magic, and someone might see me. I decide against it, and drop my bag on the ground, anger getting the better of me.

“Ouch!” says a voice from my bag.

Don’t worry, that’s not Sylvie. Bats don’t talk! Now that would be weird. That’s Mr. Nipkins. I call him Nip for short. And in case you’re wondering, I didn’t bring my cat to school either. Well, not exactly. I turned him into a diary first.

“Sorry, Nip!” I call back. I didn’t mean to hurt him.

“Who’s Nip?” The voice is bright and cheery and coming from behind me.

“Hi,” I say, looking this girl up and down. She’s not wearing black. I’m confused.

“Hi. I’m Isabel. But you can call me Izzy for short. You’re new.”

“Yep. New and normal.”

She looks at me with a big smile. “Nice clothes. Super original. Where did you get the orange-and-pink striped stockings from? I’d love a pair. The local shops only sell black clothes around here so I have to make my own.” Izzy curls her top lip and scrunches her nose at the kids, all dressed in black, walking past her.

“I can bring you a pair. I have lots. But I think you should try harder to be normal. It’s important to fit in.”

Did I mention I have never fitted in? At my old school, Pergoria, I was always considered weird.

Izzy’s silky yellow dress flutters in the wind and she shakes her long red hair out. “Normal? Who wants to be boring old normal? That’s the problem with this town. Everyone is super normal. I’d rather be new and original. I’d rather be myself.”

I wonder what she means? Why isn’t she happy with nice, normal people? Why doesn’t she want to fit in? I’m confused by her. Fitting in is all I’ve ever wanted.

“Normal is awesome!” I yell awkwardly. I’m definitely going to wear black tomorrow. And since I made a pact not to use my wand, even at home, I’m already planning on using the black curtains in my dad’s office. He won’t notice. He’s always so busy drafting new laws for witches.

Izzy laughs. I’m not sure why.

“So who is Nip?” she asks.

“Nip? No one special. It’s just the nickname I gave my diary.”

“Super. Can I see it?”

“Sure.” I pull Nip from my bag and lean my head down to him so no one else hears me. “Don’t say a word. Be normal, got it? You promised.” I give him a giant you’ll-be-in-big-trouble-if-you-break-your-promise kind of look and smile at Izzy.

She laughs again. What’s with that?

“Super cool looking diary! I’ve never seen anything so cute. Not ever!” She strokes the purple fur cover as if it’s a cat. Well, it is, but she doesn’t know that. I pull it away from her in case Nip starts purring.

“Sorry! I don’t know why I did that. Anyway, we’d better get to class. I’m in sixth grade. You?”

“Me too,” I say.

I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be spotted with someone so weird on my first day. I look around for someone to tag along after. Someone dressed in black.

I pick up my backpack, and Izzy looks at me funny. Then she looks at my bag. Her smile becomes twice its size. I shove Nip back into my bag and wonder what she’s smiling at.

Oh no! Freshly popped corn is popping itself out of my bag and all over the school steps. Students are catching handfuls and cheering me on. My face feels hotter than the hot corn. Pops must have snuck into my bag. How could he?

Pops is my pet corncob. Well, he’s kind of my pet. He was just an ordinary corncob once. I used a potion on him and brought him to life. He doesn’t talk. But he does have these cute little green spindly legs and tiny brown kernels for eyes. And he’s very emotional. He’s been popping corn like crazy for over a week every time I mention I’m going to school without him.

I shove my hand into my bag and grasp that crazy corncob. I squeeze him tight. He likes that. It calms him down.

“You’re definitely not normal, are you?” says Izzy, stuffing her face with popcorn. “I like it.”

“I am. I am normal!” I yell as if my life depends on it.

Luckily, Pops settles down, the popcorn stops spilling from my bag, and the kids all move away. Phew! I got this.

“Miss Everyday. My office. Now!”

It’s that gym teacher from earlier. She’s as red as a bobbing apple at Halloween.

“I’m going to follow that teacher like a normal kid.” I’m glad at least to get away from Izzy. She asks too many questions.

She laughs again. “You’re too cool. You get to go to Principal Rogers’ office on your first day. That’s definitely not normal. I’ll save you a seat in class.”

No, I want to yell, but instead I’m wondering what she means. Is the gym teacher the principal? I guess I’ll find out.

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Being the only witch at my school is the best thing ever! So when the new girl turns out to be a witch too, someone awful and horrid from my old life, you know there's going to be trouble. 

My name is Evie Everyday, and I go to Wyndemere Elementary, a strictly no-witch zone. It's hard enough keeping my witchiness a secret without Veronica showing up to ruin my wonderful new life. Worst of all, she’s better than me at everything too.

That is, until the spooky Halloween Competition. I finally have the chance to prove, once and for all, that I’m better than Veronica.

Winning should be easy. All I have to do is:

  • Stop myself from turning green with envy.
  • Come up with the spookiest magic ever.
  • Not listen to my friends.
  • And beat Veronica.

But when everything starts to go wrong, the only way to win the competition is to make it spookier than ever. And only one person can help me... the one and only Jack-o-lantern.


Author Elena Paige has created an utterly charming and really wholesome series that combines the delightful ups and downs of middle school drama with magical action and adventure.

One of the things I really like about it is that central protagonist Evie Everyday still has a lot to learn about her magical abilities and her social skills, which comes through as she navigates these worlds with hard work and understanding.

The plot construction delivers a lot in every chapter for immediate entertainment but also builds to a really great overall storyline that sets up future adventures well too. The cast of supporting characters have their moments to shine, and I secretly really liked Veronica and her snooty ways.

Overall, Spooky Magic makes a fantastic addition to the series and is a highly enjoyable and highly recommended read for middle-grade children across the spectrum.

K.C. Finn

I think Elena Paige did an excellent job of writing a fun, spunky, fantasy book for older children. I haven’t read the first book in the series, but if it’s anything like Spooky Magic, it will definitely have my attention. The characters are well written and thought out.

I like Evie’s character because she’s not a perfect witch and displays human, childlike qualities that the young reader can relate to. The story plot was fascinating and it hints at what may have gone on in the first book so the reader isn’t completely lost as to how Evie ended up living in a normal town and going to a school with regular children.

It’s a book series I would recommend reading, especially for those young readers who are into fantasy and Harry Potter novels.

Tiffany Ferrell


Today is my lucky day. I can feel in my bones that I’m about to win this game.

I suck in a big breath of air and puff it out again the way I do when I’m about to cast a spell. I zip and zoodle down, down, down, preparing to make a grab for the fat green frog. My left hand grips my broomstick, and my right hand is stretched longer than a cat’s tail. Winner, winner, winner. Me, me, me!

Crash! Bash! Slide . . . Splash!

I fall off my broomstick, hit the cherry tree, slide through the pumpkin patch, and splatter into the fishpond. Yuck! Tiny fish lips are sucking at my skin. Double yuck!

“Snubbidy small, froggidy fall.” I force the frog to fall from the sky and into my hands. It slips from my soggy fingers and sinks into the pond, glad to escape.

“Hey, that’s cheating,” Izzy calls out.

Izzy is my best friend in the whole wide world. Wider than the world even. She’s right—I kinda did cheat.

“Sorry.” I climb out of the pond and dry myself with a swoosh of my hand. I pull off a fish sucking at my braid and throw it back into the water. “Hey, you’re good on that couch. It’s been behaving today.”

Izzy lands smoothly right beside me, a cat, a bat, and a corncob piled up next to her on the red-and-green sofa she’s relaxing on. The cat is Mr. Nipkins, Nip for short. The bat is Sylvie. And the corncob is Pops. Yep, a walking cob of corn. Nip is the only one who can talk.

“It’s harder than I thought to catch a flying frog,” Izzy says. “But flying around is the best. I thought you said Calamity Magic is dangerous? This couch has behaved perfectly.” Izzy strokes the couch as if it’s a pet piranha that could bite her any minute.

“Perfectly behaved? It’s the most vile, vehemently vexed couch I’ve ever met,” says Nip, using his favorite V words. “It tried to violently vacate me at least three hundred times.” Nip’s obsessed with V words. “Can I play with butterflies now? I’m tired of this game.”

His bottom lip trembles. I think he means it. He really doesn’t like this game? Who doesn’t like a game of Flying Frog? Catching a frog that’s flying at one hundred miles an hour is the greatest thrill of my life.

“Sure, you can go. Me and Izzy can eat all the pistachio and passion fruit pavlova ourselves,” I say.

“Yum!” says Izzy.

Sylvie flies around my head, letting me know pavlova would make her day.

Nip’s face turns a lighter shade of purple. Did I forget to tell you he’s purple? Well, he is. And he lives to eat fruit. First, he scrunches his face tight as a tortoise skin. Then he stretches it wide like a witch about to sneeze. Finally, he lets gravity take over, and he looks like a depressed donkey. I knew a depressed donkey once. It climbed 9,999 steps with me on its back, during a family trip to Italy. It wasn’t a happy donkey.

“On second thought, I can play with butterflies later,” Nip says. “I’ll stay.”

“Good, Nip. Good, Couch.” I pat the couch for its especially good behavior. You never can tell what will happen when you use Calamity Magic to bring furniture to life. It can get a little dizzy with excitement. But Couch was the only thing I could think of for Izzy to fly on. And it’s safer than the kitchen table.

Only witches are allowed to ride broomsticks. It’s a serious law, and there’s no breaking it, even for a rebel witch like me.

Izzy’s not a witch, but she knows all about us witches. She’s a witch expert. In fact, I think she knows more about witches than I do. She even wears a witch’s talisman. And I didn’t tell her about them, honest. She researched and made it herself. Pretty impressive, right?

I pick up Pops super slowly so he doesn’t start popping corn like crazy. He does that when he gets emotional. He’s a very sensitive cob of corn. But he snores back at me, fast asleep.

“Have you heard about the new girl starting in our class tomorrow?” says Izzy.

I pause mid-step and start fidgeting with my skirt. “A new girl? But I’m the new girl.” It’s been exactly sixty-two days since I started at Wyndemere Elementary. It’s a normal school for normal kids.

Yeah, I know I’m not like normal kids. I’m a witch. But going to an normal school is the single best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Not anymore.” Izzy seems happy about it. She bounces through the door, throws off her fabulous floral shoes, and trudges past Winston, the piano. He’s playing “tun tun tun TUN!” Very dramatic. Very Winston. He always plays music. And it always matches my mood.

I slice pieces of pavlova for Nip, Sylvie, and Izzy and cut myself an extra big slice. I swish the sweet fluffy meringue around my mouth, wondering how I didn’t hear about this until now. “Are you sure?”

“Yep, Monique told me. She heard it from Mrs. Parker, who heard it from Mr. Lundry, who heard it from Ms. Constantinople, who heard it from your dad.”

I gulp hard, almost choking on passion-fruit seeds. “My dad? He didn’t mention anything to me.” Dad’s been busy drafting up a new witch law he’s being especially secretive about. “So what about a new girl? I was new once. It’s no big deal, right?”

“I’m not so sure,” says Izzy, slicing herself another piece of pavlova. “Monique told me she’s the daughter of a famous magician.”

Nip pounces on what’s left of the pavlova, sucking the passion fruit from the top. “What she’s trying to say is the new girl’s a witch.” He winks at me, and downs the pistachios next, leaving the white, sticky, gooey pavlova dish empty.

It’s exactly how my insides feel: white, sticky, gooey. And empty. Another witch is coming to Wyndemere Elementary?

“No way! Tell me you’re lying,” I yell. Pops jumps from his sleep, his eyes bigger than flying saucers about to launch into outer space. Popcorn erupts from his cob, and from my heart, all over the floor.

“Are you sure, Nip? I didn’t know that,” says Izzy, picking up Pops and rubbing his belly.

“Yep. I heard Evie’s dad telling her mom all about it last week,” says Nip.

“And you didn’t tell me before now?” I clench my jaw and wonder why Mom or Dad didn’t mention anything to me.

Nip shrugs and licks the pavlova from his fur.

“This will be fun,” says Izzy. “I can’t wait to meet her. One witch friend is awesome. Two will be amazing. Right, Evie?”

I nod, pretending to agree, but inside I’m seriously freaking out. I like Wyndemere for the very reason that there are no witches other than me. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to meet any other witch. They’re nasty. Self-centered. And competitive. Did I mention they’re competitive? Yep, more competitive than a pack of bats at an apple-dunking dare. Witches take competitions very seriously. And they hate to lose.

“Are you okay, Evie?”


“You look green, really green.”

“I . . . guess . . . I’m . . . a . . . little . . .”

“Jealous!” yells Nip, louder than my Auntie Floss playing bingo. “Witches turn green when they’re—”

I swish my hand and turn Nip into a diary. Blabbermouth. But it doesn’t stop him from talking. In fact, he sings instead. “Evie is jealous. Evie is jealous.”

I swish my hand again and send him flying by me, all the way up the stairs, into my bedroom. I slam the door shut with my magic. I can still hear him. That cat!

Izzy’s eyes widen as her eyebrows almost lift off her face. I can sense the green spreading from my face all the way down my arms. I jump up and down, trying to think happy thoughts. But it’s no use.

I’m green from head to toe. I bet my insides are green too. I feel green spurting from my brain, from my pores, and from my nostrils. I’m green!

Green with envy.

I’m no better than that no-good, wretched Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. And Izzy is staring at me, just like Dorothy. She looks disappointed and dismayed. Who can blame her?

Nip is right.

I’m totally jealous.

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When dangerous creatures turn up in Wyndermere, it’s time to prove to everyone I’m not a complete failure. It’s up to me to save the day... on my own!

My name is Evie Everyday, and I'm a witch. Nip the cat, Sylvie the bat, Pops the corn cob, Jack-o-lantern, and Izzy are my best friends, and I love them to the moon and back. But they've helped me out of trouble so many times it's like they don’t even believe I’m a very good witch.

Well, all that's about to change. I’ve forbidden them to help me. I'll show them and everybody else just what I’m capable of!

Saving the town from dangerous creatures should be easy. All I have to do is:

  • Catch those pesky zombies
  • Find the hobgoblin that's loose in town
  • Refuse my friends' help without upsetting them
  • And find out who's after me

But when everything starts to go wrong, the only way to save the day is to use Special Magic. And the only way to make sure I succeed on my own this time… is to use Special Magic again and again until I get it right!


Special Magic (Evie Everyday Witch Book 3) by Elena Paige is such a fun book. A friend of mine has been looking for children’s books with magic in them for her kids, so I jumped at the chance to read this story.

I am so glad I did; what a magical world has been created in this book. Evie is something else, she reminds me of myself. She is quirky and spunky and so full of life. I haven’t read the other books, but I still felt part of the world that has been created here. It is really easy to get into and enjoy.

I think this is a fantastic book and I can see kids being absolutely entranced by it. I have to say, as a cat person Nip earned a special spot in my heart as well. If you are looking for a story that your kids will love chapter by chapter, this is certainly a book they need to read. Of course, you may want to start at the beginning of the series too!

Kathryn Bennett

Author Elena Paige has crafted another charming middle-grade chapter book that transports readers back into the world of the weird and wonderful Evie, whose bright spirit continues to light up every page.

Having experienced previous books in the series, it was a delight to see Evie facing another challenge, but this time looking deeper at her own qualities and asking important questions that reflect real social issues.

This core journey is heightened by the magical, atmospheric writing of the author, who also continues to amaze with her inventive scenarios, well-described monsters, and the excellent pacing of the adventure plot. It makes for a wild ride, but one which really has a lot of heart.

Overall, I would definitely recommend Special Magic and the series in general to those seeking children’s books with plenty of fun concepts, but also a helpful, productive, and pro-self-esteem message at their core.

K.C Finn


Elena Paige’s Special Magic is a fast-paced and action-packed story that delivers on so many levels. Although this is the third book in the Evie Everyday Witch series, the author includes enough background information for it to be enjoyed as a standalone story.

While I could empathize with Evie’s desire to fix things on her own, I loved seeing how well she and her friends work as a team. Paige’s plot is fun and spooky all at once, and her characters are ingeniously contrived and utterly believable.

I’m hoping to see future books in this engaging and fun series about coming of age as a young, everyday witch. Special Magic: Evie Everyday Witch, Book 3 is most highly recommended.

Jack Magnus


Zombies have a mean bite. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s super itchy. Worse than one thousand hungry mosquito bites.

I shove my black and white wands into my backpack, take a bite of my apple, and bow to Fasticia, my owl. She bows back and gives me the mugwort and patchouli I asked for. Patchouli for protection and mugwort to put those nasty zombies to sleep. According to Mom, a mysterious swarm of zombies appeared in the graveyard last week. Creepy. But the perfect adventure.

“Thank you, Fasticia.”

“You’re welcome, Evie. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No thank you.”

“You’re sure?”


“Are you really sure?”

“Uh huh.”

Fasticia closes one of her giant owl eyes and leans in close so we’re face to face. Except her face is huge next to mine. Fasticia lives under my floorboards and protects all my spell ingredients. And she’s about fifteen times bigger than any owl you’ve ever seen or imagined.

But she’s still brown, and she’s still friendly. Except for when she closes one of her eyes and gawks at me with her other one, trying to work out what I’m up to.

“I’m fine. Honestly, Fasticia.”

“So you’re not fighting a swarm of zombies with these ingredients?” She closes both her eyes and clucks more like a chicken than a giant barn owl.

“Sure I am.” It’s no use lying to her. She’s super smart and knows everything. And I mean everything. Including the fact that my apple is really a donut in disguise. Mom hates it when I snack on anything except fruit after dinner.

Fasticia opens both her eyes at once and almost bowls me over with her giant flapping wings. “Evie, you can’t fight zombies on your own. Ask your mom and dad to help.”

I shake my head from side to side, cross my arms, and purse my lips. Zip my lips. Glue my lips shut.

“It’s dangerous,” Fasticia persists. “And zombie bites can get infected.”

I scrunch my nose at her and keep my lips pursed, zipped, and glued shut.

“Fine. Be like that, but at least take some of this.” She squawks at me, then hands me charcoal. It’s great for soothing zombie bites.

I unpurse, unzip, and unglue my mouth. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. I can do this on my own.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“I need to do this alone,” I insist.


I sit down on my bed and rub my tears away. “Because I’m a failure.”

Fasticia sits on the end of my bed, making it lopsided. “Evie, you saved your whole school from a harpy. And you brought Jack-o’-lantern back to life. You’re not a failure.”

I jiggle my legs together. She’s right. I did those things. But . . . 

“I only defeated Mrs. Rogers, the harpy, because of my friends’ help. And I only brought Jack back to life thanks to Nip. I lost the competition. I need to prove I can do something by myself. No help. Just me.”

Fasticia breathes out, like a vacuum cleaner in reverse. “Why do something alone? It’s much better with friends.”

I look at my sparkly sneakers. “To prove I can.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to yourself. You’re the—”

“Brightest witch of my age. I know, I know. But what if I’m not? What if it’s all been luck?”

My question dances in the air like a tornado tilting this way and that.

Fasticia gets up, swats at the random fly on her nose, goes back to her spot on the open floorboards, and spreads both eyes wide. “Evie Everyday Witch. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You just need to believe in yourself. You are good enough.”

Fasticia is always saying stuff like that. She reminds me of Stacy Soapbox, the famous motivational witch coach.

She spins and twirls below the floor, where she lives protecting all my spell ingredients. The floorboards close in above her, just as my thoughts close in above my head. I want to believe her. I really do. But right now I don’t. I need to do something on my own. To prove to myself I really am good enough.

I shove the charcoal, patchouli, and mugwort into my bag and zip it up. Thunder storms in my head. Lightning flashes behind my eyes. I really can do this. It’s just a group of zombies. I’m a witch, for goodness’ sake. I’m a witch, I yell in my mind. I’ll be fine.

I can hear Dad’s snoring bouncing around the hallway. I sneak down the stairs, careful to avoid the one creaky step, and tiptoe past the living room, where my friends are sound asleep: Saffire, the unicorn; Nip, my talking cat; Sylvie, my bat; and Pops, the crazy corncob who pops delicious hot buttered popcorn with a twist of raspberry.

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How I’d love a mouthful right now for courage. But they’re all sound asleep in front of the fire. Perfect. I can sneak out without—


I almost jump out of my striped stockings. It’s Jack. Jack-o’-lantern. I brought Jack back to life so I could win this year’s Halloween competition. He lives with us now. Like I said earlier, I didn’t win. Partly because I forced Jack to pretend to be tall, mean, and scary. Mostly because I forced him to be tall, mean, and scary.

He’s not scary at all. Or mean. And he’s definitely not tall. He’s really short. Shorter than me. But his pumpkin head is just the right size. And his voice is sweet and squeaky.

“Where are you going?” He squints his carved eyes at me.

“I’m . . . getting some . . . fresh flowers . . . for a spell.”

Jack tilts his pumpkin head to one side, and his voice rises even higher than usual. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, Jack.”

Nip stirs, farts, then continues catching butterflies in his sleep. I lower my voice. “Listen, I’m not going flower picking.”

“I know that,” Jack whispers back.

“I’m going to—”

“Fight the zombies. I know that too. And I’m still coming. You can’t do this alone.”

“But Jack, you’re scared of . . . everything!”

Jack’s head trembles on his little vine neck. “I am scared. Terrified. About to faint, I think. But I’m still coming. You’re my friend, and I want to help.”

I can tell there’s no use arguing with him. We creep out the front door, careful not to wake Winston, the wild and willful piano. He’s playing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” in his sleep. Softly. Sweetly.

I step outside. The zombies are chittering and chattering down at the cemetery. My muscles tighten. My shoulders lift toward my ears. My knees clang together. I almost choke on the fresh night air.

I have to send them back where they came from. I tighten my fists and take big strides down the hill.

“Come on, Jack.”

Jack scurries behind me like a frightened little bird. “Do they bite?”

“Yep. Hard too. But you won’t die from a zombie bite.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Shh. I hear them up ahead.” I pull the patchouli and mugwort out of my bag and hold them together in one hand, my two wands squeezed tight in the other. Shivers of electricity shoot up and down my back. My legs wobble. This is it. Me against the zombies.

“I can hold the plants for you,” says Jack, reaching out his vine hands toward my patchouli and mugwort.

I jump back like a witch on fire. I ain’t letting Jack help. No way, no how. “Look, Jack. I let you come along and all, but I’m doing this on my own.”

I smile. I don’t mean to hurt his feelings, but there’s definitely no way I’m letting him help. He’ll ruin everything. I stretch my smile even more and put my hands behind my back.

Jack crosses his arms and turns away from me. I try to make him feel better. “Did I mention zombies love the color orange? You’re perfect for drawing them to us. I’m glad you’re here.”

He turns back around, his face glowing. “Where did the zombies come from, anyway?”

I scrunch my nose, hunting for the memory in my brain. Nope. Nothing. Not a single clue. “I don’t know. Mom just told me there are hundreds of them, and for me to stay inside at night.”

“And we’re not listening to your mom because . . . ?”

“Because I’m the cleverest witch there is, and I’m not scared of zombies. This will be easy. Tomorrow I can let everyone know how brave and brilliant I am. Come on.”

Jack nods his head up and down so much it threatens to fall off and roll down the hill.

I squeeze my wands tighter in my left hand, patchouli and mugwort in my right. 

I feel like Auntie Floss when she fought in the Great Vampire War. It’s the real reason vampires no longer exist. Witches got rid of them all. For real. It was a huge battle.

I wasn’t born yet, but her stories are epic. Only this time, it’s me against the zombies. And best of all, I will defeat them ON MY OWN.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” squeaks Jack.

“Yep. I’m totally sure.”

Yowling noises come from the distance. Nipping noises. Chomping noises. “It’s them. Be brave, Jack. And no, their bites don’t hurt. They just make you itchy. But here, wear this. It will protect you, and I won’t need it. I have the patchouli to protect me.”

I hand Jack my talisman necklace. It protects witches from our enemies. I can see those zany zombies zigzagging at the bottom of the hill. “See you down there,” I say as I run toward the scuffle of zombies headed for us.

“Ahh!” I call out, hoping to scare those zombies back into their graves.

Face to face now, me and the zombies. They stop short. I stop short. We stare each other down. I hold my left hand above my head, wands at the ready. A witch about to defeat a zombie army.

“Watch this, Jack!” I yell, proud of myself. I point the patchouli and mugwort at those ugly zombies. I take in a big breath of air, and just as I’m about to shake my mugwort and patchouli and put them to sleep, hordes of zombies jump on me. I drop my wands. I drop my patchouli and mugwort. I drop my courage.

“Ahh. Ouch. Get off me. Jaaaaaack! Help!”

I’ve just been attacked by squirmy, suffocating . . . squirrel zombies.

Available world-wide in ebook, paperback, and hardback edition...



When a mysterious letter arrives from my old witch school Pergoria, I finally get the chance to prove experimental magic is better than boring old traditional magic.

My name is Evie Everyday, and I'm secretly a witch at Wyndemere Elementary, a school for regular kids. The witches at Pergoria hate my experimental magic, and they hate me too, but a special series of trials is the perfect opportunity for me to show them just how special my new magic is!

Passing the trials should be easy. All I have to do is:

  • Rescue my best friend Izzy
  • Avoid Atlas, Oliver, Nyra and Ellie, AKA the Pergoria Bullies
  • Help my friends, who have been turned into golden statues
  • And stop the ex-headmaster Mario Marzipan from interfering

But the only way to pass the trials and help my friends is to use blah traditional magic. And the only people who can help me are... the Pergoria Bullies!

Elena Paige’s middle grade novel, Moon Magic, is Book 4 of the Evie Everyday Witch series. The plot follows a lot of exciting twists and turns as Evie leaves her non-witch school for regular kids to respond to an invitation to share her experimental magic at her old witch school in Pergoria.

The author keeps the reader engaged with lots of magic, mayhem and compelling and believable dialogue. The story is told mostly through dialogue and moves forward quickly.

There are drawings to accompany the text, adding to the interest of the developing plot. This is another fun and entertaining read for young readers who love magic and a quirky little witch like Evie.

Emily-Jane Hills Orford

Moon Magic is a lively book with a charming and brilliant protagonist. I am happy this is just one of the books in a series because Evie is an unusual witch who amazed me from page one. In fact, she loves experimental magic more than traditional magic, but perhaps she loves math even more than magic (she admits it!).

Considering Evie's character, the story told by Elena Paige and wonderfully illustrated by Stephanie Parcus could only be as pleasant and original as Evie herself. In addition to her flowing style, Paige amused me with the witty comments of her protagonist.

In Moon Magic, Evie will find new friends and discover an important lesson about magic, but above all, her adventures will pleasantly entertain any reader who loves magic (more than math). This is why I highly recommend it to all of them.

Astrid Lustulin


Do you love math? I do. Me, Evie Everyday, loves math more than anything else in the whole wide world.

More than English. More than science. More than history. Maybe even more than magic.

Definitely more than boring old traditional magic. In case you didn’t know, I’m a witch, a magical witch. But unlike other witches my age, I attend a regular school for regular kids. And instead of practicing traditional magic like I’m supposed to, I love to experiment and make up new and original magic. Nothing makes me happier.

Except for math.

It’s totally a toss up between whether addition and subtraction is more fun than inventing potions, designing new spells, or discovering hidden magic.

Yep. It’s a tie. How can I choose between math and experimental magic? I love them both. BOOM, just like that, I raise my hand up straight as a broomstick. I’m first to finish the math test again. Algebra is easy peasy.

“I’m done, Mr. Sanders,” I call out proudly.

Izzy rolls her eyes at me. “Me too,” she says in a deep croaky voice. Weird. 

Since when has Izzy been good at math? Did she learn some new magic to help her? Izzy’s not a witch like me, but she knows lots and lots about us witches and she’s a quick study. Last week, she toasted her bread without a toaster, made herself a new dress without a sewing machine, and played Winston, my piano, at the same time as she played the violin. All thanks to magic that I invented. She’s my best friend and the only regular person at Wyndemere Elementary who knows I’m a witch.

“I’m happy to do next week’s test today too,” I beg, deciding on the spot that it’s definitely a tie between math and magic. They’re both pretty cool. Lots of fun. And extremely useful. Do you know you need math to measure the speed of a witch on a broomstick? And math is brilliant when you want to count the number of sprinkles on fairy bread. Such useful information, right?

“Hmm, thank you, girls. One test is enough for now, Evie.” Mr. Sanders takes our test papers with a wrinkled brow. “Still thirty minutes to go, everyone. Keep at it. Math is fun.” His face lights up like a glow-worm.

“Sure is,” I agree to the boos and hisses of my classmates.

Mr. Sanders eyes my test paper, scribbles something on it, and hands it back to me. “Ten out of ten as usual, Evie.”

I beam, blush, stand up, and bow.

“All right,” he chuckles. “Do some extra study while everyone else finishes their tests.” Mr. Sanders raises both his eyebrows at Izzy. “Hm. You’ve improved overnight with your math, Izzy. Ten out of ten for you too, it seems. You’re not copying from Evie, are you?”

Izzy shakes her head from side to side, her eyebrows pointed angrily inward, which is so unlike her. She’s the happiest person I know. Suspicious. What’s up with her today?

“How the witch can anyone do this bath stuff? It’s impossible. That’s it! I give up! This is too hard!”

That was Veronica. The only other witch at Wyndemere Elementary school. Veronica came here for the Halloween competition and decided to stay. I think she likes how down to earth and easy it is to be around regular day kids compared to witch kids. The only problem is she hates English, struggles with history (don’t we all?), and despises math. I mean, really? Who hates math? She doesn’t even understand what math is. She calls it ‘bath’ and thinks it’s an exercise in creative drawing, instead of complicated calculus.

“Whatever. I’m done,” she says, handing in today’s Picasso. I pretend to stretch and catch a view of her test. She’s joined all the numbers and letters together, creating a giant butterfly. It is pretty. She totally has a knack for art. But she does not have a knack for math.

Mr. Sanders huffs, shrugs his shoulders, and lands on a smile. “What a creative butterfly, Veronica. Have you ever considered getting a math tutor?”

“I’m available,” I offer.

“Yeah, no thanks. I don’t see where I’d ever need to use bath. Total waste of time.”

“Shh. I’m trying to work out what 2n+3 equals,” complains Vinh from the back of the class.

“Eleven!” I answer. “Oops, sorry. I could tutor you too if you like?”

“Shh!” yells Gertrude.

“Be quiet!” calls Todd.

“No thanks, show off!” yells Vinh, loudest of all.

“Getting a start on next week’s test isn’t such a bad idea after all. Here you go, Evie.” Mr. Sanders hands me more math work. Yeah! Lucky me.

“I think we all need a break.” Monique holds her head like it’s a bomb about to explode.

What’s wrong with her? I mean, I could do math all day long. Couldn’t you?