He dumped the sack into the back of his van, slammed the door and drove off. Bertie watched the van disappear along with his last hope. He was done for. What on earth was he going to do?
Back home, Bertie tried to slip in quietly and sneak upstairs.
“BERTIE? Is that you?” called Mum from the lounge.
“Um … it might be,” replied Bertie.
Mum appeared in the doorway. “What are you up to?” she asked. Bertie wasn’t usually quiet when he came in.
“Nothing!” said Bertie. “I’m just going to get changed.”
“Well, there are clean clothes on your bed,” said Mum. “But save them for Friday – it’s your Parents’ Evening.”
Bertie groaned. He was hoping his mum might have forgotten, but no such luck. Any minute now she’d probably ask if he’d got his school report. If only he could borrow one – Know-All Nick’s for instance. He always got a glowing report.
Suddenly Bertie’s face lit up with an idea. What if he wrote his own report? Then he could have the report he deserved.
Ten minutes later Bertie came downstairs, holding a large envelope in his hand.
“What’s that?” asked Mum.
“This? It’s my report,” said Bertie. “Miss Boot gave them out today.”
Mum took the envelope. “Well, I hope it’s a lot better than your last one,” she said grimly. “You remember what I told you?”
Bertie remembered only too well. Mum studied the report and frowned at him.
“Miss Boot wrote this?” she said.
Bertie nodded. “Um … yes, is it all right?”
“It’s more than all right,” said Mum. “Miss Boot is singing your praises.”
“Is she?” said Bertie. “I guess it must be cos I’ve been working hard and paying attention and stuff.”
“Have you now?” said Mum, narrowing her eyes.
Dad came into the lounge.
“Bertie’s got his report,” Mum told him.
“Oh yes?” said Dad. “What’s it like?”
“Well, Miss Boot claims that he is ‘dead clever’ and ‘top of the class’,” said Mum.
Dad looked astonished. “Seriously?” he said, taking the report.
Bertie didn’t see why everyone sounded so shocked. He’d have thought they would be delighted with his progress. Dad was reading the report for himself.
“Class is spelt with a ‘K’,” he said.
“Yes,” said Mum. “And I can hardly read Miss Boot’s handwriting. You would almost say it was as bad as Bertie’s writing.”
“Hmm, funny that,” said Dad, raising his eyebrows.
Mum folded her arms. “Well, I shall look forward to discussing this report with Miss Boot,” she said.
Bertie almost choked. Miss Boot? If she saw the report she’d guess who had written it in three seconds. Worse still, she’d want to know what had happened to the REAL report.
“Oh … um … didn’t I say?” spluttered Bertie. “Miss Boot said she can’t come to Parents’ Evening.”
“Can’t come? Why not?” demanded Mum.
“Because she’s … she’s sick,” said Bertie, thinking quickly. “She lost her voice from shouting at Darren so much.”
“When did this happen?” asked Dad.
“Today!” said Bertie. “She was shouting, then suddenly her voice went and she said she can’t come to Parents’ Evening.”
“I see,” said Mum. “And how did she tell you that if she’d lost her voice?”
Bertie gulped. “She um … she wrote it on the board,” he said.
Mum and Dad exchanged looks.
“Well, I’m sure the school will let us know,” said Mum. “I think we’ll take a chance and go along anyway.”
“NO!” squawked Bertie. “I mean … you’d just be wasting your time.”
Mum gave him a long hard look. “We are going, whether you like it or not, Bertie,” she said. “Anyone would think you had something to hide.”
Friday came round all too soon. Bertie found himself sitting outside his classroom, watching the clock tick by. He had been to the toilet three times already. He could hear Miss Boot’s voice booming like distant thunder. Know-All Nick was in there with his parents. Bertie was next on the list.
“Well, it sounds like Miss Boot’s got her voice back,” said Dad.
“Mmm,” said Bertie faintly. “Actually I feel a bit sick. Maybe I should lie down?”
“You’ll live,” said Mum. “Our appointment’s in five minutes.”
Bertie glanced down at the report poking out of his mum’s bag. As soon as Miss Boot saw it he would be dead meat.
Just then the classroom door opened. Know-All Nick appeared with his parents. Nick’s mum saw Bertie’s mum and smiled.
“I do enjoy these Parents’ Evenings, don’t you?” she trilled. “Such a pleasure to hear how well Nicholas is doing.”
“Yes,” replied Bertie’s mum. “We can’t wait to discuss Bertie’s report.”
Nick glowed with pride. “Miss Boot says I’m her star pupil,” he boasted. “What did your report say, Bertie?”
“Mind your own business,” Bertie replied.
“Never mind,” jeered Nick. “Someone has to come bottom of the class. HAW HAW HAW!”
“For your information, I wasn’t bottom, I came top,” said Bertie.
“LIAR!” snorted Nick. “I always come top.”
“Not this time, smarty pants,” said Bertie.
“We’ll see about that,” said Nick. “You better not keep Miss Boot waiting! I’m sure she’s got lots to tell you.”
Bertie breathed in. This was it. There was no escape. He followed his mum and dad into the classroom.
Miss Boot sat waiting at her desk with her mark book open.
“Ah, do come in and take a seat!” she smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Bertie sat down beside his parents. His hands were sweating. He tried not to look at his teacher.
“So I take it you didn’t receive Bertie’s report?” said Miss Boot.
“Oh yes, we got it all right,” said Mum.
“You did?” Miss Boot sounded surprised.
“Well, he gave us a report,” said Mum. “This one.”
She took out the fake report from her bag and handed it over. Miss Boot read it and her eyebrows hit the ceiling. She read out her teacher’s comment:
Bertie turned red as Miss Boot fixed him with a glare. “You wrote this drivel, did you, Bertie?” she said.
“M-me?” mumbled Bertie.
“Yes, YOU!” snapped Miss Boot.
“Did you really think you had us fooled for even a minute?” asked Dad.
Bertie shook his head dumbly.
“So where is your actual report?” asked Mum.
“Oh, I can answer that,” smiled Miss Boot, reaching for a brown envelope. “Fortunately your report has turned up safe and sound.”
Bertie went pale. What? It couldn’t have! He’d seen the postman put it in his sack!
“It seems someone posted it,” Miss Boot went on. “But the Post Office recognized the school’s name and sent it back. Wasn’t that a stroke of luck, Bertie?”
Bertie slid down lower in his seat. It was so unfair! They could have sent the report anywhere – India, Australia, the North Pole – anywhere but back to his school!
Miss Boot leaned forward and smiled cruelly. “Now,” she said. “Would you like to hear what I wrote about Bertie?”
Collect all the
Dirty Bertie books!
Worms!
Fleas!
Pants!
Burp!
Yuck!
Crackers!
Bogeys!
Mud!
Germs!
Loo!
Fetch!
Fangs!
Kiss!
Ouch!
Snow!
Pong!
Pirate!
Scream!
Toothy!
>
Dinosaur!
Zombie!
Smash!
Rats!
Horror!
Jackpot!
My Joke Book
My Book of Stuff
Dirty Bertie Sticker and Activity Book
Dirty Bertie Pant-tastic Sticker and Activity Book
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2015
Characters created by David Roberts
Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2015
Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2015
eISBN: 978-1-84715-641-9
The right of Alan MacDonald and David Roberts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
www.littletiger.co.uk
www.dirtybertiebooks.co.uk
Aliens! Page 3
