The Greenwich Interplanetary Society
Page 1
The Greenwich Interplanetary Society
Published by Stuart Boyd
Copyright 2012 Stuart Boyd
Contents
Chapter 1: The Birthday Party
Chapter 2: The Seven-pointed Star
Chapter 3: Followed
Chapter 4: The Mindsqueezer
Chapter 5: The Greenwich Interplanetary Society
Chapter 6: Doctor Nostromus
Chapter 7: b-mail
Chapter 8: The Attic
Chapter 9: Gravo-waxing
Chapter 10: The Kicking Nelly
Chapter 11: The Phantom Quadrant
Chapter 12: Betrayal
Chapter 13: Sharptooth Whitefur
Chapter 14: The Telallamorph King
Chapter 15: Storm Barrier
Chapter 16: The Greddylick Returns
Chapter 17: MorphPlaster
Chapter 1: The Birthday Party
The first chance that Stella Mayweather could get away from her birthday party unnoticed, she dashed upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her. The sound of her entrance woke up her pet dog, Helix: a husky with soft, white fur and a friendly face. Seeing that it was only Stella, Helix gave a wide yawn and asked her whether she was enjoying her party.
Stella gave a frustrated groan and rolled her eyes. “It’s as bad as I thought it would be. Worse than that even! They’re all still here,” she complained, “and look at this…”
Stella pointed to a large cherry-coloured stain that stretched down the front of the delicate, frilly dress she was wearing.
“Somebody spilt a drink all down this stupid thing, but you know that Mum’ll blame me.”
To make matters worse, Stella spotted a tear in the hem of the skirt, where somebody had trodden on it. She gave another groan. The dress was new, and like the birthday party, it was her mum’s idea. Stella normally got on with her mum, but there were times that she caused Stella terrible embarrassment, like when she tried to make her wear clothes with frills and puffy sleeves, which made her look like she was about six years old.
Helix gave a vague sniff of sympathy, but didn’t really understand all the fuss about clothes. He, unlike Stella, had been sorry to miss out on the party, he was fond of cakes and jelly and enjoyed any chance to chase around the house, but he had been shut in the bedroom because Stella’s mum had caught him chasing the neighbour’s cat, Willowmena, around the garden. Stella couldn’t blame him for this, as Willowmena was one of those fluffy, spoilt kind of cats who would often sit high up on next door’s fence and shout very rude things to Helix, safe in the knowledge that he could never jump high enough to catch her.
There was a knock on the bedroom door.
“Stella?” a voice called from behind it.
The door opened to reveal the tall figure of Stella’s dad, Mr Mayweather, looking awkward in his unfamiliar suit. He worked as a gardener, and Stella was used to him wearing scruffy clothes that smelt of grass and earth, but he’d also been told to smarten up for the party.
“What are you doing stuck up here?” he asked. “Come on! We can’t cut the birthday cake without the birthday girl.”
“I’ll be right down,” Stella sighed.
She gave Helix a mournful pat on the head, and he asked her to save him some cake. She then reluctantly shuffled her way onto the landing. She had her head down, so didn’t notice that somebody seemed to be hiding in the corner until she had walked into them. Stella immediately recognised that she had bumped into a boy from her class at school. His name was Tom Warner, and he was the only other person she knew who was more of an outsider than she was. His mother had been taken into hospital, and he’d spent a lot of time out of school. Quiet, small and obviously alone, he was an easy victim of the biggest bully in school: Shane Biggs, who’d often pick on him at lunchtime or chase him home.
Stella normally felt sorry for Tom, but everyone already thought that she was weird enough, and she wasn’t going to draw any more attention to herself by hanging around another obvious target. Tom tried to speak to her, but was too surprised or embarrassed to get any words out clearly. Stella just mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and hurried away from him.
Downstairs was a chaotic mixture of spilled fizzy drinks, running children and ear-splitting shrieks. Stella’s mum was looking harassed and was trying to herd excited groups of party guests towards the dining table. A huge cake with candles sat in the centre of a stained tablecloth, amidst shards of broken crisps and globs of jelly. Mr Mayweather lit the candles whilst Mrs Mayweather shouted for everybody to settle down.
Once there was something approaching quiet in the room, Stella blew out her candles. After a long pause, everybody sang the ‘Happy Birthday’ song, though some people ended by singing, “Happy birthday, dear Smella.”
It was soon after this that her mum said, “Say goodbye to your friends, Stella, they’re being picked up.”
Stella had never felt so relieved.
Over the front door, Stella’s dad had put up a ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ banner, which had now come loose at one side and was in danger of fluttering down the street. Stella and her mum stood underneath it as a procession of parents arrived to take the party guests home. Their goodbyes sounded lukewarm, even to her mum, who was wearing a fixed smile on her face and saying things like, “No – no, they were no trouble at all,” to enquiring parents. The party guests shuffled out behind them, each clutching a squashed piece of cake wrapped in a pink napkin.