by Sam Copeland
‘Get lost, Dylan. I know you’re up to something. But we’ll stop you,’ said Charlie.
‘Stop me? You don’t even know what I’m planning!’ Dylan scoffed.
‘Well, isn’t this the moment you reveal your plan and tell me there’s nothing I can do about it?’
‘Oh no, McGuffin. I’m not telling you a thing.’
‘You call yourself a proper villain? Villains always reveal their plan to gloat! And you’re a gloater.’
‘You really believe I’m that stupid, McGuffin?’ Dylan said. Thinking for a moment, he continued, ‘I will tell you one thing though. Guess who recorded you turning into a fly the other day? That’s right. Me! And guess who’s going to show the video to the whole school on the big screen at the dance tomorrow? Me! And then guess who’s going to remind everybody about all the missing animals? Right again! Me! And then who will everyone think ate all those animals? You! Freaky, animal-changing Charlie McGuffin!’
‘That actually sounds like your whole plan you just told me there,’ Charlie said.
‘GAH!’ exclaimed Dylan, slapping his forehead. ‘Blast it! Never mind. It won’t stop anything. The whole town will hate you. Almost as much as I do.’
‘Why are you like this, Dylan? Why do you hate me so much?’
Dylan looked Charlie in the eye for a long moment. Then he replied in a quiet voice.
‘You really don’t remember, do you?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Dylan said flatly.
‘Dylan, what are you talking about?’
‘Right,’ said Dylan. ‘Looks like we need a flashback to remind you. Brace yourself …’
It was the first day of Year 2 and Dylan van der Gruyne’s first day at his new school. He was feeling pretty nervous. All the other children seemed to know each other and were chatting excitedly to their friends. Dylan sat quietly, his ears glowing with embarrassment.
The teacher finally shushed the class and introduced Dylan. He could feel himself blushing hard as the teacher asked a boy called Charlie McGuffin to be his ‘Class Buddy’ for the next two weeks to help him settle in. But when Dylan turned to look at Charlie, he gave him a nice smile, which made him feel loads better.
Dylan and Charlie quickly became firm friends. For the next few days, they played together all the time and that made it a lot easier for Dylan to feel accepted. Dylan even came over to Charlie’s house on a play date. They built a den in Charlie’s bedroom, then had pizza for tea.
For the first time in a long time, Dylan was happy.
And then it all went wrong.
It was the Great Snail Race that did it. All the children had been training their snails, feeding them snaffled bits of icky wet lettuce and cucumber. Every day they smuggled them into school in takeaway boxes with holes punched in the lids. The children raced the snails every lunchtime at the far corner of the playground, cheering on their favourite.
After a complex series of group stages, knockout rounds, quarter-finals and semi-finals, the grand final had at last arrived.
The four finalists were:
Charlie McGuffin and his snail BLUE THUNDER
Dylan van der Gruyne and SEVERUS SNAIL
Iris Murdoch from 2P and her snail THE BLACK PRINCE
Teddy Gruber and POO-HEAD SNAIL-FACE THE THIRD
Tension rippled through the crowd as the four children placed their racing snails on the starting line.
‘Get set!’ shouted the race commentator, a small boy from 3H.
‘Five!’
‘Four!’
The crowd surged forward, eager to get the best view.
‘Three!’
‘Two!’
The surging crowd knocked into Charlie, who was squatting on his haunches, sending him sprawling. As Charlie fell forward across the starting line, he felt a sickening crunch under his face.
‘Ugh!’ Charlie jumped up, wiping his face. ‘I squashed a snail! Yech!’ Sure enough, Charlie had bits of shell and gloopy blobs of snail dripping off his cheek.
‘SEVERUS!’ Dylan cried. ‘YOU SMASHED SEVERUS!’
Silence fell over the crowd.
‘YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!’ Dylan shouted. ‘YOU KNEW MY SNAIL WAS GOING TO WIN AND YOU SQUASHED HIM!’
Charlie stood in shock, not able to get his words out, crushed snail sliding down his face.
‘I-I-I …’ Charlie stammered.
A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the crowd.
Charlie couldn’t help it – it was everybody else laughing that did it. A small smile crept on to his face as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve.
And Dylan saw that smile.
And that smile made tears spring into Dylan’s eyes.
And the other children saw Dylan start crying and started laughing harder.
Dylan took one last look at Charlie, who was trying to stifle his smile.
‘I didn’t mean –’ Charlie started.
But Dylan didn’t wait to hear. He turned and started walking away as fast as he could, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, laughter ringing in his ears.
And that was the end of the friendship between Dylan van der Gruyne and Charlie McGuffin.
‘That’s it?!’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘That’s the reason you’ve hated me all these years? I didn’t mean to squash your snail! It was a complete accident!’
Dylan stared Charlie down.
‘You just don’t get it, do you, McGuffin? Maybe it wasn’t your fault. But you don’t remember what it was like. For weeks afterwards, everyone laughed at me. And you ignored me.’
‘I didn’t! I tried saying sorry and you stormed off.’
‘I was angry! And sad. And lonely. You tried saying sorry to me once. And then you never spoke to me again.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to be friends with me any more,’ said Charlie quietly.
‘I did,’ said Dylan. ‘But you didn’t even try.’
Charlie was beginning to feel very bad indeed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
‘Thanks. But it’s too late.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Our story began on that day, McGuffin. And it finishes tomorrow. Severus Snail will finally get his revenge at the school dance.’
Charlie slept fitfully that night – his dreams full of trapped cats and squashed snails – and when the day of the school dance finally arrived, he couldn’t have felt less like celebrating or dancing. He was exhausted. The recollection that the Great Catsby was still missing hit Charlie like a punch and the house felt deathly quiet as he ate his soggy cornflakes, as if sadness had sucked all the air out of it. Charlie felt he could hardly breathe.
His dad was moving out tomorrow.
It was their last day living together as a family.
It was actually happening.
SmoothMove walked into the kitchen carrying an empty breakfast bowl, which he chucked into the dishwasher. He looked at Charlie, who looked mournfully back at him.
‘It sucks, right?’ said SmoothMove.
Charlie nodded.
‘It doesn’t mean they love us any less, though, you know.’
Charlie stared into his cereal. He could feel tears starting.
SmoothMove came over and ruffled Charlie’s hair. ‘And we’ve always got each other.’
And then Charlie cried.
SmoothMove put a comforting arm round Charlie, and Charlie swung round and buried himself into SmoothMove’s chest and sobbed, long and hard. SmoothMove held him tightly, letting his pyjamas get soaked with his brother’s tears.
‘It’s not fair!’ Charlie wept. ‘It’s not fair!’
‘You’re right,’ said SmoothMove. ‘It’s totally not fair. It’s life, though. And we always get through these tough times and out the other side.’
Charlie stopped crying and felt a bit better. He smiled at SmoothMove and felt a little burst of bravery swell in his chest.
‘Now, wipe your eyes and get re
ady for school,’ SmoothMove said. ‘You’ve got your school dance tonight, right?’
‘Yup!’ said Charlie, and then, very quickly, whilst he gobbled his cereal, he filled in his brother on everything that had been going on with the missing pets and Dylan trying to frame him.
‘And,’ he added, ‘Flora asked me to go to the dance with her. But I don’t know how to dance!’ Charlie grimaced. ‘Wogan said he would teach me how to do some basic toprocks, possibly even the windmill and headspin, but I don’t reckon we’ll have time today, what with trying to get the key to the basement from Dylan and whatnot. So on top of everything else, I’m going to embarrass myself in front of Flora tonight.’
‘Charlie,’ said SmoothMove. ‘Let me give you some advice. You don’t need to breakdance to impress Flora. She likes you for who you are. Just enjoy yourself – have fun, do whatever – that’s the best way to dance.’
‘Thanks, SmoothMove. You know, you’re all right – for a smelly big brother!’
Charlie grinned and ran upstairs to get ready for school.
***
The day seemed to disappear in a blur, and no matter what Charlie and his friends did, they couldn’t get the key from Dylan.
At first break, Charlie changed into a tiny mouse and climbed up Dylan’s trouser leg to get the key out of his pocket, while Flora tried to distract Dylan by asking if he wanted to go to the dance with her. But Dylan had felt mouse-Charlie and screamed, so Charlie had to run away without being seen.
At lunch, Wogan tried bamboozling Dylan by doing headspins while Mohsen sneaked up on him from behind and picked his pocket. But Mohsen got his hand stuck, and Dylan turned round and poked him in the eye.
By the end of the day, the four friends were in despair.
‘It’s hopeless,’ said Charlie, his face like a wet Wednesday. ‘I really am finished. There’s nothing we can do to stop Dylan this time. All the stolen animals are still missing and he’s got the video of me changing, so all the evidence points to me. The whole town is going to think I’m a freak who’s been going around eating their pets.’
‘Maybe we could get his phone off him?’ said Mohsen. ‘Then he wouldn’t have anything to show on the big screen?’
‘No,’ replied Charlie, forlornly. ‘He’ll have a backup. It’s pointless.’
‘Maybe we could just smash our way into the basement?’ suggested Wogan.
‘We can’t do that either,’ said Charlie. ‘Mr O’Dear’s office is just down the corridor, so he’d hear us and we’d totally get in trouble for damaging school property.’
‘So we’re back to square one then.’
‘I have another idea,’ said Flora. ‘But it’s risky.’
‘Go on,’ said Charlie.
‘We kidnap Dylan, force him to open the basement and then lock him in there until the dance is over. I know it’s extreme,’ Flora continued, ‘but if we can prove the animals are alive AND stop Dylan showing the video this evening, Charlie will be OK.’
‘Dylan could still upload the video on the internet,’ Mohsen pointed out.
‘But once the stolen animals are all back, people will just think it’s fake. No one’s stupid enough to believe something like that on the internet.’
The boys all nodded.
‘We’re agreed then?’
‘Definitely,’ said Charlie with grim determination.
‘In that case,’ said Flora, ‘here’s the plan …’
***
That evening, the four friends arrived at the dance early.
The hall had been totally transformed. Lights and lasers were beaming across the room, which now looked like a dance floor. Streamers, which the Reception children had spent the last week making, hung from the ceiling and walls. Music blared from the speakers at the far end of the hall, where a local DJ was shouting something unintelligible into a microphone.
Slowly, the hall began to fill up with excited children. Half an hour later, it was practically full. It seemed the whole year was there – except Dylan.
Lola and Daisy came up and asked Wogan and Mohsen if they wanted to dance. Wogan began wildly breakdancing whilst nervously glancing around, looking for Dylan. Mohsen began nervously breakdancing whilst wildly glancing around, looking for Dylan. Flora and Charlie nervously glanced at Mohsen’s attempts to breakdance.
Finally, Dylan arrived. He was alone, as usual, and stood in the corner of the hall, looking scornfully at all the other children dancing.
Flora nudged Charlie. ‘Now’s our chance.’
Wogan and Mohsen had also seen Dylan arrive and nodded at each other.
It was time to put Flora’s plan into action.
The first step was simple: Mohsen and Wogan had to get to the basement.
Unfortunately, the plan broke down at this very first simple step.
Maybe it was the swirling lights and music that made Wogan completely forget what he was meant to do. Maybe it was Daisy whispering in his ear. We will never know. But instead of following the very simple plan, Wogan ran straight over to Dylan and started popping and locking, right in Dylan’s face.
The crowd parted.
It was a dance-off!
Dylan started with some basic moves, a bit of crowd-hyping followed by robot dancing, and then dropped down into a head slide.
The crowd gasped.
Wogan replied with a classic windmill, and then snapped into a particularly sick jack-hammer.
‘What on earth are they doing?’ Charlie shouted into Flora’s ear.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Flora shouted in reply, shaking her head. ‘It looks like they’re getting electric shocks.’
Dylan, meanwhile, was pulling some sweet air-flares and then went straight into a tight headspin.
The crowd was whooping and cheering.
After a few more minutes of what seemed like never-ending breakdancing moves, Flora lost her temper.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! I can’t take any more of their ridiculous flailing.’
She stormed towards the dancing pair. Wogan saw the look on Flora’s face and suddenly remembered the plan. He ran off in the direction of the basement, closely followed by Mohsen.
The crowd groaned.
‘Ha!’ cried Dylan, raising his fists above his head. ‘Victory is mine!’
Charlie and Flora sauntered up, trying very hard to look innocent.
‘Why are you two trying so hard to look innocent?’ sneered Dylan.
‘We’re not!’ said Charlie.
‘That’s a good job because you’d be failing miserably if you were. What do you two nincompoops want?’
‘We don’t want anything,’ said Flora. ‘We just have to tell you that Mr O’Dear is looking for you. He said something about knowing what’s going on in the basement?’
Dylan turned ghostly white and his mouth flopped open.
‘Well, go on!’ shouted Flora. ‘You’d best go and find him.’
Dylan looked in panic from Charlie to Flora and then bolted – also in the direction of the basement.
Charlie high-fived Flora.
‘I can’t believe he fell for that so easily!’
‘Me neither,’ grinned Flora. ‘Come on!’
Charlie and Flora ran after Dylan down the empty corridors of the school, disco music echoing faintly behind them. But while Flora kept running, Charlie dodged into the boys’ toilet.
He checked the toilet stalls were empty, then closed his eyes and began to change. It had never been easier to tap into his negative thoughts. His family was splitting up tomorrow. That was the only thought Charlie needed. His life ahead was filled with uncertainty. His body flooded with fear and worry and sorrow.
As he felt the electricity surge through his body, Charlie thought of the fiercest animal he knew – a lion. But he didn’t just picture it; he imagined the beast prowling across the savannah as the sun set; he felt the warm wind softly ruffling his mane, carrying the teasing scent of gazelle, the crunch of dry gras
s under his heavy paws. And the feeling it gave him: no fear, just an animal at peace, under an endless, darkening blue sky, the last strokes of pale pink slowly disappearing and the horizon stretching forever ahead of him.
Charlie was growing, his arms turning into legs, his hands and feet into paws. He could feel fur springing up all over his body, his teeth and nails sharpening.
This time, there was no doubt in his mind and, a moment later, a glance in the mirror confirmed it – Charlie was a lion.
Charlie could finally choose what animal to turn into.
He could choose when to change and when to change back.
Charlie could finally completely control his power.
He had never felt more like a superhero.
Charlie pawed his way through the bathroom door and sprang down the corridor. When he turned the corner, there they all were, as planned: Flora, Wogan, Mohsen and, in the middle of them, pinned against the basement door, was Dylan.
Charlie was pleased to see that, even though they knew he was coming, his friends still all did a leap of fright when they saw him. It was human instinct – if you see a huge lion pad towards you, you fear for your life.
Charlie strode up to Dylan, jumped up on his hind legs, and placed his front paws either side of Dylan’s head. He breathed heavily on Dylan’s face, a low rumbling growl, deep in his throat, which seemed to shake the air.
Dylan whimpered and slipped to the floor.
‘I … know … that’s you … Charlie!’ Dylan snivelled. ‘You won’t do anything to me. You wouldn’t dare!’
Flora kneeled down and spoke quietly to Dylan.
‘We thought you’d say that. But you need to understand – you’ve made Charlie desperate. He’s willing to do anything. And if that means …’
Flora left the threat hanging but, to emphasise the point, Charlie widened his jaws over Dylan’s face, letting hot drool drip down into his gibbering mouth. Dylan squirmed backwards, desperate to get away from the glistening teeth.
‘OK!’ he whimpered. ‘OK! You can have the key!’
Dylan reached into his pocket, but then his face went even paler, if that was possible. He checked his other pocket, panicking.
