Class Six and the Eel of Fortune Page 3
Nothing happened for a couple of minutes.
‘So... aren’t we going to have any lessons?’ asked Jack, at last.
The man started, and opened an eye.
‘Lessons? Ah, yes, I should have said. I understand you’ve been having trouble with some dreadful woman... a Mrs Knowall, is that right? So you must tell me if she should happen to come along. I have several extremely dull lessons up my sleeve that should satisfy even the nastiest school governor. Just push the third button on my waistcoat and I shall spring to life.’
‘Spring to life?’ echoed Emily, paling.
The man smiled. ‘Oh, I’m not a ghost or anything like that. No, I’m Mr Hazel, and I’m largely dormouse. It makes me really very cheap to hire.’
Class Six looked at each other.
‘Well, goodnight, then,’ said Mr Hazel, and settled himself down once more.
Mr Hazel did say just one more thing before he started snoring. It was do wake me up at home time, won’t you.
* * *
‘Well, that wheel of fortune thing people keep going on about has finally rolled our way,’ said Jack, with satisfaction. ‘This means we can spend the whole day playing football!’
‘No, Jack,’ said Anil, firmly. ‘This means we can spend the whole day saving the school.’
‘But... but... but we’re only little!’ said Emily, her bottom lip quivering.
Anil marched up and down importantly.
‘We must make a list,’ he said. ‘Most of the attractions at the fair are run by outside people, like the feed-the-troll bins and the unicorn rides –’
Winsome made a note: refreshments for unicorns?
‘– but anything that’s usually arranged by Miss Broom we have to organise ourselves.’
‘Well, I’ll start work on the cake stall,’ said Slacker Punchkin, licking his lips.
‘Can you make Toasted Lean Tarts, like Miss Broom does?’ asked Serise. ‘You know, the ones that make you thinner?’
‘Yes, we need Toasted Lean Tarts, they sell like hot cakes,’ said Jack. ‘They must make tons of money.’
Slacker Punchkin turned to the cupboard where Miss Broom kept her cauldron, his mouth set in a determined line.
‘Well, I can jolly well try,’ he said.
Most of the teachers did quite ordinary things at the fair, like running the raffle or judging the fancy dress (the school fair had easily the best fancy-dress parade in town, with fairies who really seemed to be flying, and dragons who could toast marshmallows as they walked along). Mr Wolfe and Mr Bloodsworth ran the sea-serpent ride, but Miss Broom, as Miss Elwig had told them, ordered the sea serpent.
‘I like the sea-serpent ride,’ said Rodney. ‘I like seeing the old toilets in Atlantis. And the barnacles.’
‘Ah, right,’ said Serise. ‘You saw Atlantis. From a sea serpent. Now tell me you don’t believe in mer-mer-mer-mumps.’
‘Of course I don’t,’ said Rodney. He put the blunt end of a pencil into his ear and began to turn it round and round as if he was sharpening it. He often did things like that. ‘That was just a bicycle confusion.’
‘A bicycle... oh, never mind,’ said Anil. ‘Let’s see what Slacker can do with the Lean Tarts, shall we?’
* * *
The difficult bit about making Lean Tarts was picking the thistles. Well, that and persuading the moths to show you where they’d left their cast-off cocoons. Even so, it wasn’t long before the classroom was filled with the delicious scent of crisping cobwebs.
‘Here we are,’ said Slacker, at last, taking a baking tray out of the cauldron. ‘They just need a swirl of bats’-blood icing now.’
‘Oh, poor little bats!’ said Emily, welling up.
‘Oh no, it’s all right, it comes from cricket bats,’ explained Slacker. ‘They don’t feel a thing.’ And soon the pile of tarts was gleaming with scarlet frosting.
‘Can I have one?’ asked Jack, licking his lips.
‘No you can’t, they’re for the fair,’ said Anil, severely. ‘We need every penny we can raise. Our education’s at stake!’
‘We won’t get much education if we’re in jail for poisoning people,’ pointed out Serise. ‘Those tarts have got a lot of scorpion poo in them, don’t forget.’
Winsome nodded.
‘We must be responsible,’ she said. ‘We can’t risk hurting members of the public.’
Anil tutted.
‘Oh, all right, then. Jack!’
‘What?’
‘You can eat one.’
Class Six watched as Jack picked up a glistening tart and took a huge bite.
‘What’s it like?’ asked Slacker, with professional interest.
Jack’s answer came through a cloud of crumbs and spiders’ hairs.
‘Fantastic!’ he said. ‘It tastes of candyfloss and maple syrup and strawberries... and, hang on, there’s a bit of chocolate in there, too. And cake. Lots of buttery cake with a toffee aftertaste, and...’
The first sign that something wasn’t quite right was the change in Jack’s face. It was largely hidden behind his Lean Tart, but...
‘His nose is getting flatter,’ whispered Emily to Winsome.
Jack was too busy rabbiting on about golden syrup and liquorice allsorts to take any notice, but soon other odd things began happening.
‘I don’t think his eyes are quite as bulgy as usual,’ said Serise.
‘And look at his knees,’ said Anil. ‘They’re usually like doorknobs, but now they look almost... normal.’
Winsome moved round so she could see Jack sideways and gave a gasp.
‘He’s getting thinner!’ she said.
‘Oh, that’s good,’ said Slacker Punchkin. ‘I was afraid they wouldn’t work. Now I come to think about it, I’m pretty sure I used the wrong type of toadstool.’
‘No,’ said Serise, who’d joined Winsome. ‘He’s not getting thinner like that. Jack, turn sideways. See? He’s getting thinner!’
And then they all saw what she meant. Jack was the same height as before, but sideways on he was only a few centimetres thick. As they watched, he shrunk to the width of a paperback, and then a comic, and then a sheet of cardboard.
Anil hastily snatched the remains of the Lean Tart away from Jack before he vanished altogether.
Winsome was just saying we’ll have to make him sick, when they heard bad-tempered heels clacking along the corridor.
‘Mrs Knowall!’ squeaked Emily.
Everyone moved at once. Anil shoved Jack against the wall and hissed look like a painting! Slacker slammed the magic-cupboard door shut on the cauldron, Winsome raced over to push the third button on Mr Hazel’s waistcoat, and everyone else flung themselves into their seats.
When Mrs Knowall appeared in the classroom doorway it was to find Mr Hazel standing up and saying, in the most boring voice ever: ‘Children must eat raw vegetables at least twenty-three times a day. Repeat after me: carrots, thirty calories per hundred grams; broccoli, thirty calories per hundred grams; cabbage, twenty-five calories per hundred grams...’
Mrs Knowall looked at the faces of the children, haggard with worry and shock, and smiled a little self-satisfied smile. Then she nodded politely to Mr Hazel, said something about being glad the children were learning something useful, and backed out.
‘Phew!’ said Slacker, once the door has closed behind her. ‘That was close! But what on earth do we do now?’
Mr Hazel blinked round blearily.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll work something out,’ he said. Then he sat down again, settled himself comfortably in his chair, and went back to sleep.
Chapter Seven
‘Work something out?’ said Serise. ‘It’s home time in fifteen minutes, and Jack’s about the thickness of a cheese and onion crisp!’
Slacker squinted thoughtfully at Jack.
‘Perhaps no one will notice,’ he said.
‘You must be joking,’ said Jack. ‘I’m going to my gran’s tonight!’
‘Gran does,’ said Jack, firmly. ‘Anyway, she always wants to try out her judo moves on me, and I’m as thin as a sheet of loo roll! She’ll tear me limb from limb!’
Outside a lorry with Zoom-Zoom Balloons written on the side was backing carefully into the car park.
‘Balloons for the fair,’ said Rodney, happily. ‘I like balloons. Last year one took me up so high I could see all the way from the football ground to the zoo.’
‘Zoo?’ said Serise, distracted. ‘What zoo?’
‘I don’t know. It had lions and zebras. And all the grass was yellow.’
Anil put his head in his hands.
‘That was Africa, Rodney,’ he said. ‘The balloon took you up so high you could see Africa.’
‘Oh no,’ said Rodney. ‘Africa’s just somewhere in stories. Those giraffes and things must have been optional confusions.’
‘The balloon man must have filled your head with gas, as well as the balloons,’ muttered Serise.
Anil clicked his fingers.
‘That’s it!’ he said. ‘That’s the way to make Jack fatter! Wait here, you lot!’
And he ran out of the classroom.
* * *
It all worked remarkably well. Until –
‘All right,’ said Winsome. ‘I think you’re blown-up enough now, Jack.’
Jack took the balloon away from his mouth. Winsome hadn’t let him suck the gas straight from the metal canister.
‘He’s still really skinny,’ commented Serise, ‘But at least his trousers are staying up.’
‘All right,’ said Winsome, ‘take out the drawing pins, Anil.’
They’d pinned Jack’s shirt to a display board to stop him from being blown over every time someone sneezed.
Anil prised out the pins.
‘There we are,’ he said. ‘All done. I –’
‘Eek!’ Jack squawked.
‘Oh no!’ said everyone.
‘Help!’ Jack said, his head bumping against the ceiling and his feet dangling. ‘I can’t get down!’
‘We should have known the gas would turn him into a balloon,’ said Slacker.
‘Emily!’ said Winsome. ‘You know the cupboard where Mr Bloodsworth keeps his long black cloak? Go and get it!’
‘I’m not going to pretend to be a bat, not for anyone,’ protested Jack. ‘You must be joking! I might get eaten by an owl! Help! I want to come down!’
‘And Rodney,’ went on Winsome, ‘you know those big pebbles by the pond? Get twelve of those, will you?’
‘I’m not eating pebbles, either!’ squawked Jack.
Luckily Mr Bloodsworth’s cloak had deep pockets. Six pebbles in each pocket were just heavy enough to weigh Jack down so his toes touched the ground.
‘But he’s still very light,’ said Winsome, wrinkling her forehead. ‘Someone had better hold his hand on the way home in case he blows away.’
It caused a lot of argument, but in the end Emily, who was very soft-hearted, agreed to hold Jack’s hand.
‘Phew!’ said Anil, as the bell rang for the end of the school. ‘What a day! I hope tomorrow isn’t like this.’
It wasn’t.
The next day two people got eaten by a sea serpent.
Chapter Eight
Jack arrived at school the next morning still wearing Mr Bloodsworth’s cloak.
‘How are you?’ asked Winsome, anxiously.
‘Terrible,’ said Jack. ‘I nearly took off when I turned that windy corner by the shops. I could have ended up in Outer Mongolia. And I keep on burping.’
‘You what?’ said Winsome, in horror. ‘Oh no!’ She turned him round so she could see him sideways. ‘He’s getting thinner again!’ she exclaimed. ‘The gas must be leaking out!’
‘I know it is,’ said Jack, miserably. ‘My trousers fell down twice just going down to breakfast.’
‘What can we do?’ said Emily.
Class Six looked at each other in despair – except for Rodney, who laughed.
‘Everyone knows how to make themselves fatter,’ he said. ‘You just have to eat lots of sweets.’
Everyone took in a deep breath to say but... and then stopped.
‘It has to be worth a try,’ muttered Anil. He plucked a Toothrot bar from Slacker’s vast fist. ‘Here, eat that,’ he said to Jack.
‘Oi!’ protested Slacker, but Jack had already taken his first bite. He burped five times while he was eating it, but by the end he might have been a little steadier on his feet.
‘How much food have you got, Slacker?’ asked Anil.
Slacker took some chasing, but Serise and Winsome were both fast runners and they managed to corner him. Slacker’s rucksack contained a whole box of doughnuts and five pasties. Once Jack had eaten those he was heavy enough not to fall over, even when he got bashed by a passing butterfly.
‘You’d better keep that cloak on until lunch time,’ advised Winsome, ‘and then we’ll give you our puddings. I think you should be all right after that.’
* * *
Slacker fired up the cauldron as soon as Mr Hazel had called the register, then most of the class went out to collect ingredients for more cakes. Some people combed the field for worm casts, and some tried to persuade ladybirds to make footprints in a saucer of mud.
‘Now we’d better book the sea serpent,’ said Anil. So Winsome asked Algernon very politely if they could borrow Miss Broom’s credit card, and Emily went to get Miss Jeanie’s address book.
Anil flicked through the pages.
‘Salamanders, sandmen... ah, here we are: sea monsters. There’s a website.’
Anil sat down at one of the computers.
‘Couldn’t we have guinea-pig petting instead?’ asked Emily, but Anil took no notice.
‘There we are!’ he said. ‘It should be here after lunch.’
He sat back with a satisfied sigh.
‘Arranging a fair is actually quite simple, isn’t it,’ he said.
Serise gave him a scornful look.
‘Anil, you’ve just ordered a sea serpent,’ she said. ‘If anything is simple, it’s you.’
* * *
There was a small plastic envelope on Mr Hazel’s desk when they came in from lunch.
‘That can’t be the sea serpent!’ said Slacker, picking it up.
Anil snatched the envelope and tore it open. A length of coloured tissue paper fell out and swooped gently down on to the desk.
‘It’s just a picture,’ said Jack, very disappointed.
‘Trust you to buy something from a dodgy site,’ muttered Serise.
Winsome looked in the envelope and found an instruction sheet.
‘Just add a drop of water to bring the sea serpent to exciting life,’ she read.
Slacker was chomping on a Lean Tart. This latest batch seemed to be working well.
‘We’ll have to be really careful to keep it dry, then,’ he said, spraying flakes of pastry everywhere. ‘Just think: one single drop of water –’
A flake of pastry swerved elegantly up one of Rodney’s nostrils. Rodney’s shoulders twitched.
‘No!’ shouted Anil. ‘Don’t! Rodney, whatever you do, don’t –’
Rodney sneezed, but the sound was drowned out by a long loud pffffffft! like a braking steam engine. Suddenly the room was full of a smell like mouldy football boots and they saw a dark waving shadow, which quickly proved to be cast by an enormous green sea serpent with metre-long fangs.
Rodney was the only person who didn’t panic.
‘Run!’ shouted Jack.
‘Run!’ shouted everyone else.
Rodney smiled foolishly.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘That’s just a nautical pollution.’
It was the last thing he said before the serpent ate him.
* * *
The sea
serpent kept striking out at people. It had just swallowed Jack’s chair.
‘Trust you to go and order a ferocious monster,’ said Serise to Anil, meeting him under a table.
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then,’ snapped Serise. ‘So are you just going to sit there while that thing eats us all?’
She crawled under a row of tables until she got to the front of the room, then reached out and pressed the third button of Mr Hazel’s waistcoat.
‘Oof!’ said a mild voice.
‘Mr Hazel!’ said Serise. ‘A sea serpent’s just eaten Rodney!’
‘Really?’ said Mr Hazel, sleepily. ‘A sea serpent? Mmm, yes. Magnificent beast!’
‘Magnificent? It stinks of drains and old kippers!’
Mr Hazel yawned, slowly. ‘Ah, yes, so it does. Um. Do you think you could get me a cup of coffee?’
‘A sea serpent’s eating people and you want coffee?’ said Serise, in disbelief, but she crawled over to the magic cupboard.
Luckily the cauldron was still hot. Serise scooped out a cup of brown stuff (it looked like coffee and quite frankly she was past caring). Halfway back to Mr Hazel someone shouted Anil, it’s behind – and then there was a blood-curdling scream.
‘Ah, good, it’s steaming nicely,’ said Mr Hazel. ‘Perfect. Now, just throw it over the sea serpent, will you?’
‘Oh, yeah, right,’ said Serise, scowling. ‘What else do you want me to do? Make myself a paper hat with EAT ME on it?’
‘I wouldn’t waste any time,’ advised Mr Hazel. ‘He’s just eaten another of your friends.’
Serise gave him a glare, but she hurled the cup of hot liquid over the nearest bit of the sea serpent.
There was a huge spurt of steam that blinded everyone, and then a giant cough – and then another – and then, quite suddenly, the air went completely clear.
The classroom went clear, too: instead of a huge, furious, stinking sea serpent there was just a lot of tumbled furniture and frightened children.
Two of the children were dripping wet and smelling of rotten fish and cabbage.
‘It’s Rodney and Anil!’ shouted Jack. ‘They’re alive!’
Serise stepped back.
‘They smell of serpent sick,’ she said.