The Phredde Collection (45 page)

We sat in Phredde’s favourite tree—the one looking over the hippo swamp
³
—and tried to work it out.

‘It’s not a phaery,’ said Phredde. ‘Because phaeries all PING!, they don’t FLOINGGGGGGGGGGG!’

‘Can’t you just get your
Dictionary of Magick Sounds
and look up who goes FLOINGGGGGGGGGGG!?’ I suggested.

‘Well, I could,’ said Phredde. ‘Except there isn’t a
Dictionary of Magick Sounds.
’

‘Well, someone needs to write one,’ I said grumpily. ‘But who else could magic me to safety except a phaery?’

Phredde looked at me patiently. ‘Lots of other people are magic,’ she reminded me. ‘Witches, wizards…Have you done any wizards a favour lately?’

I tried to think. I’d brought Mrs Parsnip’s cat back the week before. But if Mrs Parsnip was a wizard, I’d eat her cat. ‘Nope,’ I said at last.

‘Trolls?’ added Phredde thoughtfully. ‘Nope, they can only work magic on bridges and you weren’t on a bridge. How about a banshee? Or a leprechaun? Or an elf? Met any of those lately?’

‘Nope, nope and nope.’

‘A pooka? Kobold? Brownie?’

‘I don’t even know what any of those ARE!’ I wailed.

Phredde sighed. ‘Then how do you know if you’ve been nice to one?’

‘The only things I’ve been nice to lately are my piranhas. I fed them Mark’s leftover dinosaur bones. Hey, did you know a piranha can skeletonise a cow in ten minutes? Can you have magic piranha fish?’

‘You’ve already told me,’ said Phredde a bit shortly. ‘No, I’ve never heard of magic piranha fish.’

The hippopotamus began to holler then. (We used to have a volcano to call us into school, but there was a bit of an accident
⁴
.) So we straggled—well, I straggled and Phredde flapped—over to school assembly.

Everyone had that ho-hum, back-to-school look. You know, clean trackkie daks and dirty looks. Amelia had a new diamanté scrunchie and her usual smug smile, and Edwin looked like he’d spent the whole holidays watching
Dumb and Dumber
1,786 times and…and I wasn’t looking for Bruce. I WASN’T. But you can’t miss a one-and-a-half metre high frog at school assembly. Except I did miss him, because he wasn’t there.

Not that I cared. Absolutely no way. Not at
all.
It’s fun waiting for school to begin every day, I told myself firmly, so I wouldn’t think of Br…things beginning with B. Instead, I wondered if a mysterious tunnel would open in the oval again. Or would a dragon attack the library? Perhaps a hideous zombie librarian would try to kidnap us this time.

Mum is right when she says school gives you all sorts of challenges that turn you into the adult you’re going to be. I’d never have even thought about how to stop a dinosaur’s diarrhoea if I hadn’t gone to school
⁵
.

Phredde and I lined up with the others. Or should I say I lined up and Phredde hovered, because when you’re only 30 centimetres tall, people tread on you. And you know what happens to your kneecaps if you tread on Phredde. So for everyone’s sake Phredde keeps her head more or less level with ours. Well, higher, mostly, so she gets a better view.

There was Miss Richards, all fit and tanned looking, and Mrs Olsen in her big hat and sunglasses standing in the shade, as vampires don’t like sunlight, and there was…

I stared. Phredde stared too. Because out the front where Mrs Allen should have been standing was a totally strange guy!

He wasn’t that strange—no rotting zombie flesh and no tentacles waving about his head. He just wasn’t Mrs Allen.

I knew Mrs Allen had threatened to resign as headmistress after the school volcano exploded last term. And then there was all that fuss about Phredde’s
dragon. But we didn’t really think she would. How could Mrs Allen possibly want to work at a boring old school instead of ours?

The strange—well, normal but unknown—guy beamed at us. It was one of those
Hello, kiddies. I’m your friend!
beams that makes you want to puke. In fact, one of the kindergarteners
did
throw up, but that was just the banana smoothie he’d drunk before he got on the school bus that didn’t agree with him. (I know, because he throws up every single Monday. You’d think some kids would learn, wouldn’t you?)

The guy’s smile wavered a bit at the sight of the sick. And the smell. A banana smoothie is about the worst sick, smell-wise, you can get. Trust me, I get car sick—and magic carpet sick, and bus sick, and flying butterfly and dragon sick—so I know what I’m talking about. Then he clasped his hands in front of him in that fake, grown-up kind of way and said, ‘Hello, everyone. My name is Mr Ploppy Bottom.’

You could have heard a nit jump from one kindy kid’s head to another. It was one of those
Hey, if we laugh are we going to get detention for ten years?
silences. Plus, no one could really believe what they had just heard.

Ploppy Bottom? Some guy actually became a teacher with a name like Ploppy Bottom? And a replacement head teacher at that?

I put up my hand. ‘Er, sir?’

Mr Ploppy Bottom upped the wattage. That beam could have lit the library. ‘And what is
your
name, little girl?’

LITTLE GIRL! Okay, I’ll admit, I’m a girl. And I wasn’t as tall as him. But as Phredde can tell you, it’s not size
that matters. It’s how hard you can kick those kneecaps.

But he was our new headmaster, so kneecaps weren’t an option. ‘I’m Prudence, sir,’ I said politely.

‘And what would you like to know, Prudence?’ The beam was so wide I could’ve counted every one of his teeth if I wanted to. Except I didn’t. They were mossy looking, like Mark’s feet that time he refused to wash them for three months. ‘You can ask me anything!’

‘Er…how do you spell your name, sir?’

‘P-L-O-T-H-I-E-B-O-T-H-A-M,’ spelt out Mr Ploppy, I mean
Plothiebotham.
‘I will be replacing Mrs Allen while she is on holiday. In fact, you never know,’ Mr Ploppy Bottom flashed another smile, ‘maybe I’ll be here permanently!’ Then he paused and looked around the assembly. I could’ve sworn he was waiting for us all to clap our hands and trill
⁶
,
Goody, goody!.
I mean some adults have no idea.

‘Now I’d just like to say…’ he went on.

I shut my ears at that point. It was all blah, blah, blah, how a school is made up of friends all working together towards…

I spent my time studying everyone’s faces instead. You can always tell if someone is listening, because they blink more. And, no, I wasn’t looking to see if Bruce had arrived, not at all. Or not very much.

Then suddenly my ears flapped open, because Mr Ploppy Bottom was saying, ‘So there will be some changes. Just a few little changes. To start with, it’s now school policy to have free ice blocks at lunchtime.’

There was another startled silence. But this one was
a
Hey, did I really hear right? Whoopee!
sort of silence.

‘Each child will be limited to six free ice blocks every lunchtime.’ Mr Ploppy Bottom looked us over kindly. ‘If you eat more than six, of course, you’ll have to pay for them.’

It took another three seconds for that to sink in. Then someone down the back yelled, ‘Yay!’ and the whole school joined in.

Mr Ploppy Bottom was eating up those cheers like they were ice cream. ‘And lunchtime will now last for two hours, not one,’ he added. ‘And this will be a homework-free term!’

The cheers were even louder now. But I didn’t cheer at all. There was something about this guy’s smile that made me itch.

‘Eating in class will be compulsory.’ In fact six extralarge pizzas will be delivered to each classroom every day.’

You could hardly hear him over the cheers now.

‘And Fridays will be a school work-free day!’ yelled Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘This Friday I have a little treat for you all. We’re going to have an interschool sports day!’

Even I felt like cheering now, despite the niggling feeling that something was wrong. I’m on the football team you see. So is Phredde and Br…a few other people. The team wasn’t so keen on having girls at first, but then they saw how Phredde can kick. She doesn’t even have to wait for the ball to touch the ground before she sticks the boot in and zammms!

‘It’s not a regular competition,’ beamed Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘This one is special! And I thought just to make it even more special, we’ll have a Halloween dance afterwards!’

My heart went flutter, flutter, flop at that. I know you don’t have to go to a dance with anyone, except all your friends, of course. And it didn’t matter to me at all if Br…
someone
didn’t ask me to go with him. Not that I would want to be seen dead with him if he was still a frog. But what if he took—my heart flopped even further—took AMELIA with him?

Then I realised Mr Ploppy Bottom was still speaking.

‘Now, I want volunteers to billet the visiting students for two nights.’

I put my hand up reluctantly. The last thing I felt like was having some strange kid staying with us. I mean I know we have lots of room in the castle—1,428 rooms to be exact, because Phredde and I counted them—I just didn’t feel like being jolly and friendly to a total stranger, when I wasn’t even talking to Br…one of my so-called friends. But I was in the football team, so it was my duty.

Mr Ploppy Bottom’s beam shone over the forest of hands like a lighthouse beacon. ‘Good! Good!’ he cried.

I realised Phredde’s hand was still in the air.

Mr Ploppy Bottom’s eyes fixed on her, then skidded away. People do that sometimes when they see someone who looks a bit different. You know, they don’t want to stare, so they don’t look at all.

‘Sir! Sir!’ said Phredde urgently.

Mr Ploppy Bottom ignored her. Just then Amelia’s hand shot up too.

‘Yes, little girl?’ Mr Ploppy Bottom asked Amelia kindly.

Amelia smirked. That’s her normal look, not specially for him. She’s the sort of kid who doesn’t even mind being called ‘little girl’. ‘Who will we be playing, sir?’

‘What a good question!’ Mr Ploppy Bottom said, and rubbed his hands with glee. ‘I’ve invited Batrock Central School to be our guests and our opponents.’

There was a gasp beside me. It was Mrs Olsen. ‘But Mr
Plothiebotham
!’ she cried.

Mr Ploppy Bottom smiled nicely at her. ‘Yes? It’s Mrs Olsen, isn’t it?’

‘Our school can’t play Batrock Central!’ cried Mrs Olsen.

Mr Ploppy Bottom’s beam faded a bit. ‘Why not?’

‘Because they are a pack of bloodsuckers!’ Mrs Olsen shrieked.

Mr Ploppy Bottom’s beam dripped right out and down through the oval. ‘I presume you mean they are vampires, Mrs Olsen…’ said Mr Ploppy Bottom warningly.

‘Yes, vampires!’ said Mrs Olsen. ‘Horrible, bloodsucking…’

‘Mrs Olsen!’ Mr Ploppy Bottom sounded more sad than angry, which is the worst kind of angry. ‘Just because people are…are…’

‘Bloodsuckers?’ suggested Mrs Olsen.

‘Exactly. Just because some people have a different national cuisine there is no reason to be prejudiced. Different cultures have much to teach us, and I would be very sad indeed if I thought that any teacher in my school could possibly—’

‘Mr
Plothiebotham
!’ said Mrs Olsen. ‘I am a vampire!’

Mr Ploppy Bottom took a step backwards, then forced his beam back onto his face. ‘Then you of all people should know how prejudice—’

‘It isn’t prejudice!’ interrupted Mrs Olsen.

‘Mrs Olsen!’ thundered Mr Ploppy Bottom. For a guy who wasn’t prejudiced, he didn’t seem to like vampires much either, not when they were right in front of him. ‘That is enough!’

‘But…’ she said.

‘There will be no prejudice in my school as long as I am Principal. And that goes for…’

And that’s when Bruce arrived.

Bruce didn’t even look at me. He just hopped onto the end of the row with his school bag on his back, looking as though he’d spent the whole of the holidays…Well, I don’t know what he looked like he
had
been doing, but he didn’t look like he’d spent any time missing me. Not that I looked at him either.

In fact I was so busy NOT looking at him that I hadn’t noticed Mr Ploppy Bottom had stopped thundering.

He was staring at Bruce instead. His mouth opened once or twice—a bit like my piranhas when they’re hungry and want to skeletonise a cow in ten minutes—like he’d never seen a giant frog with a school bag on his back before.

And then he tore his gaze away and stared at Phredde. There wasn’t even a hint of his I’m your friendly-wendy beam left now.

‘You! Phaery!’ he thundered, pointing at Phredde.

‘Me?’ asked Phredde, surprised.

‘Is there any other phaery in this school?’ roared Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘No, I don’t think there is. Un-enchant this poor boy immediately!’

‘But, sir,’ began Phredde.

‘Now!’ yelled Mr Ploppy Bottom.

‘I can’t,’ said Phredde.

‘I don’t care what excuse you’ve got! I don’t care what you think this boy has done to you! I won’t—repeat,
won’t
—have any misuse of magical power in this school! Magic! Huh, you think you’re so powerful, don’t you! If you think that just because you have the powers to enchant some poor lad into a frog it gives you the right to do it, you have another think coming.’

‘But, sir,’ croaked Bruce.

‘While I’m Principal of this school there will be no misuse of magic,’ roared Mr Ploppy Bottom.

PING!

Mr Ploppy Bottom’s mouth stayed open, but no sound came out. At all.

‘Phredde!’ I hissed. ‘You can’t PING! a Principal!’

‘I didn’t,’ whispered Phredde.

‘It was me!’ Bruce said as he hopped up to the microphone. ‘I just want to say, it wasn’t Phredde who PING!ed me into a frog. It was me. I LIKE being a frog! And I apologise for PING!ing you but it was the only way I could shut you up long enough to explain.’

PING!

Mr Ploppy Bottom’s mouth opened and shut a few times, then he realised he could speak again. ‘Both of you!’ he yelled. ‘Detention! My office! Lunchtime!’ He turned on his heel and stamped off towards his office.

‘Detention?’ hissed Phredde.

‘Detention!’ croaked Bruce.

‘Blood-sucking vampires!’ whispered Mrs Olsen.

That’s when Cuddles arrived and shook things up a bit.