At long last, the bell rang for break, and Zoot and I charged to the library and flopped down on the bean bags in Bookworm Corner. The story was fantastic. The contained an ancient spell that if said out loud would bring about the end of civilization. It had been lost for centuries. Everyone thought the world was safe, but the evil scientist Doctor Destructor had made a time machine and gone back to when the were written. He intended to steal them, bring them back to the present and hold the world to ransom.
had stowed away on the time machine . . .
I could hardly breathe. How was going to escape this time? As the bony, rotting hands of King Tootonmahorn tightened round Q’s neck, Zoot turned the page . . .
Just then I heard Peaches’ voice shout, ‘Look out! Danger!’
‘I know!’ I replied. ‘’s doomed!’
A hand reached between us and snatched the comic out of the big book.
Zoot leaped to his feet. ‘Give it back, Bobby!’
Bobby sneered and waved the comic in Zoot’s face.
‘Be careful,’ I said. ‘That’s a really rare edition.’
The fire alarm began to wail loudly like a cow with toothache. As we all covered our ears, I glanced behind Bobby and saw thick green smoke drifting past the window.
Our head teacher, Mrs Broadside, burst through the library door. ‘Drop everything and get out into the playground!’ she shouted.
Bobby hurled over his shoulder, barged past Peaches and sprinted for the door. Zoot scrambled over the bean bags to reach his comic.
‘Leave it, Zoot!’ yelled Mrs Broadside. ‘This is an emergency! Get out NOW!’
She pushed and hurried the three of us out of the library, slamming the door shut behind her. A stinky, pea-coloured smog swirled around the corridor and hung in the classrooms. We dashed, coughing and spluttering, into the playground.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked Jamie Ryder.
He grinned. ‘Toby Hadron’s Primordial Soup exploded in his bag!’
Two firemen in breathing gear went into the school, and a moment later came out carrying Toby’s smoking bag. They doused it with foam, then handed it back to him.
‘My experiment’s ruined!’ moaned Toby, peering at the drippy, gooey mess sloshing around inside the bag.
I saw the picture in my mind. ‘ . . . the foam is the vital ingredient you needed to create new life?’ I said. ‘ . . . tonight, while you’re asleep, a foam monster grows from the liquid and comes after you, its hands reaching out for your throat? . . .’
‘That’ll do, Oliver,’ said Miss Wilkins, looking at Toby’s worried face. ‘The firemen have opened all the windows and doors, and say it’s safe to go back into school.’
‘What about ’ said Zoot. ‘It’s lying on the floor of the library, I need to get it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Peaches. ‘I’ve got permission to spend the rest of the morning in the library to get it ready for the official opening next week. I’m leaving school before lunchtime, so I’ll put your comic in a safe place before I go.’
‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘I’m counting sheep on the Porkney Isles with my mum and dad. We’re taking part in the Notional Sheep Survey. ‘It’ll be interesting. No phone signal, no internet, no telly . . .’
‘No pizza,’ I added.
‘Well, at least you’ll get some sleep,’ said Zoot. ‘You know, counting all those sheep.’
Peaches laughed. ‘I’ll put the comic inside a big book called, The Lives of British Prime Ministers. It’s by the Right Honourable David Cameroon, so you’ll find it in non-fiction, under C for Cameroon, obviously.’
‘Will it be safe inside a book?’ asked Zoot.
‘It’s safer than a safe,’ answered Peaches with a grin. ‘That book’s been in the library for nine years, and no one’s ever borrowed it. See you on Monday.’
‘She really is ,’ sold Zoot, watching as my best friend headed for the library.
‘She’s as as the rest of you,’ said Bobby, pushing past us and going into school.
When the bell rang for lunch, Zoot and I went to get the comic straight away. We looked along all the books in non-fiction by authors beginning with C, but The Lives of British Prime Ministers wasn’t there. We began to search the titles in each section, and soon found it under D for David.
‘It’s not like Peaches to put a book in the wrong place,’ I said, flicking through the pages.
The comic wasn’t inside.
‘Nooooooooooooo!’ we cried together.
We began furiously searching through all the big books, and throwing them on a table nearby. The mountain of books grew quickly, but we couldn’t find the comic in any of them.
‘Maybe she thought Bobby overheard us talking about it, and decided to hide it somewhere else,’ I suggested. ‘The trouble is we can’t get in touch to ask her where it is.’
‘We’ll just have to wait until she gets back on Monday,’ said Zoot, frowning.
Just then, Miss Wilkins opened the door. The teacher stared at the books scattered across the table and spilling on to the floor.
‘What on earth do you two think you’re doing?’ she snapped. ‘Look at this mess. You’ve ruined all Peaches’ hard work. Playtime detention on Monday and lose five points each. Now tidy it up!’
She looked at me and shook her head sadly. ‘What would Peaches say?’
‘She’d say, “Make sure you put them back in alphabetical order,” miss,’ I replied.
I didn’t see Zoot over the weekend because he was busy helping out on the set of his dad’s movie. I was bock to my usual weekend.
Algy had got it into his brain that he only ever lost at chess when I wasn’t watching him, so I spent the whole of Saturday watching him play for England. I’m a lucky chess mascot, because he won all his matches!
Then on Sunday I had to stand for hours in a park in the rain with the rest of my family, trying to look like I was enjoying myself as the twins performed at a special charity dance-athon show. The Mystery of the Disappearing comic was on my mind all the time. Even sharing a raspberry-ripple ice cream and reading one of my other comics with Constanza on Sunday night didn’t cheer me up. I just couldn’t concentrate.
On Monday morning, I saw Zoot standing by the school gates. Constanza had barely stopped the car before I was out of the door and dashing towards him. We waited for Peaches, looking for her in the crush of chattering grown-ups and shouting kids pouring into the playground, but as the bell rang to start the day she still hadn’t arrived. We found out why when we sat down for registration.
‘I was hoping that Peaches would be here this morning to tell us all about her trip to count sheep on the Porkney Isles,’ said Miss Wilkins. ‘But unfortunately they’ve had gale-force winds up there, and she’s stranded on the island. The ferry bringing the volunteers back to the mainland was cancelled and we don’t know when she’ll be home. How adventurous!’
‘Oh no!’ moaned Zoot. ‘Well just have to look through more books at breaktime.’
‘We can’t,’ I said. ‘We’ve got playtime detention, and at lunch we’ve got to get the field ready for Sports Day this afternoon.’
‘I have to find my comic,’ said Zoot. ‘I’m in Big Trouble if I don’t. My dad paid a thousand dollars for it.’
My jaw dropped. ‘Mum and Dad wouldn’t pay a penny for one of my comics. They just don’t get why I like them so much.’
Zoot sighed and opened his work tray under the table. There was on envelope sitting on top of his books. He opened it and pulled out a photograph.
‘Look! The comic wasn’t lost – it was stolen!’ hissed Zoot. ‘And we both know who did it.’
‘But we can’t prove it,’ I replied. ‘That could be anyone’s hand. What are we going to do?’
‘I can’t let him shred the comic,’ Zoot said with a sigh. ‘I’ll have to let him beat me.’
Miss Wilkins called Bobby Bragg up to do his . Usually, we did our little talks
on our own, but this time Bobby and Toby Hadron stood up together.
‘All this week I’ve been running fast,’ said Bobby. ‘And with Toby’s help I’m getting faster every day.’
‘How interesting!’ said Miss Wilkins. ‘I just hope you don’t blow up like his Primordial Soup did.’
Toby’s face reddened as a little bubble of chuckling burst from the rest of the class. ‘Er . . . Bobby’s my new science project,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’ve put together a special training programme based on the one used by Hussein Bullitt, the world’s fastest man.’ He grinned. ‘But mine’s better. It’s a strict diet of top-secret high-energy food and drinks, a tough course of scientifically proven exercises and carefully monitored sprints. I’ve been checking Bobby’s heart, pulse, sweat, breathing and brainwaves to make sure he’s in tip-top shape.’
‘How scientific!’ said Miss Wilkins. ‘Is it working?’
Toby showed us a chart with a jagged red line slowly moving upwards. ‘As you can see,’ he replied. ‘Bobby’s times for the sprint are getting better each day.’
While Toby talked, Bobby stood still, never once taking his eyes off Zoot, who glared back at his cousin. The rest of the class was silent. The tension in the air was like lightning crackling between the two of them.
‘But will Bobby be fast enough today?’ said Jamie Ryder, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Toby opened his mouth to answer, but Bobby interrupted him.
‘I’ll win,’ he said.
The other kids did their presentations, but no one was really paying any attention, and there weren’t many questions. Everyone’s mind was on the Big Race.
Miss Wilkins called my name. ‘What have you done this weekend, Oliver?’ she asked.
I stared at Bobby, looking so pleased with himself, and thought about Toby trying to make Bobby unbeatable. I had to let the class know that Bobby was up to no good, and I also had to let Zoot know what I thought he should do about it.
. . .
‘When Captain Common Sense and I had disarmed the Megabot, we thought the world was safe,’ I began. ‘Captain Common Sense had sensibly decided to take a holiday. But we should have known that the Show-off wouldn’t give up without a fight.’
‘I can feel another playtime detention winging your way, Oliver,’ said Miss Wilkins. ‘You’re supposed to be telling us about something you did over the weekend.’
‘Sorry, miss,’ I replied. ‘But this is serious! The Show-off-bot had armour plating that would stand up to anything; and laser-cannons in his chest that blasted lethal, mega-neutronic fizzer particles; and X-ray eyes that could see through buildings; and hydraulic fingers that could crush concrete, and snap through steel.’
Millie Dangerfield yelped like a frightened puppy. ‘The are our only hope!’
Jamie Ryder cheered. ‘Go, Go, Megabot!’
‘Go, playtime detention!’ added Miss Wilkins with a smile.
‘The two super- faced each other across the ruins of the city . . .’ I went on.
I thought about Peaches, stuck on her windy island. . . . it wasn’t a gale that was stopping her coming home? she’d been captured . . .
‘The Show-off-bot pointed to the roof of a building,’ I went on. The Boffin and the Spell Queen had taken Captain Common Sense hostage!
‘The Show-off can’t win,’ said Leon Curley.
‘Do something, !’ cried Millie Dangerfield.
‘What could I do?’ I replied. ‘If the Show-off won, he would rule the world. ‘If Megabot won, then my partner would end up as Common Sense Soup. I looked at the Captah. She frowned and shook her head . . .’
A tense silence gripped my classmates. My heart thudded in my chest as I stared at Zoot and said . . .
‘Captain!’ I yelled. I jumped in my rocket ship and landed on the rooftop in less than a minute. I raced over to the vat of bubbling, seething soup . . . but there was nothing to be seen. Captain Common Sense had dissolved in the evil brew. She was gone.’
‘Noooooooooooooo!’ wailed Millie and Leon.
‘I was devastated,’ I said, staring at Zoot. ‘But the Captain was right: evil must be defeated at any cost.’
Zoot stared back for a moment, then looked down at the table in front of him.
The rest of the class watched in silence as I walked back to my seat. They knew this was more than just one of my stories.
‘How sad,’ said Miss Wilkins, blinking her eyes and giving a little sniff. ‘But you’re right, Oliver: we must never give in to bullies.’
Zoot barely spoke for the rest of the morning. I’d said all I could, so I left him alone to think about it.
At break, I sat in class with Miss Wilkins and wrote down my story, while Zoot was in the library making sure all the books we’d pulled from the shelves were tidy.
‘Ollie, is there something going on between you and Zoot and Bobby?’ she asked.
It was a good thing I wasn’t connected to Toby’s Ping Pong Machine.
‘No, miss,’ I answered.
That afternoon, the school field was packed with kids, teachers and parents. My mum was doing brain operations, and my dad had taken Algy to London to take part in the National Junior Brainbox Competition, but Constanza had come to cheer me on.
‘Bravo, Oliver!’ she called as I came fourth in the egg and spoon race. ‘You did not finish at the end!’
‘No, Constanza, I didn’t come last.’
The Big Race was the final event, and just before it was about to start I ran over to speak to Zoot.
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.
My friend carried on warming up. ‘I can’t let him shred the comic,’ he replied, looking away from me. ‘I’m gonna lose.’
‘But you’re giving in to blackmail!’ I said.
Zoot spun round, and leaned in close to my face. He had tears in his eyes, and his voice trembled with rage. ‘If it was your copy, would you let him destroy it?’
I couldn’t answer him. I didn’t know what to say.
Zoot’s shoulders sagged. He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, turning away and heading for the starting line. ‘It’s just a stupid race.’
All the other events had stopped as kids, parents and teachers crowded along the straight running track to watch the Big Race. As the runners lined up, all the noise and of the afternoon had suddenly gone. A weird, tense silence gripped the crowd.
I stood about halfway down the track, standing on tiptoes to see over the heads of the people in front. I saw Bobby Bragg smirking as he said something to Zoot. My friend didn’t reply, but stood completely still, hands on his hips, staring down the track.
‘On your marks!’ shouted the head teacher.
The runners crouched down.
‘Get set . . .’
They leaned forward.
‘Go!’
The spectators let out a deafening roar as the runners leaped away from the start. In just a few paces, Bobby Bragg had already edged ahead. As they reached halfway, Zoot was lagging behind even the rest of the runners, never mind Bobby, who was a good couple of metres in front.
I watched them rush away from me towards the finishing line. I jumped up and down, desperately trying to see, but the bobbing heads and waving arms of those in front got in the way. I heard a huge cheep from the spectators near the finish as the winner broke through the tape, so I pushed my way oat of the crowd, and hurried to the far end of the field.
The runners stood or knelt on the ground trying to get their breath back. Bobby Bragg leaned over with his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths and staring at Zoot, who had collapsed to the floor, his body shaking with what seemed to be deep, painful sobs. Two teachers fussed around him, trying to get him to his feet.
I burst through the crowd and dashed over to help them. ‘Are you OK, Zoot?’
‘Did . . . Bobby . . .win?’ he gasped.
‘I don’t know. I couldn’t see.’
Miss Wil
kins had been in charge of announcements all afternoon, and now her voice boomed across the field from the loudspeaker nearby.
‘How !’ she trilled. ‘The winner of the boys’ Big Race . . .’ She was interrupted by a deafening, screeching whine from the speaker, which made us all wince in pain. She fiddled with a button on her microphone.
‘Oops, sorry about that!’ she said. ‘Now, where was I? Oh yes, the winner of the boys’ Big Race, and the fastest boy in school, is . . .’ Miss Wilkins paused a few seconds to torture us all even more. ‘Zoot Zipparolli!’
There was an enormous cheer as kids and teachers surged around us to pat Zoot on the back.
He closed his eyes and hung his head. ‘I couldn’t let him win, Ollie. Maybe he’ll see I won fair and square, and give me the comic back.’
‘You don’t know Bobby Bragg,’ I said, searching for him in the crowd. My stomach twisted. ‘I can’t see him – he’s gone!’
‘The library!’ gasped Zoot. ‘Go, Ollie! You’ve got to stop him!’
I scampered through the crowd of kids and parents milling around, but they seemed to be deliberately getting in my way and slowing me down. I dodged and pushed my way across the field, until at last I broke clear and sprinted towards the school.
The door into the changing rooms should have been open, but someone had locked it.
‘Bragg!’
I raced round to the main entrance, and pressed the buzzer. There was no one in the office to let me in! I kept my finger on the button, and hammered on the door. Eventually, one of the reception ladies strolled down the corridor with a cup of tea in her hand. She sauntered up to the door and opened it.
Oliver Fibbs and the Clash of the Mega Robots Page 5
