by Sam Copeland
If Charlie hadn’t been a fly at that moment, he would have roared with laughter. But as he was a fly, he just hung upside down, laughing silently to himself.
And that was all it took to make Charlie start changing back: happiness and laughter and love.
For the first time he could remember, Charlie didn’t want to change back – he was on a bus packed with his classmates! – but he couldn’t stop himself. The image of Spider-Man bending over and shooting a web out of his bum on to evil sheep was just too funny, and Charlie felt himself starting to grow …
Dylan could feel it too, and grabbed at his pocket, but it was too late.
‘Noooooo!’ he cried.
With a gigantic ripping sound, Charlie smashed out of the matchbox, burst out of Dylan’s trousers. And a moment later, he had changed completely back to human-Charlie, and was sitting on Dylan’s lap in the back corner seat of the bus.
‘Charlie!’ called Wogan, spotting him. ‘There you are! Where’ve you been?’
‘We thought you missed the bus!’ said Mohsen. ‘But why are you sitting on Dylan’s knee? There are plenty of seats.’
‘They must have finally got over that whole “mortal enemies” thing,’ said Wogan.
‘Well isn’t that wonderful,’ Mohsen beamed. ‘Everybody’s friends now, sitting on each other’s knees.’
‘I knew you two would put your differences aside eventually,’ said Flora. ‘I’m so proud of you both.’
‘We have NOT put our differences aside,’ said Dylan, shoving Charlie off his lap. ‘And we are STILL mortal enemies!’
‘Ah well,’ said Wogan. ‘Never mind. I thought it was too good to be true.’
‘And not only will I wreak a terrible revenge on you, McGuffin,’ continued Dylan. ‘But you owe me a new pair of trousers as well.’
Dylan stormed off to the front of the bus, clutching the hole in his trousers so he didn’t show the whole bus his pants.
‘Will that boy ever change – hang on, what’s that?’ Wogan asked, pointing at Charlie.
‘What’s what?’ Charlie asked.
‘That! All over your face,’ said Wogan, still pointing.
‘Ugh,’ said Mohsen. ‘It’s like brown stuff all round your mouth and nose.’
Charlie knew exactly what it was.
Poo smoothie.
‘I reeeeeally hope it’s chocolate,’ Mohsen continued.
‘It’s nothing!’ said Charlie, as brightly as possible. ‘Anyway! Let’s move on.’
‘It’s not nothing!’ Wogan continued. ‘It’s definitely something. Something crusty and, hang on, can anyone smell –’
Charlie shouted, the look of thunder in his eyes daring someone to say anything more on the matter.
Nobody dared say any more on the matter.
‘Now does anybody have a wet wipe?’
***
Mr Wind and Miss Fyre (who always took school trips together because of their ‘synergy, shared values and compatible work ethic’) got off the coach first, followed by the class, who piled off in an excitable crush. As Charlie clambered down the steps, Miss Fyre caught sight of him.
‘There you are, McGuffin! Mr Wind, I thought you said he was absent?’
Mr Wind looked flustered.
‘But … he was!’ He turned to Charlie. ‘How did you get here? You weren’t on the coach!’
‘Well, I was, sir,’ replied Charlie. ‘You just saw me get off.’
‘Don’t be cheeky in front of Miss Fyre, boy. She doesn’t like cheek, do you, darli– I mean, Miss Fyre?’
‘Not one bit, Mr Wind!’
‘Well, you’re here now, McGuffin, and I’ve got my eye on you. Pay attention, everyone!’ Mr Wind shouted, now addressing the whole of the bus. ‘I want you all back on the coach by 3 p.m. or I’ll tell the zookeepers to feed you to the alligators!’
The children separated into small groups as they headed inside the zoo.
Miss Fyre had managed to use her emergency stapler to staple Dylan’s trousers together, but you could still see flashes of his Incredible Hulk underpants as he stormed off. Charlie was walking next to Wogan, Flora and Mohsen. Behind them, in a close huddle were Daisy and a small girl with glasses and long blonde hair called Lola Coaster. They were muttering secretively, shooting furtive glances towards the boys.
Charlie guessed what they were talking about. There was only one topic of conversation at the moment that was causing groups of girls to huddle together, muttering secretively and shooting furtive glances at groups of terrified boys.
The School Dance.
It was almost the end of term, and who was going to the dance with whom was a matter of fierce debate. And although Charlie was dreading it because he really couldn’t dance and didn’t know who he was going to go with, he couldn’t help but be caught up in the excitement.
‘They’re huddling, aren’t they?’ asked Wogan.
Mohsen nodded. ‘AND shooting furtive glances!’
Wogan looked worried. ‘Can you see what they’re saying? Are they talking about the dance?’
Flora rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, who cares about the silly dance! It’s all anybody is talking about!’
‘Do you think I should ask Daisy?’ asked Wogan, ignoring Flora. ‘Oh, this is a nightmare. This is worse than that boat trip where I felt so sick that I accidentally puked on Mohsen’s head.’
‘I hate to disagree with you there, old friend,’ said Mohsen. ‘But I’m absolutely certain this is not worse than when you puked on my head.’
‘Look, guys,’ said Charlie. ‘I suggest we forget all about the dance for today, OK? Let’s just enjoy the zoo. So – which animals should we go to first? The penguins?’
‘No!’ said Wogan. ‘I hate penguins.’
‘What do you have against penguins?’ asked Charlie, surprised.
‘I don’t trust them,’ said Wogan. ‘Greasy-looking birds that can’t even fly and live in the sea? No, thanks.’
‘Right,’ said Charlie. ‘No penguins then. Lions? Tigers? Goril–’
‘Chinchillas!’ interrupted Wogan.
‘Pardon?’ replied Charlie, staring at Wogan.
‘There are chinchillas at the petting zoo. We should definitely go there first.’
‘OK …’ said Charlie. ‘If you really want, I guess?’
‘It’s Daisy,’ explained Mohsen, matter-of-factly. ‘She is going through a chinchilla phase.’
‘That’s just a coincidence!’ exclaimed a red-faced Wogan. ‘I just like the way chinchillas are … are … so slippery? And … scaly?’
Flora gave Wogan a pointed look. ‘Wogan. Do you even know what a chinchilla is?’
‘Oh, you’re going to see the chinchillas?’
It was Daisy. The girls had caught the boys up without them noticing.
‘Yes,’ replied Mohsen. ‘Chinchillas have for a long time been Wogan’s favourite animal,’ he said, giving Wogan a not-so-subtle wink. ‘So we are going to the petting zoo to pet the chinchillas. Which are small and furry, Wogan.’
‘I knew that!’ said Wogan, looking mortified.
‘Oh!’ said Daisy. ‘I used to like chinchillas. But I’m not into them any more. I like chameleons now. So we’re off to see the reptiles. Bye!’
Daisy gave a little wave and Lola added a nervous smile, which seemed to be pointed in the direction of Mohsen. Then the girls linked arms and walked off in the opposite direction.
Wogan turned to Mohsen, a look of fury on his face. ‘Thanks a BUNCH, Mohsen!’
‘What?!’
‘You made me look like a right lemon in front of Daisy!’
‘Look, Wogan. You’ve got to relax,’ said Mohsen, putting a fatherly arm round Wogan. ‘You need to forget about Daisy. Put her out of your mind. Now – does anybody reckon Lola smiled at me? I think she did. What does that mean? Do you think she’s going to ask me to the school dance?’
Flora rolled her eyes again. As she did, they spotted the petting zoo just a few met
res away.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s take a look.’
***
They traipsed inside but there was no sign of chinchillas. Instead, beside an empty cage, there was a laminated sign, which said:
‘Well, that’s a shame,’ said Flora. ‘I was looking forward to petting some chinchillas after all that.’
‘Never mind!’ said Wogan, brightly. ‘How about we go and see the chameleons instead?’
The gang shrugged and started walking slowly in the direction of the Reptile House.
***
After much plodding round the zoo, looking at animals and observing the strange habits of all the different species and definitely NOT just following Daisy and Lola, it was time for a packed lunch.fn1 That was followed by even more plodding round the zoo, looking at animals and observing the strange habits of Daisy and Lola.
Well into the afternoon, the four friends found themselves at the lion enclosure. There, throwing stones over the fence at the mournful-looking lions, was Dylan.
‘Look at him,’ said Flora. ‘What a horrible thing to do. Someone really needs to teach him a lesson.’
And that gave Charlie an idea.
A very naughty idea.
And naughty ideas are always the best ideas. Unless you’re a policeman. Or the prime minister. Or the Pope.
‘You know what, Flora,’ Charlie said, with a wink. ‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to teach him not to mess with lions. Or me!’
Flora frowned. ‘What does that wink mean? What are you planning, Charlie?’
‘Oh, just a little surprise for Dylan …’
‘Charlie. Do NOT get yourself in trouble, OK?’
‘Flora, in the last few months you have convinced me to break into Miss Fyre’s office AND the headquarters of Van der Gruyne Industries. At least I’m not doing anything against the law this time. And anyway, what good is having a superpower if you can’t use it against a villain every now and again …?’
And with that foolproof slice of logic, Charlie ran off behind a small low building with a sign outside, which read:
Charlie hid deep in some overgrown bushes, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He pinpointed the direct centre of his fears: it wasn’t actually the arguments between his mum and dad – it was the long, cold silences in between. Like when he’d heard his father shout, ‘Oh, what’s the point any more?’ and his mother had shouted in reply, ‘Maybe there IS no point!’ – and they hadn’t talked for hours afterwards. It was those silences that scared Charlie the most.
In Charlie breathed, facing up to the feeling that was always in his stomach, sometimes forgotten when he was having fun with his friends, but always churning away in the background. In he breathed, accepting the bad in his life, but turning it around inside himself, transforming it into power.
As Charlie felt tears prickling behind his closed eyes, he sensed the change start, the electricity spark and fizz through him, his atoms rearranging themselves.
And Charlie’s mind was filled with two things: a picture of a fierce lion and revenge.
Revenge on Dylan, who wanted to harm him and his friends.
Maybe that would help get rid of the feeling in his stomach.
Anger seared through Charlie. He could feel his teeth and claws growing, sharpening.
He’d done it! It was working! He was changing into a lion!
Charlie could feel great, green leathery scales forming on his skin.
OK, maybe it wasn’t working, then.
He wasn’t changing into a lion. Despite practising in his bedroom whenever he could, Charlie still couldn’t get the hang of changing into the animals he wanted.
So what was he changing into?
He flopped on to the ground, his body growing incredibly long, his arms transforming into stumpy legs with lethal-looking claws.
His face lengthened into a wide snout and powerful jaw.
A great tail grew out of his behind. He swished it in a wide arc, crushing bushes, and snapped his jaws together.
Maybe he wasn’t a lion, but this would do. This would absolutely do.
Charlie pushed his colossal body forward with his claws, scooping up great mounds of earth as he went.
He came out from behind the Magical Palace of Stick Insects and swung his massive head, one way then the next, sniffing the air.
He could smell Dylan, and he started moving his great body in that direction.
A plump lady with two small pugs on leads turned a corner and caught sight of Charlie. For a moment she froze, staring. And then she unfroze and screamed at the top of her lungs:
‘AN ALLIGATOR! THERE’S AN ESCAPED ALLIGATOR!’
The lady turned and fled in the opposite direction, her dogs scampering as fast as they could ahead of her, yapping in terror.
No, no, no, Charlie thought, a wicked gleam in his cold green eye. Not an alligator.
A crocodile.fn2
The scent of Dylan on the wind was irresistible.
Charlie the crocodile charged down the path, past his gobsmacked friends, following the smell.
Whenever a member of the public strayed into his path, they turned tail and fled, usually screaming. Which is entirely understandable and exactly what you should do if you are unfortunate enough to come across a crocodile, or an alligator for that matter.
Charlie wasn’t bothered though. He had one target on his mind.
There was Dylan, now so busy taunting some monkeys that he didn’t notice the screams of terror from the people around him … Or the six-metre crocodile sneaking up behind him.
It was only when the monkeys started whooping that Dylan began to suspect that there was something unusual going on.
‘Are those monkeys … laughing?’ Dylan asked the woman standing next to him, frozen in terror as she stared at the crocodile. ‘Look at them. They’re finding something funny. That one’s rolling on the floor!’
The woman made a terrified little honking noise.
‘Hang about … now they’re pointing,’ said Dylan. ‘What’s that about?’
Slowly, Dylan turned round.
And there behind him, jaws slavering and teeth glistening, ready to pounce, was Charlie the crocodile.
Dylan let out a small mew of terror. And then ran.
Charlie gave chase.
When he had started the hunt, Charlie’s plan had just been to terrify Dylan, but now all the anger he felt for the misery Dylan had caused him and his friends came together as one thought: bite him.
Chomp him.
Crunch his bones and tear his flesh.
Despite Dylan’s head start, Charlie was gaining on him. He his jaws – but caught only thin air.
He realized what he was doing was wrong and knew deep down he shouldn’t eat Dylan, but the instinct was impossible to resist. Dylan deserved it.
Again, Charlie’s great jaws slammed shut, and this time he caught the back of Dylan’s hastily-stapled trousers, and ripped them open again. Dylan kept running in sheer panic, trying to hold up what was left of his trousers and underpants AND hide his bum at the same time.
That was impossible though and, as Dylan ran, his trousers dropped completely down, got tangled up in his feet and he fell forward onto his face, displaying his bare bum to the world.
But worse than that, the crocodile was upon him.
Charlie gave a hiss of victory, and shook his head to get rid of the shredded Incredible Hulk underpants which hung off his front teeth. He crawled forward and placed a heavy claw on Dylan’s back, rolling him over like a rag doll.
No, Charlie thought. I can’t do this!
Yes, you can, the crocodile part of him thought. The world is a cruel place and people just need to realize that.
Dylan whimpered with dread as the crocodile crawled forward until its head was level with his. It eyed him, and the cold black slit in the green orb narrowed as it got closer and closer. Dylan felt hot, foul breath on his face as the crocod
ile opened its vast jaws. He closed his eyes and waited for the bite that would end his young life.
‘Stop!’
Charlie turned his great head to see who had interrupted his dinner.
It was Mr Wind, and he was charging towards Charlie, brandishing a broom high above his head like a sword, with Miss Fyre in quick pursuit.
‘Stop!’ cried Mr Wind again. ‘Get away from that bare-bummed boy!’
Charlie snapped out of his trance and realized what he was about to do. He had been about to eat Dylan!
Mr Wind reached Charlie and started hitting him with the broom.
Charlie tried hissing a warning but Mr Wind, emboldened by Miss Fyre’s shouts of encouragement, kept whacking him again and again.
Charlie began backing away, and Dylan took his chance, scrabbling off on all fours and not caring who could see his bum.
At the same moment, something landed round Charlie’s neck. It was some sort of lasso attached to a stick, held by a beefy-looking zookeeper with a huge moustache.
The more Charlie tried to free himself, the tighter the lasso became.
‘Come on, you!’ the zookeeper said, tugging Charlie forward. ‘Let’s get you back where you belong! Lord alone knows how you escaped.’
Charlie was stuck. He had no choice but to be led along the path like a dog on a leash. They soon reached a small door in a wall, like a giant cat flap, which the zookeeper opened.
‘Back in there with you!’ The zookeeper manoeuvred Charlie skilfully through the flap and into a tunnel. When he was in, the leash round his neck was released and the flap snapped shut behind him.
Charlie couldn’t help laughing – the memory of Dylan running away in terror, with his pants hanging off him and his bum poking out, was just too funny. And as the laughter rippled through Charlie, he began to change. His tail was already disappearing, his skin becoming smoother, his body shrinking. A moment later, Charlie the crocodile was no more. He was back to plain old Charlie.
Still chortling to himself, he looked at his new predicament. He was stuck in the short tunnel, and the flap behind him had been locked by the zookeeper. He had to keep on going forward. In front of him was another flap and Charlie stopped chortling as he began to get a sneaking feeling he knew what lay on the other side.
