Minnie cleared her throat and began to recite:
“I wake up with the sun up high
Birds chirp everywhere in the sky
Last night a rainstorm passed by
Flowers must have fallen down.”
“Wow, what a beautiful poem!” said Elizabella.
“It sounds even better in Mandarin. I’ll lend you a book. If you want to be a poetry expert you need to expand your horizons.”
“Seems like I do,” agreed Elizabella. “But for now, I have to write one killer love poem.”
Later in the evening, Elizabella sat at the big old wooden writing table in her room. It was covered in loose paper and notepads and sticky notes. All her walls were, too. Where other kids had band and movie posters or photos of them and their friends, Elizabella’s walls were covered in half-finished stories and poems.
She sat with a pen out and a large, pretty sheet of handmade tangerine paper. Pristine. Not a drop of ink on it.
“Think!” Elizabella implored herself, “Thiiiiiiiiiiiink!” Her brain remained sitting there stubbornly with its arms folded (her brain had arms, made of brains).
“Please, brain!” she said out loud.
I don’t wannnnna! said Elizabella’s brain, sulkily in her head.
“Come on, can’t you think of some nice things to say about Mr Gobblefrump?”
No! I can’t do it any more!
“Well, what are we going to do?
If you want me to think of nice lovey-dovey things to say, you’re going to have to pretend we’re writing about someone else.
“Oh . . .”
And you know who I mean.
Elizabella knew exactly who her brain meant. And an image of a skinny little boy with a lovely smile and sandy hair and a hole in his slime-green shoe and glasses on his eyes and a tennis ball bouncing all over the place came into her head.
She picked up a pen, and started to write . . .
“As you know, electricity powers many of the devices you use every day – light globes, fridges, TVs . . .”
It was the following morning and Elizabella had given the new poem to a very grateful Miss Duck. Now, in class, Miss Carrol was teaching everyone about electricity, and it had given Elizabella an excellent idea.
“Metal is a very good conductor of electricity,” said Miss Carrol. She held up a power cord that had been opened up so you could see what was inside. “That’s why the metal wires in this cord are coated in this white plastic, and the bit you touch when you plug the metal prongs into the wall is plastic – otherwise you’d get a shock.”
Elizabella decided to share her idea with her new co-conspirator, Minnie. “Hey, Minnie.”
“Yes?”
“I have something pretty special planned for lunch. You wanna help me make it happen?”
“Sure!” said Minnie.
“Okay, meet me at the silver benches by the big oak tree in the playground.”
“See you there, comrade.”
Comrade. That’s an upgrade from soldier, thought Elizabella, smiling. Minnie and I can be comrades.
At lunchtime, Elizabella was standing next to a set of silver benches in the playground. On the ground in front of her was a single square of carpet. All the carpet in the school was made-up of individual squares, and sometimes they came loose. Elizabella had been eyeing off a piece of it in the library that had completely come away and sat there, unstuck near the History of Concrete section that nobody ever borrowed from. She knew it would come in handy someday. And that day was today.
Elizabella and her set-up were cordoned off by an elaborate tent-like barricade made from large twigs, rubbish bins, discarded school jumpers and painting smocks from the art room. Students were beginning to queue up to see what Elizabella was up to. Everything was going perfectly except that Comrade Minnie had never shown up. So instead, Elizabella had enlisted Sandy to help her. He was acting as her spruiker, standing just outside the barricade, gathering customers. Elizabella had given him some catchy rhymes to say, to lure in customers.
“Step right up! Over this way! The Electric Woman will make your day!”
Of course her gang were the first in the queue. Huck, Ava and Evie had been wondering why Elizabella wasn’t around to play handball – and they were keen to see what she had cooked up.
Huck was the first inside, where he saw Elizabella had tied a jumper around her head and was standing on the little square of carpet stomping and scuffing her feet on it over and over again.
“Are you ready to feel the power of The Electric Woman?” asked Elizabella, a little out of breath.
“Yes!” said Huck.
“Then sit yourself down on this magical silver bench,” she said, gesturing to the seat.
Huck sat down, and Elizabella upped her speed, really rubbing her shoes hard on the little square of carpet. Huck had no idea what was going on. Suddenly, Elizabella stopped and leaned down. She touched Huck on the shoulder and . . .
ZAAAP!
“Eeeek!” he squealed. When she touched him she had given him a giant shock of static electricity.
“She really is electric!” Huck said, running out of the tent.
Excellent, thought Elizabella, knowing that a positive testimonial from someone you know was the most powerful marketing tool of all – and basically everyone in the playground knew Huck.
The word spread and people began forming a long queue. Elizabella rubbed her feet on the little square of carpet and gave electric shocks to everyone who came in. But, after about ten minutes, the queue started to thin, and then disappeared altogether.
Eventually Sandy came in.
“What’s going on out there?” Elizabella asked.
“Ahhh, I don’t know. Everyone has gathered right down the other end of the playground,” said Sandy. He took his job seriously, and didn’t want to desert Elizabella. But, as he bounced from foot to foot, Elizabella could tell he was desperate to see what all the fuss was about. She sighed.
“You’d better go and check it out,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Thank you!” Sandy replied and, with the relief of someone who has just spotted a bubbler in the middle of the desert, he ran for it.
Elizabella peeked out of the tent. Everyone was laughing and cheering and looking at something big and round. Elizabella squinted to try to make it out. It was a giant exercise ball . . . wearing trousers?
Reluctantly, she walked over to inspect further. Minnie had made a life-size sculpture of Mr Gobblefrump. Elizabella gathered from the squeals of excitement that Minnie had gone to Mr Gobblefrump’s locker and taken a spare pair of his trousers, then dressed the exercise ball in them. Then she had cut out a big chunk of the bottom of her yellow school T-shirt, the one that had just been specially altered at the uniform shop no less, and she’d torn it into strips to make a moustache and toupee. Then she’d stuck on a set of googly eyes and put three bottles of orange juice next to him.
Elizabella was upset. If Minnie really was a good friend, wouldn’t she have come to help me with my plan, just like I did with Humungo Handball, instead of stealing my thunder?
Elizabella wondered how Mr Gobblefrump was going to take it. Probably not well, she thought. Minnie had stolen his trousers, after all. Then she heard that sound from yesterday coming through the thick crowd of kids. “Huh! Huh! Huh!”
Mr Gobblefrump emerged and stood next to his likeness, laughing. “Hee hee hee!” He cried out, “Minnie! You are a true artiste!”
“Minnie! Minnie! Minnie!” everybody chanted.
Well, thought Elizabella. This really takes the cake.
“I’m sorry,” said Minnie in class that afternoon. “You know what it’s like. Sometimes you see an opportunity and you have to take it. And when I saw Mr Gobblefrump’s open locker with the trousers falling out, I just had to.”
Elizabella gathered this was Minnie’s attempt at an apology, but she didn’t think it was a very good one and even if it was, she wasn’t ready
to accept it. Not only had Minnie abandoned Elizabella when she said she’d help her, she had also completely stolen Elizabella’s spotlight. So instead of responding to Minnie, Elizabella hunched her shoulders and lowered her head and made herself into a tight little silent ball of anger.
After school, she wandered around the playground looking for Huck. She wanted to walk home with him and unload about her Minnie-troubles.
Eventually she found him down by Pit Pool, which had been completely transformed back into a boring empty sandpit as though Elizabella’s legendary aqua creation had never existed at all. He was sitting in it with Ava, Evie and . . . Minnie!
“Hey Huck, you ready to walk home?” Elizabella asked.
“Actually, I’m going to go to the park with Minnie,” said Huck, a little quietly, as though he knew this was some sort of betrayal.
“Same,” said Ava and Evie, also quietly.
“Elizabella, you should come with us!” said Huck, hopefully. Elizabella looked at her friends.
“Come on, Elizabella,” said Minnie. “We’re going to go to the park to see if we can teach all the dogs there different names to confuse them and their owners.”
“That’s . . . mean,” said Elizabella.
“Just joking,” said Minnie. “I’m not evil.”
Elizabella wondered how many times a non-evil person had to protest that they weren’t evil.
“Yeah, Elizabella,” said Ava. “We’re not evil.”
We, thought Elizabella. They’re a “we” now . . . It seemed like all of Elizabella’s best friends had become Minnie followers.
“I think I’ll just go home,” said Elizabella.
As she walked out of the school, she saw Mr Gobblefrump at the gates cheerily saying goodbye to everyone. And every time he’d bid a kid farewell, he’d proudly take off his toupee and bow, then put it back on his head, like an old-fashioned man tipping his hat.
“Goodbye, Irma! Au revoir, Little Samuel! Cheerio, Elizabella!”
Elizabella didn’t think she’d ever seen such a happy man. And she had helped to make him that way. She had made him proud of his toupee! Everyone was happy.
So why wasn’t Elizabella happy too?
“The thing is,” Larry croaked in Lizish, “I think Minnie actually likes you, quite a bit. And even if you don’t always see eye to eye, that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends, possibly even learn from each other. Think of how many people think you cross the line with your pranks, even though you try not to hurt people and to make up for it with Sorry Poems. Oh, and you must try to separate your feelings for Huck from the Minnie situation. Just because Huck thinks Minnie is cool, doesn’t mean he likes you any less. Don’t forget, you and Huck have a very old friendship, going all the way back to preschool. Minnie’s been around for five minutes. And if you really like like Huck, then the Elizabella I know wouldn’t sit around and worry about anyone else, she’d go out and do something about it!”
“Why did I waste my time telling all my problems to a lizard?” said Elizabella, exasperated. “If only you could actually talk instead of croak, I bet you’d have some really interesting things to say.” She patted Larry on the head.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” croaked Larry. He had just spent a solid ten minutes giving Elizabella frankly excellent advice (in his humble opinion) about her situation, and it seemed she hadn’t understood a single word. Being a lizard was rough.
Elizabella went to the freezer and pulled out a blue icy pole.
“I may as well ask this icy pole what to do about my situation.” She continued, speaking seriously to the icy pole: “Oh, Mrs Icy Pole, please fix all my problems for me.”
“Pffft!” croaked Larry. “An icy pole? What a ridiculous notion! An icy pole isn’t sentient! It doesn’t have thoughts or feelings!” He caught what he was saying.
“Then again, people don’t seem to understand that I am a conscious being with thoughts and feelings and ideas and a yearning to learn . . . perhaps this icy pole has emotions too?” He stared at the icy pole in Elizabella’s hands, and concentrated really hard on it.
“Thank you,” he thought he may have heard the icy pole say in Iceish. Although it could have just been the sound of the ice crushing in Elizabella’s mouth! Was Mrs Icy Pole dead??
“Larry, are you okay?” Elizabella had noticed Larry was staring at her, with one eye flickering. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he looked like he was in shock.
“I think Larry needs some food . . .” said Elizabella to her brother Toddberry, who had been sitting at the dining room table puzzling over something tricky in Fierce Frogs IV.
Larry let out a loud croak in protest, one of the loudest they’d ever heard him make. Of course they misinterpreted this as enthusiastic agreement that food was in order. But Larry couldn’t eat anything right now!
Toddberry went to the fridge and pulled out a big iceberg lettuce. Larry watched as he pulled off five giant leaves, one at a time. With each leaf removal, Larry’s eyes twitched and he let out a massive croak, imagining the possibility that each leaf could have feelings.
“He must be really hungry,” said Toddberry.
A little while later, Elizabella walked to the park. She scuffed her shoes deep into the dirt and played with her giant hair knot even more than usual. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but she’d had a sudden urge to go there after unloading on the lizard. After all, the park didn’t belong to anybody, there was no reason she couldn’t go even though she had told her friends she was just going to spend the afternoon at home. And if they happened to be there with Minnie and she happened to join them in whatever they were doing and she happened to have a good time in the process, well so be it.
Elizabella arrived at the park to find Ava, Evie and Huck up the top of the slippery dip.
“Elizabella!” cried Huck, seeing her coming towards them. “You just missed Minnie!”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” said Elizabella, while really trying to feel like it was a shame, even though she didn’t feel like that at all.
“What did you guys get up to?” she yelled up to them from the bottom of the slippery dip. “Did you teach the dogs to sing ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’? Did you find a magical universe in the golden wattle tree ruled by a giant lady flea? Did you dig a tunnel under the roundabout all the way to the zoo and then dig holes up into the animals’ cages so that the animals could secretly come out of their cages at night and scurry and stomp and fly through the tunnel and come and play in the park without any of the zookeepers or any of the adults in Bilby Creek ever knowing about it?”
The three of them stared at her, blinking.
“No,” said Ava, “but that’s a great idea.”
Elizabella thought about it. It was a great idea. She filed it away for a rainy day . . . Although not actually for a rainy day, she thought. It would be hard enough to pull off as it is, let alone if it was raining.
“We just played on the equipment for a bit,” said Evie.
“Oh . . . right,” said Elizabella. “And what else?”
Huck shrugged. “We talked about the homework Miss Carrol gave us for a while.”
“That sounds . . . nice?” said Elizabella.
“Yeah, it was fine,” said Evie. “What are we going to do now?”
Elizabella thought about it for a second. “We haven’t raced the seesaws!” she said.
She ran over to the seesaws and plonked down on one of them, and the rest of the kids slid down the slippery dip to join her.
“Hurry up! They’re about to fire the starting pistol!”
Miss Duck sat opposite Mr Gobblefrump. She had put on a nice frock, slapped on some make-up and had the fresh poem tucked into her pocket. She was ready to give dating Mr Gobblefrump one last shot. She was reading through the menu at L’Escargots Bilby – it certainly looked intriguing.
Bouillabaisse ala Creek: a tomato, herb and seafood stew, made with the catch of the day (ask your waiter for detail
s).
Croque Monsieur et Pavlova: French fried ham and cheese sandwich with a side of Bilby Creek pavlova.
Miss Duck was intrigued . . . if a little sceptical.
The waiter came over to take their order.
“I’ll have the Bœuf Bourguignon Bilby Creek Sausage Roll,” said Mr Gobblefrump.
“And I’ll have the, ummm, Bouillabaisse ala Creek?” said Miss Duck, uncertainly.
“Excellent choice, Madame,” said the waiter. “Today’s catch is a yabby and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps that came up with it in the fishing net.” The waiter put his fingers to his lips and made a kissing sound, as if to say Delicious!.
“Oh dear . . .” said Miss Duck as the waiter flounced off to the kitchen.
“So, Petunia,” said Mr Gobblefrump, “after the great success of last time, I thought perhaps next week I might show you the slide show of my trip to the Bilby Creek Slug-quarium. You wouldn’t believe the slight variations in brownish grey that these slugs come in, but they are numerous my dear, I assure you!”
And with that Miss Duck realised she had every answer she was looking for when it came to the future of herself and Mr Gobblefrump.
“Chester,” she said, putting a hand on his. “We need to talk . . .”
“Oh . . .” said Mr Gobblefrump.
“I think maybe we should just be . . . good friends.”
He paused a moment. Then put on the bravest face he could muster and raised his glass.
“To good friends.”
Elizabella was back at home. The family had eaten dinner and now she and Toddberry were sitting in the lounge room watching cartoons. Larry the Lizard had eventually calmed down and devoured the lettuce. He may not have known for certain whether or not the lettuce had feelings, but he could confidently say it was delicious. And in the end, yumminess had won the day.
“Elizabella,” said Toddberry, “have you thought about trying to be friends with Minnie? I mean, you guys seem to have a lot in common.”
Elizabella Meets Her Match Page 8
