Shrunk! (11 page)

I look at the planet, huge, and I look at the door, tiny. Then I look at our team.

We're all useless. We've got a lippy miniature devil, my stupid sister, an old lady and Eric.

Together

Everyone

Achieves

More.

TEAM. Well, it doesn't work with planets.

And it occurs to me, that no one – ever in the history of the world – has had to deal with this problem.

There's another cracking sound and Jupiter grows
again,
but there's nowhere for it to go now, just the ceiling.

We all step back a pace.

CRACK.

The planet swells again and we step back another pace.

There's a kind of gap showing underneath, but the top's gone right up into the roof space. I can see a blue suitcase revolving on the top.

It ought to be funny, but it isn't.

Half the planet's in the room, and half's in the attic. It's broken right through the rafters; all that's holding it in is the roof itself.

Eric picks up a pair of fairy wings from the floor and pokes Jupiter. It rolls and bounces like a tennis ball on water. ‘Helium,' he says. ‘It's trying to get out.'

A second later, and I've got one foot on Eric's head the other on one of Grandma's travelling trunks and I'm tearing slates off the roof and chucking them into the garden.

‘Thing is,' shouts Eric. ‘We don't want it to take off. It needs to be launched.'

‘What do you mean?' I say, tipping a bird's nest out of the gutter. ‘How do we launch a thing this big?'

‘No idea – but don't let it get away. We can't leave it bumbling along over Earth, it might end up in the wrong place.'

I climb up above Jupiter, and look dismally at the beams holding the slates up. I'd need to get rid of at least two beams to make a hole big enough to put it through, and that would only work if the planet didn't have another growing spurt.

‘Have you got a saw, Grandma?'

‘Your dad's got it, for the disappearing box – for goodness' sake, Tom, hurry up. If it gets any bigger it'll destroy the whole house.'

How on earth am I supposed to do this?

I push against the beams. I can't possibly do anything with these, they're rock hard.

I stare up at the fountains of shooting stars breaking overhead and put my thumb and middle finger together.

Yes.

Yes. I can sort this out.

I climb out on to the roof slates. It's horribly high, but I try not to think about that. The planet's nudging the beams, bouncing against them.

I stand back from the beams as far as I can.

Click

Click

And for good measure.
Click
.

Three small bars of wood lie in the palm of my hand.

Yes!

But the planet's trying to get out now – it's as if it's alive, trying to find a way through the gap. So I put my foot on it. It's the only thing I can do.

‘Help!' I shout.

‘Tom?' calls Eric. ‘Is it free? Could it float away?'

‘Almost,' I say, watching the sole of my shoe crack in the sub-zero temperature and wondering how long I can stand here. ‘I need something to hold it with, before my foot falls off.'

‘Hang on there.' Eric stuffs Tilly's cuddly penguin up through the hole. It's about the same height as Grandma, in lime green. ‘Use this to hold it, and we'll get blankets – and ropes.'

I jam the penguin on top of the planet and clamp it down with my frozen shoe . . . Ice crystals form on the green fluff and creep towards my foot. There's about a beak left before the ice reaches me. I look down through the hole for Eric. But all I can see is Jacob being dressed by Tilly. He's now about the size of a large baby, and he's wearing one of Tilly's pink babygros.

‘HELP!' I shout down the hole.

Jacob looks up at me, mournfully.
‘I would if I could,'
he says. His little arms flap on either side, he's powerless against her. I almost feel sorry for him.

‘Here,' calls Eric. ‘Take this.' He pushes something through the rafters. ‘I'll come round to the front of the house.'

‘Is that my fairy bedspread you're destroying, Tom?' Tilly's voice floats up.

I sling the bedspread over the penguin and the planet. Four ropes hang down from the corners. Jupiter drops slightly, as if the weight of the blanket is just enough to stop it flying away. I throw the ropes over the front of the house.

Phew.

CRACK.

As if someone's just pumped it full of fresh helium, the planet bounces back up at me.

NO!

I press both my hands into Tilly's fairy bedspread, and they sink into the surface. It feels utterly strange, like a vast lump of frozen candyfloss. Swelling, frozen candyfloss.

‘Hurry up!' I shout.

There's shouting and banging and screams from Tilly and doors slamming below and then Eric yells up at me from the garden. ‘We've got a ladder – hang on!'

The ropes stretch and the planet starts to slide neatly out of the attic and over the last few shattered tiles. It teeters on the edge of the roof.

‘Woah!' shouts Eric. ‘That's big – that's mega big.'

He's right. The planet's grown massively in the last few minutes and is now about the size of a small hot air balloon. It's pulling upwards like a hot air balloon too, but we don't have any of those net things that they hang over balloons, or a handy basket or a licence to fly large round things over Devon.

My arms ache from pushing it downwards, and the bedspread's starting to crack from the cold.

‘MOO!'

Eric, Grandma and a random cow stare up at me. Eric and Grandma hang on to the ropes, but Grandma's feet have already left the ground.

There's shouting, and a squeal from Tilly, and Jacob rushes out into the garden, the torn babygro flapping around his feet. He grabs the end of another rope and immediately his feet bounce over the miniature war memorial.

We need more help or more weight.

Mum and Dad?

But Mum's stuck in the disappearing cabinet, and Dad's crashing about trying to get her out.

I look down. ‘Tilly!'

Her face appears through the hole. ‘What!'

‘Get a blanket from the sofa and hand it up to me, quick.'

‘No. I'm tidying my bedroom.'

‘Come on, Tilly, please.'

‘What's it worth?'

‘Tilly!' shouts Grandma from below. ‘Go and get the big quilt off my bed. Now!'

‘Hey!'
shouts Jacob.
‘My feet are off the ground. I'm flying!'

There's an age of silence and then I hear thumping from the room below and Tilly opens her window. She's got Grandma's giant patchwork quilt. She won't hurry; she's sulking, I can tell from the way she moves. She's gazing out at Jacob like he was the sweetie she lost.

CRACK.

The planet swells again, and my feet bounce on the roof.

‘Tilly! Hand it up here.'

‘No!'

CRACK.

‘Please.'

‘I won't. You're silly,' and she pulls her head back in and goes back into her room.

‘Jacob!' I shout at him. ‘Do something, please.'

‘What?'

‘She loves you. She thinks you're a giant baby – do something.'

‘You've got to be joking. Why would I do that?'

‘Because you might just want to do the right thing. Because you might want to play a part in saving the planet?'

There's a long silence while we pant and tug and scrabble, trying to hold Jupiter in check.

‘Because that would make me a nicer person?'

‘It would.'

I can practically hear his brain working.

‘Cooee – Tilly, you help us with the blanket, and I promise you can play with me afterwards.'
And then he mutters,
‘I'll kill you for this.'

‘Really?' says Tilly and throws open her window again.

‘Come on, let's put the blankets on the big sparkly ball, and then when we've put it back into space, you can tuck me into bed.'

‘I know it's Jupiter, stupid,' says Tilly. ‘But if you'll really play with me, afterwards?'

‘Promise.'

‘Promise, double promise, with bells on?'

‘Promise, double promise, with bells on,'
growls Jacob.

Woah.

‘Well,' says Tilly, ‘if you really mean it.' She turns and stuffs the corner of the quilt up through the hole in the roof. It weighs a ton. It's so heavy that when I finally get it over the planet, the planet starts to sink. It slides slowly down the front of the house, like a huge blob of ice cream.

CRACK
. The planet doubles in size.

‘Yeay!' shouts Jacob. ‘Now we can all be crushed to death.'

I scramble down through the hole into Tilly's room. She's picking up her scattered Woodland Friends.

‘Thanks,' I say.

‘I'm never helping you again,' she says, without looking. But she follows me downstairs and when I grab the fourth corner of the quilt, she joins me.

‘Are we just going to let it go and let the astro-whatsits sort it out?'
pants Jacob.

Eric starts pulling hard, lugging the planet and the rest of us over the rooftops of the model village. ‘No – we're going to fire it. We need to get it against the south-western sky, get it between the church tower and the castle bailey and fire it.'

CRACK.

‘Fire it?' I ask.

‘Yes – like a catapult,' says Eric, panting, his laptop bag swinging round his neck.

‘Are you serious?'

A giant catapult? That would need a giant elastic band.

CRACK.

And then the lights come on.

‘It's Dad!' cries Eric. ‘He's fixed the wiring.'

A line of yellow bulbs spring into life, one by one. They ping on, stretching straight across the model village, and race out towards the sea. Another line starts out at the real castle and pings back towards the centre of town, and Eric's house.

The town's cut into sections with the lines of lights.

The gate clangs behind us. ‘Guys, I was looking for you – woah! What's this? What goes down?' It's Eric's dad; he seems to be wearing pyjamas. Actually I don't care what he's wearing – he's tall and heavy and I'm really glad to see him.

‘It's Jupiter, Dad,' says Eric.

‘Oh – yeah – sure, fantastic. A giant planet in the model village,
that
so proves the thinness of the Veil.'

The great thing about Eric's dad is that he'll believe anything.

CRACK.

How brilliant is that?

‘Hold on here, Dad,' shouts Eric. ‘Take over from Tom.' His dad grabs the quilt, I let go, and they stumble on towards the model village castle. They're all flapping from the sides, Jacob swinging like a blue tit from a giant peanut feeder.

By the shed there's a hosepipe; I pull on it. It's long enough, but not really stretchy.

I run on, thinking about stretchy things.

YUK!

It's one of the pumpkin lanterns, almost back to full size.

Pulling my shoe out of the goo, I rush towards the house. Something's blocking the hallway. The donkey. It's donkey sized and it's got Grandma's apron in its mouth.

I squeeze past it and run up the stairs. From the landing you almost wouldn't know there's a massive hole in the roof. Diving into Mum and Dad's room I throw open their wardrobe and gaze at the shelves.

There's Mum's glittery swimming costume, and her diamond-studded hats. But on the top shelf are braces. Hundreds of pairs of braces.

Dad wants to use them for performing, but I think they've got a higher purpose.

I count thirty pairs, and fill my arms with them. The donkey's still standing in the hall, eating the coat stand, but I wriggle out of the front door, trails of elastic flapping all around me.

The others are still fighting their way through the model village. Jupiter's even bigger. Surely everyone in the village can see this. Everyone in Devon. Everyone in England. Everyone in Europe. Maybe everyone in the world?

I run to overtake them and smash into something heavy and plastic. It's the giant hot dog from the seafront. Very big and very hard.

‘Ow!'

I reach the castle just before the others and discover that there is no clever way of attaching one pair of braces to another. I just have to tie them all up, like a load of spaghetti. They hang like a long, badly made hammock, slack between the castle and the church, illuminated by the shooting stars bursting overhead.

I pull on them. Together they're strong and stretchy and I feel 7%, maybe 10% better.

‘Mind out – here we come!' yells Jacob.

I turn and grab the bottom of his rope. He's dangling above me, like a small piece of ballast in a shredded babygro. He's growing. Shame – small was beautiful.

CRACK.

Jupiter swells again; in a few minutes we'll have lost it. I feel the slope of the castle under my feet, and hook my toes into one of the windows of the great tower.

CRACK.

‘Eric! The catapult's ready,' I yell.

‘I just need to check something.' Eric drops to the ground and paces back towards the house. He balances his laptop on the miniature amusement arcade and punches in some more numbers.

The planet pulls again, and I wrap the rope around my hand. If it goes it's going to take me with it.

‘Oh, Amalthea, this is truly wondersome,' says Eric's dad. He's clambering up the side, like some sort of mad mountain climber, but it's keeping the planet down.

‘Hurry up, Snot Face!' yells Jacob.

‘Who was that?' Tilly drops on to the path. ‘Oh no! Where's my doll gone?' She sees Jacob. ‘Ugh – yuk, you're horrible, Jacob Devlin, and you've ruuuuuined that babygro. You were lying – all boys are liars. I should never have trusted you.'