Whizziwig and Whizziwig Returns Page 2

  ‘Ben, come downstairs for your breakfast,’ Mum called out.

  Ben sniffed the air. Bacon and toast! Brill!

  ‘Coming, Mum,’ he called back.

  He threw back his duvet and leapt out of bed. Unfortunately, Whizziwig had chosen just that moment to roll out from beneath the bed. Ben stepped on Whizziwig and went flying backwards. Luckily he landed on his duvet.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you did not step on my head first thing in the morning,’ Whizziwig declared. She rose up to hover just above Ben.

  ‘Sorry, Whizziwig!’ Ben grinned. ‘I must admit, I almost thought I’d dreamt you. How are you?’

  ‘My primary energy has returned, thank you,’ Whizziwig replied. ‘And how’re you?’

  ‘Hungry! I’m going down for my breakfast,’ Ben said. ‘Why don’t you check your ship or something until I get back?’

  ‘Nope, I think I will watch you eat,’ Whizziwig decided. ‘Before I came to your planet I’d never seen creatures eating. It’s most interesting.’

  ‘Don’t you eat then?’ Ben asked, surprised.

  ‘Not like humans,’ said Whizziwig. ‘I live on wishes.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Ben. He couldn’t imagine not having to eat. He would miss pancakes and bacon and chocolate ice-cream too much. ‘Well, if you do come downstairs just make sure that Mum and Dad don’t see you,’ Ben added.

  ‘They haven’t seen me yet, have they?’ Whizziwig winked.

  ‘Tarzan has. You’d better keep out of his way,’ Ben warned.

  ‘Don’t worry! Wherever Tarzan goes, I won’t follow!’

  Ben ran downstairs with Whizziwig bouncing down behind him. Just as he reached the hall, the doorbell rang. Whizziwig bounced up above the door and floated just below the ceiling.

  ‘You can’t stay there,’ Ben hissed frantically. ‘Someone will see you.’

  ‘They won’t. No one’s going to look up here,’ Whizziwig replied.

  Ben wanted to argue, but the doorbell rang again. After a nervous glance directed at Whizziwig, Ben opened the door.

  ‘Hello, Ben. Are your mum and dad in?’

  Ben groaned. It was Mrs Florence Leonard from next door. Mum and Dad called her Flapping Florence when they thought Ben wasn’t around to hear them. Mrs Leonard was the most gossipy busybody in the world. And she was always spreading rumours.

  ‘Ben, who is it?’ Dad came out of the kitchen. ‘Oh . . .’ he said faintly. ‘Oh, hello, Mrs Leonard.’

  Dad didn’t look too pleased to see their neighbour either.

  ‘Hello, Mr Sinclair.’ Mrs Leonard pushed Ben aside and walked into the house. ‘Is that bacon I smell?’ She pushed past Dad and walked into the kitchen. Ben looked at Dad and Dad looked at Ben and they both wrinkled up their noses.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Sinclair,’ Mrs Leonard said to Mum. ‘I really shouldn’t, but some bacon and toast would be most welcome.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Leonard. Have a seat.’ Mum tried to smile.

  ‘And I’ll have a nice cup of tea as well, if you’re asking,’ said Mrs Leonard, plonking herself down at the kitchen table.

  ‘Did you hear anyone ask, Ben? ’Cause I didn’t!’ Dad muttered. Ben’s mum gave him a warning look.

  Ben glanced up. Whizziwig was outside the kitchen, still floating just below the ceiling. Ben was sure his heart would burst through his chest at any second. What if someone should see Whizziwig? What would happen then?

  ‘I can’t stay too long,’ Mrs Leonard said.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ Dad mumbled.

  Mum gave Dad another stern look. Mum had good ears, even if Mrs Leonard didn’t. Mrs Leonard pulled a plate of bacon and beans on toast towards her.

  ‘Delicious!’ she said, tucking in.

  Ben watched with dismay as what looked suspiciously like his breakfast disappeared down his next-door neighbour’s throat.

  ‘I just popped round for a chat.’ Mrs Leonard dusted some toast crumbs off the table in front of her. ‘How are all of you?’

  But before anyone could even open their mouths to reply, Mrs Leonard started!

  ‘Have you heard? Mr Johnson from number fifty-two has got another new car. That must be the third new car this year and summer has barely started yet! Where does he get the money from? That’s what I’d like to know.’ Mrs Leonard was well away now. ‘And Mrs Vester has bought her Sarah a new tricycle. If you ask me she spoils that daughter of hers . . .’

  ‘Ben, come on,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll take you upstairs for your shower.’

  Mum pushed Ben out of the kitchen. Dad tried to follow. ‘No, you stay here and keep Mrs Leonard company.’ Mum smiled sweetly.

  Dad didn’t look best pleased – to say the least! Mum followed Ben up the stairs.

  ‘All that woman does is gossip, gossip. She doesn’t even pause to draw breath,’ Mum muttered. ‘She talks so much her tongue must be hinged in the middle so it can flap at both ends! That way if one end gets tired, the other end can take over!’

  ‘Mum, what about my breakfast?’ Ben said, dismayed. He didn’t care about hinged and flapping tongues. But he did care about his breakfast!

  ‘I’ll make you some more after you’ve had your shower,’ Mum said.

  Ben could see that Mum was still fuming about their neighbour. Ben decided to ask Dad to cook his breakfast. In her current mood, Mum would only burn it!

  ‘D’you know, I wish that woman’s tongue was hinged in the middle,’ said Mum. ‘And I wish that when she started gossiping, one half of her tongue would tell her off every time the other half of her tongue got started!’

  And that’s when the trouble began.

  Chapter Five

  It’s Not Me!

  BEN AND MUM reached the top of the stairs. Ben looked around for Whizziwig but she was nowhere in sight. Ben was worried. He couldn’t help it, even though he had a sort of Christmas and birthday feeling swirling around in his stomach. Something good-tremendous or bad-tremendous was about to happen. But what?

  All of a sudden there was a terrible shriek.

  ‘AAARRRRGGHH!’

  They both froze.

  ‘What on earth . . .? That’s Mrs Leonard,’ Mum said.

  Mum raced down the stairs and into the kitchen, closely followed by Ben. Mrs Leonard was on her feet, staring at Dad.

  ‘Don’t do that, Mr Sinclair! It’s very cruel of you . . .’ Mrs Leonard screamed.

  ‘Not as cruel as you’ve been over the years – spreading rumours and gossip and hurting people’s feelings!’

  Ben stared at Mrs Leonard. He could hardly believe it and he certainly didn’t understand it, but that last remark had definitely come from Mrs Leonard’s mouth.

  ‘Daniel, what are you doing?’ Mum frowned at Dad.

  ‘I’m not doing anything,’ Dad protested. ‘Mrs Leonard has gone off her nut and right round the twist. She’s talking to herself.’

  ‘I’m not talking to myself,’ Mrs Leonard squealed.

  ‘Yes, you are! Besides, who else would want to talk to you?’ Mrs Leonard’s mouth opened, but her words were as much of a surprise to her as they were to everyone else in the kitchen. More so, to judge by the look on her face. Her hands flew to her throat, her lips were pressed tight together until they were just one thin line and her eyes were as big as dinner plates. Her gaze darted around the room as if she still couldn’t believe that the words were coming from her mouth.

  ‘Mum, what’s the matter with Mrs Leonard?’ Ben frowned.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mum said slowly.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ Mrs Leonard quaked.

  ‘Nothing that a good padlock on your mouth couldn’t cure.’ Mrs Leonard had opened her mouth and the words just fell out.

  ‘Daniel, are you sure . . .?’ Mum began.

  ‘I promise, it’s not me!’ Dad denied.

  ‘I’m asleep – that’s what it is! I’m dreaming!’ said Mrs Leonard, nodding her head vigorously. ‘I’ll wake up in a minute.�
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  ‘It’s a pity your tongue never goes to sleep . . .’ Once again, the words just spilled out of Mrs Leonard’s mouth.

  ‘AAARRRGGGGGHHHHHH!’ Mrs Leonard clapped both hands over her mouth and ran screaming from the kitchen. Moments later the front door was slammed shut.

  Ben, Mum and Dad stared at each other. Then they burst out laughing! Until soon all three of them were holding their stomachs, tears of laughter running down their cheeks.

  ‘Well! I know I said that woman should have her tongue hinged in the middle but this is ridiculous!’ Mum wiped the tears from her eyes.

  Immediately Ben stopped laughing. Whizziwig! Ben looked around. There, just visible above the front door was the Oricon. Ben ran out of the kitchen.

  ‘Whizziwig, was that you?’ Ben whispered. ‘Did you make Mum’s wish about Mrs Leonard’s tongue come true?’

  Whizziwig grinned. ‘Yup! And she made two wishes actually. So that is my bungulator and my parflange fixed! Two items down, only twenty-one to go!’

  ‘What d’you mean – only twenty-one to go?’ said Ben, worried.

  ‘Twenty-three items on my ship were in need of repair, therefore I have to grant twenty-three wishes. With your mother’s two wishes that leaves me only twenty-one more wishes to grant before my ship is completely repaired and ready to leave this planet,’ said Whizziwig. ‘At last I feel I’m getting somewhere! I have actually started to repair my ship.’

  ‘But you can’t go round granting wishes to people who don’t mean them,’ Ben said quickly. ‘People wish for all kinds of things they don’t really mean. And what about Mrs Leonard’s tongue? How’s she going to talk to anyone with her tongue hinged in the middle and arguing with her all the time?’

  Whizziwig frowned. ‘I thought that was the whole point.’

  ‘Whizziwig!’

  ‘Don’t worry! My wishes only last for ninety thousand and sixty-one yenvings – except in very special circumstances!’ smiled Whizziwig.

  ‘How long . . .?’ Ben squeaked.

  Even Mrs Leonard didn’t deserve to have her tongue quarrel with her for the rest of her life and beyond. And poor Mrs Leonard didn’t have much time left anyway. She was ancient. Thirty-five, at least!

  ‘Ninety thousand and sixty-one yenvings add up to one whole day and night, one hour, one minute and one second on your planet,’ said Whizziwig. ‘A little after this time tomorrow morning, your neighbour will be back to her usual self.’

  Ben sighed with relief. ‘Thank goodness for that!’

  ‘I think I will go and check on my bungulator and my parflange,’ Whizziwig said. ‘Is your window open? Can I still get to the roof that way?’

  Ben nodded.

  ‘See you tonight then,’ said Whizziwig.

  ‘Tonight? Won’t I see you before then?’ asked Ben, dismayed.

  ‘Nope, it will take all day to reset my bungulator and check the star chart information in my parflange. But I will be with you before you go to sleep,’ said Whizziwig.

  ‘But I wanted to ask you all sorts of questions,’ said Ben. ‘And I have to go to bed early tonight. I’ve got to go to school tomorrow.’

  ‘School – a place of learning and knowledge!’ Whizziwig said eagerly. ‘I have questions to ask about this place. I shall come with you tomorrow and learn about your school.’

  ‘Oh, but . . . but . . .’

  ‘See you later, Ben,’ said Whizziwig.

  And before Ben could say another word, Whizziwig tucked in her arms and off she went, bouncing against the ceiling as she made her way upstairs.

  ‘Ben, who are you talking to?’ Dad popped his head out from the kitchen to ask.

  ‘Er . . . just myself, Dad. Just myself.’ Ben gave a weak smile.

  Dad frowned. ‘First sign of madness, you know. You don’t want to end up like Mrs Leonard, do you?’

  Ben shook his head vigorously. No, he most certainly did not!

  ‘Come for your breakfast, Ben,’ called Mum.

  Slowly, Ben walked into the kitchen. Already he could see that having Whizziwig around, granting wishes left, right and centre, was going to be tricky. In fact, worse than tricky . . . trouble! But it was also going to be FUN!

  Chapter Six

  The Kissing Wish

  THE NEXT MORNING after breakfast, Ben sneaked Whizziwig into his school backpack.

  ‘Whizziwig, don’t say a word until we leave the house,’ whispered Ben.

  Ben pulled on his jacket and flung his backpack over his shoulder.

  ‘Ouch! Careful!’ Whizziwig exclaimed as she bounced off Ben’s back.

  ‘Shush!’ Ben pleaded. Then in a louder voice he said, ‘I’m off now, Mum. See you later.’

  Mum’s head appeared over the upstairs banister. ‘OK, Ben. See you—’ She didn’t get any further.

  Without warning. Tarzan came rushing out of the living room, barking madly. He rushed at Ben, jumping up at his backpack.

  ‘Down, Tarzan. DOWN!’ Ben said fiercely, holding up his backpack over his head. ‘I said, DOWN!’ Ben spoke more firmly to Tarzan than he had ever done before.

  And immediately Tarzan lay down. It was hard to say who was more surprised, Ben or the dog.

  ‘And stay there!’ said Ben, still annoyed.

  ‘Well done, Ben,’ said his mum.

  Ben grinned up at her. He moved to the front door. Tarzan began to stand.

  ‘Stay!’ commanded Ben.

  Tarzan lay down again.

  ‘I don’t like that dog – at all!’ sniffed Whizziwig from inside the backpack.

  ‘Whizziwig, listen,’ said Ben as they headed down the garden path. ‘You’ve got to stay in my bag and not move. OK?’

  ‘But I want to see your school and your friends and your teachers and—’

  ‘Please, Whizziwig,’ Ben pleaded. ‘If someone sees you it could cause all kinds of problems.’

  ‘Oh, if you insist,’ Whizziwig agreed reluctantly. ‘But I still have lots of questions about your school.’

  ‘But that’s all we talked about last night,’ Ben protested. ‘When are you going to tell me about your planet Oricon?’

  ‘Later! Later! Right now, I’m more interested in learning about your school,’ said Whizziwig.

  And that’s when Monday’s trouble started!

  Ben was in his classroom. The buzzer had sounded and everyone was waiting for Mr Archer, the teacher, to appear from the staff room. Ben sat on a desk with some of his friends as his best friend Steven came over to him.

  ‘Ben,’ Steven began, his eyes twinkling. ‘Guess what? Charlotte likes you.’

  Ben felt his face begin to burn.

  ‘Don’t talk soft,’ he sniffed.

  ‘She does,’ Steven insisted, with a laugh.

  By now Ben’s face was burning like a raging forest-fire.

  ‘Charlotte’s an idiot and I don’t like her,’ Ben fumed.

  That wasn’t strictly true. Ben did like Charlotte, he just didn’t want Charlotte going around telling people that she liked him. Ben glared at Steven, who was still laughing at him. He looked around. All his friends were laughing at him.

  Ben marched straight up to Charlotte who was chatting with some of her friends.

  ‘Stop telling everyone that you like me,’ Ben ordered.

  Suddenly the whole classroom went quiet as everyone came closer to listen.

  ‘But, Ben, I do like you,’ Charlotte smiled.

  All the boys in the class started to snigger. Ben’s whole body was on fire now.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Ben argued.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Charlotte replied.

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘Yes, I do. In fact I like you so much I wish that every time you looked at me you’d give me a kiss.’

  A strange thing began to happen. Ben’s lips began to prickle and to tickle and to tingle. Then he realized what was happening. Ben stared at Charlotte in dismay.

  ‘Don’t wish that. Take it back. Take it bac
k,’ Ben pleaded.

  ‘I will not,’ Charlotte said, her hands on her hips. ‘I mean every word.’

  Something like invisible hands pushed Ben forward. He tried his best to fight against it. He tried to stop his feet from moving forward a step at a time. He tried to stop his legs from working. But it was no good. With each tortured step, Ben got closer and closer to Charlotte. And the closer he got, the more his lips tingled.

  ‘Whizziwig, no! Stop!’ Ben called out, desperately.

  Charlotte frowned at her friends. ‘Who’s Whizziwig?’ she asked them. Her friends shrugged.

  ‘Ben, what on earth are you doing?’ Steven asked.

  Ben was at Charlotte’s side now. He couldn’t answer. His lips had been taken over! To Ben’s deep, DEEP embarrassment, he kissed Charlotte on the cheek.

  Ben could hear his friends making puking noises or calling his name in stunned amazement. All Ben wanted to do was sink into the ground and disappear for ever.

  ‘Ben, you traitor! You soppy, sissy traitor!’ said Steven with disgust.

  Charlotte turned to her giggling friends and said smugly, ‘I told you he liked me.’

  Ben stared at Charlotte in dismay. How could Whizziwig do this to him? How could she? Ben thought he couldn’t be any more embarrassed than he already was, but he was wrong. Worse was to come.

  Ben’s lips had stopped tingling when he kissed Charlotte, but now that horrible tickling, prickling feeling was back. Before Ben could stop himself, he kissed Charlotte again – and again, and again.

  ‘Ben, I think that’s enough now,’ Charlotte frowned. ‘You’re showing me up!’

  But Ben couldn’t stop.

  ‘Ben, that’s enough!’ Charlotte said annoyed.

  Now her friends and Ben’s friends were laughing at her.

  ‘BEN SINCLAIR! UP HERE! NOW!’ Mr Archer’s angry voice had Ben’s head snapping around. Everyone else scampered back to their seats.

  The moment Ben turned his head to face his irate teacher, the weird sensation in his lips vanished – so at least that was something. But feeling more miserable than ever before in his life, Ben walked over to Mr Archer.