Cy and Shahr-Azad stepped back a few paces.
‘Omigosh!’ said Cy. ‘Omigollygosh!’
Shahr-Azad reached out and very gently removed the sock from the mouth of the Dream Master.
Then she and Cy quickly covered their ears with both hands . . .
AFTER SCHOOL ON Friday Cy went straight to the field with his Grampa. They had to queue along with lots of young people to get past the turnstiles. Cy wanted to check out the venue where he and his friends were scheduled to appear tomorrow. Some performance heats were already being held and a line had formed outside the marquee where registration was taking place. Cy stopped to talk with a couple of girls from the year below him who had put together a dance routine. Little groups stood about reciting lines or holding impromptu rehearsals.
Suddenly a great ‘Ohhh’ went up from the field and everyone turned their faces up to look at the sky.
The hot-air balloon was descending, trailing a great shower of fireworks and soap bubbles. From the basket a small figure waved regally.
‘Shahr-Azad!’ cried Cy.
He raced across the field as the balloon came to rest next to the cordoned-off judges’ enclosure. Shahr-Azad climbed out and was escorted away from the restricted area by some of the officials. As Cy waited for Shahr-Azad to come out of the staff area he heard a few people talking.
‘She must have hidden in the little basket attached to the bottom of the balloon.’
‘Well done, you,’ someone said to Shahr-Azad as she came to join Cy. ‘Wish I’d thought of it.’
Shahr-Azad smiled happily and waved her hand.
‘Good publicity trick,’ said another person.
‘I don’t think so,’ said a voice Cy recognized. It was Chloe, her face twisted in jealousy. ‘She didn’t queue up for hours to get in like everybody else. So that’s cheating. It’s given her an unfair advantage.’
‘Yes,’ said Eddie who was standing beside her. ‘We thought of doing that. Except we read the posters and the balloon was advertised as an unmanned flight.’
‘But I am a woman not a man,’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘I broke no law.’
‘It was deceitful,’ Eddie accused her.
‘It was audacious,’ Shahr-Azad replied.
‘Show-off,’ said Chloe.
‘Artful,’ countered Shahr-Azad.
Cy grinned. This should be fun, watching Chloe and Eddie try to outwit Shahr-Azad in a word competition.
‘Smarty-pants,’ said Chloe.
Shahr-Azad lifted one eyebrow. ‘Resourceful.’
‘You think you are a real clever-clogs,’ said Eddie.
‘I believe I am astute,’ Shahr-Azad replied.
Chloe pushed her face up close to Shahr-Azad. She mimicked Shahr-Azad’s voice nastily. ‘Well, I believe that you are underhand, dishonest and two-faced.’
Shahr-Azad laughed in delight. ‘This is an excellent competition. I like it!’ She placed her hand under her chin and puzzled for a moment. ‘On the contrary, my actions were crafty, inventive, wily and clever.’
A few people stopped to listen. With a deep feeling of apprehension Cy saw that his class teacher Mrs Chalmers was among them. ‘Those are a couple of my pupils there,’ Cy heard Mrs Chalmers comment to the person beside her. ‘Such magnificent use of vocabulary.’
That’s typical, thought Cy. The Mean Machines always seemed to get away with their nastiness. Mrs Chalmers didn’t realize that Eddie and Chloe were being horrible to Shahr-Azad.
‘You’re just a know-all!’ said Eddie.
Shahr-Azad made a graceful salaam to him. ‘I thank you,’ she replied.
‘Well done!’ A voice from the crowd called out.
Cy pulled on Shahr-Azad’s sleeve. She shook him off. ‘Beat. It,’ she said. ‘If this is part of the TALENT TV competition, then I am going to win.’
‘Are you a friend of that young lady?’ Mrs Chalmers asked Cy.
‘Well, yes. No. Yes.’
Mrs Chalmers smiled at Cy. ‘Which is it?’ she asked.
‘I sort of know her,’ Cy mumbled.
‘She’s not local, is she?’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘Did you meet her at the youth club community centre?’
‘Uh,’ Cy grunted.
‘Is she from the family of one of the asylum-seekers?’
‘I never actually asked her,’ said Cy. ‘But I suppose she is, kind of.’ Both he and Mrs Chalmers stopped speaking as the exchange between Shahr-Azad and the Mean Machines continued.
‘You’ve been underhand,’ Chloe told Shahr-Azad.
‘Slick,’ declared Shahr-Azad.
‘More like shifty!’ said Eddie.
‘I’d say shrewd,’ Shahr-Azad replied.
‘Sneaky,’ said Chloe.
‘Subtle,’ said Shahr-Azad.
‘Sly!’
‘Smart!’
‘Slippery!’
‘Skilful!’
Eddie and Chloe looked at each other.
‘Gifted,’ continued Shahr-Azad. ‘Ingenious. Dextrous. Expert.’
‘Er . . .’ said Eddie. He looked at Chloe. She shook her head.
Shahr-Azad clapped her hands. ‘I win!’ she cried. ‘I win.’
There was a burst of cheering and a round of applause. Some of the crowd stopped to speak to Shahr-Azad and admire her clothes. By the time Cy pushed his way through to her an official with a clipboard was taking her details. ‘You don’t need to wait in line to get an entry form,’ he was saying. ‘I’ll give you one of these. I can recognize original talent when I see it. Now tell me, what would you like to enter the competition as?’
‘As myself,’ said Shahr-Azad.
‘Yup, honey. But what is it you actually do?’
‘A princess does not need to do anything,’ said Shahr-Azad loftily.
‘Absolutely.’ The man laughed. ‘But help me out here. What kind of slot are you looking for? What’s your specific talent?’
‘Storytelling,’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘I am a Storyteller.’
‘Excellent. Excellent. We haven’t got one of those.’ He wrote on the form. ‘Now what’s your act title?’
‘My title? I am a princess.’
The man stopped with his pen above the entry form. ‘Ummm . . . Can you give yourself a stage name? Something short, with a bit of a punch.’
‘Kerpow?’ suggested Shahr-Azad.
‘Sorry?’ The man blinked. ‘Tell you what, you fill in the rest yourself and hand it in.’
As the man gave the entry form to Shahr-Azad, Cy took it and dragged Shahr-Azad to one side. ‘What are you up to?’ he demanded. ‘I told you I’d take you here tomorrow when the competition is on.’
Shahr-Azad pouted. ‘Yes, but if I’d waited until tomorrow I would not have been given a form by that kind gentleman.’
‘That “kind gentleman” is a greaseball,’ said Cy.
‘He is Greaseball?’ repeated Shahr-Azad.
‘Yes,’ said Cy. ‘A slimy greaseball who wants you to do something for his benefit. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to enter the competition.’
‘Why ever not?’ Mrs Chalmers had overheard what Cy was saying. She spoke to Shahr-Azad. ‘It is so interesting to hear stories from other cultures. What name do you call yourself?’
‘Shahr-Azad,’ said Shahr-Azad.
‘Scheherazade!’ Mrs Chalmers repeated. ‘What a neat idea to call yourself after the teller of the Arabian Nights. I’ll bet Cy suggested that. Here, I’ll hand your entry form in for you.’ And before Cy could stop her, Mrs Chalmers took the slip of paper from Shahr-Azad and walked off towards the registration marquee.
CY WENT OUT to the garage early the next morning. He wanted to get his props together and take Shahr-Azad to the field before anyone else was about. He found Shahr-Azad arranging her scarves about her face and head.
‘This is a crazy idea,’ the Dream Master grizzled at Cy. ‘You don’t know what mischief she’ll get up to.’
‘I had to promise to bring her with me
today so that she would help me find you,’ said Cy. ‘You wouldn’t want to have stayed inside that bottle with a sock in your mouth for ever, would you?’
Cy’s Dream Master glared at him. ‘And whose fault was it that I ended up inside the bottle in the first place?’ he asked bitterly.
‘You yourself were partly to blame for that,’ said Cy. ‘Anyway let’s get organized. I want to be on my way before other people are up and about.’
Unknown to Cy other people were already up and about. The Mean Machines, Eddie and Chloe, angry at having been put down in front of everyone yesterday, were at this moment outside Cy’s garage looking for revenge.
‘I can hear voices,’ Chloe whispered to Eddie. ‘Cy must be in there already with his friends. We’ve arrived too late to mess up any of their things.’ Her face clouded as she realized that her plan to wreck Cy’s magic act would be thwarted.
‘The window’s open,’ said Eddie. ‘Let’s have a look inside.’
The Mean Machines climbed quietly onto the waste bins lined up along the side of the garage and tried to peer in the window.
‘There’s some old sheet pinned up here that’s stopping me seeing anything,’ said Chloe. She reached her hand in to try to pull aside the curtain. Her fingers connected with the little glass bottle that held the genie.
‘What have you got?’ Eddie asked Chloe as she withdrew her hand holding the bottle.
‘One of his silly magic potions.’ Chloe turned to show it to Eddie but, as she did, the bin lid slipped to one side and so did she. Still clutching the bottle she slid to the ground with a clatter.
The Mean Machines scrambled to their feet as the garage door opened.
‘What are you two doing here?’ Cy asked. ‘You’ve no right to be in my garden.’
‘We, we—’ Eddie began.
‘What have you got in your hand?’ said Cy, catching sight of the bottle. ‘Omigosh!’ he said.
‘We came to wish you luck,’ said Chloe innocently.
‘Give me that bottle and go away. It’s bad luck to wish someone luck before a performance,’ said Cy.
‘So you do catch on occasionally,’ Eddie sneered.
‘Yes,’ said Chloe. She threw the bottle in the air, made as if to grab it, then opened her hands wide. ‘I wish your act today is truly spectacular,’ she said sarcastically as the bottle fell and shattered at her feet.
She and Eddie ran out of the garden and along the street. Neither of them noticed the thin column of smoke which trailed from the broken pieces of glass and drifted after them.
‘Omigosh!’ said Cy. ‘Omigollygosh!’
Cy raced inside the garage, stuffed his props and his dad’s old dinner jacket into his rucksack, calling to Shahr-Azad as he did so. ‘Chloe has released the genie from the bottle! It’s following them along the street. Come on!’
The Dream Master wrapped himself up in his dreamcloak. ‘I suppose I’ll have to come with you,’ he grumbled. ‘Hopefully I’ll go unnoticed among the crowd that will be there today.’
By the time Cy got into the street there was no sign of Eddie and Chloe.
‘What shall we do?’ asked Cy in alarm.
‘Let us go to the place of the competition,’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘It is more than likely that is where we will find them and the genie. But wait!’ She ran back into the garage to fetch the little enamel teapot. ‘We need a container for the genie when we find him,’ she explained to Cy.
Cy took his piece of dreamsilk from the teapot and tucked it into his trouser pocket.
‘Think of what might happen if Chloe knows that there is a genie that will grant her wishes!’ said Cy, a panicky note in his voice.
‘She will have to take the consequences then.’ Shahr-Azad spoke grimly. ‘In some parts of Arabia it is seen as a curse – to obtain all that your heart desires.’
‘Indeed,’ the Dream Master muttered in Cy’s ear. ‘As you yourself know, Button Brain. You must be careful what you wish for.’
Cy, Shahr-Azad and the Dream Master ran as fast as they could to the competition field. The whole area was filling up with people who had early morning slots. Cy saw two girls from Lauren’s school who were expert gymnasts. They were already in their costumes and practising handstands and somersaults. A group of pupils from his school passed by carrying their musical instruments.
‘There they are!’ cried Shahr-Azad.
Eddie and Chloe were walking between two tents. A dark cloud rolled above their heads.
‘I will try to warn them in a way they will understand,’ said Shahr-Azad. She ran forward and stepped in front of the Mean Machines. ‘Listen up, wise guys,’ she said.
‘“Wise guys?”’ Cy mouthed the words at the Dream Master behind her back. ‘That’s not language from Ancient Arabia.’
‘Sounds like American gangster slang,’ said the Dream Master. ‘I blame all those old comics that you’ve got lying about your bedroom floor.’
‘We need some talk-time pronto,’ Shahr-Azad told Eddie and Chloe.
‘Get lost,’ Chloe told her. ‘We’re due to go on soon. You’re in our way.’
‘Yeah, beat it,’ Eddie chimed in. ‘We don’t have time to talk to cheats.’
‘I’m going to blow this geezer to kingdom come,’ declared Shahr-Azad. She took up an aggressive stand, arms folded across her chest.
Cy’s mouth gaped open. His Dream Master peered out nervously from behind him.
‘She might know how to do karate,’ Eddie said to Chloe, his voice less confident now.
‘Forget karate!’ snarled Shahr-Azad. ‘Get ready for some Killer Kickboxing.’ She spun on one heel, her leg shot out and her foot almost reached Eddie’s chin. He leaped back.
‘I don’t know about this,’ Eddie turned to Chloe.
‘Oh, don’t be such a wimp,’ said Chloe. She pushed Eddie aside. ‘I’ll deal with her if you can’t.’
‘Come ahead. Punk,’ Shahr-Azad sneered. ‘Make my day.’
Chloe took one step forward. Shahr-Azad took two steps forward to meet her. Chloe hesitated, stepped back, then she and Eddie turned and ran.
‘KERPOW!’ Shahr-Azad shouted after the two bullies. ‘ZAM! SPLAT!’
Cy grabbed Shahr-Azad’s sleeve. ‘Why are you talking like that?’
‘These words are in your comic books,’ said Shahr-Azad in a puzzled voice. ‘It is what the good guys say.’
‘Yes, but—’ Cy began.
‘Can we get on?’ snapped the Dream Master. ‘It may have escaped your attention but Chloe and Eddie are about to do their act supported by a slightly confused genie.’
‘Can’t you do anything to stop the genie giving Chloe what she wants?’ Cy asked Shahr-Azad as the three of them hurried into the performance tent.
Shahr-Azad shook her head. ‘I cannot,’ she said. ‘And neither can the genie. It is Kismet. He must grant the three wishes. Although how he interprets the request . . . is entirely up to him.’
Cy didn’t have long to wait to find out how the genie was going to interpret any request that Chloe made. Shahr-Azad had decided that it would be best if they were as close to the stage as possible so that she could keep an eye on things, which meant that Cy had a close-up view of what happened.
Eddie and Chloe were the third act to come on.
‘Chloe and Eddie!’ the announcer bawled at the top of his voice. ‘I want you all to give a big welcome to these young people who are going to sing a medley of popular songs.’
The audience clapped loudly as Chloe strode onto the stage. Eddie lagged a bit behind her fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.
‘I wish you’d hurry up!’ Chloe whispered impatiently at him.
Immediately Eddie’s head jerked up, then he leaped forward, galloped to the front of the stage, grabbed the mike and began singing their song as fast as he could.
‘What are you doing?’ cried Chloe.
Eddie ignored her. His whole body convulsed as he went into their dance routine at to
p speed, stepping about the stage in a mad frenzy. Then he belted out the last two verses of the song and finished up with a great flourishing bow.
‘Brilliant!’ Shahr-Azad stood up to lead the applause.
‘Next!’ shouted the Dream Master.
Eddie dashed off the stage, danced out the door, and round the back of the tent.
‘Why did you do that?’ screamed Chloe, racing after him.
‘YoutoldmetohurryupandIcouldn’tstop.’ Eddie looked around wildly. His feet danced a few more steps, slowed down and then stopped, whereupon Eddie collapsed onto the grass. ‘I couldn’t help myself,’ he sobbed.
‘You’ve ruined everything,’ moaned Chloe. ‘It’s all spoiled. I wanted our act to be the coolest thing here.’
Above the heads of the two bullies a large grey cloud changed to white and cold snowflakes began to fall gently down upon them . . .
AS IT CAME closer to the time of his own act Cy’s stomach was churning with dread and awful anticipation. Why had he ever thought that he could do this? He was far too inept to perform magic tricks. He didn’t know whether to be comforted or worried by the fact that his friends were tense and jittery too. They’d had to report to their performance tent an hour before their act time, and since then they had all been running backwards and forwards to the toilets.
Suddenly Lauren appeared and thumped Cy on the back. ‘Go to it, bro,’ she said. ‘I won’t wish you luck ’cos that’s bad luck, but you know what I mean.’
‘You too,’ said Cy, watching her as she swung away to join the audience queue to get into the tent, humming ‘Go, Girl, Go . . . Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh . . .’ He caught sight of his mum and dad already waiting in the line and they both gave him the thumbs up sign.
‘It’s only a bit of fun,’ Cy’s dad had said last night. He’d looked at Cy seriously as he spoke. ‘Remember that, and you’ll be fine.’
Mum hadn’t said anything. She’d been a bit distracted, trying to find Cy’s trainers . . .
Vicky peered out from behind the stage curtain. ‘The tent is pretty full,’ she said, ‘but it’s mainly our friends and family. Oh no!’ she said then. ‘Look!’
Dream Master: Arabian Nights Page 10
