Whizziwig and Whizziwig Returns Page 8

  ‘Are you OK? Shall I let go of the string?’ Ben asked.

  Steve looked down at Ben and his smile faded. ‘I wish you could come with us.’

  Whizziwig’s eyes sparkled. The wish was granted. Ben began to rise into the air.

  ‘Wow! Thanks, Steve.’ Ben beamed at him.

  ‘I wish I’d thought of wishing that before!’ Steve smiled back.

  Ben tied the dangling bit of string around his own wrist and the three friends rose higher and higher into the air.

  ‘Isn’t this great?’ Whizziwig called out.

  Great wasn’t the word for it. It was wonderful! Brilliant! Cool!

  ‘Let’s loop the loop,’ Ben suggested.

  ‘Let’s what?’ asked Whizziwig.

  ‘Follow me.’ Ben rose up to take the lead until they were high enough, then he dived down and flew back up again, doing a complete somersault.

  ‘Yahoo!’ Ben shouted.

  ‘I don’t know what that means,’ said Whizziwig, ‘but it’s just how I feel! Let’s do it again.’

  So they looped the loop again, all yelling ‘YAHOO!’ – and meaning every letter of it!

  ‘D’you know something?’ Steve said as they flew above the trees. ‘Today hasn’t been so bad after all!’

  And then there was the time that . . .

  Chapter Nine

  Dinner at Aunt Dottie’s

  ‘BEN, ARE YOU sure your Aunt Dorothy won’t mind me coming round for dinner?’

  Ben smiled at his best friend. ‘We call her Dottie for short. And stop worrying. Aunt Dottie always cooks enough to feed an army.’

  Ben rang the doorbell, adding under his breath, ‘Besides, why should I suffer alone?’

  ‘What was that?’ Steve’s ears were better than Ben had thought.

  ‘I hope I won’t be stuck in your bag all afternoon,’ Whizziwig grumbled. ‘I see more of your smelly bag than any other place on Earth.’

  Before Ben could say a word, the front door opened. And there Aunt Dottie stood, with a slice of bread balanced on her head. Ben risked a quick glance at Steve, hoping that he hadn’t noticed. Though from the stunned look on Steve’s face, Ben was wasting his time hoping any such thing!

  ‘Hi, Aunt Dottie. How are you?’ Ben sighed. He was used to Aunt Dottie’s strange behaviour, but he could see why it might come as a shock to other people who didn’t know her. As Dad always said, ‘Dottie by name and Dottie by nature!’

  ‘Hello, Ben. I’m fine.’ Aunt Dottie smiled. ‘Did you brush your teeth today?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ben replied, surprised.

  ‘Then you can give me a kiss!’ said Aunt Dottie, offering her cheek. She looked at Steve with suspicion. ‘Are you selling something? ’Cause if you are, I’ll take two.’

  ‘No, I’m . . . I’m Steve. Ben’s my best friend,’ Steve stammered.

  ‘Did you brush your teeth today?’

  ‘Yes,’ squeaked Steve.

  ‘Then you can give me a kiss.’ Aunt Dottie smiled, offering her cheek.

  ‘Aunt Dottie, why have you got a slice of bread on your head?’ Ben had to know.

  ‘It’s to remind me to buy a loaf of bread tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Why don’t you just write it down?’ Ben asked. That was what a normal person would do, he couldn’t help thinking.

  ‘But then I’d forget where I’d left the note – silly!’ said Aunt Dottie, squeezing his cheek. She looked up and down the road. ‘Come in! Come in! You never know how many invisible people may be listening!’

  Ben and Steve went into the house. Ben had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at the expression on Steve’s face. Steve looked like he wasn’t sure what he was letting himself in for.

  ‘I’ve got a surprise for both of you,’ said Aunt Dottie, ushering them into the living room. ‘Look what I bought myself!’

  ‘A piano!’ exclaimed Ben.

  ‘That’s right.’ Aunt Dottie walked across the room to stroke it lovingly. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

  ‘Can I have a go?’ Ben asked.

  ‘After me. Sit! Sit! You’re in for a treat. I’m going to play it for you.’

  Ben and Steve sat down on the sofa, which had been moved round to face the piano rather than the telly. Aunt Dottie ran her fingers over the closed lid before she carefully lifted it.

  ‘Ready?’ she asked, her fingers poised on the keys.

  Steve and Ben nodded. Aunt Dottie began. And what a racket! She slammed her hands onto the keys and plonked them up and down the octaves, making a dreadful noise. But worse was to come! She started singing – if it could be called singing, which Ben sincerely thought it couldn’t. The din was so horrible that Aunt Dottie’s cat, who had been asleep under the radiator, sprang up and raced from the room in fright.

  Aunt Dottie stopped playing and singing to frown. ‘What’s the matter with Sir Galahad?’

  ‘Sir Galahad?’ Steve asked.

  ‘The cat,’ Ben explained.

  ‘Maybe he’s a music lover!’ Steve said under his breath.

  Ben elbowed him in the ribs.

  ‘Now then, where was I?’ Aunt Dottie raised her hands to punish the piano keys, and Ben and Steve’s eardrums, once again.

  ‘Aunt Dottie!’ Ben sprang out of his chair. ‘Shall I go and check on the dinner?’

  ‘NO! I mean, I’ll do it.’ Steve leapt out of his chair as well. ‘Just point me towards the kitchen.’

  ‘There’s no need for either of you to move a muscle.’ Aunt Dottie motioned for them to sit down. ‘The kidney and banana casserole is already in the oven. And I’ve made a lovely lettuce and treacle salad to go with it.’

  And with that, Aunt Dottie started playing the piano again. Ben sank down into his chair, trying to think of some way to get out of the room and also get out of eating his dinner.

  ‘Ben, she hasn’t really made all that stuff, has she?’ Steve whispered. ‘That was a joke – right?’

  Slowly, Ben shook his head.

  ‘You said your aunt was a wonderful cook.’

  ‘She is – if you don’t have any taste-buds.’

  Steve glared at Ben. ‘Thanks a bunch.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Ben shrugged. ‘I needed moral support.’

  Inside Ben’s bag, Whizziwig was spinning round and round, trying to bury herself under Ben’s books and smelly PE socks to get away from Aunt Dottie’s awful racket. She wasn’t having much luck!

  ‘I’m sorry, Ben, but I can’t take any more!’ said Whizziwig, floating out of Ben’s bag behind Aunt Dottie’s back. ‘Bye!’

  ‘Whizziwig, you can’t . . .’

  Ignoring him, Whizziwig floated across the carpet and out of the door.

  ‘She’s got the right idea,’ Steve fumed. ‘I’ll never let you forget this, Ben. Never.’

  Ben slumped back in his chair. Now he was in trouble with both Whizziwig and Steve. And from what Aunt Dottie had just said, his stomach was in trouble too. What next?

  Chapter Ten

  The Switch

  BEN AND STEVE were walking to school – but that was all they were doing. Ben was absolutely furious. And he certainly wasn’t going to be the first one to speak.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. I said I was sorry.’ Steve sighed. ‘How many times d’you want me to say it? I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Besides, I think I got away with it.’

  ‘Got away with it!’ Ben rounded on Steve. ‘Aunt Dottie knew full well that you didn’t like her cooking.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Throwing up all over her cat was a subtle clue!’

  Steve looked embarrassed. ‘Well, I tried to get to the bathroom again, but I didn’t see Sir Galahad lying in the doorway.’

  ‘Hang on – what d’you mean again?’ Ben asked. ‘You were sick more than once?’

  Steve nodded.

  ‘I hope you made it to the bathroom the first time then.’

  Steve shook his head.

  Ben closed his eyes. ‘How far did you get
?’

  ‘The hall. I was sick in your aunt’s yucca plant.’

  Whizziwig wrinkled up her nose. ‘Yeuch!’

  ‘No, yucca!’ Steve grinned.

  ‘Thanks a lot for showing me up.’ Ben stormed off ahead. ‘Aunt Dottie will never let me hear the end of it. You shouldn’t have wolfed down your food so fast. Then it wouldn’t have made you sick.’

  Steve slowed down so he wouldn’t have to listen to Ben rant at him. Ben marched on ahead, not realizing that Steve was no longer walking beside him.

  ‘If you’d chewed it more slowly, it would’ve stayed down,’ Ben continued.

  ‘Nag! Whinge! Moan! Gripe! Complain!’ Steve muttered to Whizziwig, who was floating between them.

  ‘He’s not too happy with you, is he?’ Whizziwig wagged a finger at Steve.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault. Ben should’ve warned me about his aunt’s cooking. Then I could’ve prepared my stomach.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By taping my lips together!’ Steve replied.

  Only when Ben was several metres ahead did he realize that he was talking to himself. He turned back, an irate look on his face. ‘Come on, Steve. We’re going to be late for school at this rate.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, put a sock in it!’ Steve called back, annoyed. ‘I wish you came with an ON/OFF switch! I really do!’

  ‘Maybe if I’m lucky, Aunt Dottie hasn’t noticed her . . .’ Ben suddenly stopped talking in mid-sentence. And he stood absolutely still, like a statue.

  ‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry. How many more times?’ Steve walked up to Ben. ‘Ben? Ben, what’s the . . .’ Steve noticed the strange switch in the middle of Ben’s forehead. ‘What on earth is that? Ben? Ben!’ Steve shook Ben’s arm, but it just flopped at Ben’s side.

  And only then did Steve realize what had happened.

  ‘Whizziwig!’ Steve stared. ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘I did.’

  Steve pressed the switch on Ben’s forehead.

  ‘ . . . yucca plant yet.’ Ben finished his earlier sentence. ‘If I can get round there and clean it up before she notices, then she might let both of us in her house again.’ Ben looked from Steve to Whizziwig and back again. ‘Why are you two giving me funny looks?’

  ‘D’you want to tell him or shall I?’ asked Whizziwig.

  ‘Tell me what?’

  Steve pointed, his expression, his whole body apologetic. ‘You’ve got an ON/OFF switch in the middle of your forehead.’

  ‘I’ve got a what?’ Ben clapped his hand to his forehead. Unfortunately, he clapped just a little too hard and switched himself off again.

  Steve moved Ben’s hand out of the way and switched him back on.

  Ben blinked rapidly. He knew what must’ve happened. He’d switched himself ‘off’. His eyes shooting out sparks, Ben turned to Whizziwig. ‘Tell me you didn’t.’

  ‘Sorry! But I did!’ Whizziwig shrugged.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Bad Mood and a Shock

  ‘GREAT! JUST GREAT! Look at my forehead,’ Ben raged.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean for Whizziwig to actually do it.’

  ‘Lucky for me, I’m very efficient.’ Whizziwig was obviously very proud of herself.

  Ben, Steve and Whizziwig were in the boys’ toilets at school and it was the first time Ben had had a chance to see the result of Steve’s wish.

  ‘How am I meant to walk around all day with this thing on my head?’ Ben carried on. ‘I look like a baby unicorn!’

  Steve was saved from answering by the school buzzer.

  ‘We’d better go. We don’t want to be late for registration,’ said Steve.

  Ben walked along the corridor with his hand cupped over his forehead. He didn’t want to risk switching himself off again, nor did he want anyone else to see the switch. Something told him that today wasn’t going to be the easiest school day he’d ever had. Ben and Steve reached the classroom just as Mr Archer was coming along the corridor. And Mr Archer had a face like thunder. They ducked into the classroom before their teacher could reach them.

  ‘Steve, I’ve got to do something about this switch. I can’t keep my hand over it all the time. My arm is getting tired.’

  ‘Let’s go to the school nurse after the lesson. Maybe she can put a plaster on it,’ Steve suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ Ben agreed.

  *

  ‘All right, class. I don’t want any nonsense this morning. Do I make myself clear?’ said Mr Archer.

  ‘Yes, Mr Archer,’ a few people in the class replied feebly.

  ‘I said, “Is that clear?”’ Mr Archer boomed.

  ‘Yes, Mr Archer,’ everyone shouted.

  ‘That’s better,’ Mr Archer snapped.

  ‘Wow! He’s in a good mood this morning,’ Steve whispered

  ‘There’s a lot of it about,’ Ben said sourly.

  ‘Everyone take out your History Today class books and turn to page fifty-seven.’ Mr Archer glared around the classroom.

  As he dug into his bag for his book, Ben wondered what was the matter with his teacher. Mr Archer wasn’t usually so grouchy.

  ‘Ben, what’s that thing on your face?’

  At the sound of his teacher’s voice, Ben looked up from his bag. ‘What thing, sir?’

  ‘That thing.’ Mr Archer pressed the switch on Ben’s forehead. ‘Well? What is it?’

  Ben didn’t answer. He was ‘off’!

  ‘Ben, I’m talking to you.’ Mr Archer frowned.

  Steve quickly pressed Ben’s switch, saying, ‘It’s for a science project, Mr Archer.’

  Ben was confused. ‘What’s for a science project?’

  ‘We’re not having science now.’ Mr Archer’s frown deepened. ‘So you can just take it off.’

  Mr Archer tugged at the switch.

  ‘OOH! OUCH! YOW!’ Ben cried out.

  And suddenly he was silent. Mr Archer had switched him ‘off’ again!

  ‘It won’t come off, sir. We’ve tried.’ Steve pressed Ben’s switch. ‘The glue we used to put it on was stronger than we thought.’

  ‘Ben, go and see the school nurse during break time. I don’t want that thing on your face disrupting our lessons,’ snapped Mr Archer.

  ‘No, sir,’ Ben replied. Changing it to, ‘Yes, sir,’ at the look on Mr Archer’s face.

  Hopefully once he had a plaster on his forehead covering up the ridiculous switch, he’d be safe from everyone he met pressing it to see what it was. Just as long as nothing else . . .

  The classroom door opened. Miss Jute walked in. Ben’s jaw hit his table when he saw who was behind her. It was Aunt Dottie.

  ‘Auntie! What’re you doing here?’ Ben asked, aghast.

  ‘I’m a classroom helper. I volunteered.’ Aunt Dottie cupped one hand over her mouth and whispered in a voice that rang out throughout the classroom, ‘Ben, what’s that on your forehead?’

  Ben couldn’t answer. A classroom helper? His aunt was a classroom helper. Oh, no! What next?

  ‘Oh, Miss Jute . . . I . . . er . . . Good morning, Miss Jute.’ Mr Archer flushed red and stammered.

  ‘Good morning, class,’ Miss Jute said, completely ignoring Mr Archer. ‘This is Mrs Allen. She’ll be your classroom helper for the day.’

  ‘Aunt Dottie, you can’t,’ Ben pleaded.

  ‘Yes, I can. Watch me.’ Aunt Dottie smiled.

  ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ said Miss Jute. And with that she headed for the door. Mr Archer was two steps behind her.

  ‘Er, Miss Jute, just a moment,’ said Mr Archer.

  He followed her out of the classroom, closing the door behind him. Aunt Dottie stood at the front of the class, looking around uncertainly. But that lasted only a moment.

  ‘Hi, everyone. I’m Dottie!’

  Practically everyone in the class started to titter. Ben felt his face begin to burn.

  ‘I’m Ben’s great-aunt. He’s cute, isn’t he?’

  ‘Auntie!’ Ben looke
d around to find that all eyes were upon him. There’d been a lot of that recently! He might’ve guessed that this would happen. Aunt Dottie had been in his classroom for all of ten seconds and she was already showing him up.

  ‘Ben, you are cute!’ Aunt Dottie argued. ‘In fact, when you were a baby, I remember saying to your mum and dad that they could put a baby bonnet round your bottom instead of your face and everyone would still think you were the cutest!’

  The whole class erupted with laughter. Even Steve was laughing like a drain. Ben glared at him and Steve bit his lip to try and stop. Ben glared around the class and then at his aunt. Charlotte was laughing too. She was going to have great fun teasing him mercilessly about this one. He’d never be able to live it down. Never, ever!

  Thanks, Aunt Dottie, he fumed. Thanks a lot!

  Chapter Twelve

  Reasons

  ‘MISS JUTE, A moment please,’ Mr Archer said very formally outside his classroom. He had to be formal because Mrs Jenkins, another teacher, was walking past. But the moment that Mrs Jenkins was out of earshot, his tone altered.

  ‘Judy, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, Leonard,’ Miss Jute replied frostily.

  Mr Archer opened his mouth to argue, but just at that moment a girl came charging round the corner towards them.

  ‘Walk, Saffron! Don’t run.’ Mr Archer glared.

  ‘But I’m late, sir,’ Saffron puffed.

  ‘Then walk fast, but don’t run,’ Mr Archer ordered.

  Saffron walked past Mr Archer and Miss Jute at a brisk pace until she turned the corner, when she started running again – just as Mr Archer had known she would.

  ‘Judy, what did I do? Why won’t you talk to me?’ Mr Archer lowered his voice.

  ‘You really don’t know, do you?’

  Mr Archer shook his head.

  Miss Jute glared at him. ‘When we first started going out together, I thought you were so . . . so romantic.’