Whizziwig and Whizziwig Returns Omnibus

by Malorie Blackman

  ‘Ben Sinclair, you are at school to exercise your brain, not your lips,’ said Mr Archer. ‘Sit at the front of the class for the rest of the day where I can keep an eye on you. Thea, swap places with Ben.’

  Ben walked slowly over to his table to get his things. His head was bowed, his eyes focused on his feet and nothing else.

  I’ll never be able to face anyone ever again, Ben thought miserably. He picked up his bag and felt Whizziwig wiggle inside it.

  ‘I’ll never forgive you for this – never, ever,’ Ben muttered to Whizziwig.

  ‘Your friend wished it for you,’ Whizziwig whispered back. ‘Don’t blame me.’

  Ben glanced up to make sure that no one had spotted him having a conversation with his bag. Big mistake!

  Ben caught sight of Charlotte scowling at him. Immediately his lips began to quiver. No way was Ben going to kiss Charlotte again! Ben closed his eyes tight. The quivery, shivery tingle in his lips disappeared.

  That was it! Charlotte wished that he’d kiss her every time he looked at her. So all Ben had to do for the next day and a bit was to make sure that he didn’t look at Charlotte. Once he left school, he’d be fine. He just had to make sure that he didn’t look at Charlotte before then.

  ‘Ben, whenever you’re ready,’ Mr Archer drawled. ‘And today I want you to sit outside the staff room in the break times, where I can keep an eye on you. And you can eat your lunch outside the staff room. Is that clear?’

  Ben beamed at his teacher. ‘Terrific! Yes, sir!’

  Mr Archer frowned at Ben. ‘As you’re so happy about it, you can sit outside the staff room for the rest of the week as well.’

  Ben’s heart sank. The rest of the week . . . He walked over to his new table. He’d only been at school for five minutes and already he was in more trouble than he’d ever been in, in his life. He’d kissed Charlotte, he was in trouble with his teacher and Charlotte had gone off him. He’d never be able to live it down. His friends would never let him hear the end of it. What a day! And it wasn’t even lunch time yet!

  Chapter Seven

  Bicycles

  ‘ARE YOU STILL not talking to me?’ Whizziwig asked.

  Ben clamped his lips even more firmly together. He was on his way home after the worst day of his life.

  ‘Ben, it wasn’t my fault,’ Whizziwig said. ‘The wish Charlotte made was for you, not for herself, so I had to grant it.’

  ‘Hhmm!’ Ben sniffed.

  ‘Perhaps you would prefer it if I didn’t see you any more?’ Whizziwig suggested.

  ‘No!’ Ben replied instantly. ‘I mean . . . er . . . no, I suppose not.’

  ‘Then cheer up,’ smiled Whizziwig. ‘No harm was done.’

  ‘No harm?’ Ben squeaked. ‘The only reason I’m talking to you at all is because Splitter Lawson wasn’t at school today. I hate to think what would’ve happened if he had been at school. Whizziwig, the least you can do now is grant me my wish.’

  ‘I have already told you, I can’t do that,’ Whizziwig reminded him. ‘You will just have to ask your mum and dad to buy you a bicycle—’

  ‘I don’t care about the bike. I wish Dad had a mountain bike. I wish Dad had a whole garden full of mountain bikes – all in his size! See! I don’t care about the stupid mountain bike. What I really want, what I really wish for is . . . is a brother. I’d even settle for a sister.’

  ‘I’m not—’ Whizziwig began.

  But she didn’t get much further.

  ‘Ben! BEN!’

  Ben turned around as Whizziwig ducked back down into his backpack. It was Ben’s best friend Steven calling him. Instantly Ben felt his face begin to burn with shame. Steven ran up to him, a huge grin on his face.

  ‘Hi, Ben! You really had us fooled for a while.’

  Ben frowned. ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘We thought you really did like Charlotte until you showed her up. It was great,’ smiled Steven.

  Ben’s whole body went burning hot, then burning cold.

  ‘I didn’t mean to show her up,’ he muttered.

  ‘Of course you did. You didn’t really mean to kiss her, did you?’ Steven frowned.

  Ben didn’t answer. They carried on walking.

  ‘She really hates you now,’ grinned Steven. ‘Nice one!’

  ‘Steven, I . . .’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Never mind,’ Ben sighed, giving up.

  ‘Can I come round your house? We can play computer games,’ Steven asked.

  Ben nodded, his mind too full of other things to speak. What next? he wondered, what next?

  He didn’t have to wait long before his question was answered.

  They turned the corner into Ben’s road and saw a large crowd gathered around Ben’s house.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Ben frowned, that uneasy, queasy feeling back in his stomach.

  Ben and Steven looked at each other. Without either of them saying a word they both started running towards Ben’s house.

  ‘Excuse me. ’Scuse us please!’ Ben and Steve pushed their way through the crowd.

  And then they saw them! In Ben’s front garden. Bicycles! Lying on their sides, standing upright, leaning against the front door – they were everywhere. Piles and pillars of them. Masses and mounds of them. Heaps and hills of them. Filling the front garden and spilling out of the gate.

  And from inside the house, Ben’s mum yelled, ‘Help! Call the police, someone! I can’t get out of the front door!’

  ‘Where did all these come from?’ Steven asked breathlessly.

  Ben didn’t need to ask. He knew. Whizziwig!

  ‘Steven, stay here,’ Ben ordered, fighting his way to the back of the crowd.

  ‘Whizziwig!’ Ben opened up his bag. ‘Did you do this?’

  ‘Yup. You wished for a garden full of mountain bikes for your dad. And that is what you got,’ said Whizziwig. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘But I didn’t mean it,’ squeaked Ben.

  ‘You Earthlings never say what you mean or mean what you say,’ said Whizziwig. ‘Which is just as well, or I would never fix my ship and get home.’

  ‘Whizziwig, do something. Please!’ begged Ben. ‘Mum can’t get out of the house.’

  ‘I can’t do anything. You wished for the bicycles,’ said Whizziwig.

  ‘Then I’ll just unwish them!’ said Ben, crossly. ‘I wish all the bikes in our front garden were gone.’

  Ben pushed back through the crowd again to see if it had worked. It hadn’t.

  ‘Whizziwig, why didn’t you do it?’ Ben whispered.

  ‘You wished for something for yourself. I can’t grant those kind of wishes – remember?’

  Just then, they heard Ben’s mum again. ‘Oh, I wish the police would come!’

  Suddenly the wail of sirens filled the air, getting closer and closer. A fire engine and two police cars whizzed around the corner.

  ‘Wow! This is better than any video game,’ said Steven.

  ‘Stand back. Everyone stand back,’ said a policewoman, ushering the crowd away from Ben’s front gate. ‘That includes you, son,’ she said to Ben.

  ‘I live here. My mum’s trapped in there,’ Ben explained.

  ‘Oh, I see. D’you know where all these bikes have come from?’ asked the policewoman.

  Ben crossed his fingers behind his back. ‘No idea,’ he muttered.

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll soon have your mum out,’ said a fireman who had joined them.

  The firemen started lifting the bikes out of the garden and lining them up in the street.

  Ben overheard two policemen talking.

  ‘I’ve just checked. There’ve been no reports of any bikes stolen – not like these ones and certainly not as many,’ said one policeman to the other.

  ‘So where did they come from then?’ asked the second policeman.

  Ben didn’t wait to hear any more. He watched as the mountain of bikes was slowly cleared out of the front garden. Ben glanced a
t the grown-ups around him. They all seemed to be enjoying what was going on.

  Ben caught sight of Mrs Leonard, his next-door neighbour.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Leonard,’ he said faintly. He crossed his fingers, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t want to gossip to him.

  ‘Er . . . hello, Ben,’ Mrs Leonard whispered. ‘Where did all those bikes . . .?’

  Mrs Leonard didn’t finish her obvious question. She clamped her hand over her mouth.

  ‘Are you all right, Mrs Leonard?’ Ben asked, worried. Surely Whizziwig’s wish must have worn off by now?

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Mrs Leonard spoke quickly, clamping her lips together the moment the words were out.

  Then Ben realized what Mrs Leonard was doing. The wish had worn off but Mrs Leonard couldn’t know that. She was terrified she would start arguing with herself in front of all her neighbours. Ben wondered if he should try to explain, but he decided against it. She was a grown-up – and even if she did listen, she’d never believe him. She’d think he was just making fun of her.

  Ben turned back to his house. His mum was still trapped in there.

  ‘Whizziwig, do something.’ Ben nudged his school bag.

  ‘I think I’ll shut down for a while,’ said Whizziwig. ‘Placing all those mountain bikes in your front garden has drained all my primary energy.’

  ‘That’s not the something I had in mind,’ Ben argued.

  No answer.

  ‘Whizziwig? Whizziwig!’ Ben hissed.

  ‘Ben, why are you talking to your school bag?’ Steven asked curiously.

  ‘Er, I wasn’t. I was . . . er . . . just wondering how long it’ll be before Mum can come out of the house.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Ben. Your mum will be fine,’ Steven smiled.

  Ben nodded.

  And Steven was right. At last his mum emerged from the house, looking confused as well as very annoyed.

  ‘Where on earth did all those bikes come from?’ she asked.

  They didn’t come from anywhere on Earth, Ben thought. They came from a creature from Oricon – who was now fast asleep in Ben’s school bag.

  Later that night as Ben and his mum and dad sat at the table having their dinner, Ben’s dad said, ‘I’d still like to know where all those bikes came from.’

  ‘Hhmm!’ said Ben’s mum. ‘It’s obviously someone’s feeble idea of a joke.’

  ‘I hope we find out who, and soon,’ said Ben’s dad. ‘If those bikes aren’t claimed, the police said that all fifty bikes will belong to me. What do I want with fifty bikes? I don’t even want one.’

  ‘Ben, it’s a shame they were all too big for you,’ said Ben’s mum. ‘Then maybe you would’ve stopped pestering us about getting you a mountain bike.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum. I don’t care if I never see another bike again for as long as I live,’ Ben said. Then, thinking about it, he added, ‘Well, I don’t want to see another bike for the next couple of weeks anyway.’

  With Whizziwig around, Ben wanted to make sure that he said what he meant and he meant what he said – even if he wasn’t wishing. Who knew what might happen otherwise!

  Chapter Eight

  Splitter Lawson

  THE NEXT DAY when Ben reached school, he immediately hid in the boys’ toilets.

  ‘Why are you hiding in here?’ asked Whizziwig.

  ‘You said the effect of your wishes lasts ninety thousand and something odd yenvings. Well, I’ve worked it out. I’ve still got to wait an hour, a minute and a second before Charlotte’s wish wears off,’ Ben explained. ‘And I’m safer in here until the buzzer goes than in the playground, where I might see her accidentally.’

  Whizziwig opened her mouth to speak but Ben interrupted her.

  ‘And I know I’m a coward, so you don’t need to tell me so.’

  ‘I had no intention of saying any such thing,’ said Whizziwig. ‘And where did you get such a strange idea?’

  Ben sighed. ‘It’s true. I am a coward. Everyone knows it. That’s why I thought that if I had a younger brother, or even a sister, then that would be someone who doesn’t know what a wimp I am. I would look after them and protect them and make sure that no one ever bullied them.’

  ‘Ben, you are not a wimp.’ Whizziwig frowned. ‘Look at the way you saved me from your vicious dog, Tarzan – not once but twice.’

  ‘I did do that, didn’t I . . .’ Ben smiled as he remembered. Then his smile faded. ‘But I was still scared. I’m scared of my own dog.’

  ‘It’s even braver of you to stand up to Tarzan if you are afraid of him,’ said Whizziwig. ‘Being brave means overcoming your fears, acting in spite of being afraid.’

  ‘Hhmm!’ said Ben, thinking. ‘I must admit, the funny thing is that now I’ve stood up to Tarzan, I’m not quite so scared of him any more.’

  ‘I am!’ said Whizziwig. ‘Until my ship is fixed, I intend to keep out of Tarzan’s way completely.’

  Just at that moment, the buzzer sounded. Ben left it until the very last moment before walking into his class, his head bent. Now if he could just make it to his table . . .

  No such luck!

  A pair of huge trainers, like two massive white-and-blue bricks, blocked his way. Ben’s heart bounced in his chest. He knew who those trainers belonged to – Splitter Lawson. He was called Splitter Lawson instead of Brian Lawson (which was his real name) because of the number of knees and lips he had split by pushing people over in the playground and punching people just for laughs. And while everyone in the class knew what Splitter was really like, it seemed the teachers had no idea. They thought Splitter was wonderful because he was always the one who offered to take messages around the school and carry the teachers’ books. What they didn’t know was that Splitter only did that to skive off his lessons and to bully anyone smaller than him that he might find in the corridors.

  Ben glanced up at Splitter in dismay.

  ‘I heard what you did yesterday,’ Splitter grinned. ‘And I’m—’

  Mr Archer walked into the classroom.

  ‘Is there a problem, Brian?’ the teacher asked.

  ‘No, Mr Archer,’ Splitter replied.

  ‘Then sit down,’ said Mr Archer. ‘Ben, I’m glad to see that you’ve decided to give your lips a rest for today, or were you contemplating kissing Brian?’

  Ben sat down, his face on fire. He dropped his bag down on the floor from a greater height than was absolutely necessary.

  ‘Ooof!’ Whizziwig groaned, from inside the bag.

  Ben concentrated on his work-books and the blackboard until the buzzer sounded for the mid-morning break.

  ‘Sir, do I still have to sit outside the staff room?’ Ben asked.

  From the look on Mr Archer’s face, it was obvious that he’d completely forgotten about Ben’s punishment.

  ‘That depends,’ frowned Mr Archer. ‘D’you think you can keep your lips under control from now on?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Don’t worry! I promise I’m never going to kiss another girl for as long as I live,’ Ben said earnestly.

  Mr Archer’s lips twitched. ‘I somehow think that’s one promise you won’t be able to keep,’ said the teacher. ‘All right, Ben, you can go out and play, but behave yourself.’

  And with that Mr Archer dashed off to the staff room, desperate for a cup of coffee. At least half the class scurried out right behind him. Ben risked a quick glance at Charlotte.

  Nothing! Not a tingle! Not a tickle! Not a prickle!

  ‘Whizziwig! The wish has worn off,’ Ben whispered excitedly.

  ‘I’m so glad,’ sniffed Whizziwig.

  ‘Oh well, I might as well get it over with . . .’ said Ben, picking up his bag.

  Ben walked over to Charlotte before his courage vanished. She was surrounded by her friends.

  ‘Charlotte, I—’ Ben began.

  ‘What d’you want?’ Charlotte asked frostily.

  Not a very encouraging start!

  ‘I . . . er . . . I want to s
ay I’m sorry . . .’ Ben began.

  ‘For what?’ asked Charlotte. ‘For showing me up? For making everyone laugh at me? For using me as a joke for your friends?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that. I . . .’

  ‘Is this another joke?’ Charlotte’s eyes narrowed.

  Ben didn’t get the chance to answer. Barely had he opened his mouth when he was pushed hard, sending him tumbling towards Charlotte.

  ‘You sissy, prissy weed!’

  And even before he turned around, Ben knew who had pushed him. He spun around to face Splitter. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw his friends, Steven, Raoul and Christopher, come to stand silently beside him. Splitter Lawson grinned at all of them. Without warning, Splitter snatched Ben’s backpack away from him.

  ‘There’s something moving in here. What’ve you got in here, maggot?’ Splitter asked.

  ‘Give that back.’ Ben tried to grab his bag but Splitter pushed him away.

  ‘Let’s see what’s in here first,’ said Splitter.

  ‘Give that back right this second or—’

  ‘Or what?’ Splitter laughed.

  Ben glared at Splitter, his fists clenched, his blood roaring in his ears. Helplessly he watched as Splitter took Whizziwig out of his school bag. Judging by the reaction of those around Ben, Splitter wasn’t the only one who was surprised and curious. Ben saw that Whizziwig was careful to keep her mouth and her eyes shut and she didn’t move a millimetre in Splitter’s hand.

  ‘Put that down,’ Ben demanded.

  ‘What is it?’ frowned Splitter. ‘Some kind of hairy football?’

  Ben could stand it no longer. He jumped up suddenly, trying to snatch Whizziwig back before Splitter could stop him. It didn’t work. Splitter pushed Ben so hard that Ben fell over.

  ‘This hairy football is obviously something you want a lot . . .’ Splitter grinned. ‘So what will you give me to get it back?’

  ‘Splitter, you’re a pea-brained moron,’ Charlotte said furiously.