The Phredde Collection (52 page)

‘It’s a big, bad wolf,’ said Phredde. She’d appointed herself lookout and was hovering just above the hall door.

‘How do you know it’s a big, bad wolf?’

‘Well, it’s got long teeth, it’s furry, has a big snout and is dressed as a grandmother.’

That seemed to settle it. I squared my shoulders and marched through the doors.

It WAS a big, bad wolf. It wore a white curly wig, a bonnet and a pink floral dress that looked really dumb with its black fur.

‘Kinky!’ muttered Bruce behind me.

‘Hello, little pumpkin!’ cried the big, bad wolf kindly.

I stared at him. ‘Ooh, what a big, hairy nose you have, Grandma,’ I said sarcastically.

‘All the better to smell the roses with, my dear,’ smiled the big, bad wolf kindly.

‘And what big, horrible claws you have, Grandma!’

‘All the better to knit booties with!’ exclaimed the big, bad wolf.

‘And what big teeth,’ I began. Then suddenly I was sick of it. I hadn’t even had a chance to dance yet and here was this dumb wolf trying to trick me with some stupid kiddy game. ‘Look, buster, exactly how long have you been dressing up as a grandmother?’ I snarled.

‘Oh, but I
am
a grandmother, dear,’ said the big, bad wolf a bit desperately.

‘And I’m the phaery Pinkerbelle,’ I snorted.

The wolf sort of deflated. ‘I’m not very good at this, am I?’ he sniffed sadly.

‘No,’ I said. ‘The big furry ears are a dead giveaway.’

‘I just can’t help it!’ cried the wolf. ‘One day I thought it would be a good idea to put a bonnet on! And then it was the dress and the wig, then support stockings and…I know I should stop, but I can’t!’

‘And I suppose you want to eat us all up with your big, sharp teeth,’ I said wearily. I was getting a bit tired of it all to tell you the truth. Fighting deadly creatures from beyond the Gates of Reality is exhausting, especially when you haven’t even had time to visit the supper table.

‘Actually,’ whispered the wolf confidentially, ‘I’d rather have a tomato sandwich and a nice date scone with jam and cream and a cup of tea. It’s a grandmother thing.’

‘Phredde,’ I said. ‘Take him inside and see if there are any scones left on the supper table.’

And that was the end of the big bad wolf.

The Gytrash was next. Phredde said a Gytrash can look like a dog or a horse. But this one was a cow. A black-and-white cow nosing among the garbage bins. It looked pretty normal apart from the glowing purple eyes. And the fangs, of course.

‘What does a Gytrash do to you?’ I asked Phredde, peering out at it.

‘I don’t know,’ said Phredde hollowly. ‘No one has ever survived to tell the tale.’

‘Do you know?’ I asked Bruce.

‘Sorry,’ he said carelessly. He didn’t look worried at ALL. ‘I’ve never met a Gytrash.’

‘That’s a fat lot of use,’ I said. The cow was munching the weeds in the Year Four herb garden now. ‘Hey, moo face!’ I yelled. By now, I was in no mood to be polite.

The cow looked up at me with its purple eyes. ‘Moo,’ it said. ‘I’m a nice moo-cow eating grass. No relation at all to deadly creatures from beyond the
Gates of Reality.’

‘Look,’ I snarled, ‘to begin with that isn’t grass, it’s a lavender bush. And nice moo-cows just say moo.’

‘I did say moo,’ objected the cow.

‘You also said,
I’m a nice moo-cow.
It’s a bit obvious.’

‘Bother,’ said the cow.

‘The purple eyes don’t work either,’ I told it.

‘How about pink?’ And the Gytrash’s eyes changed to bright pink and flamed through the darkness.

‘Nope.’

‘Green? Yellow?’

‘Nope and nope.’

‘Deadly z-ray?’ asked the Gytrash.

‘What’s deadly z-ray?’ I asked cautiously.

‘It’s the next one up from x-ray. But REALLY deadly,’ the Gytrash told me.

‘Oh,’ I said, as its eyes began to glow. They weren’t purple now, or even green or yellow. They were a silvery glow that seemed to fill the world. I could feel myself fading, fading, fading…

Where was my FLOING!? Had I worn it out? Maybe you only had a certain number of FLOING!s, I thought desperately, like a cat has nine lives. How many FLOING!s had I used so far?

I tried to count them. The gorilla, one, the castle battlements, two…but I was too weak even to count. Goodbye, world, I thought, as I shut my eyes. It’s been…

FLOINGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!

‘I’ve had it!’

I opened my eyes. The Gytrash cow was gone. In its place was a Phaery Godmother. Yeah, you know the type, spangly ball gown, big wand. And a look just like Mum gets if I’m three days late tidying my room.

‘A charging gorilla!’ yelled the Phaery Godmother. ‘Corgi guts on the battlements! Falling off a flying carpet! And now deadly creatures from beyond the Gates of Reality! I quit! You can find yourself a new Phaery Godmother!’

‘But I don’t have a Phaery Godmother!’ I cried.

‘Yes, you do,’ said Bruce. ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you before I got a face full of custard! I gave you MY Phaery Godmother as a birthday present. Mum and Dad took out a Godmother contract for me when I was born. I gave her to you for your birthday, but you didn’t give me time to tell you.’

‘You what?’ I cried. ‘Why?’

‘To keep you safe!’ explained Bruce. ‘So I don’t have to worry when you’re having all your adventures.’

‘You worry about me?’ I yelled.

‘Of course I worry about you!’ said Bruce. ‘I think you’re won…’

The Phaery Godmother coughed. ‘Ahem. I wouldn’t want to break up all this soppy stuff,’ she said. ‘But in case either of you’ve forgotten, I just quit. You’ll have to hire another Phaery Godmother,’ she informed Bruce.

‘But you can’t quit NOW!’ cried Phredde. ‘Not when we’re faced with deadly creatures from beyond the Gates of Reality till midnight! It’s unethical.’

The Phaery Godmother sighed. ‘Oh, very well,’ she said. ‘But after midnight that is IT!’

FLOINGGGGGGGGGGG!

Suddenly the hands of the school hall clock pointed to midnight. And the Phaery Godmother was gone.

Halloween was over. The Gates of Reality were shut.

We were safe.

‘Hey,’ I said, ‘if she was a Phaery Godmother, how come she didn’t PING!?’

Phredde and Bruce both stared at me. ‘Have you ever heard a Phaery Godmother PING!?’ demanded Phredde.

‘No,’ I admitted.

‘Phaery Godmothers always FLOING!,’ said Phredde. ‘I thought everyone knew that! If I’d guessed you had a Phaery Godmother I’d have worked out this mystery ages ago.’

‘There’s still one mystery left,’ said Bruce grimly. ‘And I have a feeling we’d better get to the bottom of it.’

I giggled. ‘Hey, is that a pun?’

‘Huh?’ said Bruce.

‘Get to the bottom of the mystery. Mr Ploppy Bottom,’ I explained.

‘Ignore her,’ said Phredde. ‘She’s had a hard night fighting monsters. Come on, let’s go.’

Bruce nodded. ‘We’d better get rid of Mr Ploppy Bottom before he does any more harm.’

Phredde, Bruce and I pushed our way through the hall. Well, I pushed, Phredde flapped and Bruce hopped. Everyone was looking a bit stunned, and one of the younger kids had wet himself. A few of the vampires had turned back into bats and were hanging from the Halloween lanterns, squeaking. But mostly everyone seemed to be wondering what to do next.

Mr Ploppy Bottom was still standing in the middle of the stage. ‘Doom? Doom?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Nope,’ said Phredde. ‘Doom’s over for the night.’

‘You’ve failed, Mr Plothiebotham,’ croaked Bruce.

‘But…but I can’t have failed!’ stammered Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘I planned it so carefully! I studied all I could about the Gates of Reality and how to open them! I even kidnapped your Principal!’

‘You what?’ I yelled. ‘You mean you’re NOT a real Principal?’

‘No,’ said Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘I’m a computer salesman! I LOVE computers! Computers do what they’re programmed to do! That’s why I hate magic! I despise magic! Magic is unpredictable, magic is…’

‘Then where’s Mrs Allen?’ interrupted Phredde.

‘He, he, he!’ giggled Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘You’ll never find her!’

‘You mean you’ve hidden Mrs Allen?’ shouted Bruce. ‘Where is she?’

‘She’s in his study!’ I yelled. ‘That’s why he’d never let anyone go inside his study! I bet he’s hidden her in the study! Hey, Shaun, Zac! Guard this creep will you?’

‘Certainly!’ said Shaun. ‘Sit, you alliaceous
¹⁷
pedagogue
¹⁸
.’

‘He’s not a teacher! He’s a fraud!’ I told him. ‘Come on!’

Phredde, Bruce and I raced up to the office. Well, I raced, Phredde flew and Bruce bounced along like he was practising to be a kangaroo. I gripped the office door and…

‘It’s locked!’ I cried. ‘Phredde, PING! it open.’

‘I can’t! School rules!’

‘But he’s a fraud!’

‘Still…’ Phredde looked torn. Phaeries are VERY law abiding.

‘No worries,’ said Bruce happily.

Zot!

Bruce’s tongue flicked out and zapped the lock. ‘Most people don’t realise frog tongues can do that,’ he added.

‘Most frogs don’t unlock doors.’ I flung the door open and we sped down the corridor.

Zot! Bruce unlocked Mr Ploppy Bottom’s—Mrs Allen’s—door. We rushed inside.

I stared around. The office was empty.

‘She’s not here!’ I cried. ‘Where can he have put her?’

‘Try the desk drawer!’ suggested Phredde.

I glared at her. ‘She’s not a phaery! She wouldn’t fit in the desk drawer!’

‘Try the cupboard!’ croaked Bruce.

Zot! The cupboard door swung open. And there was Mrs Allen, tied to a chair. She was gagged and her wrists were tied too, but she could still use her hands. She was reading a book from a pile on the floor beside her. There was a giant chocolate milkshake there too, with a straw.

I pulled the gag off her while Phredde fumbled with the ropes. ‘Mrs Allen, are you all right?’ I yelled.

Mrs Allen blinked at us. Well, okay, I was still dressed as a pumpkin and Phredde was still a wasp. But at least Bruce looked googly eyed and normal.

‘We’ve come to rescue you!’ added Bruce.

‘Rescue me? Oh yes,’ said Mrs Allen vaguely, staring at my pumpkin-stalk hat. ‘You know, it’s been so peaceful in the cupboard—books to read, all the chocolate milkshakes I wanted. He even put a little hole in the gag so I could use the straw, and I was allowed to visit the bathroom as soon as everyone left for the day…’

‘You’re safe now,’ I assured her. ‘Don’t worry, everything is under control!’

‘Yeah,’ said Bruce, ‘Pru fought the headless horse-person and zapped a Lhiannan-shee, she talked the big, bad wolf into having a cup of tea and a scone in the hall, my Phaery Godmother got rid of the Gytrash and the Batrock vampire football team are guarding Mr Ploppy Bottom and…’

‘Gytrash? Wolf? Vampires?’ asked Mrs Allen faintly. She stood shakily. ‘It…it was so peaceful in my cupboard,’ she whispered.

‘But you’re our Principal again now!’ I informed her. I suddenly remembered something. ‘Do you think you could change the rule that says no one is allowed to do any magic at school?’

Mrs Allen nodded dazedly. ‘School rule? Magic? Oh, of course. Consider it changed.’

PING!

Mrs Allen vanished.

‘I PING!ed her home to bed,’ announced Bruce. ‘She
looked like she needed a good night’s sleep.’

PING!

‘Was that you or Phredde PING!ing?’ I asked him.

‘Both of us,’ said Bruce smugly. ‘We haven’t had the dance yet! So I PING!ed the time back to eight o’clock.’

‘And I PING!ed Mr Ploppy Bottom to the hospital,’ said Phredde. She shook her head. ‘He needs some serious counselling. Imagine not liking magic? Weird!’

I tried to think. Deadly creatures from beyond the Gates of Reality all vanquished, insane Principal fixed up, Mrs Allen rescued…there was only one thing left to do.

‘Let’s dance!’ I yelled.

And so we did.