Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
One More Thing
Copyright Page
You probably know someone who is like Poppy Miller. Like how she used to be, that is.
You know the kind of person who stands out in a crowd? Who everyone turns to stare at, for no particular reason, when they walk down the street? The type who always know the right answer to everything their teacher asks them, even if they don’t seem to be paying attention? The kind that comes first in every sport they play, even if they’re not really trying?
Well, Poppy Miller was nothing like that.
Not that there was anything wrong with her. Far from it. She had a pleasant face, and long, straight brown hair that she wore in a ponytail, just like lots of girls her age.
She definitely wasn’t tall, but she wasn’t the shortest girl in class either. She wasn’t the top student, but she also wasn’t the worst one. She wasn’t bad at sport, but she never seemed to win ribbons or trophies.
Do you see what we’re getting at? Poppy Miller was like lots of other girls her age. Normal. Average. Ordinary.
But then, on the evening of her twelfth birthday party, Poppy found something that changed her life forever. Totally, utterly and completely. Something so incredible that nothing would ever be the same again. It was a …
But hang on, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. To understand properly just how amazing this thing was, we need to go back. Back to the start of the party.
Sunday 17th October, 3.05pm.
The moment Poppy walked into the lounge room where her twelfth birthday party was being held, she knew she’d been totally wrong about the event. It wasn’t going to be terrible, embarrassing and painfully awkward at all. Oh, no.
It was going to be the most terrible, most embarrassing, most awkward event in the history of terrible, embarrassing and awkward events. And if you think Poppy was overreacting, let’s look at the facts.
Firstly, Poppy’s mum had insisted on having a ladybird theme, so the whole room – in fact, the whole house – was decorated with spotty little red bugs. Poppy’s dad was passing around ladybird cupcakes while wearing ladybird feelers on his head. It looked like a party for someone turning three years old, not twelve.
To make things worse, there wasn’t a single person in the room who Poppy considered to be her friend.
Plus she was wearing jeans and her favourite bright red top, which was nice but not exactly party material. The final straw was when Poppy looked down at her feet and realised she still had her slippers on. Her bunny slippers.
OK, time to go and find a place to hide, Poppy decided. But before she could escape from the lounge room, Poppy’s mum put a firm hand on her shoulder.
‘Look, everyone!’ she announced cheerfully. ‘It’s our big birthday girl!’
Everyone in the room turned and stared. Instantly, Poppy felt her face flush with embarrassment. Great, she thought. Now I look like a tomato. A tomato wearing bunny slippers.
You have to admit, it wasn’t a great start to being twelve years old.
Poppy had tried very hard to talk her mum out of throwing this party.
‘Twelve is such a nothing-y age,’ Poppy explained. She meant it, too. Being twelve meant you weren’t a little kid anymore, but you weren’t a teenager yet, either. You were stuck somewhere in between. Everyone knew being twelve was bad. Everyone, it seemed, except Poppy’s mother.
‘It’s not a nothing-y age!’ she cried indignantly. ‘You’re a tweenager. That’s a terrific thing to be, darling. We threw a wonderful teddy bear party when your sister turned twelve. Astrid said it was her favourite party ever.’
Of course she did, thought Poppy darkly.
Poppy couldn’t have been more different to her sister Astrid if she’d tried. She was different to her whole family, really. Poppy looked completely different, for one thing. Her parents and her sister were all fair and athletic. Poppy was dark and – well, let’s be honest here – she was kind of short and skinny.
But the differences weren’t just on the outside. Poppy’s parents and sister thought the perfect day was one spent hiking, or doing a thirty kilometre bike ride together. Or hiking and then bike riding. Poppy much preferred to spend the day in one of her favourite hiding spots, reading, listening to music or just daydreaming.
The mantelpiece in the Millers’ lounge room was covered with trophies and certificates, and not just for sporting events, either. Astrid had won awards for maths and for spelling competitions. Poppy’s mum had won a trophy for being on a quiz show. And Poppy’s dad had even won a trophy for inventing a brand-new style of trophy.
Visitors to the Millers’ house always exclaimed, ‘What an extraordinary family you are!’
But none of the prizes belonged to Poppy because there were only two things that she was good at. One was touching her nose with her tongue. The other was squeezing into tiny hiding places. She’d been doing these things since she was a baby, and the family photo album was full of pictures of the different boxes and cupboards Poppy had squeezed into over the years. But, of course, no-one gave out prizes for those kinds of skills.
I MUST be adopted, Poppy told herself a thousand times a day. It’s the only way to explain how different I am!
After all, if Poppy’s mum really was her mum, she would have guessed the other huge reason why Poppy didn’t want to have a party this year. It was because there was no-one she wanted to invite. Absolutely no-one.
‘Go and chat with Claudette and your other little friends while I get the cake,’ Poppy’s mum instructed, pushing her towards a group of smirking girls.
Poppy groaned inwardly. She and Claudette had been really good friends in primary school. But since they’d started high school this year, it felt like they had nothing in common anymore. All Claudette talked about these days was fashion and the school magazine she’d started called School Style. She and her new friends all wore identical outfits and hairdos. Worst of all, they were always hassling Poppy to let them give her make-overs.
Poppy secretly called them the Clothes Club, and if she’d been given a choice between being thrown into a cage of hungry lions or talking to the Clothes Club girls, Poppy would’ve said, ‘Where’s that cage?’.
But Poppy hadn’t been given a choice, so she walked reluctantly over. The Clothes Club girls were all wearing stripy black and hot pink dresses over black leggings. And they all had their hair pinned back with matching sparkly clips.
‘Hi, guys,’ said Poppy, trying her best to smile. ‘Thanks for coming. Can I offer you a ladybird crunch? Or a spotty jelly, perhaps?’
Claudette didn’t seem to hear. She was too busy looking at Poppy’s clothes. ‘What on earth are you wearing, Poppy?’ she said, sounding horrified.
The other girls giggled.
‘You could be so cute if you tried,’ Claudette added. ‘Maybe even cute enough to be in School Style – but then you go and wear things like those.’ She pointed at Poppy’s feet.
Oh, yeah. The bunny slippers.
Right then, Poppy knew she had a choice. She could curl up and die of shame. Or she could pretend she’d worn the slippers on purpose. So Poppy smiled proudly and stuck out her foot. ‘Aren’t they divine?’ she said. ‘They’re from Paris, you know.’
‘As if!’ Claudette snorted. ‘Now, why don’t you let me give you a make-over? It can be part of my present to you.’
&n
bsp; ‘Ummm,’ said Poppy, backing away. ‘Well, I – ahh … ’
Then she walked straight into someone. It was her big sister, Astrid. Recently, Astrid had started insisting that Poppy must have a really special talent for something – especially in a family where everyone else was so exceptional.
‘Happy birthday, sis!’ smiled Astrid. ‘Now that you’re twelve, I’m sure we’ll find something about you that’s, you know, really special.’
Poppy sighed. Not this again! Most of the time Poppy just ignored it when Astrid talked like this. But sometimes it really got to her. And right now was one of those times.
‘Listen carefully, Astrid,’ Poppy said as calmly as she could. ‘I really am this ordinary. I’m a normal, average girl. No incredible talents, no surprises up my sleeve. Got it?’
‘Oh, don’t talk like that,’ tutted Astrid, patting Poppy on the shoulder. ‘I’m sure there’s something you’re good at!’
Just then, the lights dimmed and Poppy’s mum appeared carrying an enormous red and black cake. No prizes for guessing what it was shaped like.
‘Blow out the candles and make a wish!’ said Poppy’s mum, after everyone had sung ‘Happy Birthday’.
Poppy looked down at the cake. This was it. The moment she’d been dreading. The point at which she officially became a tweenager.
What should I wish for? wondered Poppy. There were so many things she wanted to change right now. Too many things to sum up in one little wish. So Poppy just made the best wish she could think of: I wish EVERYTHING were different.
Poppy didn’t really believe in wishes, but she still couldn’t help glancing around hopefully after the wish had been made. Nothing had changed. Not one thing.
And nothing ever will, thought Poppy gloomily.
When the party had finally finished, Poppy escaped gratefully to her room. The rest of her family were in the kitchen having a clean-up competition, but as the birthday girl, Poppy had been excused. She leant against her bedroom door, relieved that the day was over.
It was then that she noticed it. The thing that was to change her life forever.
Sitting on her bedside table was a strangelooking bottle, bright and glimmeringly green with a long, smooth neck.
Poppy looked at the bottle curiously. It definitely hadn’t been there that morning.
She walked over and picked it up. It was heavy in her hands, but surprisingly warm. Was there something inside it? Poppy pulled out the stopper and peered in. It seemed empty, but there was the faint smell of something good that Poppy couldn’t quite put her finger on. Was it apple pie, maybe? Or cinnamon donuts?
It must be a birthday present, decided Poppy. But from whom? Her family had already given her their gifts (some hiking boots and a puncture repair kit, which Poppy had immediately stashed at the back of her closet). Poppy looked around for a card, but there wasn’t one. It was all very weird.
She held the bottle up to the light, admiring the way it sparkled and glowed. Well, the person who gave it to me obviously has good taste, she decided. But they could’ve given it a clean first! The bottle was dusty, if not downright dirty.
Poppy gave the bottle a quick rub with a hanky. And then something strange happened. First, the spicy, apple-y smell grew very strong. Then a thick, purplish smoke began pouring out of the bottle. Alarmed, Poppy dropped it. The bottle rolled but didn’t break, and smoke kept pouring out until the entire room was purple.
Poppy was about to start yelling ‘Fire!’ when there was a loud POP! and the smoke suddenly stopped.
Poppy heard coughing. She froze. There was someone else in the room!
‘Astrid, if that’s you playing a trick, you’re really not funny,’ Poppy said, trying to sound tougher than she felt. Astrid was always snooping around Poppy’s room.
Then someone spoke. ‘That bottle needs a tune-up,’ it said, wildly waving their hands around. ‘It shouldn’t smoke this much.’
Poppy’s heart beat even faster. It definitely wasn’t Astrid. So who was it?
When the smoke finally cleared, Poppy found herself face-to-face with a teenage girl who had startlingly green eyes and extremely long, dark hair pulled up into a very high ponytail. She reminded Poppy of one of the cool, older girls at her high school – the ones that always totally ignored the younger kids.
She was wearing the strangest outfit Poppy had ever seen. Her puffy skirt sat low on her hips and her top was made from fabric so soft and light that it seemed to float around her. The outfit should have looked dumb. But it didn’t. It looked incredible!
Which was why, just for a moment, Poppy found herself behaving more like the Clothes Club girls than like herself.
‘Where did you get your clothes?’ she asked curiously.
‘That’s not important right now,’ replied the girl briskly. ‘I’ve got things to tell you and I need you to pay attention.’
‘Hang on a minute!’ said Poppy, putting her hands on her hips. She hated being bossed around. ‘Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?’
‘I would’ve thought that was pretty obvious,’ replied the girl, ‘seeing as I’ve just popped out of a bottle. I’m a genie.’
You’ve probably worked out that Poppy was a logical girl. She’d never been into fairies. She was sceptical about ghosts. And she’d never even considered believing in genies. But that was before one had appeared in front of her.
‘If you’re a genie,’ Poppy said, thinking fast, ‘doesn’t that mean you have to grant me three wishes?’
The genie sighed, like she was dealing with a very small child. ‘No, it doesn’t mean that at all.’
‘Why not?’ asked Poppy.
‘Because genies can’t grant wishes for other genies.’ The girl shrugged, like it was common knowledge.
‘What other genie?’ said Poppy, puzzled.
The genie rolled her eyes. ‘YOU, of course!’
That was when Poppy started laughing. She laughed so hard that she had to sit down. This girl was clearly mad!
‘Are you quite finished?’ asked the girl eventually.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Poppy, wiping her eyes. ‘But you’ve made a mistake. I’m not a genie. I’m the most ordinary, normal, average girl you could meet. Ask anybody.’
The genie didn’t blink. ‘That’s what all genies think,’ she replied, ‘until they turn twelve.’
‘I turned twelve,’ said Poppy, surprised. ‘Just today.’
‘Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here.’ Then the girl shot Poppy a cheeky smile and added, ‘Can’t wait to see you in those funky new hiking boots, by the way.’
Poppy stared. How did the girl know about the boots? They were hidden at the back of her closet!
‘But I can’t be a genie,’ Poppy insisted, shaking her head. ‘I’m –’
‘You’re Poppy Miller,’ interrupted the girl, pulling out a nail file and filing her already perfect nails. ‘You got a B on your last maths test. You were a tree in the school play. You have cheese and tomato sandwiches every day for lunch. You don’t have a best friend and you pretend you don’t care, but really you do. You feel like nothing exciting ever happens. And up until now, that’s been true. But everything is about to change.’
‘Change?’ asked Poppy, incredulous. ‘In what way?’
‘In every way,’ said the girl. ‘As of today you are expected to start behaving like a genie.’
Poppy’s legs suddenly felt very wobbly. She still didn’t believe what this girl was saying. Not for a minute. But she also couldn’t explain what was happening. She just wanted this girl to leave her alone!
‘Look, you’re wasting your time,’ said Poppy firmly. ‘I don’t know anything about being a genie.’
The girl put her nail file away. ‘Well, of course you don’t!’ she said. ‘That’s why I’m here. I’m Lexie – your genie trainer.’
Then Lexie picked up the bottle. ‘First off, we need to find a safe place to hide this,’ she said. ‘It would be very bad
if someone found it accidentally.’
‘It’ll be safe in the back of my closet,’ said Poppy. ‘That’s my secret hiding spot – no-one ever goes in there.’
This wasn’t exactly true. Astrid was always going through Poppy’s closet and borrowing things. But Poppy was keen to get this strange girl out of her room as quickly as possible.
Lexie raised her eyebrows. ‘OK, if you say so,’ she said, walking over to the closet and setting the bottle down inside. ‘Now we really need to go.’
‘Go where?’ asked Poppy.
‘Into the genie bottle, of course!’ replied Lexie.
Poppy looked down at the green bottle in the closet. Then she looked back at Lexie. ‘Listen, Lexie,’ she said. ‘What you’ve said is all very interesting. And it’s true that I have squeezed into some very small spaces over the years. But I can tell you right now that there is absolutely no way I can fit into that tiny bottle.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Lexie. ‘I fit in there just fine and I’m taller than you. Stop making excuses!’
Poppy sighed in annoyance. It seemed that Lexie just wouldn’t take no for an answer. OK, I’ll play along with her stupid game, decided Poppy. Lexie will soon see that I can’t squeeze in there.
So Poppy stretched out her foot and pretended to try and slip it into the bottle. ‘See?’ she said, looking at Lexie.
But Lexie just nodded. ‘Not bad for your first time,’ she said, sounding quite impressed. ‘Keep going.’
Poppy looked down at the bottle, and saw to her surprise that her foot had actually disappeared inside it!
Is it possible Lexie is right? wondered Poppy, shocked. Am I actually a genie after all?
But the moment Poppy thought about it, she found she couldn’t squeeze in any further. Unfortunately, she also couldn’t remove her foot!
‘I’m stuck,’ she yelped, hopping around.
‘You’re trying too hard now,’ said Lexie. ‘Relax. Imagine that you’re sand, pouring through an hourglass. Or water, flowing out of a tap.’
This sounded crazy to Poppy. But it was hard to talk about anything being crazy when your foot was stuck in a bottle!
Genie In Training Page 1
