Shrunk! (10 page)

We thunder up through the house, passing walls plastered with posters for science fiction films. I stop for breath by a newspaper article, framed on the wall.

There's a picture of Grandma, when she was about my age, and a child in a pushchair.

‘See,' I say to Jacob. ‘They didn't even believe him then.'

He says nothing, but sighs and climbs back up to sit in my pocket.

We follow Eric right up to the roof. There's a flat patch between two chimneys and it's amazing up here – you can see right over the town, to the sea. Eric's got his laptop set up, while his dad's standing next to an enormous telescope. Washing criss-crosses the roof, and all around, tinfoil flaps slightly in the breeze. Every surface is wrapped, even the chimney and the side roofs, like a giant Easter egg.

‘What?'

‘It's for signalling.' Eric points at massive bundle of wires lying in the corner of the roof. ‘It's lined up, towards where Jupiter ought to be. When it's all ready, he'll turn the lights on, and kaboom.'

‘Kaboom, what?'
says Jacob.

‘Kaboom, the aliens will be able to see us,' says Eric. ‘They'll be able to follow the lines of lights to Dad.'

‘You're serious?'
asks Jacob.

Eric points at his dad.

I look up – for a second expecting to see an alien spaceship hovering above the house, but it's just the meteorites, bursting all around us. You can barely see the moon, let alone the stars. It's as if we're standing in a field of sparklers.

Eric's dad's waving his arms about like a little kid. ‘Oh! It's them,' he says in this dreamy voice. ‘It has to be, they're showing themselves at last. I mean, we might be walking between the worlds soon, Eric – taking on their mantle. And of course they took Jupiter as a sign.' He rubs his chin. ‘Unless they took it for fuel.'

I can hear Jacob laughing in my pocket.

‘Yes, Dad,' says Eric. He starts tapping things into his laptop. Strings of numbers fly across the screen.

‘Oh yes – it's them. It must be, they're signalling, in such a sensitive way – so beautiful, so creative.'

‘What's the telescope looking at?' I whisper.

Eric points at a square of black on one side of the laptop screen. ‘That's the sky, that's what the telescope can see. It's trained to track Jupiter – at least, it's trained to track Jupiter's bit of empty sky.'

‘Oh, yeah – sure, Grandson of Amalthea – have a look. You can be our witness, when we've gone.' I can see the excitement on his face. He's all dressed up in camouflage gear, like he's going on a jungle expedition. His hair's standing round his head like a halo. ‘Eric – are you prepared, have you given up the Earth?'

I look at the little square of black on the laptop screen. All I can see is shooting stars. ‘Gosh,' I say. ‘Is there a spaceship?'

Eric's dad nods. ‘It's probably the same one that visited me, the one that took me when I was little. Magical beings, huge gentle magical beings. They're so . . . cool.'

‘Huge?' I ask.

‘Oh yes, Grandson of Amalthea. Although I was only a year old, I remember them – giants from another world, giants that played with me and fed me and kept me warm. Giants that smelled of lavender. Giants, filled with love.'

Lavender? Grandma's meteorite was wrapped up with lavender, and what was it she said?
I wished for a baby brother to play with
.

Surely not – surely she didn't take Eric's dad? I stand with my mouth open, trying to form a sentence. ‘So—'

But Eric interrupts. ‘Jolly good, Dad, don't think Tom needs to know all this.' His voice squeaks with embarrassment.

‘Of course not, that's in the past, and now we look to the future – are we ready to signal?' Eric's dad's hopping from foot to foot, gazing at the sky. Then he rushes over to an extension lead coming out of the roof trap. It's got twelve of those old yellowy plug sockets jammed in anyhow, and from those thirty or so more plugs, leading to the heap of wires at the side of the roof. It looks completely lethal.

His finger hovers over the little red switch.

I hold my breath.

Snap.

For just over half a minute, six lines of lights radiate out across the town, down to the sea, so that the roof looks like the control tower of a major international airport.

‘Woah!'
says Jacob.

‘Oh, heavens!' cries Eric's dad, leaping in the centre. He crashes into a line of washing, and pants and socks float across the tinfoil. I step back – I don't want him to knock me flying – and I catch a whiff of something.

‘What's that smell?' I whisper to Eric.

We turn, just in time to see a flame leap from the tangle of plugs, followed by a loud bang, and then we're plunged into darkness.

We leave Eric trying to persuade his dad that without the lights, the aliens probably won't land, and that Eric might not be going with them if they do as he'd quite like to finish his education. His dad looks a bit gutted.

I take Jacob back down through the dark house and wait for Eric on the doorstep.

‘So that's sorted, is it, Superboy? Snot Face has done the calculations, and we've got the all-clear to save the planet?'

He doesn't really fit in my pocket any more, but he's still small enough to squeeze to death. ‘You haven't grown yet. You could spend the rest of your life in a devil suit, six inches tall.'

‘Jupiter could spend the rest of our short lives in your sister's bedroom, only six inches across. You've got to find it, hope it grows and stick it back up where it's supposed to be. Let's face it, Genius, that's a lot of hoping.'

I stare up at the sky.

‘You don't know how to put it back, though, do you?'

I shake my head. He's horribly right. ‘Got any ideas?'

Jacob laughs.
‘Oh – I love this, asking me for advice. Shame we'll all be dead before I get to tell anyone.'

We stumble down the street. Eric's panting hard. He's got his laptop weighing him down and I don't think he's used to this much exercise, but I need him with me. He's the only person I know who's remotely capable of putting Jupiter back where it should be.

‘If we can get Jupiter back in the right place, really soon,' says Eric, ‘all the shooting stars'll stop. The asteroids'll go back to where they came from.'

‘Sure?'

‘100%.'

‘100%?' I ask.

‘1000%,' says Eric.

We're nearly back at the model village and this time I can see the glow from Tilly's bedroom. I hope that's not the planet. It's been nearly three days – so how big will it be now? A tennis ball, a football? Maybe even a space hopper.

The garage door's open. Dad's hammering on the door of the disappearing cabinet. There are rabbits bouncing around his feet. ‘Laura? Laura? Can you hear me? I'll try this one.'

‘Dad?'

‘I've lost your mum inside. We can't find the proper door. Give me a hand.' He looks a bit desperate.

‘I'd love to, Dad – but we're on a mission. Back soon.'

Grandma's still sitting there on the landing, knitting. She's knitting a chessboard now. Tilly's door's shut.

Grandma looks up. ‘Hello, Tom, Eric.'

‘Is Tilly back?' I ask.

She peers at my pocket. ‘Jacob. My, haven't you grown. Yes, she is back, but she sneaked in while I was trying to help your father find your mother in the disappearing cabinet. Your mother seems to have properly disappeared. And now Tilly's locked
her
self in.'

I hammer on the door.

‘Tilly – let me in. I know what you took – but I don't think you know what it is.'

‘What is it she's got, dear?' asks Grandma.

‘Nothing much.'

Jacob jabs me in the neck.

‘Ow – no, really, nothing much.'

‘Go away,' shouts Tilly. ‘I'm having fun and I don't want you wrecking it.'

‘Tilly – please.'

‘There's a password.'

‘Please?' I shout.

‘No.'

‘Abracadabra,' calls Grandma.

‘Halloween,' says Eric.

‘Woodland Friends?' I say.

‘No, no, no.'

‘Shazam, what is it that they say at the pantomime?' says Grandma. ‘Open sesame.'

‘Doctor Who!' I shout, grabbing the TV pages from Grandma's knitting bag. I take them apart and slip a sheet under the door.

‘Rumplestiltskin.'

‘Guinea pig, hamsters.' I lift Jacob up and put him on the door handle. ‘Dressing up, wings, wands, sparkly crowny things.'

‘What am I doing here?'
whispers Jacob.

I point into the lock, at the shiny end of the key. ‘Push it out.'

‘Aladdin!' yells Grandma.

‘No and utterly, no.'

‘Please,' I say.

‘You've already said that; and it's wrong.'

Jacob's reaching around inside the lock. He waves his hands at us, as if we should shout louder, so we do.

‘CINDERELLA,' yells Grandma, really loudly.

‘FAIRY,' I scream.

‘E = MC squared,' shouts Eric.

We all stare at him.

‘Theory of relativity,' says Eric, looking at the floor.

‘Oooooh,'
says Jacob, his leg deep in the keyhole.

Ping
. The key falls from the lock on to the newspaper and quick as a flash I pull it under the door.

‘Very clever, I'm sure,' says Grandma, taking the key from me and slipping it past Jacob's leg, into the lock.

The door opens.

Oh!

I was prepared for the idea that Jupiter would have grown. I was expecting something the size of a basketball. But this?

‘Wow,' says Eric.

‘Oh my word,' says Grandma, sinking on to the bed.

‘Go away,' says Tilly. ‘It's mine, and I want you all to go away.'

We stand there, staring. Even Jacob stops with his mouth open, gazing at the giant ball. It's an Eric tall and an Eric wide. Spinning like the display in the jeweller's in the high street, but there's no glitter any more – instead it's sort of smoking, like hot brown soup.

‘Tilly,' says Grandma. ‘What is it?'

Tilly doesn't say anything, but points at me.

Grandma stares at me. ‘Tom?'

I shrug – what else can I do? And then, when Grandma goes on staring, I say, ‘Jupiter. It's Jupiter.'

For a moment, I think she's going to have a heart attack. ‘Tom,' she says. ‘Tom. What have you done?'

‘I shrank it. Three days ago.'

‘No! I can't believe you're that stupid.'

‘But, Grandma, I didn't know. It was the first thing I clicked on.'

‘You should have told me.'

CRACK
.

The planet groans and almost doubles in size. Now it's a Dad tall and a Dad wide.

‘Now look what you've done!' shouts Tilly. ‘It's wrecking my room.'

‘S'not my fault!' I shout.

‘Yes it is,' says Tilly. ‘It's all your fault.'

‘Oh, goody goody, are you two going to have a fight? I love a good fight.'

‘Who said that?' Tilly, who's been looking for a sulking spot on the other side of the room, sees Jacob.

‘Oh, wow, a living doll.' She leaps forward and grabs him from the floor. ‘It's a real doll, just you wait. You can live with Toots in the Spangle Palace. And I've got some clothes for you.'

‘No, stop her!'

‘Oh! Shush, Jacob, can't you see it's a crisis?' says Grandma.

Eric picks his way over the scattered Woodland Friends, until his fingers are an inch from the planet's surface. ‘Wow!' He's gazing at it. ‘Wow.'

‘Don't. It'll burn you,' I say.

‘One hundred and sixty degrees below freezing,' he says in answer, his voice full of hushed wonder. ‘It's incredible. It's marvellous.'

‘Probably . . .'

‘I never thought . . . I mean, we're standing in the presence of an ancient and wonderful thing, something that's reached out to man for as long as man's been on the planet.'

‘Eric, you're beginning to sound like your father,' says Grandma.

‘Sorry . . . There are sixty-four moons, you know. Look – there, see.'

Something about the size of a ping-pong ball whizzes past my nose.

‘It takes a little under ten hours to rotate.'

‘Help! Snot Face, Model Village, help!'

I turn to look for Jacob, but there's this cracking noise, and the whole thing grows again, taking a chunk out of the ceiling.

‘Yow!' screams Tilly, and grabs Jacob to her chest. She's jammed him into a pair of mauve flared trousers, and a velveteen jacket. He's trying to get his teeth round her finger, but Tilly's used to hamsters. There's no way she'll let him bite her.