Stanley Stickle Hates Homework

by Trevor Forest

  Plan A. Thomas’s dodgy tummy

  On the way home Stanley asked all the people he knew, and lots of people he didn’t know, or even like, how they were feeling. All of them said they were fine. Stanley was disappointed but unfazed. He knew where at least two people, who were definitely ill, lived.

  Stanley got off the school bus two stops early and walked to Thomas’s house. When Thomas’s mum opened the door, Stanley put on his best worried face.

  ‘I’ve just come round to see how Thomas is,’ he said, stretching his neck to see past Mrs Timms. She smiled at him and made an ‘Ahh’ sound.

  ‘What a nice boy you are, Stanley Stickle. This really is a very kind of you. I’ll tell Thomas you called. He’s having a lie down.’

  Stanley was persistent. ‘Err, I couldn’t actually see him for a minute, could I?’

  ‘Oh my goodness, no,’ said Mrs Timms. ‘He’s probably infectious. We’re waiting for the doctor to come round. He’s been very busy today; a lot of children seem to be ill.’

  Stanley placed a foot in the hallway. ‘I don’t mind, Mrs Timms, we all have to get ill sometime. If I could just...’

  ‘You don’t want to catch mumps or gastric flu, or something,’ said Mrs Timms. ‘I’d never forgive myself if you caught something nasty from Thomas. Now, I’d better go and make him some hot milk. He’s on the sofa in the back room for now.’

  Mrs Timms closed the door. Stanley began to walk to the gate, then turned back and crawled under the front window in case Mrs Thomas was in the room. When he reached the side of the house, he got to his feet, hurried round to the back and peeped through the window.

  Thomas was lying on the sofa covered by a thick duvet. The gas fire was on full and a small window was open to let fresh air into the room.

  Stanley tapped on the window and hissed, ‘Thomas.’

  Thomas didn’t stir.

  Stanley knocked again, harder this time. ‘THOMAS.’

  Thomas groaned and turned over to look at the window. His face was bright red; his mum had wrapped a thick woollen scarf round his neck and he was sweating profusely. Stanley began to have second thoughts about his plan. Then he remembered the homework and the big test.

  ‘What do you want?’ Thomas croaked. ‘I’m ill.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I’m here,’ said Stanley.

  Thomas groaned again and pulled up the covers.

  Stanley rapped on the window again. ‘Thomas, don’t go to sleep just yet, come to the window and open it.’

  ‘No,’ said Thomas. ‘Go away, I’m ill.’

  ‘Come on, Thomas, help me out here. I only want you to breathe on me,’ said Stanley.

  ‘But you’ll catch mumps, or gastric flu, or something,’ said Thomas, weakly.

  ‘I know,’ said Stanley. ‘That’s the whole point. If I get ill I’ll miss the big test and all that homework.’

  ‘I’d rather do the big test and all that homework than have gastric flu,’ said Thomas.

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ said Stanley, who had never had mumps or gastric flu but was sure that none of them could be worse than hours of extra homework followed by a big test. He looked pleadingly at Thomas. ‘Come on, Thomas, help me out.’

  Thomas shook his head. ‘I can’t get up, I’m ill. Mum said…’

  ‘It’s only for a minute,’ urged Stanley. ‘I’ll do you a favour in return one day.’ Stanley crossed his fingers as he made the promise. He had no intention of keeping it.

  Thomas pushed back the duvet and got unsteadily to his feet. Stanley rubbed his hands together; his plan was working. Thomas made it half way across the room before his face suddenly went white. He held his tummy, opened his mouth and threw an enormous projectile of sick across the room. Stanley pulled a face, shuddered and just managed to duck down below the window as the lounge door opened and Mrs Timms hurried into the room.

  ‘Thomas, what are you doing up? Oh dear, have you been sick again, my poor darling. You really should be in bed. Come on now, let’s get you upstairs.’

  Stanley got back to the front gate just as the doctor arrived.

  ‘Hello, Stanley,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve been visiting Thomas, he’s really, really, ill,’ said Stanley. ‘I don’t think he’ll last the night.’

  The doctor looked at him quizzically. ‘I’m sure it’s just a bug.’

  ‘Well, it’s an alien bug if it is,’ said Stanley. ‘His sick is green and it glows. You don’t need a light on, Thomas’s sick lights up the whole room. I think there was something moving in it. Aliens, probably.’

  The doctor rolled his eyes and walked down the path. Stanley blew out his cheeks and let himself out of the gate. Plan A had almost worked, but almost wasn’t good enough, it was time for plan B. Stanley crossed the street and headed for Ruby Ratner’s house.