by Jan Burchett
“Poor thing,” said Ben. “Can you rescue it, Toby?”
To their surprise Toby burst out laughing. “Spluttering gutterz!” he guffawed. “That’s not a kitten. That’s my gargoyle friend Theophilus. His special power is meant to be turning into a ferocious tiger but it never works. Theo, say hello to Max and Ben.”
As they watched, the tabby ball of fluff gave a determined miaow. After a lot of wriggling it slowly changed shape until a gargoyle sat in its place. The new gargoyle had a long, tigerish tail and his golden stone was slightly stripy. His face was a bit like a cat’s, with bristling whiskers and small, friendly-looking fangs. He stared at Max and Ben.
“Humanz!” he gasped with an anxious swish of his tail. “Help! They mustn’t see us.”
“It’s OK, Theo.” Toby laughed. “These two are my friends. They’ll keep our secret.”
“That’s all right then.” Theo beamed at Max and Ben. “Sorry if I frightened you when I was a ferocious tiger.”
“You weren’t exactly ferocious . . .” began Max.
“Wasn’t I?” said Theo.
“And you weren’t exactly a tiger,” Ben told him.
“Wasn’t I?” sighed Theo.
“More of a kitten really,” explained Max with an apologetic grin.
“Oh dear,” said Theo dejectedly. “I was so sure I’d become a tiger this time. The thing is, I’m only four hundred and twelve years old. I haven’t had long to practise.”
“You were a very good kitten,” Max reassured him.
“Keep practising and you’ll be the most ferocious tiger in the world,” said Toby. “It’ll only take another hundred years or so.” He caught sight of the Speed King. “What’s that?”
“It’s my new skateboard,” said Ben, holding it up for him to see.
“New board?” came a harsh voice behind them. Toby and Theo froze into statues.
Max’s spy radar picked up trouble: shaved head, big fists, sticky-out ears. He knew what that meant. It was Enemy Agent Barry Price, also known as The Basher, codename: School Bully.
The next minute The Basher had Ben’s skateboard in his hands.
“Give it back, Barry!” Ben pleaded. “You can have a look at it this afternoon when our classes get together.”
“No one’ll want to see this rubbish,” scoffed The Basher. “Not when I show them what I’ve brought.” He tapped his school bag with a gloating grin.
“What have you brought then?” asked Max.
“It’s a secret,” Barry said, and, to their horror, jumped on Ben’s skateboard. “See you later!”
He streaked off across the playground, whooping triumphantly and bashing kids over as he went. Suddenly Max saw a tall figure emerging from the school door. Grey hair, beaky nose, face like thunder. He knew what that meant. It was Enemy Agent Mrs Hogsbottom, commonly known as Mrs Hogsbum, codename: Stinky Head Teacher. The Basher zoomed past the door and went smack! straight into her, knocking her right off her feet.
“Outrageous!” shrieked Mrs Hogsbottom, staggering up again and staring at Barry with her laser vision. “School rule number twenty-seven. The head teacher must not be run over without permission. I shall keep this monstrosity until home time.”
“I never thought I’d say this,” gasped Max, “but Mrs Hogsbum’s done us a favour. She’s taken the Speed King off The Basher for us.”
“I’ll go and get it back,” said Ben eagerly. The boys rushed over to the furious head teacher, who was brushing gravel off her bony knees. The Basher stood smirking behind her.
“What do you two want?” she snapped as soon as she saw them.
“The skateboard’s mine, Mrs Hogsbottom,” Ben began to explain. “Could I have it back please?” “Certainly not!” sniffed the head teacher. “If you hadn’t lent it to Barry Price this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I didn’t lend it,” said Ben. “He snatched it.” He put on his wide-eyed, pleading look. It always worked on the dinner ladies, who gave him extra pudding. It never worked on Mrs Hogsbottom.
“No excuses,” she snapped, picking up the Speed King and tucking it firmly under her arm.
“But Ben has to show it to everyone in class later,” pleaded Max. “He brought it in specially for the talk.”
“Ben should have thought of that when he lent it to Barry Price,” said Mrs Hogsbottom crossly. “He can have it back after school.” She turned on her heel and marched towards the door.
The Basher poked his face into Ben’s. “What a shame!” he sniggered.
“Still, never mind. No one would have listened to you whingeing on about skateboarding. My hobby’s much better.”
He strutted off, pushing a couple of small footballers out of the way as he went.
“I don’t reckon he’s got anything better than your Speed King,” said Max when The Basher was out of earshot.
“At least he’s got something,” sighed Ben miserably.
“That was really mean,” came a growly purr. Toby was watching The Basher go. “Wish I had my catapult with me. I’d fire some acorns at him.”
“When he comes back I’m going to turn into a tiger,” said Theo. He stretched out a front paw. Three tiny claws appeared. “That’ll give him a scare.”
The bell rang. Mrs Hogsbottom stood by the door, fuming.
“We’d better go in,” sighed Max, “before she explodes.”
“That was the worst morning in the history of worst mornings,” said Ben at lunch time. “We haven’t played a trick on anyone.”
“We’ve been too busy thinking about how to get our own back on The Basher,” Max pointed out.
“And my poor Speed King is being held prisoner,” said Ben. “Mrs Hogsbum is probably feeding it to her crocodiles right now.”
Max’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Don’t despair, Agent Neal,” he said. “We’ll do a great trick and get our own back at the same time.” He leaned forward to whisper in Ben’s ear, “Barry’s got something in his bag that he reckons is really cool, right?”
Ben nodded. “Right, Agent Black.”
“Then our mission is to swap it for something stupid and girly.” Max grinned. “When he gets it out to show everyone he’ll be dead embarrassed.”
“Good plan!” breathed Ben. “And I know just the thing – my sister Arabella’s ballet tutu. It’s all pink and frilly and horrible. It’s in her ballet bag. Only one problem,” he added with a frown. “The bag is in the girls’ cloakroom and boys are not allowed in there. If we get caught we’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I know someone who can help us with that!” said Max, nodding up at the roof.
“Toby!” exclaimed Ben as their gargoyle friend waved at them from a gutter. “He could fly in through the cloakroom window and get it for us, no problem.”
Making sure no one was looking, the boys sauntered over towards Toby.
“Greetingz!” called Toby chirpily.
“Hi, Toby,” Max called back. “Want to help with a trick?”
Toby’s yellow eyes lit up and his dragon tail swished. “A trick?” he said eagerly. “A prank? Dangling drainpipes! Tell me all about it!”
Max gave Toby his instructions for Secret Plan: Tutu. Chuckling, the little gargoyle zoomed off to the girls’ cloakroom window. In a flash he was back with Arabella’s pink tutu in his paws.
“I can hardly bear to touch it, it’s so girly,” declared Max, pulling a disgusted face. “It’s lucky all the school rucksacks look the same. We’ll swap my bag for Barry’s.” He stuffed the tutu in his bag.
“There’s one thing we haven’t thought of,” said Ben. “How are we going to stop The Basher seeing when we swap them round? It’s not much of a trick if he catches us at it!” “Can I join in?” Theo’s stripy head popped up over the gutter. “Maybe I’ll manage a tiger this time.”
“No, we need a kitten,” cried Ben, “for Secret Plan: Kitten Diversion. Agent Black, do you remember when that big black cat jumped through the window of our cla
ssroom last term? Everyone went all gooey and Miss Bleet forgot to give us any maths homework. Think what would happen if a sweet little tabby kitten came in instead. No one would see us making the bag switch then.”
“I like your thinking, Agent Neal,” said Max. “Listen, Theo, we’ve got a trick to play this afternoon and we need everyone to be looking at you while we’re setting it up.”
A broad grin spread over Theo’s whiskery face. “What do I have to do?” he asked, almost falling off the roof in excitement.
“We need you to come in through our classroom window this afternoon,” said Max. “While everyone’s looking at you, we’ll swap The Basher’s bag with the one that has the frilly pink tutu in it. All the class will laugh when he gets it out.”
“Serve the bully right,” said Toby.
“I can do that!” cried Theo.
Just then the bell rang.
“Right!” said Max. “I’ll leave a window open for you this afternoon. Come in as soon as we start the lesson. When we’ve swapped the bags, I’ll say the password and you can skedaddle.”
“Yes, sir!” Theo sat up proudly. “What’s the password?”
“Tiddles,” said Max.
Straight after register it was time for Hobbies Talk. The other class in their year group came in, led by Barry.
“Shove up!” he said nastily, pushing a row of girls out of the way.
“Quick,” Max whispered to Ben. “Go and grab us a couple of seats behind The Basher. I’ll open a window. I hope Theo remembers what to do.”
Max joined Ben in the row behind the bully. Barry turned and smirked at the boys.
“I’m looking forward to your talk, Ben,” he sneered. “What’s it about? Oh yes, I remember. Nothing!”
“Quiet please,” came a quavery voice.
Max’s spy radar snapped into action: short and dumpy, limp brown hair, silly half-moon glasses. It was Enemy Agent Miss Bleet, codename: Wimpy Teacher.
“Welcome to Hobbies Talk,” Miss Bleet said feebly. “Lucinda, you start.”
There was a groan as Lucinda Tellingly marched up to the front clutching her huge collection of plastic ponies.
“I hope Theo comes in soon,” muttered Max. “I can’t bear to hear much of this.”
“These are my special horses,” Lucinda began to coo. “They all have names and— Oooh, look at the darling kitten!”
Everyone turned to where she was pointing. Theo, in his cutest tabby form, was perched on the window ledge. He jumped into the room and darted about, as if he was chasing imaginary mice.
“Here, sweetums!” cooed Miss Bleet, bending down. Theo rubbed round her ankles and purred.
“Now’s our chance,” hissed Max. “All eyes are on Theo, even The Basher’s!”
“Ready for synchronized bag switching?” asked Ben.
Max nodded. Ben reached under Barry’s chair and snatched up the Basher’s bag. Max put his own in its place. Then they both sat back and looked innocent.
“Tiddles!” Max called. Everyone stared at him in astonishment. “Er . . . I recognize the cat . . . He’s called Tiddles and he lives down my road,” Max explained with a shrug.
But Theo didn’t take his cue and jump out of the window. He was having too much fun. He was now sitting on Miss Bleet’s table, playing with her pencil.
“Tiddles!” said Max loudly.
Theo let go of the pencil but rolled over onto his back, looking adorable and knocking Miss Bleet’s papers to the floor.
“We won’t have time for the trick at this rate,” Ben muttered to Max.
“TIDDLES!” yelled Max.
Theo scrambled to his feet and bolted out of the window with a loud miaow.
“How mean!” said Lucinda, glaring at Max. “Scaring the poor little thing like that.”
“Quiet please,” said Miss Bleet, in a fluster. “The cat’s gone. Who’d like to go next?”
“But I haven’t—” began Lucinda.
“Me!” interrupted Barry Price, grabbing the bag under his chair and marching to the front. “You won’t want to listen to anyone else after my go. I’ve got the best hobby in the world!” He delved into his bag. “Every Saturday I wear this.” He pulled out the pink tutu and held it up proudly.
For a long moment there was a shocked silence in the class and then everyone burst out laughing. The Basher suddenly realized what he was holding. He stared at the tutu as if it was a poisonous snake.
“This isn’t mine!” he yelled, flinging it to the floor. “Where’s my crash helmet? That’s what I was going to show you. I do go-karting every weekend.”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of enjoying ballet, Barry,” said Miss Bleet kindly. “We’d all like to hear about it, wouldn’t we, class?”
“YES!” The shout echoed around the room.
“But I don’t do ballet!” Barry made his way back to his place, his face bright red. “It’s girly. I told you: I do go-karting.”
Miss Bleet wasn’t listening. “Now tell us all about why you choose to wear a tutu.”
“I DON’T WEAR A STUPID TUTU!”
The Basher slumped down in his seat, glaring at everyone. He didn’t say another word for the rest of the day. He didn’t even notice when Max swapped the bags back.
As soon as the bell rang, Max and Ben dashed off to Mrs Hogsbottom’s office to retrieve the Speed King.
“School Rule number four hundred and seventeen,” she barked as soon as she saw them. “Boys must not dash into the head teacher’s office to get their skateboards back. School rule two hundred and fifty-five . . .”
Five school rules later they were finally released. They ran to the school gate.
“Did you see The Basher’s face when he realized what he was holding?” chuckled Ben. “Imagine him go-karting in a tutu!”
“Oh no! Your sister’s tutu!” gasped Max. “It’s still on the classroom floor!”
Ben turned white. “We’re in big trouble. Come on, we’ve got to get it back without being seen.”
They were just heading back towards the school door when something fell on Ben’s head. It was pink and frilly. Max looked up to see Toby on the school roof, with Theo next to him.
“That was a great trick you played on The Basher!” wheezed Toby as Ben struggled with the tutu on his head. “I haven’t laughed so much since Theo chased a mouse up the vicar’s trousers.”
“Thanks, Toby.” Max grinned. “And thanks, Theo – you were an awesome kitten.”
“You wait till you see my tiger,” said Theo. “Only another hundred years and I’ll get it perfect.”
Ben emerged from under the tutu. “If you go and put this back in Arabella’s bag for me,” he said, putting his skateboard on the ground, “I’ll give you both a ride on my Speed King.”
“Spluttering gutterz!” the gargoylz shouted together, grabbing the tutu and rushing off with it.
3. Toby Stows Away
MAX AND BEN jumped up from their seats. School was over for another day.
“I thought that maths lesson would never end,” complained Max, grabbing his bag.
“It must have been about a hundred years long,” agreed Ben. They made a dash for the classroom door.
“Freedom awaits!” yelled Max as they sped along the corridor and out into the playground. “And we’ve got important people to see.”
“Important gargoylz!” Ben grinned.
They sprinted across to peer over the church wall.
“Hello,” said a shy voice, and Barney’s doggy face peeped round a gravestone. “Pleased to see you.”
He began to waddle towards the boys when all of a sudden he jolted forward and rolled over and over. The spikes on his back stuck out, making him look like a hedgehog.
POP! Zach appeared out of thin air by his side, his fuzzy mane quivering around his face. “Sorry, Barney!” he cried. “Bumped into you. Wasn’t looking.” POP! He vanished again.
“Where’s Toby?” asked Max.
“
I don’t know,” said Barney, looking around. “He was here a minute ago.”
A window creaked open on the other side of the playground.
“Outrageous!” came a harsh voice.
Max spun round. It was Mrs Hogsbottom.
“School rule number three hundred and eighty-two,” she screeched across the playground. “Boys must not talk to the wall! Get yourselves home, NOW!”
“Yes, Mrs Hogsbottom,” they called.
“We’ve got to go,” Max hissed to Barney. “See you tomorrow.”
Barney gave them a cheery wave and then crouched back down behind the gravestone. He put a paw to his lips. “Shhh!” he warned. “I’m going to jump out on Zack – if I’m fast enough.” Max and Ben set off home. “I hope Barney remembers not to make any of his special disgusting smells,” said Ben. “Zack will know where he is at once.”
Max hoisted his school bag onto his shoulders. “I wonder where Toby was.”
“Probably playing a trick on the vicar,” said Ben. “Come on, Agent Black, all aboard our Secret Agent Speedboat.”
They zoomed off home.
Max burst through his back door into the kitchen and dropped his bag on the floor. There was someone at the table. He activated his spy radar: dark brown hair, red jumper, potato peeler in hand. It was Mrs Joanne Black, codename: Mum.
“I’m starving!” gasped Max, clutching his stomach. He grabbed a packet of biscuits, ran into the hall and made for the stairs. “Can I have one?” he yelled over his shoulder.
“You can have one and one only,” called Mum. “I don’t want you spoiling your dinner. And don’t leave your bag down here for me to fall over. Come back and take it up to your bedroom.”
Max had reached the top of the stairs. He looked at the packet of biscuits and sighed. He’d have to get his school bag or his mother would keep on nagging. With a clever spin, he was back down in the kitchen before she could say tidy up. He swung his bag over his shoulder, raced upstairs and flung it on the bed.
