Spike’s body had already lost its swollen shape and, more importantly, his shoulders had begun to sprout new arms.
‘Oooow!’ moaned Spike as Nelson filled the bottle with the liquid spraying out of his needles.
‘Good idea, Master Nelson,’ said Miser as he flexed his beautifully restored tentacles. ‘Save some juice for future emergencies.’
Nelson stood up and looked around. The volcano had begun to return to its quiet smoking state, and the sky was dark but for the stars. Nelson had never felt so completely alive in his life.
‘Oh man,’ said Nelson turning quickly to face his monsters. ‘I still feel amazing. That juice, it’s made me feel like I could lift up a house or . . .’ He tailed off and looked at his watch.
‘Three hours and seventeen minutes,’ he said, and stuffed the bottle into his backpack before swinging it on to his shoulder.
‘Master Nelson,’ said Miser, sounding concerned. ‘You’re not thinking of going through with the school exam?’
‘Yep. I’ve never felt more clever in my life! But first, we have to visit my uncle Pogo and his friend Doody. Hoot! We have three hours and seventeen minutes to get to France and then back to my school. And if anyone can do it, you can, you fabulous, fantastic and wonderful bird!’
‘Dear boy!’ exclaimed Hoot, whose head had already begun to swell in size. ‘I shall be only too happy to oblige!’
HOSPITAL FOOD
One hour and eight minutes later, Spike, Hoot, Stan, Puff and Miser waited patiently on the roof of the French Hospital, while Nelson, Nosh and Crush were sneaking into the room in which Uncle Pogo and Professor Doody were being treated.
None of the security cameras ever caught a glimpse of Nelson as he was hiding inside Nosh. Those of you familiar with Nelson’s story will know that although Nosh has a huge belly in which Nelson can hide from human sight, as a hiding place it is both disgusting and has a very strict time limit. Unless you happen to be a disgusting monster, Nosh’s belly cooks whatever he eats, and so Nelson had to be out of there before being roasted alive.
Crush was rolling Nosh down the hospital corridors like you would roll snow to build a snowman. Twice he almost ran into a member of staff before rolling Nosh through the doors of Doody and Pogo’s room.
‘Bleaurgh!’ said Nelson as he fell out of Nosh’s mouth covered in slobber.
‘You OK, Nelly-son?’ whispered Nosh.
‘You don’t need to whisper, Nosh. No one else can hear you.’
Nelson got up from the floor clutching his water bottle and turned to face his uncle Pogo and Doody.
He was shocked at what he saw and felt tears spring to his eyes.
Both men were asleep, with tubes coming out of their arms. Their limbs were encased in plaster, and through the plaster, metal rods protruded.
They were broken like toys, and all because he had chosen to do nothing.
Well, at least he could do something now.
Nelson could hear people moving and talking in the corridor. He had to move fast.
Unscrewing the cap of the bottle, he held it to his uncle’s lips and poured the cactus juice into his mouth.
By the time Nelson and his monsters were halfway back to London, Doody and Pogo were wide awake, their bones healing at a miraculous speed. The only negative side effect was that the two of them were straight back to telling their usual awful jokes.
WHERE IS NELSON?
While everyone else in France and England rejoiced that the strange ice cloud had disappeared once and for all, Nelson’s family was completely on edge as they waited for Mrs Vigars, the head teacher of Nelson’s school, to answer the phone.
‘Good morning, Mrs Green,’ said Mrs Vigars. ‘How can I help you?’
‘Well, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happened to him. Nelson, I mean. I thought he was still in bed, but I just went to check, and he’s not there, and I don’t think he’s even slept in his bed and there’s no sign of—’
‘He’s here,’ interrupted Mrs Vigars.
‘He’s what?’
‘The test. He’s sitting it right now. It started just a few minutes ago.’
Nelson’s mum was so relieved that she completely forgot to ask any questions about how and when Nelson got to school. She sank on to the bottom step of the stairs and shook her head. Celeste and Nelson’s father breathed a huge sigh of relief.
‘Of course, we weren’t expecting any students in school today after what happened with the storm last night, but your son insisted on taking the exam as planned, so . . . well, he’s sitting it right now,’ said Mrs Vigars before chuckling and popping a chocolate mini egg into her mouth.
Nelson had just reached the last question on his exam paper, but he already knew he had passed, and knowing this made him smile and bounce his knee up and down. He really, really, really needed to pass this test and prove to his school and his parents that he was, to use their phrase, turning a corner. But just as he began to write his final answer, Nelson’s eyelids began to feel heavy. He shook his head and tried again to write, but his vision began to blur.
The teacher on duty for Nelson’s exam was too interested in reading the latest news on his phone about the ‘rogue storm’ and the giant mountains of ice to notice his solitary student not only falling asleep, but sliding off his chair and on to the floor.
‘Oh, you’ve gotta be jokin’,’ said Stan with a groan.
He, along with Nosh, Hoot, Crush and Miser were watching Nelson through the classroom window. Nelson had forbidden them from being in the same room as him (last time it had ended in the school hall burning down!), but even if they had ignored his demands, there was nothing they could do to help him now. The effects of the cactus juice had worn off, and Nelson had fallen into a sleep that would last a little over twenty-four hours.
YOUR GOOD HEALTH
That week, along with a massive clear-up campaign, there were parties all over France and England to celebrate the disappearance of the ice storm, but the best party of all was held in Nelson’s kitchen. They were celebrating the extra good news of Uncle Pogo and Doody’s miraculous recovery and, on top of that, Nelson’s success in his exam. Despite having missed the last question and fallen asleep at his desk, Nelson had passed with flying colours. All that remained for Nelson to do was to compete in the final rugby match, which he was actually looking forward to this time.
‘Your good health!’ said Nelson’s dad, raising a glass to Doody and Pogo.
‘Good health?’ said Doody. ‘Mate, I’ve never been in better shape me whole life!’
‘Me too,’ said Pogo. ‘Those French doctors worked some kind of magic on us.’
‘Shame they couldn’t do nothin’ about that ugly mug o’ yours though,’ said Doody, which made everyone laugh.
‘Nelson Green! Don’t just scoop the peas into your mouth off the plate! You look like a dustpan and brush! Use a knife and fork like a normal person,’ said Nelson’s mum before finishing her white wine and holding the empty glass out towards Nelson’s father for a refill.
Nelson laughed, and Celeste laughed too. She signed to Ivan, who then laughed louder than all of them. It was the first time Ivan had joined them for dinner, and he had contributed by making shortbread for dessert. Nelson could not wait to eat it.
‘Why have you got paint on your hands?’ asked Nelson’s mum, and Celeste caught his eye. There were green, yellow, red and blue splodges of paint on both sides of his hands, but he was not going to tell his mother the truth as to how they got there, and so he lied. Just a little bit.
‘I was painting . . . some stuff,’ he said.
‘Well go and wash them right now!’
Nelson pumped liquid soap into his hands and rubbed them together until there were bubbles galore.
‘Pssst!’ said Stan who was peering in through the toilet window.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Nelson.
‘We’re ready when you are.’
‘OK. Well, we’re go
ing to finish dinner first, and then I need you to take Puff around the houses to sort out the neighbours. He can do my mum and dad last.’
‘Got it.’ Stan let go of the window ledge and there was a crunch as he landed in a pile of leaves below.
Nelson rinsed his hands and smiled as he dried them on the towel. Tonight was going very well indeed, and there was freshly baked shortbread waiting for him downstairs.
NICE TO MEET YOU
It was way past midnight. Nelson’s mum and dad were fast asleep. The television at the end of their bed was still on, but there was no chance of them waking up because their room was filled with Puff’s purple gas.
Outside in the garden, Celeste and Ivan sat cross-legged on the grass with their eyes closed.
‘Are you sure Mum and Dad won’t wake up?’ said Celeste.
‘Yep. They won’t be awake until the morning,’ Nelson replied from behind the shed. ‘Now, keep your eyes closed.’
‘They are closed.’ She lay back on the grass, and Ivan lay down next to her. The air was warm and smelt of jasmine, cut grass and the creosote of a freshly painted fence. Ice still hung around in the kerbs and gutters of their street, so there was always the sound of a trickling stream.
Nelson peeped around the side of the shed. Was he right to do this? Was he about to ruin everything by revealing his secret to his sister and her boyfriend? It had seemed like such a good idea on the way home from Iceland. The cure to all the anguish and confusion he had been weighed down by for so long simply lay in sharing his secret. And in a way that his sister would believe this time.
‘Get on with it,’ said Stan.
‘OK, but one at a time. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’
Nelson knelt in the grass in front of his sister and Ivan, who were still lying down. The shed was behind Nelson, and behind the shed were his monsters, nervous as if about to perform on a stage.
‘I’m going to introduce you to each one, OK? Now, they’re normally invisible, so I’ve had to decorate them so you can see them.’
While Nelson was saying this, Celeste was translating his words into sign language for Ivan.
‘And you won’t be able to hear them, only I can, but I can tell you what they’re saying.’
Celeste finished signing to Ivan and sat up on her elbows. ‘Can they hear us?’ she said, and then she gasped. Her shoulders rigid. Her eyes wide.
Ivan sat up quickly and followed her gaze.
Looking past Nelson, they both saw something looking back at them.
Nelson turned. ‘Nosh! You were supposed to wait until I called you out. Urgh! Well, you might as well come out now.’
Nelson turned back to face his sister and Ivan, who were dumbstruck.
‘This is Nosh. He’s the greedy one. In real life he’s like a big pink blob, but I’ve painted around his eyes and mouth and put some gloves and socks on him so you can get an idea of his shape.’
To Celeste and Ivan, it looked as if a child’s painting of a face were floating towards them. Nelson had traced Nosh’s features with paint like a clown would use make-up. He was even wearing a small party hat.
‘Nosh says, “Hello.”’
Celeste was vibrating with shock. Her mind was racing so fast, it was in danger of flipping out. Ivan took her hand and squeezed it. She looked at him, and he smiled and laughed as if this was the greatest thing he had ever seen. Nelson’s instinct to bring Ivan along had paid off. He didn’t know why, but Nelson had felt sure Ivan would help Celeste process what he was going to show her.
‘Is that his mouth?’ she said, though in barely a whisper.
‘Yes. His mouth is massive, and he eats all the time. Look, I’ll get him to show you.’
Nelson got up and grabbed a log from the pile beside the back door. He passed it to Nosh, who chomped it down like a turbo-charged electric pencil sharpener.
Ivan laughed out loud and clapped with joy, which in turn made Celeste laugh too.
Nosh looked very pleased with himself as flames roared from the top of his head, but no one was as happy or as relieved as Nelson.
What a sight they all were. Seven monsters sat in a circle, their faces painted and their bodies dressed in all sorts of ridiculous things in order that Celeste and Ivan could see them. You can’t blame them for looking silly. They were monsters, not fashion designers. Stan’s horns had been taped in tennis racquet grip strip, with tennis balls stuck to their ends to avoid any accidents. A pair of red braces stretched over his shoulders held up a pair of red swimming shorts, while on his hands Stan wore an old pair of oven gloves. Miser had found a pair of ski goggles and taken out the lenses, which made him look like a racing driver. He had also wrapped fairy lights around his long arms, and they were powered by a battery pack tucked into one of his pockets. Hoot had donned a yellow poncho that no one in Nelson’s family wore any more and completed his look with a top hat and walking stick that he had painted gold himself. Crush wore the Babygro that Nelson had worn as a newborn baby (and his mother had refused to give away). Crush’s great hooter mouth was painted red, and there were bright blue circles around his eyes. Puff had simply covered himself from head to toe in tinsel and glitter, while Spike had made an extra-special effort for this momentous occasion. As clothes of any kind would only snag on his cactus needles, Spike had spent the day sticking Nelson’s mother’s pastel-coloured cotton balls on to their ends.
As you can imagine, Celeste and Ivan had no end of questions to ask the monsters, and Nelson took great pleasure in being the translator for the evening. It felt like hosting the best dinner party ever. Ivan even managed to teach the monsters a few words of sign language, enabling them to communicate directly with him. Though they talked long and loud into the night and ate a great deal of Fruit & Nut chocolate, there was no chance of their neighbours spotting what was going on. Every house within earshot had been visited earlier by Puff, and he had left them all filled with enough purple gas to last until morning.
Celeste yawned and rubbed her eyes. They had been out here for hours, and their legs were numb from sitting on the ground.
‘We should probably go to bed now,’ said Nelson, and the monsters groaned. ‘They’re groaning. They don’t want to go either.’
‘All right,’ said Celeste.
Ivan tapped Celeste’s shoulder and signed to her.
‘Ivan wants to know where they will all go tonight.’
‘Well, they’ll get cleaned up and then head back to the zoo. They can’t stay here. Like I said before, they get in too much trouble.’
Celeste relayed this to Ivan, who signed back.
‘Ivan has his own workshop at the back of his parents’ house. His parents are deaf too, so as long as your monsters stay out of sight, it’s safe for them to stay there for now, if they want.’
Nelson’s monsters did not need any persuading. Though they would miss their friends at the zoo, being closer to Nelson was everything they wanted. They cheered and jumped and punched the air in triumph before surrounding Celeste and Ivan in a group hug.
Nelson grinned. ‘I think that’s a yes,’ he said as he stood up and watched his monsters waddle after Ivan.
Celeste put her arm around Nelson’s shoulders. ‘And you definitely need some sleep. You’ve got that rugby match tomorrow.’
‘Will you come and watch?’
‘Course. Do you think your monsters will come too?’
Nelson smiled.
He knew they wouldn’t miss it for the world.
About the Author
Garth Jennings has directed many music videos and commercials. His work includes videos for Blur, Radiohead, Beck, Fatboy Slim and Vampire Weekend.
He is the director of three feature films: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (2005); Son of Rambow (2007), for which he also wrote the screenplay; and Golden Globe-nominated Sing (2016), a feature-length animated film with an all-star cast, from the studio that created Despicable Me. He has also written The Wildest Cowboy,
a picture book, for Macmillan Children’s Books.
Published in 2019 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2019 by Macmillan Children’s Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-8766-8
Text and illustrations copyright © Garth Jennings 2019
Cover illustration by Rob Biddulph
The right of Garth Jennings to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Pan Macmillan does not have any control over, or any responsibility for, any author or third-party websites referred to in or on this book.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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The Good, the Bad and the Deadly 7 Page 13
