Fly Frenzy (8 page)

“Yes—my memory is burnt out in places, as you know. But I remember hiding the cubes where I could find them later in an emergency. There are another four of these—the REPTOSWITCH ones—hidden somewhere near the lab,” explained Petty.

“Except you forgot where,” pointed out Danny.

“Yes! Exactly! So far, I've only managed to find the cubes with the BUGSWITCH code. All the others have been lost for years! And that's why I need your help. Will you look for REPTOSWITCH cubes for me?” asked Petty, smiling at them hopefully. (She looked less like a spider in a web this time.)

“Look,” said Josh. “We will help you. We will look for your cubes. But we won't change into any more bugs. OK?”

“Absolutely fine!” said Petty. “I would never dream of asking you to.”

She put the glass cube in her pocket. She put her rather muddy fingers on each of their heads.

“Josh—Danny. Welcome to the S.W.I.T.C.H. Project!”

“Well, this is lovely, I must say!” The Best Garden judge smiled approvingly at the garden. “I particularly like these!” he added, patting the hedge birds. “They must have taken years to grow and cut into such delightful shapes.” Around the judge, the crowd murmured, impressed.

“Oh yes—years,” agreed Mom, smiling back, nervously. “But I have to admit to you that yesterday somebody came along and chopped them off. I had to wire them back on.”

The crowd gasped and the judge's eyebrows rose up. “They won't last, of course,” went on Mom. “In a week the leaves will have died, but for now they look fine. I hope it won't mean I'm disqualified, but I'd rather not pretend.” She was still amazed that the hedge birds had been returned. Josh and Danny had run into the house to tell her that the hedge birds were lying on the garden path yesterday afternoon.

“Well—I think it's very good of you to be so honest,” said the judge. “I certainly won't disqualify you over someone else's nasty trick.”

The crowd walked on, and Mom, Josh, and Danny walked on too. They watched as the judge inspected other gardens in the competition.

Petty Potts suddenly arrived behind Josh and Danny. They smiled at her, glumly. How they wished Josh's photo of Mrs. Sharpe and Tarquin with the hedge birds had come out. They'd spent all morning grumbling about it, sitting by the shed in the backyard. Even when Scratch and Sniff had shown up (they lived under the shed) and sat on their shoulders for a while, they felt sad. The rats shook their furry little heads when Josh told them what had happened. “I can't stand to think of that stuck-up Mrs. Sharpe winning the prize!” said Danny. Scratch and Sniff squeaked at each other. Then they vanished back under the shed just as Mom came down the garden to tell Josh and Danny the judging was starting.

Now the crowd gathered at Mrs. Sharpe's garden while the judge walked around it.

“You know, I don't think you really wanted to get the police involved, anyway,” Petty muttered. “After all, they would have wondered how you came to be inside the Sharpes' house. It's for the best.”

Mrs. Sharpe's garden was very neat with carefully arranged plants and flowers, a perfect lawn, and a water feature with a little fountain. Mrs. Sharpe stood at her gate, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, waving white-gloved hands, and nodding at everyone, as if she were the queen.

“Very good, as usual, Mrs. Sharpe,” beamed the judge, after looking around for a few minutes. “Always one of our star gardens. Quite immaculate.”

“Well, you know I cannot bear untidiness or unpleasantness in a garden,” simpered Mrs. Sharpe. “For me, there has to be perfect order. Nothing less.” Tarquin stood behind her. He wore a neat navy-blue suit and a smug smile.

“Well,” said the judge. “As this is our last garden, I think I can now announce the winner.”

An expectant hush fell upon the crowd, broken only by the buzzing of a few flies. Then a few more flies. And a bit more buzzing.

The judge fanned his face. “Gosh! Your garden is a haven for insect life, Mrs. Sharpe.”

“Well—butterflies and bees, of course,” trilled Mrs. Sharpe. She swiped something off her chin.

“No—bluebottles and cluster flies,” said Josh.

He grinned. There were a lot of flies. Really quite a swarm in fact. Someone gave a little scream. There were now clouds of flies all over Mrs. Sharpe's garden. They settled on her neat borders and danced around her little fountain.

“They're attracted to garbage, old meat, dog poo. That kind of stuff,” Josh cheerily informed the crowd.

“I don't have garbage or old meat or dog poo in my garden!” exclaimed Mrs. Sharpe.

“Well, you must have. You've certainly got vermin!” pointed out Petty. And there—running around the fountain—were Scratch and Sniff.

They raced up and down the lawn, squeaking, and swirling cyclones of flies followed them.

As the crowd turned panicky, Josh and Danny were doubled up laughing. Scratch and Sniff had obviously decided to help out, after hearing Josh and Danny's bad news earlier.

“Of course!” Josh giggled, wildly, to Danny and Petty. “Scratch told us he could get flies to swarm for him. Now he's proved it!”

Everyone was now edging quickly away from Mrs. Sharpe's garden.

“Wait! Wait!” she squealed after them, swatting flies off her clothes in crazy swoops. “I've made tea! I've made cakes! Scones and jam . . . to celebrate my victory . . . ”

“Nothing to celebrate this year, Mrs. Sharpe,” called back the judge, scribbling on his clipboard as he ran down the road. “You came in ninth! Better get an exterminator in for those rats!”

“But I don't have rats! I don't!” sobbed Mrs. Sharpe, twitching and dancing while Tarquin slapped his face repeatedly.

Josh stayed long enough to take a photograph. He got the angle right this time.

“Good old Scratch and Sniff!” cheered Danny as their furry friends disappeared behind Mrs. Sharpe's greenhouse.

Back at the Phillips's yard, Mom was being cheered by the crowd. She'd won! Even Jenny came outside to join in the celebration.

“Ugh! Flies! How disgusting!” she squealed, when she heard about the drama. “I bet Danny freaked out.”

“Nope,” said Danny. “Flies are brilliant. I will never squash a fly again. Flies are my friends.” He wandered off as Petty sidled up to Josh.

“So—are you both quite all right?” she checked, peering at him closely. “No aftereffects?”

“Not me,” said Josh. He pointed at Danny. “Not so sure about him though . . . ”

Danny's nose twitched as he stared longingly at the trash can. Danny began to drool.

“Danneeeeee!” called Josh.

“I—can't—help—it . . . ” wailed Danny, running his hands over the lid.

“SPIDER!” shouted Josh. Danny hurtled off the trash can and ran into the house. He nearly collided with Jenny as she walked back toward the house.

“Oh why must you always bug me?” yelled Jenny. “And what are you doing over there, Josh?”

“Um . . . nothing,” said Josh, sniffing at the trash can lid. He ran after Danny before he could give in to the urge to lick the gooey bits. “Gotta fly!”

antennae:
long, thin feelers, protruding from an insect's forehead. Flies use their antennae to smell and feel their surroundings.