by Sam Rhodes
Simon frowned.
“Sorry!” called down Mr Smears. “I borrowed him a couple of times.”
That night, Ricky opened his front door quietly, and tiptoed to the stairs. His mum always wanted to know about his test results, but if he just managed to get upstairs, perhaps there was a chance…
“Hi, sweet pea!” said his mum, coming out of the kitchen. “How did you do in that maths test?”
“Er… Ah… Good,” said Ricky.
“Good as in a B?” asked his mum.
“Good as in a W,” said Ricky.
His mum pursed her lips. “Is a W good?”
“It’s better than an X, Y or Z,” said Ricky.
His mum grimaced. “Oh, Ricky. Are we going to have to talk to your teacher again? It took for ever to get that whiff out of my cardy last time.”
Ricky shrugged. “He’s not smelly any more, but yeah, he might want a chat.”
They were both silent for a moment, contemplating Mr Pinkerton’s lack of pong. Ricky heard the sounds from the kitchen radio.
“…speculation that Long Arm is actually an alien from the planet Skidillybop. Professor U. Ranus, Head Stargazer at the Agency For All Things Spacey, has told this show that the chance we are alone in the universe is vanishingly small…”
Ricky grinned. They thought he was an alien – like Superman!
“I don’t know what you’ve got to smile about, young man,” said his mum. “Maybe if you apply yourself at school, you could be admired like Long Arm one day.”
Ricky wiped the smile off his face and nodded. “I hope so, Mum.”
“Now go and walk the dog before dinner, please,” she said. “His lead is in Scarlett’s room.”
“Can’t she walk him?” asked Ricky.
“No – she’s got a spot and won’t go out,” said his mum.
Ricky plodded upstairs to get changed, with Elliot jumping at his heels. On the way to his room, Ricky saw his older sister’s bedroom door was open. The sign on the door read:
He peered in and found her sitting with a bag over her head. “Go away, Mum!” she sobbed.
“It’s me,” said Ricky. “Have you seen Elliot’s lead?”
“On the chest of drawers,” she said.
As Ricky went over, he noticed a new poster on her wall. It showed Long Arm cuddling a kitten.
“Long Arm’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” said Ricky.
“What would you know, loser?” said Scarlett. “Now scram.”
Ricky used to hate walking Elliot, especially the bit where he had to pick up the poo. With his long arm, though, he didn’t really have to get that close.
He didn’t have to do much walking either. In fact, he sat on a bench in a quiet spot and listened to the new Desert Penguins album, while Elliot scampered into bushes, through a wood and into some nice fields.
But after half an hour, Ricky noticed something strange. Elliot wasn’t pulling on the lead any more. And then he found out why.
Elliot had gone!
“ELLIOT!” Ricky called. “Here, boy!”
He shouted until his voice was hoarse. He whistled until his lips were dry. He walked in circles, in squares, and even in a dodecahedron, but he couldn’t find Elliot anywhere. So, eventually, he went home. Perhaps Elliot would be there.
He wasn’t.
“But how could you lose him?” asked his dad. “The lead is only five feet long!”
Ricky didn’t know what to say, but he felt dreadful.
* * *
* Don’t ask.
CHAPTER 4
STAMPEDE!
Ricky didn’t sleep well. He kept thinking he could hear Elliot barking at the back door, but every time he got up to check, there was nothing there.
“You look terrible!” said Simon, as he arrived the next day to walk to school. “Too much Barry the Hedgehog?”
Ricky told his friend what had happened. “I lost Elliot out walking,” he said.
“How come?” asked Simon.
Ricky couldn’t bring himself to say it was because he was being lazy and using his arm. “He must have slipped out of his collar.”
“That’s rotten luck,” said Simon. “I’m sure he’ll be home before you know it. Do you think Mrs Wilson will come out of hiding soon?”
“I hope not,” said Ricky. “The Schofinator is awesome.”
“Quite. Do you think there’s something a bit … weird about her?” asked Simon.
“Yeah,” said Ricky. “She’s cool!”
“Exactly,” said Simon. “She barely even seems like a real teacher.”
They were just walking through the middle of town when the ground below Ricky’s feet started to shake.
“Earthquake!” cried a shopkeeper.
Ricky struggled to balance as the shaking got worse and worse. Then he saw what was causing the earth to move.
Charging down the street were three hippopotamuses.
People scattered in a panic and cars veered into each other trying get away. The hippos flattened several market stalls as they ran this way and that. And now they were heading straight for an elderly coach party who had just got off the Wolvesley Sightseeing Tour.
“They must have escaped from the zoo!” said Simon. “Quick, we have to do something!”
He turned to Ricky, but Ricky was gone.
Ten seconds later…
“It’s Long Arm,” cried the shopkeeper. “He’s here to save us!”
Ricky looked at the onrushing hippos, then at the coach party. They’d be squished flat as geriatric pancakes if he didn’t do something, and fast. But how could he stop three stampeding hippos?
There was only one way.
Tripwire!
Ricky shot out his long arm, gripping a lamp post across the street. He squeezed hard – determined not to let go.
The hippos ran straight into his arm. The first went somersaulting over the top, looking as surprised as a hippo can. The second tripped and slid along the pavement.
But the third jumped the arm like it was in the 100 metre hurdles Olympic final and continued on its way.
Finally the coach party saw what was coming.
“Is this part of the tour?” said an old man with an ice cream.
“I don’t think so,” gasped an old woman as her teeth fell out.
Then everyone froze.
Ricky wasted no time. He formed a lasso in the end of his arm and hurled it towards the stray hippo. The loop snagged over its neck and Ricky braced himself. He was yanked off his feet, but even as he was dragged down the road, he didn’t let go.
The hippo stopped half a metre short of the coach party, panting heavily. Then it ate the old man’s ice cream.
And everyone cheered.
“Long Arm saves the day again!” came a cry.
“Three cheers for Long Arm!” someone else added.
Ricky quickly coiled his arm around all three hippos. “I’d better get them back to the zoo,” he said to Simon. “See you at school.”
Ricky led the hippos back to Wolvesley Zoo. To his surprise, there weren’t any alarms going off, or a commotion of any kind. The gates, however, had seen better days. They were smashed to bits.
He went straight to the head keeper’s office, and found him with his feet up, watching a small TV and chuckling.
“Hello?” said Ricky.
“Just a minute,” said the keeper, without turning around. “This is going to be good.”
Ricky looked at the TV. The zookeeper was watching a rerun of Britain’s Got Flatulence (or BGF for the hard-core fans). It was the biggest, smelliest show on TV, in which members of the public showed off their ability to trump on cue. Some gave trump renditions of their favourite songs, some tried to trump for the longest amount of time (the current record was three minutes and seven seconds), and some – the real elite – just tried to create the loudest, foulest trump of all time.
On the screen, four little children stood on stage, beaming proudly. A r
ow of judges in chairs were wafting their faces. “That was the smelliest rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go On’ I’ve ever smelled,” one judge said. The audience cheered.
“I didn’t like it,” said the head judge. The audience briefly booed, and then he continued, “I LOVED it. You’re through to pump camp!”
Finally the zookeeper turned to Ricky. “Nice Long Arm costume!” he said.
“I am Long Arm,” said Ricky. “And I brought your hippos back.”
The zookeeper didn’t appear to hear what Ricky was saying. “I love this show!” he said. “Don’t you? I mean – those kids – the talent! The timing! They’re definitely going to get a bum deal after this.”
“I’m more of a Desert Penguins fan,” said Ricky. “Anyway … the hippos.”
“What about them?”
“I brought them back before they squished everyone in Wolvesley.”
“Oh, right. Thanks. I wasn’t aware they’d escaped. I’ve been watching this all morning. I suppose we’d better put them back in their pen.”
Ricky followed the keeper back to the hippos’ enclosure. “Go on in, Louis,” he said, patting the first hippo on the bum. “And you, Niall. Yes, Liam, you’ll get your food soon.” As the third hippo entered the pen, the keeper turned to Ricky. “Where’s Harry?”
“Harry?” said Ricky.
“Hippo number four. The naughty one. They’ve been a foursome ever since Zayne ran off.”
“I don’t know,” said Ricky. “There were only three running down the high street.”
The zookeeper sucked a breath through his teeth. “This is happening rather a lot recently.”
“What is?”
“Animals going missing.”
“Have you reported it to the police?” said Ricky.
“I tried,” said the keeper. “But they were watching BGF too. Did you see that woman with the dog? They could trump in time with each other.”
“I’ve got to get to sch— I mean, I’ve got to go,” said Ricky. But as he left the zoo, he began to ponder. Elliott disappearing without a trace, and more animals at the zoo vanishing into thin air…
What if it wasn’t a coincidence?
CHAPTER 5
HAMSTER BURGLAR
Ricky was late. Very late indeed. He ran straight to the main hall, where Mrs Schofield was taking assembly. It wasn’t like one of Mrs Wilson’s assemblies, where they talked about the environment, or looking smart, or road safety. In fact, it looked like a motor rally. Mrs Schofield was giving the kids turns on her motorbike.
Ricky walked in and Mr Pinkerton bellowed.
“Mitre! What time do you call this?”
L.O.F.T #197 – Lateness
Katie Locke stopped doing doughnuts on the motorbike and everyone went quiet. Mr Smears went about quietly mopping up oil stains from the floor.
“Sorry, sir,” said Ricky. “Would you believe there was a hippo stampede in town?”
“No,” said Mr Pinkerton. He gritted his teeth. Surely he was going to trump now, Ricky thought. But he didn’t. Instead he did a series of breathing exercises, before continuing.
“You know what this means, don’t you, Mitre?”
“Lines?” said Ricky.
Mr Pinkerton nodded. “More lines than ever before. And this time you won’t have that little device to help you.”
Simon blushed.
“Yes, I found it,” said Mr Pinkerton.
“No need to punish the boy,” said Mrs Schofield, stepping up beside Ricky. “We’re all late from time to time.”
“But…” began Mr Pinkerton.
“Maybe we should cut him some slack?” said Mrs Schofield.
Mr Pinkerton did his breathing again and a very unconvincing smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs Schofield, or Schofie, or whatever you’re called. I did a bit of research last night – into your credentials…”
“And?” said the new head.
“AND… I couldn’t find you listed anywhere. No CV, no teaching history. Isn’t that strange?”
Ricky felt the temperature in the room drop to sub-zero as the two teachers eyeballed each other.
Mrs Schofield shrugged. “Must be an administrative error.”
“Indeed,” hissed Mr Pinkerton. He pointed a stubby finger at Mrs Schofield, and the sweat patches dripped under his arms. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he said. Then he stormed out of the hall.
After he’d gone, Mrs Schofield smiled. She wafted her hand in front of her nose. “Someone needs a bath.”
All the kids laughed, except for Simon.
“Thanks for sticking up for me!” said Ricky.
Mrs Schofield winked. “If you need anything, Ricky Mitre, just drop by my office. All right?”
“Sure,” said Ricky.
“Now,” said Mrs Schofield. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Last night, a burglar entered the school.”
All the kids gasped.
“Only one thing was taken, and that was George, the school hamster. We don’t have a culprit as yet, but it’s clear that the school can’t have been properly locked. For that reason, I’m announcing the immediate dismissal of Mr Smears, the caretaker, for gross negligence.”
Mr Smears looked up. “Pardon?”
“I’m sorry,” said Mrs Schofield. “The school board took the decision. I’m just the messenger. Leave the mop by the door on your way out.”
Mr Smears’s shoulders drooped and he shuffled out of the hall.
Ricky watched him go, speechless. Mr Smears had been at the school for ever. Rumour had it his family had been caretakers since the Middle Ages.
“Assembly over,” said Mrs Schofield. “Off you go, and remember: have fun!”
On the way out of the hall, Ricky sidled up to Simon. “Mr Smears always locks the doors,” he said. “He can’t be to blame.”
“I know,” said Simon. “And can the school board really have met this morning?”
“I guess not,” said Ricky. “Do you think Mrs Schofield is lying?”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like this at all.”
“Like what?” said Spencer, appearing between them.
“None of your business,” said Simon.
Spencer looked hurt, and wandered off.
“You shouldn’t be so mean to him,” said Ricky. “He’s just trying to be friends.”
“I don’t want to be his friend,” said Simon. “I don’t like him. Or his mum. There’s something not right about them.”
Ricky stopped by the vending machine. “Hang on, I want to get a can of Orange Ade.”
“It’s been banned in twelve countries across the EU,” said Simon. “They did tests and found it was half industrial cleanser.”
“Yeah, but it makes your eyes glow orange for up to three hours,” said Ricky.
“Is that a good thing?” said Simon.
“Is it a bad thing?” said Ricky. Orange Ade was also the secret ingredient that had made his arm grow long, but no one else knew that.
He put his money in the slot, before he saw there was no Orange Ade left. “Strange,” he said. “I thought I was the only person who drank it.”
On the way back to class, Ricky told Simon about the missing animals at the zoo. “What if it’s all connected? The hamster, the hippo and Elliott?”
Simon did his thinking face. “We need to get down to the lab,” he said. “If we analyse all the data maybe we can find a pattern to help us catch the animal-napper.”
“Good thinking,” said Ricky. “There might be something caught on the cameras too.”
While all the other kids went out to play, Ricky and Simon went back to Mr Smears’s cupboard. Or simply a cupboard, as it now was. Ricky didn’t bother to knock this time, and just pushed open the door. Inside was Mrs Schofield.
She looked up, shocked.
“Oh, hello you two!” she said. “I was just doing an inventory. Looking for something?”
Ricky thought fast. “Um … spare toilet roll
s!” he said. “We’ve run out in the boys’ toilets.”
Mrs Schofield pointed to a shelf. “Well, there they are,” she said.
Ricky took one, and felt Mrs Schofield watching every step. He saw the thermos was still on the shelf. There was no chance she could find the lab though – not without a ladder.
At least he hoped not.
CHAPTER 6
HANGING BY A THREAD
When the school bell rang for the end of the day, and the other kids were walking home, Ricky and Simon were in the lab. Sure enough, nothing had been disturbed. Their secret was safe.
They sat at the bank of monitors that hacked into every security camera in Wolvesley. It was painstaking work reviewing hours of footage.
Most of the cameras were working fine, but the ones that covered the docks were all malfunctioning. Ricky focused on the school. He saw Mr Smears leaving at the end of the previous day, locking the doors behind him.
“I knew it!” he said.
Then he wound the tape forward until another figure sped into view. It was blurry footage, but the guy was wearing a hoodie. He reached the school doors, and fiddled with the locks. Then he was in.
“Wow – he’s quick with a lock pick,” said Simon. “Looks like a pro.”
Ricky watched the clock roll. Two minutes later, out he came again. There was a bulge in his pocket.
“That’s enough to prove it wasn’t Mr Smears,” said Ricky. “But there’s no way we can identify the real culprit from that.”
“Uh-oh!” said Simon. He was pointing at a different screen. “We’ve got an emergency.” A camera panned across the centre of Wolvesley. Ricky saw the statue of Long Arm proudly standing in the town square. And there was a figure, hanging from the top of the quiff.
“Zoom in!” he said.
Simon twisted a dial, and Ricky saw the figure was a boy. Spencer! He was dangling by his fingertips, his face full of fear.
