Shrinking Violet is Totally Famous

by Lou Kuenzler

  I could see at once that Gran was wrong. There was one tube of lipstick and a little mirror – but no other make-up at all.

  “It’s weird. Everything else seems to be for cooking,” I said, showing her a stack of mini cupcake cases. There were three pots of a little set of those different size measuring spoons and a small bottle of vanilla flavouring like the stuff Mo adds to her sponge cakes. There was also a biscuit cutter in the Even though Stella’s name wasn’t on anything, I was more certain than ever that this was her bag.

  “You know how much she loves sharks. Just like me,” I said.

  “Whoever it belongs to, they’re certainly a keen cook,” Gran said, taking a look for herself. “There’s a pack of crushed chilli peppers in here. And a jar of sea salt.”

  “Let’s deliver the bag back to Stella in person,” I said, clapping my hands. “I’ll have a real reason to meet her again. I can tell her properly about Mo.”

  “I thought Stella was on safari?” said Gran.

  “She said at the bookshop she wasn’t going until this morning,” I remembered, my feet in the air. “Perhaps she hasn’t left for the airport yet. The limo driver must know where her campsite is. He dropped her there last night.”

  “Campsite? Why doesn’t she stay in a hotel?” asked Gran, raising her eyebrows. “Surely she can afford it…?”

  “Oh, Gran. She’s Stella Lightfoot,” I explained. “She wouldn’t stay in a hotel. She’s and .”

  “All right. We’ll ask the driver,” said Gran. She leant forward to open the screen which cut off the driver from the rest of the limo.

  “Steady though, Violet,” she warned as I along the seat opposite her. “Don’t get overexcited. This would be a terrible time to shr—”

  “Too late,” I squeaked. My toes were My tummy – I was caught in mid-bounce as I flew up from the seat. By the time I landed, I had shrunk to the size of the lipstick in Stella Lightfoot’s bag.

  “Whoops,” said Gran. But she had already hit the button to open the screen.

  “Quick. Hide in here,” she hissed, holding out her empty glasses case.

  “Good plan, Gran.” I as the screen slid down.

  But Gran’s eyesight really must be getting bad.

  She clicked the case shut. Too quick.

  I was still flying through the air as the screen slid down.

  I took a quick mid-air decision and threw myself sideways like an Olympic high-jumper.

  I landed safely out of view in Stella’s purple-and-black bag, which was still open on the seat.

  “Hello. My name’s Pete,” the driver told Gran. “What can I do for you, madam?”

  “We found this under the minibar,” Gran explained. She held up the little bag to show him. She had no idea I had jumped inside, of course. “We think it might belong to Stella Lightfoot.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets it back,” said Pete, pulling over to the side of the road. As he took hold of the bag, I ducked under a measuring spoon.

  “I’m actually due to collect Miss Lightfoot next,” said Pete. “But … but wait a minute. What’s going on?”

  As he turned his head and looked properly into the back of the limo, his jaw dropped open with surprise. “Where has your granddaughter gone?”

  As I peeped out through the open zip, I saw that Pete’s eyes were as as headlamps.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, swivelling round in his seat so he could see the whole limousine. “I saw her get in when I picked you up.”

  “Erm … Violet got out at the last set of traffic lights,” said Gran quickly. “By the library. She … erm … she remembered she had a book to return.”

  I had a good view of Gran from inside the make-up bag. She was smiling happily, quite sure that I had landed safe inside her glasses case.

  “I’ll get out as well,” she said. “There’s no point in going to the hairdresser without Violet.”

  I could tell Gran wanted to escape from the limousine as quickly as possible – probably to open the glasses case so I could breathe. If I really were inside there I’d have been half suffocated by now. She was holding it delicately on her lap as if it contained a rare

  “Psst! Gran. Over here.” Even though Pete was still holding Stella’s bag out in front of him, I risked poking my head up for a moment. I had to make Gran see me before she got out of the car.

  But Pete’s hand loomed towards me in its leather glove like a big black crow

  I ducked just in time as the zip slid closed over my head.

  The bag swayed.

  THUMP!

  Everything clattered around me.

  Pete must have thrown it down on the seat.

  I heard doors open as he helped Gran out of the car.

  “Cheerio,” she called.

  Her voice sounded far away already

  “Goodbye, madam,” said Pete.

  The limo as he turned on the engine.

  A minute later, we were on the move. Gran was gone. I was on my own now.

  It was dark and cramped inside the little bag. The shark fin on the biscuit cutter was digging into my back.

  Stretching my foot, I managed to the zip open a bit and let in a stream of light.

  Now that I could see what I was doing, I pushed my way up between the jars of and peeped out of the gap.

  Beside me, I could see that Pete, the limo driver had his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

  Gran will be so worried when she realizes she has lost me, I thought as we sped through town.

  I had no idea how I would be able to find my way back to her again. Not even if I grew to FULL SIZE.

  We’ll have to drive right out to the countryside to find Stella Lightfoot’s campsite, I thought.

  But just five minutes later, we stopped. Pete climbed out of the car.

  I peeping out of the bag like a meerkat from its burrow.

  Through the open window on the driver’s side of the limo, I could see that we were outside a tall white marble building.

  I read on a gold sign above a set of revolving doors. Why were we here? We were supposed to be picking up Stella Lightfoot. But this wasn’t a campsite. It was the smartest hotel in Swanchester. Mum says some of the rooms have gold bathtubs and there’s a really fancy restaurant with a world-famous French chef.

  I could see Stella coming down the marble steps. She was wearing a purple-and-black jumpsuit with a jacket slungover her arm. She was also holding a purple-and-black suitcase. She must have stayed here overnight.

  “Good morning, miss,” said Pete, hurrying forward to take the case.

  “You’re late,” snapped Stella.

  As she reached the bottom of the steps, I could see her face clearly. She didn’t say good morning to Pete or even smile at him. She just barged past, throwing her jacket on to the back seat of the limo and climbing in without another word.

  I ducked down inside the camouflage bag, wishing I had found somewhere better to hide, as Pete back into the driving seat.

  I can’t believe I’m in the same car as Stella Lightfoot, I thought. If only I could grow back to full size somehow when no one was looking. I’d be able to speak to her again. About Mo.

  “My last passengers found this, Miss Lightfoot,” said Pete. He picked up the bag and it shot into the air so my stomach lurched as if it had been left behind.

  “Oh, I’m so happy to have this back,” said Stella, as Pete passed the bag through the hatch. “I thought I’d lost it.” She really did sound pleased.

  From my hiding place under the jar of salt, I could see Stella through the open zip. She was smiling now – from ear to ear. Her whole face lit up – just for a second. Then the smile was gone.

  “Let’s get moving,” she growled, sounding all cross and grouchy again, just like Tiffany when I bounce on her bed in the mornings.

  It was odd. I would never have thought of Stella as grumpy. She always seems so cheerful on television. But perhaps Pete really was very late.

 
“I better make myself look presentable,” Stella sighed.

  Before I knew what was happening, she grabbed the bag and Everything came spilling out on to the seat beside her. Luckily, I was buried under the packet of crushed chilli peppers. Stella grabbed the little mirror from right next to me. As she flipped it open, I could see her looking at her own reflection.

  I had to find somewhere to hide. And quickly.

  Holding a mini cupcake case above me like a crab in its shell, I towards Stella’s jacket, hoping to hide underneath it. But as I between two pots of on the seat, her hand

  “There should be a lipstick here somewhere,” she muttered, still squinting into the mirror.

  She brushed the cupcake case aside, and then her fingers closed around me. I – as still as a fish finger in a freezer compartment. I was terrified she would lift me up to her lips – after all, I was exactly the same size as the tube of lipstick.

  Luckily, the car suddenly started to , shaking like a tambourine. It was as if we had left the main road and gone on to some sort of farm track.

  “Are we nearly there?” said Stella, letting go of me and leaning forward to look out of the window.

  “Nearly,” said Pete.

  I had no time to look out of the window myself. I spotted the real lipstick and kicked it towards Stella’s leg. It bumping into her just as I dived under the nearby packet of chilli peppers.

  Putting the lipstick on with one hand, Stella dug around in her jacket and pulled out a mobile phone.

  “You’d better have everything ready,” she barked, shouting at someone on the other end. “We’ll be with you shortly.”

  As soon as the call was finished, she dropped the phone back into her jacket.

  That pocket would make the perfect place to hide, I thought.

  I s h o t

  ONE … TwO … THREE leaps and I was in.

  I’d risked Stella seeing me. But it was worth it.

  I was well hidden now.

  “Can’t you drive any faster?” Through the open pocket, I could still hear Stella shouting at Pete. “I am supposed to be on safari, you know.”

  Of course… No wonder she was stressed. She was probably late for her plane. If she was going on safari, she must be flying to … to …

  Jumping giraffes! I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from shouting out. If Stella Lightfoot was going to Africa, I could go with her. All I’d need to do was stay hidden in her jacket.

  I wanted to turn cartwheels and jump up and down. I could go on an EXPEDITION … WITH STELLA LIGHTFOOT … IN AFRICA.

  But, as soon as I thought it, I knew it was impossible. I couldn’t fly away on safari. Not now. No matter how much I wanted to. Poor Gran had no idea where I was. Mum and Dad would be worried sick if they knew. I had to get back to Swanchester as quick as possible.

  Most of all, I had to come up with a new plan to save Mo’s café. As I hadn’t grown back to full size I couldn’t ask Stella for help. I would have to do it without her.

  Going on safari will have to wait, I thought. I have important work to do.

  Stella’s mobile phone was lying flat in the bottom of her pocket beside me. Typing with my feet like a TINY TAP DANCER, I quickly sent a message to Gran. I told her I was safe and promised I’d stay in the limo.

  I remembered Gran’s number was just 07, then Tiff’s birthday followed by mine. I typed this in, then slid across the screen and pressed

  I started to climb out of Stella’s pocket again. I’d have to hide in the car until it went back to Swanchester after dropping her at the airport.

  As soon as I was out in the light I clung to a button under a fold in the jacket. It wasn’t easy to hold on. The car was still bumping wildly from side to side as it rattled down the uneven road.

  Funny. We should be taking the motorway to reach the airport, I thought.

  But a few moments later, the rocking stopped and we came to a halt.

  “At last. We’re here,” said Stella.

  ducking into the shadows just in time as she grabbed her jacket and stepped out of the limo.

  I could see her waving her arms. She seemed to be shouting at a man with a film camera. Then they both disappeared from sight.

  I crept forward and peered out of the open door. We were parked on a track at the bottom of a very steep hill. Definitely not an airport. No plane could take off from here.

  I strained my ears to see if I could hear voices. Stella and the cameraman were gone. Pete was nowhere to be seen.

  Surely he’d be back in a minute. He must have left the door open by mistake.

  I waited five minutes. Maybe ten. It seemed like hours.

  There was nothing to look at except a lazy bumblebee around on the sunny hillside.

  I knew I’d promised Gran I would stay in the limo, but it wasn’t going back to Swanchester. Not yet. Not without Pete to drive it.

  It can’t do any harm to get out for a minute, I thought. I’ll just see what everyone is up to, then I’ll hurry straight back.

  I turned around, dangling my legs out of the open door, and dropped on to the grass below. I landed on my hands and knees like a squatting frog.

  Before I’d even lifted my head, I noticed the smell… Something strong and musty and bitter – like a cat’s litter tray that really, really needed changing.

  “Poo!”

  Perhaps being tiny made the stink twice as strong … but I was sure I recognized that pong from somewhere. What was it?

  I wrinkled my nose and sniffed the air.

  As I lifted my head, I knew what it was. The last time I had smelt that smell, I had been at the zoo.

  I turned around

  I for a moment – held in the lion’s gaze. I stared up into his huge, dark orange eyes – like two setting suns above me.

  I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. It was as if I was hypnotized. I could barely breathe. I know Stella Lightfoot said she was going on safari, but I thought she meant in Africa. I wasn’t expecting wild animals here … wandering around. In England.

  “Nice kitty,” I whispered, my voice as I spoke.

  The lion’s eyes flickered, watching me like a cat watches a mouse … except the lion was a zillion times than any cat and I was still as SMALL as a mouse.

  There was no sign of anyone else. Stella Lightfoot, Pete and the cameraman had completely disappeared. I wondered for one crazy moment if the lion had eaten them already – – a three-course meal. Now he’d finish off with me, like a tiny after-dinner mint.

  No, I thought. I’d only seen them a little while ago. He couldn’t’ have gobbled them up yet. I remembered all the nature documentaries I have seen. Lions eat their prey slowly… They like to play with it first.

  In front of me, the lion shifted his paws. Was he about to play with me?

  I glanced out of the corner of my eye – not even daring to move my head. The limousine was still just behind me but there was no way I could scramble back inside.

  “Good puss,” I as a drip of trickled off the end of my nose.

  Although I was too small to climb into the car, perhaps I could roll underneath it, out of reach of the lion’s claws.

  Don’t move fast, I told myself. I know what cats are like. Nisha and I help out at the Whenever we play with the kittens, they go crazy the minute something flashes past them. It doesn’t matter if it’s a feather on the end of a string or a fly on a windowpane – the moment it shifts, they pounce. I had a horrible feeling the lion would be the same … only bigger … and with much sharper claws.

  One…

  I bent my knees, very gently.

  Two…

  I slowly dropped my shoulders.

  Thr—

  Out of nowhere the lion’s paw shot forward – too quick for me to see it coming. I was knocked to the ground.

  Now the lion had me, he was batting me about from side to side.

  Biff! From one paw.

  Bam! Back to the other.

 
Each of the lion’s paws was about the size of a table-tennis bat. I shot backwards and forwards across the short grass like a Ping-Pong ball.

  At least his claws were tucked in. But every time he hit me, my breath was knocked out.

  As long as he’s playing, he’s not ready to eat me, I thought. My head was ringing like the time I got kicked playing KungFu Warrior. It’s when he gets bored that I need to panic.

  “Whoa!”

  The lion’s huge paw came from above this time.

  The game was changing. He pinned me down like a playing card he was waiting to turn over.

  Staring up through the golden fur at the edge of the lion’s paw, I saw him lift his other foot and lick it. As he cleaned between each toe, his claws shot out like knives – sharp steel knives, each one as long as I was.

  Then the lion bent down and sniffed at my hair, his hot meaty almost choking me as I lay beneath his paw.

  This is it, I thought, as a dribble of lion dropped on to my cheek. He’s going to eat me. And the worst of it was, no one would ever know where I’d gone. One bite and he’d swallow me whole.

  But instead, the lion lifted his head. His ears twitched.

  boomed a voice in the distance. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  A moment later the owner of the voice appeared, panting heavily beside us. He was an red-faced man with a bristly and a shaggy sandy-coloured beard. His eyebrows were just as bushy and he had a wild yellow mane of hair – all in all, he looked like a human lion.

  Rory – the real lion – lifted his head and allowed it to be stroked.

  I couldn’t believe it. He was tame!

  The man scratched him between his ears.

  “Come on, Rory. Time you were doing some work,” he said, slamming the limousine door. “What did you think you were going to do? Hop in there and go for a drive?”

  He set off up the hill, calling to the lion.

  Underneath Rory’s paw I was still struggling to get out. But suddenly I felt him shift.

  His huge shaggy head loomed down towards me. He caught the hem of my dress in his teeth and

  He’s going to open his jaws and swallow me like a peanut, I thought. My arms and legs were spinning wildly as I tried desperately to run away in mid-air.