‘What we do, Rubby?’ Thing squeaked, as I set it down on the side of the bath and pushed the pink cloth into its paws.
‘We flap,’ I ordered it, feeling round in the bubble-fog for my towel.
‘Flap?’ Thing quizzled, wafting its paws up and down. ‘Like birdie?’
‘Sort of. We flap and flap until ALL these bubbles have popped!’
Ten minutes later, I passed Mum in the corridor.
‘Nice, chilled-out bath, Ruby?’ she asked me.
‘Yes,’ I lied, as I kept my hand firmly over the bump in my dressing-gown pocket.
Chilled-out?
Ha!
I was so tired from frantic flapping and mess-fixing that I reckoned I could sleep till next Tuesday …
Friday, 10 a.m.
Every week at this time, our class has swimming lessons at the Dolphin Leisure Centre pool.
Friday, 9.55 a.m.
Five minutes before our lesson starts, you’ll find us all sitting shivering in our swimming costumes on the benches around the pool, waiting for our instructor (in his warm tracksuit) to turn up.
Today was Friday, it was 9.55, and I was a bit grumpy because I was …
They’d already told me my head looked like a ping-pong ball in my new white swimming cap, sniggered at each other’s knees, had a burping competition and were now teasing each other about who could do the most dangerous thing at tomorrow’s pool party.
‘I dare you!’
‘No, I dare you!’
‘I dared you first!’
‘Well, it’s MY birthday tomorrow, so I get to set the dare!’
‘But I’m the guest, so shouldn’t you let me choose?’
‘How is that fair?’
‘Hey!’ I interrupted, fed up with the boys jabbering over me. ‘Why don’t you BOTH agree to go backwards down the Mega-Tube and then you don’t have to talk about it any more!’
I was pointing at the tallest of the three twirly slides when our teacher Miss Wilson appeared in front of me.
‘NOBODY should be talking about ANYTHING right now, including you, Ruby!’ she said, raising her eyebrows at me in a I’m-disappointed-in-you kind of way.
‘But Miss Wil—’ I began to protest, hoping she would see I was being Little Miss Sensible as usual, and it was the boys who were goofing around.
‘Shhh!’ Miss Wilson quietened me with a finger held to her lips. ‘Mr Russo is here, so it’s time to pay attention!’
Humff!
It was so unfair, being told off for something that wasn’t my fault AND blushing bright pink from the tip of my toes to the tip of my nose.
I slouched down, arms tight-crossed, in a fug of gloom …
‘Did you hear that?’ whispered Jackson, nudging me hard in the ribs.
‘Ouch!’ I mumbled, shooting him a sideways glower.
Yes, Mr Russo the instructor had been talking, but I hadn’t been listening.
(I’d been too busy sulking and blushing.)
‘He just said it’s vital that everyone learns how to swim!!’
‘So?’ I mouthed.
Mr Russo always started off the lesson by saying something like that.
‘Well, WE know someone who can’t swim, don’t we?’ Jackson whispered some more.
He meant Thing. I’d told him about last night’s bathtime trauma on the way to school, while Dad dawdled behind, taking a call on his mobile.
‘So?’ I mouthed again.
What did Jackson want to do? Buy Thing a mini Speedo swimsuit and enrol it for lessons with Mr Russo?
‘Well, you said yourself, Ruby, if you hadn’t rescued Thing, it could’ve drowned!’ he muttered urgently.
‘Could we stop talking about this where people could hear, please?!’ I suggested, just as urgently.
‘Yeah, but Ruby,’ Jackson carried right on, ‘what if Thing fell into another type of deep water when neither of us was around?’
‘What other type of deep water?’
‘I dunno, do I? A … a raging river, or an abandoned well, maybe. Or a whirlpool!’ Jackson babbled. ‘I mean, what if it fell into one of those, and couldn’t swim?!’
I stared at Jackson, wondering if he needed new batteries for his brain.
It certainly didn’t seem to be working properly.
Yeah, so he hadn’t lived in our area for very long, but in case he hadn’t noticed, our two houses were surrounded either by the Forest View Homes estate or a whole bunch of farmers’ fields.
There wasn’t a raging river, abandoned well or whirlpool in sight.
I was just about to say so when someone noseyed in on our whispery conversation.
‘Who are you guys talking about?’ hissed Ali. ‘Who can’t swim?’
‘Just a friend of ours,’ Jackson replied, giving me a nudge.
I could tell he thought I’d be impressed with him for inventing a cover-up, just like that.
But then he ruined it.
‘It doesn’t go to our school,’ he said smugly.
‘“It”?’ repeated Ali, a confused frown untidying his forehead.
(Wow, was Jackson a dumb donut …)
‘Excuse me, but what’s all this chattering in aid of?’ said Miss Wilson, suddenly looming over us again, hands on hips.
Uh-oh.
We must’ve missed some instruction – the rest of the class were already up on their feet, ready to leap, slither or flop into the pool.
‘Jackson and Ruby have a friend who can’t swim, Miss!’ announced Ali. ‘That’s terrible, isn’t it, Miss?’
‘Well, yes,’ nodded Miss Wilson, sounding less cross now she thought we were talking about something important, rather than twirly slides and daft dares. ‘Of course your friend should learn!’
‘That’s what I’ve been telling Ruby!’ said Jackson.
Yikes – what was he doing?!
Miss Wilson might not know who (or what) Jackson was on about, but this was making me uneasy around the edges.
Staring hard at Jackson, I put my hand up to my mouth, and made a tiny ‘zip-it!’ sign.
Jackson either didn’t notice, or pretended not to see it.
‘Does your friend live nearby?’ Miss Wilson continued. ‘I’m sure there are lots of beginners’ swimming courses here at the leisure centre …’
‘Uh, quite near!’ Jackson answered, giving me a quick wink.
I wished we were sitting at a table instead of on a bench so I could give him a kick under it.
’Cause the more he tried to be clever, the more chance there was of Jackson blurting out something he really, really shouldn’t.
‘Hey, you could bring your friend to my party, if you like!’ Ali offered.
Jackson opened his mouth, but instead of something risky spilling out – SPLOOOSH!!! – a whole lot of chlorinated water rushed in.
‘Oops, sorry!’ I said quickly.
Fingers crossed that my deliberate shove had managed to look like an accidental slip.
Miss Wilson and Mr Russo seemed convinced – both of them grabbed an elbow to steady me.
But as Jackson popped up spluttering from under the water, I could tell he wasn’t.
And he wasn’t very pleased to hear everyone laughing at him.
Er … why were they laughing at him, exactly?
And what was that dark bit of cloth floating in the water?
ARRGHH!
The dark piece of cloth was someone’s swim shorts, which must have come off when they dived (or were pushed) into the pool …
I flashed Jackson a look that I hoped said: ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry! But you’ve got to stop talking about Thing – even in code!’
Yikes; here’s the one he flashed me in return: ‘I’m going to get you back, Ruby Morgan!’
It took until 10.57 a.m. that Friday morning to find out how exactly Jackson Miller planned to do that …
It’s always a rush getting dressed after swimming, isn’t it?
That’s why I didn’t notice that
both my school shoes were full of water till I put them on.
Can you imagine how uncomfy it was to walk back to school?
SQUELCH, squish, SQUELCH, squish, SQUELCH, squish …
Or wander round at lunchtime?
SQUELCH, squish, SQUELCH, squish, SQUELCH, squish …
Or go to the shops for Ali’s birthday present after school?
SQUELCH, squish, SQUELCH, squish, SQUELCH, squish …
‘Kick them off, honey, and I’ll get them dry for the morning,’ said Mum, as soon as we got back to our cottage, after the shopping trip.
I’d told her that it was an accident; that someone must’ve wrung out their swimsuit over my shoes without noticing.
‘But why didn’t you tell your mum the truth?’ you might ask. ‘Why didn’t you blame Jackson for your poor, damp, prune-wrinkly tootsies?’
Well, of course I wanted to.
But how could I?
If I told Mum, she might have tutted at Jackson, and asked him why he’d acted like a big baboon.
Then Jackson would’ve told her it’s ’cause I sent him flying into the swimming pool.
Which would’ve meant Mum asking me why I’d done such an un-sensible thing in the first place.
And how could I answer that, since it involved a Top Secret Subject?
Speaking of Top Secret Subjects, I wanted to go down to the trees, and check that Jackson hadn’t done anything spectacularly stupid, like invite Ali back to meet our fuzzy little friend …
Does that sound mad?
I wasn’t so sure. After all, Jackson had spent the whole day hanging out with Ali, and blanking me.
The leisure centre foyer was when I first noticed. The class was lining up, getting ready to go back to school. Hidden by everyone’s chitter-chatter, I’d cornered Jackson, pointed to my feet and hissed ‘What did you do that for?’
Instead of answering, he’d turned to Ali and said, ‘Can you hear something? Like an annoying buzzy sort of sound?’
Well, right now I was feeling as spiky as a wasp, so Jackson Miller’d better watch out …
‘I’m just going outside; see if Jackson’s there,’ I muttered, dropping my schoolbag and the present for Ali on the hall table.
‘Sure – have fun!’ Mum called distractedly, as she ambled off somewhere with my soggy shoes.
Fun? Ha! I was probably about to have a whole bunch of un-fun with my un-friend, I thought, as I peeled off my damp socks and chucked them in the washing machine, before heading out of the back door.
PAD, pad, PAD, pad, PAD, pad …
The day’s sun had made the grass feel deliciously warm on my bare feet.
PAD, pad, PAD, pad, PAD, pad …
With every warm step, my bad mood faded, bit by bit.
PAD, pad, PAD, pad, PAD, pad …
And as the black clouds of grumpiness drifted away, I suddenly saw something very clearly …
At the bottom of next-door’s garden, a slightly writhing length of hosepipe was snaking over the fence, disappearing into the tangle of trees.
Huh?
Actually, now that the all-day grumbling had gone quiet in my brain, I could hear something unexpected too …
A gurgle and a whoosh.
I hurried as fast as I could (which is tricky when you’re trying to look casual, in case parents are peeking out of the window).
‘Jackson – what is going on?’ I asked, once I got to the low stone wall at the bottom of my garden.
A blow-up toddler paddling pool was positioned between the tree roots. The end of the snaking hosepipe was writhing around in it, with a gurgle and a whoosh, filling it up.
Christine cat was sitting mesmerised, slapping the flow of water with a paw if the nozzle dared to flip up.
And Jackson? He was tapping a plastic picture with a stick.
He’d laminated and hung up the print-out of the wiggly, bright green, cartoon Loch Ness Monster.
And he was using a voice that was a lot like Mr Russo’s.
‘It’s very, very important that you know how to swim. And if you practise, you can be as good a swimmer as this!’ he was telling Thing, who was perched on his lap.
Thing was half paying attention to Jackson, and half looking at me.
‘Boy – Rubby talking, Boy!’ it muttered, pointing a paw at me.
‘So … are you ready to get in?’ Jackson asked, as if he hadn’t heard me or Thing.
‘But Rubby there, Boy. See?’ insisted Thing, slapping a paw on either side of Jackson’s face and trying to turn it in my direction.
‘Jackson!’ I snapped. ‘Are you crazy?! What if your dad spots that hosepipe? He could walk down the garden to see what was going on and then—’
‘Excuse me, Thing,’ Jackson interrupted loudly, releasing Thing’s paws from his cheeks, ‘could you tell Ruby that ONE, my dad is busy on the computer, working.’
Thing gazed in confusion at the single finger Jackson was holding up in front of his furry face.
‘TWO, I’m going to move the hosepipe in a couple of minutes when the pool is full.’
Thing gave both the fingers Jackson was now holding up a wary lick.
‘And THREE, that I am SICK OF HER BEING SO BOSSY AND KNOW-IT-ALL AND TREATING ME LIKE AN IDIOT!!’
Thing and I were both stunned into blinking silence.
Till Thing spoke first.
‘Rubby,’ it began, fixing its headlamp eyes on me, ‘Boy say lots of blah-blah wordies. What is yiddly-yot?’
My head swirled.
For the second time today I felt like yelping ‘THAT IS SO NOT FAIR!’
I mean, all I ever wanted was to make sure Thing was safe, right?
Then I heard Jackson mutter something that made me even madder…
‘We can have a good time on our own, Thing. Just ignore her.’
Well!
I turned and marched my way back up the garden, towards the house.
After all, who wanted to hang around here and listen to a yiddly-yot like Jackson Miller?!
Though it was hard to walk away from the little voice calling out to me.
‘Rubby! Not go, Rubby!’
Gulp.
‘Me want to genorrr you!’
Or maybe it wasn’t that hard …
I stared at myself in the mirror at the Dolphin Leisure Centre and realised I’d made a BIG MISTAKE.
That morning I’d told Mum about the boys taking the mickey out of my ping-pong ball head. So she lent me her old swimming cap, which I thought was very cute, ’cause it was covered in flowers.
But now I was worried I looked a bit like the rhododendron bush in my back garden.
‘C’mon, Ruby! It’s boys versus girls, and we don’t want them to beat us to the pool, do we?!’
I wasn’t sure which of the girls in my class said that – they all zoomed by in a giggly blur, burst through the swing door of the changing rooms and were gone.
But I didn’t feel much like zooming or giggling or beating boys to the pool.
In fact, I didn’t feel much like being at Ali’s birthday party.
The truth is, I was miserable, with a capital ‘M’.
And a capital ‘I’, ‘S’, ‘E’, ‘R’, ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘L’ and ‘E’ too.
I hadn’t been able to sleep last night, I was so tossy-turny with hurt and grumpiness.
Jackson thought I was a bossy know-it-all, and Thing was happy to ignore me.
How rubbish was that?
As for this morning … In a huff, I thought I might leave for Ali’s party without Jackson, just to punish him. Then Dad said he’d seen Jackson setting off without me!!
I guess now you might understand why I wasn’t in a big hurry to see my un-friend here, or anywhere else, for that matter.
Still, I couldn’t exactly get dressed and disappear, not when Ali had been nice enough to invite me.
As yuck as I felt, I had to get my bushyhead out to the pool and pretend to have fun.
I tug
ged open the swing door of the Female Changing Room – and suddenly saw the strangest sight, right across the corridor…
FLIP! went the door to the Male Changing Room, as a dad and his kid in Day-Glo armbands came out.
FLAP! The door swung inwards again, giving me a glimpse of Jackson, on his knees, knocking on a locker door!
FLIP! I crossed the corridor, grabbed the Male Changing Room door on the out-swing, and stared.
But my un-friend wasn’t just knocking on the locker door – he was talking to it!
Wow, whoever heard of someone having a conversation with a leisure-centre locker before?
Unless …
Uh-oh.
‘Please, please come out!’ I heard Jackson say to the grey, grilled metal door.
‘Oi!’ I whispered, glancing from left to right, on the look-out for boys in their boxer shorts who might shout at me to get out. (Luckily, there were no boys – or boxer shorts – in sight.)
At the sound of my voice, Jackson’s head whipped round. A look of pure relief appeared on his face.
Hurray – he’d forgotten to be cross with me!
Possibly because he desperately needed my help …
‘Ruby! It’s shut itself in, and I can’t get it to come out!’
‘You’re not talking about your shower gel, are you?’ I asked, scooting over to join him. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Thing wanted to watch everyone swimming, so it could get some tips!’ he explained. ‘I even made it this, so it could sit at the edge of the pool in disguise!’
He was holding up a Bart Simpson towel and poking two fingers through a couple of holes he’d snipped in the cotton, exactly where Bart’s eyes should be.
Skipping over the fact that Thing would look like a creepy cartoon ghost in that, I bent down and spoke directly to the locker.
‘Thing – this is Ruby!’ I said in a soft but stern voice. ‘I’m going to count to ten, and I want you to come out. One—’
The Legend of the Loch Ness Lilo Page 3
