‘TWO AGAINST ONE? NO’ FAIR, MATTSTER!’ I heard Jackson’s voice call out, followed by some thuds and splats. ‘OW! AH! OUCH!!’
‘Rubby! Is cuzzles hurting Boy?!’ squeaked Thing.
‘Don’t worry,’ I hissed. ‘I know it sounds like they’re killing him, but it’s just the way boys play. Pass me back the phone and hurry up the tree – you’ll be out of sight and you’ll be able to see that Jackson’s actually having fun.’
With a barely heard scrabble of paws and claws, Thing vanished up the nearest trunk.
Once it was safe, I bit my lip.
Mum and Dad would be wondering where I was, but I couldn’t go clambering back over the wall and risk being seen by Jackson’s cousins.
I didn’t want to draw attention to this spot, these trees, Thing.
PLEASE don’t let them play outside for too long, PLEASE don’t let them play outside for too long, I thought to myself, all hunkered down in the tree roots.
Yikes!
There was a pair of hands in gloves, scooping snow off the top of Jackson’s fence …
Stay still, stay silent; the boys are having WAY too good a time beating each other with snowballs to bother peeking over here, I thought some more.
Except – except a head was now appearing over the top of the fence.
A head that belonged to Matt, the skinny, tall cousin.
And – help! – he was staring straight at me …
‘HEY, PEANUT! THAT NEIGHBOUR GIRL IS HIDING OVER HERE,’ he shouted to Jackson, sounding a little bit freaked out.
– how could he have seen me in the dark?
Oh, the tiny flame of the diva lamp; that must’ve caught his eye. Why hadn’t I switched off the phone?
‘Uh … just ignore her,’ I heard Jackson say quickly. ‘She’s not worth bothering about. Everyone round here knows she is well weird.’
Excuse me?!?
Out of the two of us, I was not the weird one. I mean, who acted like a dopey dog all of today? Hmm?
But hold on; maybe Jackson just said that mean-sounding stuff to get Matt to leave me – and Thing – alone.
‘HUH,’ grunted Matt, thankfully disappearing.
Yay! It worked!
As quick as I could, I slipped over the wall and SCHLUMFed up the garden.
Thanks to Jackson’s fib, Luke and Matt would think their cousin was living next to a total dingbat.
And horrible as it was to hear your best friend say mean-sounding stuff about you, I was happy to act as mad as the maddest dingbat if it kept our little Thing safe.
Cos Jackson was only pretending, wasn’t he?
(Wasn’t he?)
How do you make snowflakes flutter in a row?
Easily, if you’re Miss Wilson.
Yesterday, when we were busy with our celebration decorations, she’d folded a sheet of white paper till it was small, small, small.
Then she snip, snip, snipped while we watched and wondered.
‘Voilà!’ she’d called out in French, unfolding the paper and showing off a pretty chain of snow-white snowflakes.
We all had a go, though our Christmassy paper chains looked more like wobbly triangles with holes than Miss Wilson’s perfect patterns.
But hers had looked so lovely that I was determined to try again.
And this time I was folding up a white plastic bag I’d got out of the recycling box in the kitchen.
I was going to make some mini, outdoor, waterproof bunting, specially for Thing. I’d string it up between two twiglets, and Thing could lie cosy in its crunchy bed and stare dreamily at the snowflakes, even once the real snow had melted away.
Course, I wasn’t going to hang it till Jackson’s donut cousins had finally left.
I just needed to concentrate and cut very carefully right—
Tippetty-tap!
SNIP.
Startled by the sudden, small knocking sound, I cut right through a chunk of rustly plastic bag. Throwing the scissors and, er, not-quite-bunting on to the floor, I stared at my bedroom window.
‘Rubby!’ purred Thing, jumping up and down to attract my attention. I leaped up and tugged the window open.
‘Hurry up and come inside!’ I told it, scared that it might be seen.
Thing plopped down on to the floor, and blinked up at me.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, half listening out for footsteps on the landing.
‘Last night I dreaminging about movie photo,’ it said. ‘I like to see shaky light again, please?’
‘I don’t have it here,’ I told Thing, as I went to close the window. ‘It’s on my mum’s mobile, which is downstairs somewh— OW!’
I’d been splatted – and splatted hard!
‘HA HA HA!’ came a gurgle of laughter from the window right opposite mine.
I glowered over at Jackson’s open bedroom window – no one was there.
But I could see a missing scoop of snow on the sill.
Actually, there were TWO missing scoops in the snow.
Uh-oh.
‘FNAR!!’ snorted Matt, appearing in view with …
1. a cackling Luke right beside him, and
2. his arm bent in aim.
‘Don’t you dare throw that sn—’
As soon as I called out, the next snowball came hurtling towards me.
I dodged to the left, and it whizzed past my ear and landed somewhere in the room.
‘Hey, guys!’ Jackson said with a smirk, as he joined his cousins. ‘It’s better not to go near her. Remember, she’s a bit crazy!’
Jackson crossed his eyes and spun his finger beside his head.
‘HA HA HA HA HA!!’ cackled Luke.
‘HUH HUH HUH HUH!’ snorted Matt.
I guessed Jackson was just trying to carry on with the story he’d spun in the garden last night.
But being talked about and laughed at hurts.
Specially when you’re suddenly not so sure your friend is acting in a friendly way. (I didn’t like that smirk at all.)
‘Anyway, c’mon, let’s go to the park and get sledging, yeah?’ I heard Jackson say now.
It seemed I definitely WASN’T invited.
Not that I’d want to go with smirking Jackson Miller and his stupid cousins anyway.
SLAM!!
I shut the window so hard it was a wonder the glass didn’t smash.
But I did hear another sound I didn’t much like …
‘EEEEEEEEEK!!’
There, in the middle of the rug, was the snowball. And it had grown legs and arms. Furry red legs and arms, which were flapping wildly.
So THAT’S where it had landed!
I fell to my knees and scraped all the iciness off Thing.
‘Snowblob – it try to eat me!’ it coughed, moon eyes wider than wide in terror.
‘No, it wasn’t eating you, it was jus—’
‘Snowblob very, very bad, Rubby!’ Thing spluttered on, trembling with upset and rage. ‘It very, very, very, very, very bad!’
Help …
Yep, the seriously spectacular weirdness was starting.
Sparkles twinkled and danced in front of my eyes …
Thing’s rubbish magic was filling my room, and this time – with no Frodo there to lick Thing happy – there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Flickers of light danced round us, as if someone had set off a sparkler, and that sparkler had gone cartwheeling off, bouncing from wall to wall.
Then, just as soon as this amazing mini fireworks show started, it stopped.
‘Thing?’
Before the magic, my fuzzy friend had lain trembling on my rug.
Now, after the magic, it clung to my chest like a freaked-out monkey baby, just staring, staring.
In fact we stared and stared together, around my dazzlingly bright room. On the windowsill, on the desk, on the dressing table, on every single surface were propped dozens and dozens of mobile phones, all with a Diwali candle glowing in their screens.
Knock
, knock, knock …
‘Ruby?’ Mum’s voice called from the other side of the door. ‘Everything OK? I heard a crash!’
Now it was my turn to go ‘EEEEEEEEEK!!’
What if Mum came in? How could I explain the fact that her mobile had duplicated itself over and over and over again?
‘I’m fine!’ I lied, holding Thing tight and feeling its heart thump at top speed, same as mine. ‘A gust of wind blew my window closed!’
As soon as I said those words, I realised that could be the answer to our sudden, flickering problem.
‘Oh, no worries!’ Mum said, before the pad of her footsteps told me she was walking away.
‘Quick!’ I hissed to Thing. ‘We need to blow, blow, blow!!’
‘Blow! Yes, blow is good, Rubby!’ Thing agreed.
And so together we ran round the room huffing and puffing, blowing out every flame – and every conjured-up mobile with it.
We huffed and puffed some more, till our lungs ached and there was nothing left on the surfaces except a few wisplets of smoke and a spark or two of disappearing magic.
In fact, if my room had been a birthday cake, I think I blew out enough fake flames to be aged two hundred and three …
Mum stared at me.
Dad stared at me.
Luckily enough, they were both staring at my face, and didn’t seem to notice the Thing-sized lump in the hood of my hoodie.
‘Are you sure you don’t want one of us to take you to the park today?’ asked Mum.
‘I’m sure,’ I told her.
‘Are you sure you’re not upset Jackson’s going there with his cousins and not inviting you?’
‘I’m sure,’ I told him.
‘Are you sure you just want to play on your own in the garden?’ asked Mum.
‘I’m sure,’ I told them both.
Mum and Dad looked at each other. They thought I was telling little white lies. They were sure I was a bit wibbly cos of Jackson, his parents, his nan and cousins all trooping out of the house with the sledge this morning, leaving me behind.
‘I HONESTLY don’t mind!’ I tried to assure them.
Thing and I, we’d had a lovely time in my room just now – once we’d got our breath back after the huffing and puffing.
We’d made more plastic snowflake bunting (it looked quite realistic, in a crinkly sort of way).
I’d explained the point of socks (Thing found one on the floor and mistook it for a hat).
And we’d tickled Christine’s paws so that she looked liked she was running in her sleep (way too funny).
But my furry friend’s tummy said it was lunch o’clock, so it was time to smuggle Thing safely back to the trees and its stash of mushrooms.
‘Well, if you’re sure, Ruby,’ Mum said one last time, ‘then that would work for me – I could do with nipping off to the shops for an hour.’
‘And I could do with getting on with that report I’ve got to write,’ Dad joined in.
‘Don’t worry about me! I’ll be fine!’ I called out, leaving them to it and opening the back door.
The world outside was dazzlingly, perfectly white.
The thick duvet of snow on the grass lay untouched by foot (or paw) prints.
Sunlight twinkled through the glassy icicles swaying from branches in the brittle, brrrr air.
And best of all, no one was around.
‘Hey, Thing,’ I said a few minutes later, when we were hunkered down in the trees.
‘Yes, please, Rubby?’ Thing asked, finishing off its mushroomy meal with a delicate burp.
‘How about we play in my garden for a while!’
‘It safe, Rubby?’ said Thing, widening its bushbaby eyes in surprise.
‘Well, Mum is out, and once Dad gets on the computer it’s like he’s been sucked into the Internet,’ I joked.
Thing looked a bit worried, and I remembered it didn’t really get jokes.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ I said quickly, before Thing asked where the Internet was exactly and why it wanted to eat my dad. ‘Anyway, everyone’s out next door too. And if we stay hidden behind the shed, we’ll be fine!’
Thing didn’t need convincing after that.
I could tell, because it had scrambled over the wall before I’d even straightened myself up.
‘Peh!’
But Thing should’ve waited for me, since it found itself chest-deep in a snowdrift on the other side.
‘Come here,’ I laughed. ‘I’ve got an idea …’
And with that, I took off my fleecy hoodie and put it on back to front.
After a few seconds of struggling to do my zip up at the back, I was ready with my lookalike baby sling
‘Like it?’ I asked, popping Thing into the hood, facing out.
‘Hee, hee!’ Thing giggled, as it watched me rack up a row of tiddly snow ‘peoples’ along the garden wall.
‘That my name?’ it gasped, as I wrote ‘Thing’ with my finger on the frosted shed window.
‘Now I do Rubby name!’ it announced, leaning forward and scratching out a random squiggle that looked exactly like a random squiggle.
‘I do weather!’ it declared, as we stood beside the huge rhododendron bush and shook the branches to make our own mini snowstorm.
‘Ooh, I’ve just thought of something else!’ I said, brimming with happiness.
Me and Thing, we were having such a good time on our own.
Who needed Jackson? Or his smirk?
‘What is else, Rubby?’ asked Thing, turning round in my cosy hood to face me.
‘Snow angels!’ I burst out.
Ever since I was as tiny as Thing (well, maybe not quite as tiny), I’d loved lying down, flapping about and ending up with an outline of me as an angel, complete with snowy wings.
‘What is you sayinging, Rubby?’ Thing asked, not quite catching my words.
‘Watch me!’ I ordered it.
Without spilling Thing, I eased myself down on the ground, did a flip-flap, and stood up again.
‘See?’ I said, pointing.
‘Yes, please! Rubby is birdie!’ Thing purred. ‘Now I be birdie?’
‘Sure!’ I said, without correcting it. (Trying to describe an angel would probably tie Thing’s brain in knots.)
I stepped over to a new, untrampled-on patch of snow, then placed Thing down.
‘Copy what I do,’ I told it.
‘I swimmin’ in snow, Rubby!’ Thing squeaked in pleasure, wafting its arms and legs at the same time. ‘Wheee!’
‘Wheee! WHEEEEEEEE!’ I joined in.
‘My! What a lot of fun’s going on over here!’ came an all-of-a-sudden voice.
I froze on the freezy ground.
A smiley face peered over the fence that separated Jackson’s house from mine.
Jackson’s nan!
What was she doing here?! I saw her leaving for the park with the others ages ago …
Why was she holding something that looked like an old-fashioned tea cosy?
And most importantly,
Y’know, I always thought it would be Jackson who’d goof and spill the beans about Thing. But it turned out that I was the one who couldn’t keep it safe from—
‘Oh!’ said Jackson’s nan, looking at me, and looking surprised. ‘I thought I heard more than one voice a second ago, but it’s just you, dear …’
What?
I tilted my head and saw only a Thing-shaped snow angel, which disappeared as I quickly swooshed it away with my hand.
‘Um, nope, just me … goofing around!’ I told Jackson’s nan, as I pushed myself up to a sitting position.
‘Right …’ she answered dubiously, rubbing her glasses with the edge of her scarf. (She could rub all she liked, my fantastic little friend had scuttled into hiding before she’d caught a glimpse of it.)
‘I, er, thought you went to the park with Jackson and his cousins?’ I said, standing up, brushing myself down and trying to be polite.
‘Well, Jackson forgot
this, so I offered to pop back and get it,’ his nan said with a smile, holding up the old-fashioned tea cosy. ‘I knitted it specially for him.’
Gulp. So the tea cosy was a hat? No wonder Jackson had ‘forgotten’ it!
It was made of scratchy-looking beige wool, and had a skull and crossbones knitted into it in baby blue. The trouble was …
‘Then I decided not to rush, and have a cup of tea before I caught up with them,’ she carried on. ‘I was just standing at the back door, waiting for the kettle to boil, when I heard you giggling.’
Me; giggling and ‘wheee!’ing on my own. Ha! Jackson’s nan probably thought I was as much of a dingbat as his cousins already did.
But to get her off the subject of what I was doing, I decided to ask her a question.
‘Why do Jackson’s cousins call him “Peanut”?’
‘Ooh, he’s had that nickname since they were all little, but I can’t think how it started!’ Jackson’s nan said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe because Jackson loves peanut butter? Or because he used to be as small as a peanut compared with Matt and Luke?’
Well, I didn’t think much of either of those possible explanations. Mainly cos …
‘I meant to say, Ruby,’ Jackson’s nan chattered on, ‘your little ginger kitten is adorable!’
‘My little ginger kitten?’ I repeated, wondering what she was on about.
I didn’t have a little ginger kitten.
I had a very, very old black and white cat.
‘When we were leaving earlier, I popped up to Jackson’s bedroom to get a jumper for Matt,’ she carried on. ‘I glanced over at your cottage and saw you through the window, playing in your room with your kitten. I think it was chasing some trailing white ribbon?’
That was no trailing white ribbon – that was plastic Christmassy bunting.
And that was no kitten – that was Thing!
‘ExcusemeIhavetogoIthinkmydadneedsme,’ I jabbered in a panic, suddenly desperate to get away.
The Great Expanding Guinea Pig & Beware of the Snowblobs! Page 7
