“I bake my own bread! I stuff my own pies! I even shell my own peas to go in the pies! Surely the role of the tuckshop is to provide beautiful, healthy food for the children, not simply to make a killing?” Miss Duck was getting upset. And this made Mr Gobblefrump upset. This was the last thing he wanted to do but he felt he had no choice. He took a deep breath, and continued.
“Unfortunately, in this day and age, it must do both. Which is why we’re considering an offer from Nutriicorp.”
Elizabella gasped. Nutriicorp!
“Chester, please!” Miss Duck protested. “You know that my mother ran this tuckshop before me and her mother before her. Will you really throw that history and knowledge away for profit?”
“Petunia, you know this breaks my heart. The children need maths books and safe play equipment. And Nutriicorp’s margins are . . . I’m sorry, they’re amazing.”
“What do I need to do to stay open? How much do I need to make?” Miss Duck was starting to sound desperate.
Mr Gobblefrump sighed. “To compete with Nutriicorp, you’d need to quadruple your profits.”
Miss Duck looked around her beloved tuckshop. It seemed like a hopeless task. But she had to give it a shot. “At least let me try.”
Mr Gobblefrump considered her, his heart heavy. Even though it was, frankly, impossible, he couldn’t deny her the opportunity.
“Well, all right. Let’s chat again in a week.”
Elizabella pressed her body right up against the brick wall of the tuckshop as Mr Gobblefrump strode out in time for the bell to ring.
Poor Miss Duck, she thought. I’ll have to find a way to help her.
That evening, as the sun was beginning to set over Bilby Creek, Elizabella and Huck were chatting over their back fences. Actually, it was only one fence that divided their gardens . . . and also made a pretty good wallball court. The fence-chat was a tradition they had been doing since they were little. Usually one of their parents would come down to the bottom of one of the gardens to put an end to it after a while, but tonight neither Leanne nor Martin were around. In fact, they were on a date. Leanne had invited Martin out for a romantic meal at L’Escargots Bilby, the newest restaurant in town.
“How long do you think my mum and your dad will be out for tonight?” asked Huck.
“Who knows,” said Elizabella. “They’ll probably get an ice cream after dinner.”
“Yeah,” said Huck, “and they’ll probably eat it while strolling down to the pond.”
“Where they’ll feed the ducks,” Elizabella said, “and give the ducks cute names and make up stories about them.”
“Then maybe they’ll . . .” Huck trailed off.
“Don’t even say it,” Elizabella said.
“Mum says she hasn’t kissed anyone in so long her mouth is all dried up like a salt and vinegar crisp.”
“Gross,” said Elizabella.
“Not that we get salt and vinegar crisps any more. The only crisps we have at home are Nutriicorp Sodium and Acid flavour,” said Huck. “Mum is obsessed with Nutriicorp.”
“Nutriicorp! They’re ruining everything,” said Elizabella. “You want to know what I overheard? If Miss Duck can’t quadruple her profits, Nutriicorp is going to take over the tuckshop!”
“Poor Miss Duck, and poor us!” cried Huck. “I don’t think Nutriicorp make chocolate frogs.”
“No, I checked their website,” said Elizabella. “Instead they make Nutriicorp Essence-of-Carob-Flavoured Toads.”
“Ewwww!” exclaimed Huck at the thought.
“I’m trying to think of some way to help Miss Duck.”
“You’ll think of something, you’re so amazing at that sort of thing,” Huck gushed. Then he remembered that he definitely didn’t like like Elizabella because they were basically brother and sister now.
“I mean . . . cool man, something will work out,” he corrected himself.
“Yeah,” said Elizabella. It sure is lucky that Huck is so uncool and not sweet at all, she told herself. This makes it so, so easy not to like like him, which I definitely do not.
“Or maybe Minnie will think of something!” Huck offered.
Elizabella was glad there was a fence between them so Huck couldn’t see her face turn bright red. She didn’t want to admit it, but she really did want Huck to think she was the best at plans, even though she and Minnie were friends now. And even though she didn’t like like Huck anymore. Not one bit.
Toddberry had made dinner for Elizabella and himself because their dad was out on his date. This involved heating up leftover lasagne in the microwave and adding a whole packet of tasty cheese to the top. As much as Toddberry was a pain in the bum, he was a great cook, Elizabella couldn’t deny it.
She was particularly impressed that he’d made dinner even though he was very annoyed after the batteries on his gaming console conked out right before he finished a really hard level on Fierce Frogs IV. Or so he said. Elizabella had once told their dad that the computer crashed right before she managed to finish her homework and none of it was saved, which was absolutely untrue, so she was familiar with this strategy.
“Seriously! I was literally like one second away from killing King Green Bum the Killer Frog!” he said. “This close!” He held his thumb and index finger a centimetre apart for Elizabella to see the little gap.
“Oh well,” said Elizabella. “If you really were that close I’m sure you can get there again.”
Toddberry didn’t like the implication.
“Now that I have a job at the pool I hardly ever have time to practise. If I didn’t have to work there to make a living I’d have finished Fierce Frogs IV like aaaaaaages ago.”
He swished the hair curtains out of his face to give his sister a dirty look. But when he did he caught her expression and realised she seemed even more glum than he did.
“What’s your problem?” he asked.
Elizabella explained about the tuckshop and how she was worried for Miss Duck.
“Why don’t you write her some catchy slogans to help her sell her products?” said Larry the Frillneck Lizard in Lizish. He had been sitting under the table eating scraps of lasagne that they had both dropped out of their mouths. When their dad wasn’t home Elizabella and Toddberry did a lot of talking with their mouths full, which was great news for Larry’s stomach.
Having heard his croaks, Elizabella ducked under the table where she found Larry trying to reach his tongue up to lick some cheese that had fallen on his head.
“Hi, Larry!” she said. “What are you doing down there?”
“Hey, Elizabella!” Toddberry called from the table above her. “Why don’t you write Miss Duck some catchy slogans to help her sell her products?”
“That’s a great idea!” Elizabella said. “Thank you, Toddberry!” She was still sitting under the table and watched Larry’s face puff in and out at a great speed as he croaked up a storm.
“What’s up little fella?” she asked, stroking him on the tail, but he couldn’t be calmed.
For a while now Larry had suspected that Toddberry could understand what he was saying and was stealing his good ideas, however Toddberry wouldn’t acknowledge it, and Larry had no way to prove it. After all, he could only understand English, not speak it.
After Elizabella finished her dinner, she headed to her room and sat at her writing desk. It was an old-fashioned wooden one with a chair attached.
Elizabella’s mum Audrey had bought it for her before she died. It was from a girls’ school outside Bilby Creek that had sold all its old furniture. Audrey said it was the type of desk Elizabella’s great-grandmother would have used when she was at school and that when Elizabella sat at it and wrote she could imagine all the awesome girls who had sat at it before her and written their own stories and poems and essays.
Elizabella wondered if there was anything cool and old worth selling at Bilby Creek Primary to help raise money. There were the musty carpets, the dented old tin bins with no lids . . . maybe the big, fa
t, ancient computers in the library that made very loud noises when they turned on and off could be worth something? To a museum?
She pulled out an exercise book and started trying to think of slogans for the tuckshop. First she tried to think of words that rhymed that might be useful.
Dummy . . . yummy
Price . . . spice
Melon . . . heaven?
Big discount . . . Bank account?
Then she started trying to put some slogans together.
Jump higher with jaffles!
Cure your belly ache with devil’s food cake!
Hmmm . . . Elizabella thought about her efforts. They sound GREAT, but they’re not true. Maybe it’s a bit early in my career to get into FALSE advertising.
She kept going, being careful not to put in a bunch of lies.
Pikelet, pikelet, nothing quite like it.
Chuck an icy pole down your mouth hole.
Pies in your eyes!
Don’t cause a drama! Have a banana!
Next she started thinking about using alliteration and assonance.
Roll into recess with a sausage roll.
Left ya little lunch on the kitchen bench?
Bag a bunch of grapes!
I’m pretty good at this, she thought. Maybe I should get a job at Nutriicorp one day?
Suddenly her head was really itchy. She had noticed several kids scratching their heads at school. She tried not to scratch because she didn’t want to get any little itchy sores, but once you’ve thought about scratching your head, it’s almost impossible to un-think it. She dug her fingernails into her brown hair and let loose. Ah, relief! Then she heard the teeniest tiniest little plop sound as something minuscule landed on her desk. She leaned down to squint. It was a little black thing. Probably a black chocolate sprinkle from dessert (which was spoonfuls of black chocolate sprinkles straight out of the jar – a Toddberry special). She didn’t give it a second thought.
The next morning, Elizabella took her slogans with her to school. She had walked there with Huck as usual, but instead of going off to join him and the gang in an early morning game of handball, she had gone straight to the tuckshop. If she was going to help Miss Duck with her slogans, she couldn’t afford to waste a moment. She had brought some big pieces of cardboard and a thick black texta from home along with her exercise book full of fresh new slogans to workshop with Miss Duck.
Elizabella stood up at the front while Miss Duck processed recess and lunch orders. Organised kids would write their lunch orders on a brown paper bag and hand it over with the correct money inside. That meant that come recess and lunchtime they could join an express queue and get their food straightaway. In all her years at Bilby Creek Primary, Elizabella had never once remembered to hand in her brown paper bag in the morning, so she was used to waiting. She didn’t mind; waiting in line was a good time to formulate plans for future schemes.
Elizabella was going through some of the slogans with Miss Duck as she worked.
“Don’t be a goose, have a chocolate mousse!”
“What’s funny and runny?
Peanut butter and honey!”
“Before you vamoose, grab an orange juice.” That one is for Mr Gobblefrump.” As well as introducing her to the word “vamoose”, Mr Gobblefrump was obsessed with orange juice for some reason.
As she kept serving the morning rush, being careful not to miss a single customer – every cent was vital – Miss Duck picked her favourite slogans from Elizabella’s quite impressive collection. After each selection, Elizabella wrote them on pieces of cardboard with the thick black texta. She noticed one of the sheets of cardboard she’d brought had a project on it that Toddberry had done when he was in Year Four. It was about how Toddberry had rescued a lizard with a broken leg and nursed it back to health. Elizabella looked at the photo glued to the project and realised she was staring at baby Larry the Lizard! That’s funny, thought Elizabella. I never knew where Larry actually came from until now!
By the time the bell went, Elizabella had written about ten slogans for Miss Duck to string up around the tuckshop at recess and lunch. Elizabella couldn’t be sure they’d quadruple her profits straightaway, but it was a start.
Ava was standing at the front of the class with her lunch box.
“This is my hair elastics collection.” She took the lid off her lunch box and tilted it so everyone could see.
“And why have you brought that in for Show and Tell, Ava?” asked Miss Carrol, genuinely curious.
“Because Evie stole my idea yesterday!”
Miss Carrol sighed. “Any other reason?”
“Well . . .” she said, trying to think on her feet. “They are all different colours, so you could make a rainbow with them . . .” The kids were staring at her. Elizabella looked at her friend floundering. There were a few snickers coming from around the room.
“You could tie them all together in a big circle and play elastics!” Elizabella cried out, trying to help.
“Yes!” said Ava. “That’s what I was about to say.”
Minnie leaned over to Elizabella. “You know, some things really don’t need to be shown or told.”
Elizabella glanced at Ava.
“This one is at least . . . two years old, which means it’s older than one of my cousins and that’s very old for a hair elastic,” Ava said.
Elizabella nodded at Minnie. She couldn’t really disagree with her.
The bell rang for recess and Elizabella ran down to the tuckshop. She’d been thinking about Miss Duck all morning. She found her surrounded by the cardboard signs covered in Elizabella’s slogans. There were pretty decent queues of kids waiting to buy food too.
Elizabella saw Samuel in Kindy walking out with two pikelets. He turned to his friend and said, “Yum, a pikelet, there’s nothing quite like it.” Samuel was quoting one of the slogans!
Advertising is scary! Elizabella thought. She saw Miss Duck, who was so busy scurrying about handing out apples and bananas and peanut butter and honey sandwiches and counting change and going back and forth to the ice cream freezer that her cheeks had gone red and she was completely puffed out.
“Wow!””
Elizabella spun around to see who the owner of this “wow” was. It was Huck, looking at the thriving tuckshop in awe. “Elizabella! Someone has made Miss Duck some cool slogans and she’s selling up a storm! Was it you, Minnie?” Huck asked innocently, having just noticed Minnie who had come to check it out.
“It was ME!” blurted out Elizabella, totally unable to hide her annoyance at the thought of someone else (especially Minnie) getting credit for her work.
Minnie and Huck looked at her, a little shocked by her extreme response.
“Oh, cool,” said Huck.
“Excellent work, comrade,” said Minnie, genuinely impressed by Elizabella’s efforts. “Mut dill bit see splenough?” she continued.
“Say what?” asked Huck, very confused.
But Elizabella understood Minnie perfectly. She had said “But will it be enough?” in Minbella. Elizabella was wondering the same thing.
It was the final lesson of the day and Miss Carrol was attempting to teach the children about shapes.
“All right,” said Miss Carrol, “what is a polyhedron?”
All the kids were scratching their heads.
“Come on everyone, you know this one.”
Actually, many of the kids did know the answer, and weren’t scratching their heads in search of a thought, but rather because their heads were itchy.
“It’s a solid three-dimensional shape with many faces,” Huck said.
“That’s right,” beamed Miss Carrol. “Name one and I’ll draw it on the board.”
Miss Carrol had been drawing maths lessons on the board, as per Mr Gobblefrump’s instructions. The teachers had been assured that the textbooks were a priority and that they’d arrive as soon as the money freed up. Where that money was supposed to come from, Miss Carrol did not know. But th
e net result was that if Miss Carrol was going to teach the class about polyhedrons, she was going to have to draw them herself.
“Ummm . . . a dodecahedron,” said Sandy.
The piece of white chalk Miss Carrol was using snapped in half against the board. It was going to take her half the lesson to draw that particularly complex shape, but it was a great answer. She took out a big ruler and got to it.
“Miss Carrol,” asked Minnie, “when are we getting our proper maths books?”
“Oh I’m sure they’ll come soon enough,” she said, mustering a smile. She genuinely had no idea when that might be, if they were going to come at all.
“Okay,” Miss Carrol continued, “who can tell me how many faces a dodecahedron has?”
“Twelve!” said Daphne.
“That’s correct. And how many vertices?”
Everyone blinked.
“Anyone?”
“I remember the word . . .” said Sandy, a little unconfidently.
“And can you remember what it means?”
Again more head-scratching. But this time people really didn’t know the answer.
“A vertex is a point, like a corner. The plural is vertices,” Miss Carrol explained.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right . . .” said Sandy, even though it didn’t really ring a bell.
“So how many vertices are in a dodecahedron?” Miss Carrol asked again.
Kids started counting on their fingers trying to work it out. Miss Carrol was concerned. Without the proper resources it was going to be very hard indeed to make sure everyone in her class understood all the difficult maths concepts. She was halfway through drawing the dodecahedron when she heard a scream.
It was Daphne. She screamed high and bright like a whistle.
Elizabella looked at Minnie. The last time Daphne screamed in class it was because her Fairy-Wren Blue Pickles Pencil had disappeared – which turned out to be Minnie’s doing. But this scream had nothing to do with Minnie at all.
Everyone peered over Daphne’s desk to see what the problem was. There were three little black sprinkles on her desk. They were moving . . . and this time Toddberry wasn’t around with his dessert.
Elizabella and the Great Tuckshop Takeover Page 3
