Well, climbing isn’t exactly correct. He was going up it quickly, but he wasn’t clambering: he was leaping two-footed from branch to branch. He wasn’t even grabbing the higher branches with his hands. He was bounding – springing – from branch to branch, jumping two-footed off one and landing two-footed on the next one up.
“Blimey,” said Eric.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” said Kirsty White.
“I think it is,” said Derek White. “What’s more, I want to turn my Christmas lights on very soon and this is just distracting from the whole event. Could you control your cat – and son – please?!”
“Ellie,” said Janine, ignoring him. “How long has Fred been able to do … that?”
But Ellie didn’t answer. To Janine’s surprise, her daughter was just playing with that new video-game controller that had arrived today. Frantically playing with it, like there was a screen in front of her, which there wasn’t. Obviously. Because they were outside next-door’s front garden. Janine made a note to herself to have a word with Ellie at some point about this video-game obsession – she hadn’t realised it had got to the point where Ellie was pretending to play them.
But Janine didn’t think about that for very long because Fred was moving so fast he had nearly got to the top of the tree.
Ellie, meanwhile, was concentrating very hard. It was one thing to control her brother’s movements in the playroom, to make him jump up and down on to the window. It was quite another to make him leap all the way up a six-metre-high tree.
But Ellie was, as we know, very, very good at video games. So, even though Fred was quite frightened, every time he jumped and landed on a new branch, he (and she) got a little more confident about what they were doing. In fact, he started to really enjoy it.
“Wheee!” he said. “Wheheyheey!”
“Is he saying … wheee! and wheheyheey!?” said Derek.
“Yes,” said Eric, dumbfounded.
“Eric,” said Janine. “We should tell him to come down …”
“Yes,” said Eric. “Fred! Come down!”
“After he’s got the cat, Eric!!” she said.
“Oh,” said Eric.
Someone who was even more confused about what was happening than the grown-ups was Margaret Scratcher. That confusion was, in fact, quite useful because it meant that Margaret just stayed stock-still, watching in amazement as Fred came closer and closer.
Finally, Fred neared the top of the tree. He reached out a hand towards the cat.
“Hello, Margaret …” he whispered. “Come on, Margaret. Come down with me. Come to me.”
Margaret Scratcher stared at him with big cat eyes. Then she turned away, in order to have a very important and absolutely-necessary-at-this-point-in-time side wash. Lick! Lick! Lick! she went. Fred reached out his other hand and Margaret Scratcher suddenly stopped her wash, hissed and jumped off the tree, towards the living room. She landed on one of Santa’s reindeer – Rudolf – and then from there, with a single leap, she moved to the Whites’ roof.
“MARGARET!” shouted Janine.
“Oh dearie me,” said Eric.
“One minute,” said Derek. “You’ve got one minute before these lights go on …”
“But it’s our son up there now!!!” said Eric.
“Rules is rules,” said Derek.
Fred looked down at Ellie. Ellie had her hand on the Controller, one finger poised over the buttons. She nodded at him and mouthed the words: Go for it – I’ll make sure you don’t fall.
So Fred – because the twins, as we know, were able to lip-read each other at some distance – nodded back. He crouched down. And Ellie’s fingers flew.
Off the tree Fred went in a – possibly showy – triple somersault. He landed on Santa’s above-the-living-room-window sleigh, skated along the top edge and then swung round the antlers of one of the reindeer – Donner, or possibly Blitzen – into the air, spinning like a top.
“OH MY!!!” screamed Eric and Janine. They ran underneath where he was, in the hope of catching him.
“It’s OK, Mum and Dad!!!” Fred shouted back, although he was spinning so fast it was difficult to hear him – as soon as his mouth was the right way round, it was the wrong way round. If you see what I mean. He spun in a graceful arc on to the edge of the roof, putting one foot out to leap again, and again, across the tiles.
“What did he say?” said Eric.
“He said it was OK. And it will be,” said Ellie.
“How do you know?!” said Janine. “All you’re doing is madly practising your video-game technique!!!”
Ellie carried on working the Controller. The cat had sped off across the roof. Fred leapt over her in a single bound and landed in front of her.
Margaret reacted badly – possibly because she was no longer able to recognise this jumping, leaping person as Fred. Possibly she thought: It’s a kangaroo crossed with a monkey! Which is understandably frightening for a cat.
She furred up like cats do, let out a long yowl and dug her claws into the roof. This wouldn’t have been so worrying were it not for the large number of wires under her paws at that particular moment.
“Time’s running out, Stones!” said Derek White, who seemed to have become a little crazed by it all.
“You can’t switch the lights on now, Derek!” said Eric.
“My cat’s up there!” said Janine.
“And our son!” said Eric.
“Yes!” she said. “Him too!”
“Come on, family,” said Derek. “Time for the traditional countdown … Ten!”
The other Whites – Kirsty, Leo and Emma – looked a bit uncertain: but it’s hard when a countdown starts not to join in. Especially when it’s Christmas (even in October).
“Nine!” they all said.
Eric and Janine stared at each other, distraught. Then Eric said: “Ellie!”
“Eight!”
“Ellie! You’re his older twin! He always does what you tell him!”
“Yes! Tell him to come down! With Margaret Scratcher!”
“Seven … Six … Five …”
Ellie looked at her parents. Then she squinted up at the roof. Fred was approaching the cat. But Margaret Scratcher was digging her claws in. This would require something special.
“Four … Three …”
“ELLIE!!” said Eric and Janine Stone together. “DO SOMETHING!!”
“I’M DOING SOMETHING!!!” said Ellie.
She put her fingers on the right and left front bumpers of the Controller, clicking them together, while pressing down with her thumb on the diamond button and toggling the control stick from side to side.
She looked up.
Fred had leapt up again. But this time his body revolved upside down, like he was doing a cartwheel in the air. It was a trick move, which Ellie knew and most people didn’t. Margaret Scratcher certainly didn’t because for a second she just watched, astonished, forgetting to ruffle up her fur or growl or, most importantly, dig her claws into the wires.
Which allowed Fred, as he came down on the far side of his flying cartwheel, to grab the cat and lift her off the roof …
“Two …”
… then bounce off the guttering, fly a few metres over the garden, stick an arm out to swing round a branch of the Christmas tree and come down gracefully …
“One!!!!”
A blaze of lights (and a tinny chorus of Jingle Bells from a connected iPod in the house) accompanied Fred as he landed, feet together, in front of Eric and Janine, who were staring, open-mouthed.
Fred held out Margaret Scratcher.
“Happy Christmas, Mum,” he said.
As soon as they were back in their own house, Fred and Ellie had a brother-sister conference in the playroom. First item on the agenda: should they tell their mum and dad what was really going on?
“I don’t think so,” whispered Ellie. She was whispering as the playroom was next door to the living room, where her parents were. “They wouldn
’t believe it anyway. And, if they did, they’d take the Controller away and …”
“Try and sell it?” said Fred.
“Well, I was going to say give it to some scientists for tests or something, but …” and here she opened the door a little and looked at Janine and Eric, who, despite the fact that their son (and cat) had both been in danger of their lives two minutes earlier, were now settling down in front of Cash in the Attic, “… yes, probably.”
“But what shall we tell them about what happened out there?”
Ellie thought. “We’ll just have to make something up.”
Fred nodded. Ellie opened the door and they walked into the living room.
“Fred!” said Janine, not taking her eyes off the screen. “That was amazing!”
“Yes,” said Eric. “Amazing. Have we got any bacon?”
“Actually,” said Ellie to Fred, “let’s not bother.”
They went back into the playroom.
“So … what was happening?” said Fred as soon as the door was shut.
“I don’t know. I was controlling you …”
“I know that. But how?”
“I’ve no idea.”
Fred thought about it for a while. “What game was I being?”
This might sound like a strange question, but Ellie knew what he meant. “Super Mario.”
Fred nodded. “That’s why I was good at jumping and landing …”
“Yes,” said Ellie.
“How do you know? Which game it is?”
Ellie shrugged. “That’s the one I was thinking about. While I was operating the Controller …”
Fred nodded once more. “Do you think … you might be able to think about other games … in other places …?”
Ellie again knew what he meant. She looked at him and smiled.
“So this month’s star for Most Well-behaved Pupil … Well! You’re not going to believe this, Bracket Wood!”
Everyone in the assembly hall at Bracket Wood raised their eyes to heaven. Because the same thing happened every month.
“Yes! It’s a tie: between the twins from 6D – Isla and Morris Fawcett!!”
Mr Fawcett – if you’ll remember, Headmaster Mr Fawcett – finished his speech and started applauding. His applause was very gradually – and never entirely wholeheartedly – taken up by the rest of the school.
Meanwhile, Isla and Morris rose from their seats and came up to the podium, where their father – who never acknowledged he was their father at school – stood, beaming with pride.
“Well done, Isla! Well done, Morris!” he said.
“Thank you, Mr Fawcett!” they said, also pretending he wasn’t their dad.
“It’s your fifteenth star for good behaviour!” said Mr Fawcett. “I really don’t know how you manage it!”
“We just love being polite and nice and doing our best to make everyone else at school have a good day!” said Isla.
“And not bully them …” said Morris.
“No …” said Isla, looking a bit annoyed. “That’s right.”
“Good!” said Mr Fawcett. “Let’s have another round of applause for Isla and Morris!”
And, once again, he started clapping. And, once again, the rest of the assembly hall joined in, very reluctantly.
Later that morning, at break-time, there was a big football match in the playground. All the Year Six boys, a few of the girls and some of the Year Fives were playing. It was fast and furious, which is an old-fashioned phrase, but, in this case, true: everyone was running and pushing and jumping and shouting and trying to score as fast and furiously as they could.
Fred was running down the right wing, chasing a loose ball. He had never actually scored a goal at school, even in the playground. But he could run fast and most of the players were on the other side of the pitch. If he got to the ball, and kicked it as hard as he could, he had a chance of a goal this time, he was sure.
Or he did until, about a metre away from the ball, and with his right foot already drawn back to kick it, he fell – tumbled over in fact – head over heels down on to the asphalt. “Ow!”
“Well, well, well!” said a voice behind him. Fred looked up to see the ball being taken away by a huge mob of children. “You really must learn to do your shoelaces up, Stone …”
Fred looked down at his trainers. His shoelaces were done up. They had Ellie’s triple knot on them, which of course might have been a problem if he had actually got to kick the ball.
“Yeah. Stone …” said another voice. A deeper – but more hesitant – voice.
Fred got up, brushed off the two leaves that had got stuck to his top and turned round.
“Hello, Isla. Hello, Morris.”
“Hello, Fred.”
“Don’t say that, Morris.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too friendly. Hello, Fred. It’s not very on-message for us, as bullies.”
”Oh, OK, Isla. Sorry.”
“You tripped me up, didn’t you?” said Fred.
“Yes, I did,” said Morris.
Isla sighed. “Again, Morris, you’re not supposed to say that.”
“Oh. What should I say?”
“I dunno! Something like …” And here Isla lowered her voice, to sound more like a boy, “I don’t think I did, Stone. Yes, my leg may have been sticking out slightly from the sidelines. But I think you ran into it.”
“Oh, I see.” Morris turned to Fred. “I don’t think I did, Stone. Yes, my leg—”
“Oh, it’s too late now, Morris!”
“I think you should give that good-behaviour star away!” someone else interrupted. Ellie appeared from behind the goal, holding her bag.
Morris and Isla both frowned. Morris, it was true, had been holding their joint Most Well-behaved Pupil star throughout this altercation. He had even been holding it when he’d stuck his leg out to trip Fred up. But he looked now as if he’d forgotten it was there.
“Give it away?” said Morris. “Who to?”
“I don’t know …” said Ellie. “To someone who really deserves it! Who’s really nice! Like …” She looked around the playground and caught the eye of someone standing by the climbing frame, in the school’s (slightly dodgy-looking) play area. He seemed to be watching her. But he probably wasn’t; he was probably just looking over her head. Ellie wasn’t sure whether she should say his name, but then she did anyway.
“… Rashid … I suppose.”
“OooooOOOOooooo!” said Isla and Morris.
“Can you stop doing that, please?”
“Rashid and Ellie sitting in a tree,” sang Morris. “K … I … S … Y … um … W? B …?”
There was a long pause.
“… G.”
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen!” said Isla. “Ever! To a girl who wears glasses and braces and pigtails and dresses like she’s still in Year—”
“All right then!” cried Ellie, very embarrassed. “You should give it back! To the headmaster! Your dad. Perhaps with an explanation that you don’t deserve it and to make sure it goes to someone who does next time.”
“Oh right …” said Isla. “And are you – and your brother,” she said this as if it was an insult – “going to make us?”
“Yeah, make us?” said Morris.
A small crowd had now gathered. Even the football match had paused, as more and more children started looking over nervously. Stirling and Scarlet even stopped what they were doing – discussing which app on the phones they didn’t own was best for Photoshopping – and looked over.
“Well,” said Fred, “if we have to.”
Isla looked to Morris; Morris looked to Isla. They shook their heads and tutted. Isla gave her brother a nod and Morris moved forward, rolling up his sleeves.
“How long did it take you to rehearse that series of moves?” said Ellie.
“A week. I kept on getting it wrong. Rolling up my sleeves and then tutting …”
“Shut up, M
orris!!” said Isla. “Hang on, where’s Fred?”
Morris stopped. He looked around. “Yeah. Where’s Fred?”
“Here!” said a voice behind them.
They turned round and frowned.
“How did you get there …?” said Isla.
A glance passed between Fred and Ellie. Ellie had opened her school bag and taken out: the Controller. But she had a casual look on her face, like the device was just there because she liked holding it, or because she’d brought it in for show-and-tell, or something.
And not because, in fact, she was very carefully thinking about Street Fighter as she flicked the control stick upwards, and pressed the silver and gold buttons at the same time.
Fred leapt into the air. Isla and Morris were not expecting this. But what they were really not expecting – this was very clear from their faces, or more specifically their mouths, which, as they looked up, were wide open – was how high he leapt into the air. It was about two or three metres, from a standing jump.
As he leapt, Fred bent one knee forward into a V-shape and then spun round, before landing to face them again, his right fist extended and his left held back: an attack stance.
There was a pause. Isla and Morris glanced at each other. Obviously, they were taken aback. But everybody was watching. Years of bullying were at stake. So Morris shrugged his shoulders and went to punch Fred.
Both the Fawcett twins were tall for their age. This had helped, obviously, in ruling Bracket Wood since Year One. But it had a drawback here as Morris’s move forward and punch were suddenly revealed as very slow. Or at least they looked very slow, once you compared them to how fast Fred moved.
Before Morris got near him, Fred ducked, crouching down. Then, as Morris raised his arm, Fred swung one leg swiftly in a circle, scything him to the ground.
“Oof!” said Morris as his chin hit the asphalt, which luckily was that soft stuff that most playgrounds have now. Fred stood up and snapped back into attack position.
Morris got up, rubbing his chin. He looked at Fred warily. Not sure quite what to do, he decided to copy Fred’s stance. This took a little while as at first he got his hands the wrong way round, and there was quite a lot of Morris saying to himself, “No … hang on a minute … left is this one … no, that one … OK, that’s it. Oh no, it isn’t …” before finally managing to stand opposite Fred, mirroring him.
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