‘Forgive me, Judy. Weighty matters preyed upon my mind that day.’
‘Like what?’ Miss Jute folded her arms across her chest.
Embarrassed, Mr Archer looked around. ‘This is no place for a discussion of tender matters. Can’t we discuss this away from prying eyes and flapping ears?’
‘Here and now are just fine,’ Miss Jute stated. ‘I want to know what you had on your mind, because it certainly wasn’t me.’
‘But it was. I mean, you were. Judy! Thy very name is the tinkling of tiny bells. Thy temperament is rare, like a tree filled with shells! There’s something I must tell thee, something thou should know. Thy eyes are the sun’s golden rise and the moon’s silver glow. Thy hair smells of cinnamon and freshly baked bread!’
Miss Jute patted her hair, unsure about the last description.
‘Thy lips are like rubies rare or sweet cherries red!’ Mr Archer went down on one knee. He didn’t seem to notice that he had the attention of the entire staff room. ‘Judy, won’t thou answer me before I count to ten. Darling, marry me and I shall be the happiest of men!’
‘Oh, Leonard!’ There were tears in Miss Jute’s eyes. ‘How could I have thought you were unromantic. Of course I’ll marry you.’
Mr Archer got to his feet and he and Miss Jute hugged each other right then and there. The male teachers in the staff room sighed at the romance of it all, while the female teachers looked at each other and mimed being violently sick.
Chapter Seventeen
For the Best
MR ARCHER PRACTICALLY danced into the classroom, a face-splitting grin all over his face.
‘Good afternoon, class. Isn’t it a beautiful day – even if the weather doth freeze the very marrow in my bones? Charlotte, close yonder window, I entreat thee.’
Reluctantly, Charlotte did as she was told.
‘Now, I hope thou art all ready for this afternoon’s assembly. I believe we are in for a treat!’ said Mr Archer.
‘Methinks our teacher has lost his marbles!’ said Ben sourly. ‘Methinks Mr Archer is going to wish he’d come to school with earplugs.’
‘Line up, everyone,’ Mr Archer said cheerily.
Ben grabbed his bag and stood in line next to Steve, still trying desperately to come up with a way of saving himself and his aunt from school-wide embarrassment and humiliation.
All too soon, everyone from the junior school trooped into the assembly hall. Ben looked up at his aunt on the stage. He was surprised to see she looked nervous. Very nervous. At last everyone had settled down and all eyes were on Aunt Dottie. She ran her fingers over the piano lid before raising it up. Ben pulled at one side of the plaster on his forehead. His finger was just about to press down on his switch when Steve grabbed his hand.
‘Oh no, thou dost not! If we needst suffer, then thou must suffer also!’ Steve told him.
Ben gave up. He hid his face behind his hands. Steve did the same. He’d just have to grit his teeth and bear it. Aunt Dottie ran her fingers up and down the scales. Then she began to play. And she was brilliant! Amazing! Stunning! Ben’s hands fell to his sides. His jaw dropped open. And his wasn’t the only one. Ben lifted his bag on to his lap.
‘Whizzy, do I spy thy hand in this?’
‘Your aunt wished that she could play properly so that she wouldn’t embarrass you,’ Whizziwig whispered.
‘She said that?’ Ben asked, surprised.
‘She did.’
Ben looked up at his aunt. ‘She is indeed brilliant – and I do not merely speak of her piano playing.’
Mr Archer scowled in Ben’s direction. ‘Hush up!’
Ben bit his lip and looked back at his aunt. She chose that moment to look around, and all she could see were enthralled expressions on the faces of her audience. The worried look on her face vanished, to be replaced by a relieved smile.
‘Ben, I think I should warn you . . .’ Whizziwig began.
Too late! Aunt Dottie began to sing. And she was dreadful. Just as bad, if not worse than before.
‘ . . . your aunt never wished anything about her singing!’ Whizziwig finished her sentence.
Ben looked around. Others in the hall were wincing and flinching at Aunt Dottie’s ‘singing’, but Ben discovered that he didn’t mind one bit.
‘What’s the problem?’ Ben smiled. ‘To my ears she is the very spit of Scary Spice!’
‘Verily, the scary part is right,’ Steve agreed.
‘Steve, thy ears have more wax in them than Madame Tussaud’s,’ Ben told his friend.
‘D’you know? Your aunt sings a bit like me,’ Whizziwig said.
‘’Twas my very point,’ Steve muttered.
‘Hardly! Besides, if my aunt loves to sing, how can we do otherwise than love it also?’
‘Like this, mate!’ grumbled Steve.
Ben sat back in his chair to enjoy his aunt’s singing, even though those around him were obviously suffering. Aunt Dottie looked at him and winked before continuing. Ben smiled back. There was no doubt about it. Aunt Dottie was terrific!
And what about the time when . . .
Chapter Eighteen
Put Yourself in My Place
FOR A FRIDAY afternoon, the classroom was unusually quiet. Everyone was busy doing a mid-term test. Mr Archer sat at his table, reading a book called Weddings! What Every Groom Should Know. Suddenly he lowered his book, a suspicious look on his face. His eyes narrowed, as if in the hope of catching someone doing something they shouldn’t be doing.
Underneath Ben’s table, Whizziwig was reading a science fiction comic in which the baddies were hunting an alien who looked a bit like her.
‘Urgghhh! Where do humans get their ideas from?’ Whizziwig muttered, unimpressed.
Ben’s head suddenly appeared under the table. ‘Shush!’ Ben returned to his test.
‘Sir?’
Ben turned to find Emma waving her hand in the air, trying to attract Mr Archer’s attention. He went hot all over. She hadn’t seen him talking to Whizziwig under the table, had she? She wasn’t going to tell on him, was she? Emma was the new girl. She’d only been in his class for two weeks and already it felt as if she’d been there for years. She was a bit like a gnawing, nagging toothache you just couldn’t get rid of.
‘I’ve finished the test, sir,’ Emma called out.
Mr Archer glanced up at the clock. ‘Really? In only twenty minutes?’
‘Yes, sir. And I’m sure my answers are all correct! The test was easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy!’
Ben and Steve looked at each other. Others in the class started to mumble.
‘Er . . . when did I say it was OK to start chatting?’ Mr Archer snapped. ‘The rest of you, get on with the test.’
‘Would you like to check my answers, sir?’ asked Emma.
Reluctantly, Mr Archer put down his book. ‘OK, bring it over here and then carry on with the exercise on page seventy-five of your maths book.’
Ben finished the test and looked up at the clock. Only a few more minutes to go before everyone had to stop. He thought about telling Mr Archer that he’d finished too, but decided against it. No way did he want to be thought of as an egghead like Emma. He looked at the new girl, her nose buried in her maths workbook. She was smoothing out her eyebrows, the way she always did when she was thinking. She was very pretty. Her hair was braided in fine plaits and at the end of each one were rainbow-coloured ribbons or gold- and silver-coloured beads, decorated with tiny butterflies. She had a brace which was noticeable every time she opened her mouth, but it didn’t stop her being pretty. If only she was a bit more friendly. Ben had seen Sarah and Charlotte trying to talk to her more than once, but Emma always waved them off, saying that she had to go to the library to study or to do her homework. She really was a . . . brainiac! Were books and work all she cared about? Didn’t she want to make any friends? Ben turned back to his test paper to check his answers one more time. He thought he’d done OK, but it didn’t hurt to check, because Mr Archer go
t really grouchy if he had to mark sloppy work.
Meanwhile, a few kilometres away from Ben’s school, a man and a woman were in the back of a chauffeur-driven limousine – and the man was not happy. He sat stiff and upright in his seat and scowled at the woman.
‘Togen, try not to look like you’re about to walk the plank over crocodile-infested waters!’ said the woman.
‘A school visit! Franco, I can’t believe you set me up with a school visit!’ By now, Togen’s scowl could’ve curdled a whole litre of fresh milk.
Franco sighed. ‘It’s just for an hour. It won’t kill you.’
‘A school visit,’ Togen said with disgust. ‘And why do I have to go to St Note’s of all places?’
‘You know why. We’ve been through all this before. This will be great publicity – and of the right kind for once.’
‘But I don’t want to go there.’ Togen was sulking.
‘Tough!’
‘You’re fired.’
Franco raised her eyebrows. ‘Again? That’s the third time today.’
‘The more I think about it, the worse the idea gets. This is going to be a disaster – and it’ll be all your fault.’
‘Nonsense.’ Franco sighed. ‘Just smile and answer any questions thrown at you. And I’ve arranged for a number of reporters and photographers to turn up later for a publicity session, so behave yourself.’
‘You’re still fired!’
‘I should be so lucky!’ Franco said wistfully.
Togen leaned back into the corner of his limo for a full-blown, grade-A, top-of-the-range mega pout. Franco watched him for a few moments before leaning across to push back in his bottom lip.
‘You’re fired!’ Togen fumed.
‘Right then. Stop writing, everyone, and pass your papers to the front.’ Mr Archer waited until all the test papers had arrived on his desk before he continued. ‘OK, now take out your maths work-books and turn to page . . .’
‘Sir, we can’t start working now,’ Charlotte protested. ‘Togen is coming!’
‘Togen won’t be here for at least another ten minutes,’ Mr Archer said firmly. ‘And knowing him, he’ll probably be late. So we’ll—’
‘But, Mr Archer, aren’t you excited?’ asked Sarah. ‘Togen is actually coming here, to this school. To this very classroom!’
‘What’s so wonderful about Togen anyway?’ Ben scoffed.
Sarah gave him a pitying look.
‘“What’s he got that I haven’t?”’ she said, taking the mickey. ‘Nothing much, Ben. Apart from the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous. He can sing, he can act, he plays a million instruments, he’s rich . . .’
‘I still don’t see what all the fuss is about.’ Ben sniffed.
‘I quite agree, Ben,’ said Mr Archer. ‘Now, my . . . I mean, Togen isn’t here yet and, until he is, can we please get on with some work?’
Emma put up her hand. ‘Mr Archer, I’ve finished the two exercises on page seventy-five.’
‘Already?’ Mr Archer was beginning to look a bit frazzled.
‘Yes, sir. Could I have some more to do?’ asked Emma. ‘I think I could cope with some harder ones.’
‘What a crawler!’ Steve whispered to Ben.
Ben nodded. ‘What a swotty crawler!’
Mr Archer’s head shot round at that. ‘Ben! Emma works hard and she doesn’t mess about. I wish you’d take a leaf out of her book!’
From within Ben’s bag, Whizziwig’s eyes sparkled.
‘Yikes!’ Ben suddenly sprang to his feet. He lurched across the classroom towards Emma, fighting against it every step of the way.
‘Er, Ben? What d’you think you’re doing?’
‘Sir, I . . . I . . .’ Before Ben could say another word, he picked up Emma’s exercise book and ripped a page out.
Steve ducked down under the table. ‘Whizziwig, that’s not what Mr Archer meant.’
Whizziwig frowned. ‘He said—’
‘Never mind what he said. That’s not what he meant.’
‘Mr Archer, I can explain.’ Ben looked from his irate teacher to the torn piece of paper in his hands and back again.
‘Look what he did to my book! Just look at it!’ Emma wailed. She moved her arms up and down in front of her like she was having a tantrum and bashing the air instead of the floor.
‘Ben! Outside! Now!’ Mr Archer roared.
Ben dragged his feet as he walked outside the classroom. How was he going to explain ripping a page out of Emma’s book?
Sir, it wasn’t me! An alien made me do it! Yeah, right!
Mr Archer shut the door quietly behind him before turning to Ben, his eyes practically spitting out fireworks. ‘Ben, how dare you do something so spiteful?’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ Ben mumbled.
‘Nonsense. That was a deliberate act if ever I saw one. It’s not like you at all. Why did you do it?’
Ben opened his mouth to defend himself, only to snap it shut again. What could he say?
‘Ben, I’m waiting.’ Mr Archer glared. ‘Why did you tear Emma’s workbook?’
‘Because . . .’ Ben braced himself ‘Because you told me to?’
‘I beg your pardon!’
‘You wished I’d take a leaf out of Emma’s book,’ Ben tried. But from the look on Mr Archer’s face, he wished he’d kept quiet.
‘Don’t be facetious!’ The fireworks in Mr Archer’s eyes had been replaced by rockets! ‘Any more nonsense and you’ll get detention for a week. Do I make myself clear?’
Ben nodded.
‘Now, go back in and apologize,’ ordered Mr Archer.
Ben walked back into the classroom, his head lowered. The moment the lesson was over, he and Whizziwig were going to have a serious talk.
‘Emma, I’m sorry I ripped your book.’ Ben moved to stand in front of her.
‘That’s OK.’ Emma said grudgingly. ‘I’m used to other people being jealous of me.’
‘I’m not jealous of you,’ Ben said at once.
‘Of course you are. I’m wonderfully brilliant!’ Emma shrugged.
‘Get you!’ Ben raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m intelligent, funny, pretty, I have good taste.’ Emma smiled with understanding. ‘It’s only natural that you’d wish you were me.’
‘I’m surprised your neck doesn’t crumble under the weight of your big head!’ Ben told her.
‘Ben, when you’ve quite finished,’ said Mr Archer.
‘But, sir, she said—’
‘So?’ Mr Archer interrupted. ‘Emma always hands in her homework on time – with no ridiculous excuses – and it’s always correct. And what’s more, she’s well mannered and helpful. I just wish you were a bit more like her.’
Ben stared at his teacher in horror. ‘Arrgghh! Sir, take it back. Please take it back!’
‘No, I won’t. In fact, you’d all do well to follow Emma’s example,’ Mr Archer declared to the whole class. He turned back to Ben. ‘Now, sit down and let’s get on with the lesson.’
Ben had only just got back to his seat when the classroom door burst open. Miss Jute entered, her eyes aglow, her body a-flutter!
‘Now what? Is something the matter, Miss Jute?’ asked Mr Archer.
‘Mr Archer, he’s here! He’s here!’
‘Who’s here?’
‘Togen!’ Miss Jute practically swooned. ‘And he’s divine!’
Before Mr Archer could say another word, Togen strutted into the room. Everyone – except Mr Archer – erupted into spontaneous applause and excitement. The sound of clapping and cheering was deafening. Mr Archer and Togen regarded each other for a few moments.
‘Hi, Lennie,’ said Togen.
‘Hello, Martin,’ Mr Archer replied.
‘My name is Togen now, not Martin.’ Togen stepped past Mr Archer. ‘Hi, everyone. I’ve arrived to make your millennium.’ He raised both hands and waved.
‘He doesn’t think much of himself, does he?’ Steve said to Ben. ‘He should
get together with Emma.’
But at that moment, Ben had more urgent matters on his mind than a pop superstar. He ducked under his table.
‘Whizzy, please tell me that you didn’t grant Mr Archer’s last wish.’
‘I didn’t grant Mr Archer’s last wish,’ Whizziwig told him.
Ben breathed a huge sigh of relief ‘Thank goodness for . . .’ Ben ran his tongue, then his finger over the brace that had suddenly appeared on his teeth. ‘Whizziwig!’
‘I did grant Mr Archer’s wish actually. I just thought I’d wind you up by telling you what you wanted to hear.’ Whizziwig grinned.
‘Great! Just great. Thanks a lot!’
‘You’re entirely welcome!’ said Whizziwig.
‘You’re not going to change anything else on me, are you?’ Ben pleaded.
‘It’s not up to me any more. I granted Mr Archer’s wish, the rest is up to you and your body,’ said Whizziwig.
‘What does that mean?’ asked Ben.
‘No idea!’ Whizziwig shrugged.
Stricken, Ben came out from under the table. What was he going to do? He’d just have to go home and stay in bed until the wish wore off. Goodness only knew what other parts of his body might change.
The applause in the rest of the classroom died away as everyone waited expectantly for Togen to speak.
‘I’ve sold over five million CDs. I’m loved all over the world and I can see I’m loved just as much in this classroom,’ said Togen.
Charlotte sighed with happiness. Ben frowned at her. Miss Jute sighed wistfully. Mr Archer scowled at her.
‘But super-stardom has its price,’ Togen carried on. ‘There’s a downside as well as an upside to success and fame.’
‘What’s the downside of selling lots of CDs and making a ton of money and being known wherever you go?’ Steve was not convinced. ‘Sounds great to me!’
‘You think so?’ said Togen. ‘Well, being in the public eye all the time can seriously damage your health. That’s why I’ve had to fork out thousands and thousands for a state-of-the-art security system for my luxury mansion. And some of my fans can be really pushy.’