The Many Worlds of Albie Bright

by Christopher Edge

  “Because I asked her to,” my best friend snaps in reply. “It’s your fault I got the blame when you let Mr. Sniffles out of his cage. When he jumped out of the classroom window and got eaten by that mad cat that just appeared out of nowhere, I was the one who got put in detention.”

  Wait a minute! This isn’t right. It was Wesley MacNamara who let Mr. Sniffles out of his cage—not me—and Miss Benjamin stopped him before he escaped out the window. Except in this parallel universe it must have been Bad Albie…

  “And if it wasn’t for you I’d have won first prize at the science fair,” Kiran says with a scowl, “but you thought it’d be a laugh to pop my balloons before I even had the chance to launch my mission into space.”

  I shake my head. I wouldn’t do that—not to my best friend.

  “And now you want to get me involved in this crazy scheme, just so you’ve got someone to pin the blame on when it all goes wrong.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I’m getting more confused with every new thing Kiran says. “What crazy scheme?”

  Kiran gives me a look like I’ve just farted in the airlock of the International Space Station.

  “Just leave me alone, Albie,” he hisses. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

  Kiran is my best friend in Class 6. He’s my only friend in Class 6. Or at least, he used to be, in another universe. Just when I think things can’t get any worse, this parallel world proves me wrong again.

  When I was little, Mum and Dad took me to the funfair in Geneva. We had a great time going on the bumper cars, the pirate ships, and even the ghost train, but everything went wrong when I got lost in the hall of mirrors. One minute Mum and I were together, laughing at our funny reflections, and then I raced ahead to see what was around the corner and when I looked back she was gone. All I could see were endless copies of myself.

  Everything was twisted. Nothing looked right. My own face distorted into something terrifying that I couldn’t even recognize. It must’ve been less than a minute until Mum found me again, but I’ll never forget how scared I was.

  That’s how I feel now. Everything is twisted and wrong. I don’t recognize the Albie Bright in this universe. What’s happened to turn him into such an idiot?

  Then I remember he’s lost his mum. Just like me, but for Bad Albie it happened when he was just a baby. Is this what’s made him twisted inside? And if it is, does that mean I’m going to turn into an idiot too?

  All I want to do is crawl back inside the cardboard box in my bedroom and hope that the Quantum Banana Theory can get me out of this place. But there’s no chance of that now, as Miss Benjamin snaps the attendance book shut, pulling my attention back to a more immediate problem.

  “Right, Class Six, we’re heading off to the museum, and I want you all to be on your very best behavior.” Her left eye twitches as she scans the class, her surprising wrinkles creasing into a frown as her gaze settles on me. “And that includes you, Albie Bright. Now, line up outside sensibly and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Whenever Miss Benjamin takes us on a class trip, she always makes us walk in a crocodile. This doesn’t mean she uses her shape-shifting extraterrestrial powers to turn us all into green, scaly amphibious reptiles with extra-large teeth—although Wesley MacNamara would probably be pretty impressed if she did. When we walk in a crocodile, Miss Benjamin leads the way and we all have to follow behind in a line, walking in pairs with our crocodile buddy.

  Kiran is usually my crocodile buddy, so I’m feeling more than a little bit lost as I watch him line up in the playground with Timothy Chase. As Miss Benjamin goes down the line checking the crocodile, it seems like everyone in Class 6 is already paired up. I’m starting to panic that I’m going to end up holding hands with my antique teacher when, from out of nowhere, Victoria Barnes slips her arm through mine.

  “Looking for a new crocodile buddy?” she asks, tossing her long blond hair back over her shoulder like an apprentice supermodel. “Or is my boyfriend too cool to walk me to his dad’s museum?”

  My jaw drops to the ground, but no words come out. This is because my brain has just been put on a spin cycle, and all my thoughts are sloshing about inside my head at triple speed. Victoria Barnes is holding my hand. The most popular girl in school has just told me that I’m her boyfriend. What fresh weirdness is this?

  My malfunctioning brain sends a message to my mouth, and I find myself repeating Victoria’s words at random like a printer with a system error.

  “Boyfriend—walk—museum.”

  My face quickly turns red as I realize how stupid this sounds, but Victoria just laughs as though she’s in on the joke.

  “Me boyfriend. Me walk,” she says, putting on a cartoon caveman voice. “You’re so funny, Albie.” Then she gives my hand a little squeeze.

  This just makes my face turn even redder. I think I preferred it when she was calling me lamebrain.

  At the front of the line, Miss Benjamin signals the crocodile into motion.

  “Right, Class Six—follow me, and don’t forget your Green Cross Code.”

  Miss Benjamin turns right as she leads us out of the playground, the crocodile following in line behind. Other schools get to go to London to visit the Natural History Museum or take a trip to Manchester to explore the Museum of Science and Industry, but Class 6 just gets to walk halfway down the street to see the Clackthorpe Museum of Natural History and Mechanical Wonders.

  But I don’t have any time now to grumble about the quality of our extracurricular activities, because Victoria hits me with another question.

  “So, are you ready for my birthday party tomorrow?” she says, her blue eyes glittering with excitement. “It’s going to be so amazing. Don’t forget—it starts at seven in the village hall. There’s going to be a DJ, a photo booth, and you won’t guess what else.”

  This is all sounding strangely familiar to me.

  “A dance competition?”

  “Yes!” Victoria replies, a look of triumph on her face. “We’re so going to win that!”

  “But I can’t dance,” I protest, forgetting in my panic that there’s no chance of me hanging around for Victoria’s party.

  “Don’t worry, I came in third in the regional heats of the Search for a Junior Dance Star competition,” she tells me, fluttering her eyelids in false modesty. “My tango got top marks. And wait until you see the gorgeous new dress Mum has bought me—that old red thing with sequins just made me look like a tomato.”

  The only time I’ve ever danced is around the kitchen with my mum. When Dad was away, Mum would play her favorite tunes from when they first met, and together we’d work out crazy dance steps while we were eating our pizzas. There was one song I remember where Mum busted out what she called her “old-school hip-hop moves,” putting her Higgs boson baseball cap on backward as she rapped along with the intergalactic tune. I ended up laughing so hard that pizza came out of my nose.

  “What’s the matter?” Victoria asks, noticing before me that my eyes have started to leak.

  “It’s just hay fever,” I tell her quickly, reaching into my pocket for a tissue to wipe the memories away.

  The crocodile comes to a halt at the front of the museum, and it’s when I finish wiping my eyes that I get my next big surprise.

  In my universe, the Clackthorpe Museum of Natural History and Mechanical Wonders is in an old detached house that looks more like a dusty antique shop or the kind of run-down hotel you usually see in a horror film.

  But the huge building in front of me is made of glass and steel, all sharp angles and straight lines rising up into the sky like an alien spaceship that’s taken a wrong turn at Mars and landed in Clackthorpe by mistake. I rub my eyes, certain that this time I must be dreaming. But the spaceship doesn’t take off, and instead I see the sign above the entrance as Miss Benjamin begins to lead Class 6 inside.

  FUSION

  SPONSORED BY THE C.E.B. FOUNDATION

  Formerly the Clack
thorpe Museum of Natural History and Mechanical Wonders

  As Victoria rushes to follow the others with a squeal of excitement, I suddenly feel a long way from home.

  “Welcome to Fusion.”

  My jaw drops in surprise as Dad greets me and the rest of Class 6 as we wait in the huge entrance hall.

  “In this immersive museum, you’ll discover the secrets of the universe. Do you dare to stare into the mirror of infinity? Or take a spin at nearly the speed of light around the Large Hadron Collider? From the Chillerator, where you’ll learn how cold fusion uses the power of the stars, to the Dark Matter Detector, where you’ll search for the secret ingredient of space itself, every interactive exhibit will help you learn how science can explain the wonders of the universe.”

  Of course it’s only a hologram. A life-size 3-D image of my dad beamed onto a raised platform at the entrance to the museum. The real thing is on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, probably thinking about eating breakfast at the White House, but the hologram looks so realistic that I can’t stop myself from reaching out to touch it.

  “Albie!” Miss Benjamin’s voice rings out with a warning note.

  A pattern of colored dots crawls over my skin as the image of Dad’s hand passes through my own, the beams of light coming together to create the hologram. It’s just a cheap trick to make you think that Professor Ben Bright is really here. Even in this parallel universe, the only way I get to see my dad is virtually.

  “Before you leave, you’ll even have the chance to invent your own experiment in the Eureka Zone.” The hologram of my dad looks straight at me now, his face suddenly serious. “Who knows? You might even make a discovery that could change the universe.”

  I think about the Quantum Banana Theory—my mum’s laptop hooked up to the Geiger counter as the banana inside the cardboard box slowly turns brown. I already have, Dad. I just can’t tell you about it because you’re not here.

  As my dad’s hologram fades away, Miss Benjamin claps her hands to keep our attention.

  “Right, Class Six. I want you to think about the questions we’ve been exploring in class. Where does energy come from? What is matter made of? How fast is light? This morning you’re going to get active to discover the answers to all these questions and more. Work in your color-coded groups to explore the exhibits, and then we’ll all meet back together at twelve in the Collider Cafe to share what we’ve found out.”

  This is the signal that Class 6 has been waiting for. With a buzz of excitement, everyone swarms off to try to find the most thrilling and potentially dangerous exhibits. Beneath the spectacular glass roof, the museum’s huge hall looks like a gigantic science theme park. Atom-shaped pods zoom in opposite directions around an elevated racetrack that loops around the museum, zipping past each other at high speed. Fluorescent rainbow-colored columns gurgle multicolored bubbles into the air, each one popped by a giant pin that swings back and forth. I can see robot exoskeletons and dinosaurs, space probes and steam engines, an imitation volcano, and something called the Big Bang Simulator. Glass bridges and galleries lead from one zone to the next, neon signposts directing you to the Clone Zone, the Cosmic Space, the Invention Station, and loads more amazing-sounding places.

  This must be the best museum in the world. And it’s in Clackthorpe.

  “Catch you later,” Victoria says, giving me a peck on the cheek. “I’m going for a ride on the Large Hadron Collider with Olivia and Kim.”

  Somewhere inside my brain, my blush switch is suddenly flicked to maximum beet. Grabbing hold of her friends’ hands, Victoria disappears in the direction of the atomic racetrack, leaving me looking like I’ve just landed from Mars.

  I don’t know which color-coded group I belong to. I don’t know why Victoria Barnes thinks I’m her boyfriend. And as I look around the museum, I don’t really know what I’m doing here.

  “Come along, Albie,” Miss Benjamin snaps, clicking her fingers together. “Your partner in the Gray group is waiting to get started.”

  There’s only one other person in Class 6 who hasn’t rushed off already to explore the museum.

  Standing next to Miss Benjamin, Wesley MacNamara is wearing a sly smile on his face. That’s when I realize I really hate this stupid universe.

  —

  “Where are we going?” I ask nervously as I follow Wesley along the empty gallery that skirts the edge of the entrance hall. “All the cool stuff is back that way.”

  “I’ve found it,” he replies, tapping the side of his nose as if keeping a big secret. “We can put the plan into action.”

  “What plan?” I ask, feeling even more confused as I look around the deserted space. There are no dynamic demonstrations, electrifying experiments, or interactive exhibits anywhere to be seen in this corner of the museum. I don’t know how we’re going to find out the answers to any of Miss Benjamin’s questions here. I glance back over my shoulder to see my antique teacher deep in conversation with one of the museum staff, his bright-red jacket emblazoned with the logo of the C.E.B. Foundation.

  At the back of my mind I can’t help worrying that Wesley is trying to lure me to a lonely part of the museum so that he can subject me to a grisly science experiment. But at least he hasn’t given me a dead arm—yet.

  “Operation Platypus,” Wesley replies with an evil grin. “Don’t try to pretend you’ve forgotten our brilliant plan.”

  Oh no, don’t tell me that the Wesley MacNamara in this parallel universe is as crazy as the one I’ve left behind. I’d forgotten all about his failed science project to dissect a duck-billed platypus. I remember the pictures of the stuffed animals I’d seen on the website of the Clackthorpe Museum of Natural History and Mechanical Wonders. Surely there’s no space for a pickled platypus in this high-tech theme park?

  The sign above the frosted glass doors at the end of the gallery gives me the answer to this question.

  THE MONTAGUE WILKES WING

  HOME OF THE WORLD’S FINEST COLLECTION OF ANTIQUARIAN ANIMALS

  CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT

  “Come on.” Wesley grins, pushing the door open. “Let’s go catch a platypus.”

  I freeze, trying to think of a way to get out of Wesley’s crazy scheme as he slips inside the Montague Wilkes Wing. Looking back along the gallery, I can see the rest of Class 6 having fun inside the museum. I spot Kiran bouncing inside what looks like a giant hamster ball in the Atomic Zorb Zone, while Victoria Barnes is taking a selfie with her friends in front of an erupting volcano. Even Miss Benjamin is getting in on the action as she stands inside a Clone Zone pod as the curator presses a button to print an instant 3-D copy. How have I got caught up in a platypus kidnap? If Miss Benjamin finds out…

  This is the moment when something clicks inside my brain. Since I arrived in this parallel universe, I’ve been duct-taped to a chair, rejected by my best friend, and even forced to hold hands with Victoria Barnes. I don’t belong here, and the first chance I get I’m climbing back inside that cardboard box to escape from this crazy place.

  So what does it matter if I help Wesley MacNamara steal a stupid stuffed platypus? If I get caught, the only person who’s going to get the blame is the Albie Bright in this universe. Suddenly I don’t feel scared anymore. I can do what I like here and get away with it scot-free.

  “Albie?” Wesley’s voice floats out into the gallery. “Come and look what I’ve found.”

  With a last glance over my shoulder to make sure nobody is watching, I quickly slip through the door.

  Wow.

  That’s the only word I can use to describe what’s inside.

  The large room is lit by bright fluorescent lights and filled with stuffed animals of every kind. There are lions and tigers, leopards and bears, monkeys, zebras, and crocodiles. And those are just the ones I can see straightaway. But what’s really creepy is that every one of these animals is dressed in clothes like it’s a real person.

  There’s a walrus wearing a wedding dress, and it looks l
ike it’s getting married to a polar bear in a three-piece suit. A monkey in a waistcoat is riding on the back of a mountain goat, and they’re both being chased by a koala in an old-fashioned car. I can see a model school filled with skunks, sitting in rows behind desks in their black-and-white uniforms. There’s even a team of kangaroos playing cricket against a couple of crocodiles, all of them dressed in white sweaters. These weird scenes are displayed on platforms all around the room, each one a bit higher as the walkway curves around the exhibition.

  “Pretty freaky, eh?” Wesley says, inspecting the display at the front of the room. “It says here that this Montague Wilkes guy stuffed all these animals himself to remind him of home when he was traveling around the world back in the olden days.”

  I’m feeling a bit homesick myself, but this spooky exhibition isn’t making me feel any better. It’s like a zoo where the animals have eaten all the visitors and then dressed up in their clothes.

  “And there’s the furry freak we’re looking for,” Wesley says, pointing toward the platform in the center of the room.

  I look up to see an animal orchestra arranged around a stage. There are penguins playing violins, a raccoon with a bassoon, ferrets with trumpets, and an animal that looks like a civet—a small jungle cat I’d seen Snake Mason catch on Wild Survival—playing the clarinet. Whoever put this orchestra together really liked to give the animals an instrument that rhymes with their name.

  And standing on a high podium in the center of the platform, surrounded by the stuffed musicians, is a duck-billed platypus dressed in a white tuxedo. Its flippers are spread wide and it appears to be holding a long wooden stick.

  I feel a rush of adrenaline as I eye the goal of our mission. It’s time to steal a platypus.

  At first I don’t know how we’re going to get up onto the orchestra platform. The museum has put up a see-through guardrail to protect the stuffed animals from any nosy visitors—or maybe the other way around—and it’s way too high to climb over. But then Wesley wheels a ladder up the walkway.