Shrunk! (8 page)

‘Are we going to school?'
he asks.

I nod.

‘Oh goody. I can tell everyone about my adventures with Uncle Tom and Uncle Eric.'

‘No.' I shrink three comics, and a slightly broken cracker toy. I drop them into a camera case, with an apple, a torch and some jelly beans. Jacob should fit down the side, but I have to take out the apple, because he's not as small as I thought. ‘You can't tell anyone anything. Jump in, and keep quiet.'

I wonder if you can catch a sheep with a corned beef sandwich?

The animals have moved down into the crazy golf – I can hear them baaing and mooing like mad down there. It's amazing that Grandma hasn't spotted them. I'll have to do something with them later; they can't live in the model village for ever.

Eric's on the bus. We're all wearing polo shirts, no sweatshirts today, even though it's the first of November. The henchmen sit on the back seat, muttering. Without Jacob they seem smaller.

He's singing in my pocket. ‘
I want to break free . . .
' No chance. Luckily the grindy gears on the bus drown him out.

I walk into school, staring up at the sky. In the day it's all less frightening – you can't see the meteorites crashing through the atmosphere. It almost feels normal. It's almost normal to have a tiny devil in my pocket. It's almost normal to have lost a planet. It's just very warm.

During registration, everyone's talking about Jacob going missing. The police are here, they want to talk to us all. Apparently, Jacob's been taken by a gang from London and sold into child slavery. Apparently, he's so clever he's been taken by boffins from an American university and wired into their computer.

As if. Why would anyone want Jacob Devlin?

My insides are knotted with worry now. We still haven't found Jupiter, so I stare out of the window, pretending to be bored, but actually I'm ready to click on an asteroid if it decides to crash here.

The police come into our classroom, they're all sweaty. Three men, three women. I expect they work as a team. Together, they're achieving more.

They break up and start questioning us. There's no getting away from it; they're going to want to speak to us all. Mr Bell takes them round, he looks all serious and mournful.

‘The poor little lamb,' he says. Lamb? I'd always seen Jacob as more of a pig.

‘Now, lad,' says one particularly tall policeman, bending down to talk to me. He smells of aftershave and bacon sandwiches. ‘I'm sure it's distressing, I'm sure it's a worry, but you're not to bother yourself – it won't happen to you.'

I nod. I try to look sorry. I keep my eyes turned down. In my pocket I can feel Jacob jumping up and down inside the camera case. I give him a gentle squeeze to shut him up.

He bites me.

OW! Shivers run up and down my spine and I feel myself start to cry. Ow, that hurt. The policeman takes one look at my face and pulls a chair up. He sort of folds on to it, and puts his head on one side, giving me that ‘I understand' look. ‘Don't cry, lad, it'll be fine, you'll see.'

I keep my mouth shut and nod my head.

‘Thing is, we're wondering if you saw young Jacob last night, out and about? Were you trick or treating?'

I shake my head. Then nod. I can't pretend I wasn't out – Eric might say we were out together. Oh no! What
is
Eric going to say? I look across, he's talking to a policewoman. He looks as if he's saying quite a lot.

‘You were, or you weren't.'

‘I was,' I say, as quietly as possible. I need to keep this upset thing going. I sniff, loudly, and the policeman digs in his pocket for a tissue.

‘So what time do you think you went out?' asks the policeman.

‘About six?' What's Eric going to say?

‘And did you see Jacob?'

‘I did.' Now why did I say that?

The policeman holds up his hand, and a policewoman appears, looking all concerned. Mr Bell follows – he looks even more concerned.

There's a horrible silence in the classroom, and from deep in my pocket, I hear Jacob yowling like a cat. I put my hand over my stomach and pretend it was me. He's singing something. ‘Ring a Ring o' Roses'?

The policemen look at each other and frown.

Too loudly, I say, ‘My phone.' No one looks as if they believe me, so I have to start talking to cover the noise. ‘Eric was there too. We both saw Jacob – didn't we?'

The girls gasp.

The boys shuffle their feet and bang the chairs.

‘Yes,' says Eric, and stares at me.

‘He took your sweets – don't you remember?'

The henchmen giggle. The policeman looks round and they shut up, immediately.

‘Yes,' says Eric, still staring at me.

‘That doesn't sound like Jacob!' says Mr Bell.

The policemen look puzzled.

‘It does. He's a bully,' says Eric.

The girls gasp.

‘No he's not – he's a gifted and talented youth,' says Mr Bell.

‘When was this?' asks the policewoman.

Jacob's yowling again. I can't keep pretending it's my stomach – he's kicking and punching at the camera bag and my hand really hurts.

‘Just as it got dark,' I say quickly and loudly. ‘We were near the town hall, he tried to take Eric's sweets, and then I came along and he . . .'

I can't say,
shrank
.

‘Yes?' asks the policewoman.

‘Vanished.'

‘Yes,' says Eric.

‘Where? Vanished?' asks Mr Bell.

‘Vanished,' I say.

‘Vanished,' says Eric.

Jacob starts singing, ‘London's Burning'.

‘Into the dark,' I say.

‘Into the dark,' says Eric.

‘Hmm,' says Mr Bell.

They finally let us out at lunchtime. By then my stomach really is rumbling. Jacob's bitten through the bag, and is yelling his head off. He's singing rude songs about Eric.

‘Dinner hall!' shouts Eric.

Luckily the hall's so noisy no one could possibly hear Jacob, and we take as long as we can to get our packed lunches out of the store.

‘Whew,' says Eric.

‘Did you hear him?'

‘I heard “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” when Mr Bell was on about strangers and aliens. You should have left him at home.'

‘And have Grandma find him?'

Eric sighs. ‘What
are
you going to do with him? He can't live like that for ever.'

‘He's the least of my worries.'

‘I'll come and help you look for Jupiter.'

In the playground, we hide behind the bins and Eric gives Jacob a corner of his tofu sandwich.

Jacob bites into the sandwich and scowls.
‘Yuk, Four Eyes, this is disgusting. D'you eat this muck every day?'

‘It's nutritious, and healthy. At least I won't die of clogged arteries, and obesity.'

‘What d'you mean? Are you calling me obese?'

Eric looks across at me. ‘Well, yes,' he says. ‘Technically, I think you probably are.'

Jacob squeezes in his gut. It doesn't really get any smaller. But I notice he seems less like a bed bug now, and more like a pile of overripe tomatoes. ‘I'm not fat – I'm just, well built.'

‘Whatever,' says Eric.

There's a silence while Jacob examines his stomach, rolling it in and out like a Mexican wave.

‘So, Model Village, what you going to do? You've been a bit careless with the solar system. Will I be able to tell the world that you're an idiot that messes about with the cosmos? That you, single-handedly, destroyed the Eiffel Tower?'

‘You won't be able to tell them anything,' I say, ‘from my pocket.'

‘They're looking for me.'

‘They are,' says Eric.

‘You'd get in so much trouble if they found out what's really happened.'

‘The size you are now, they'd probably just swat you – think you were a giant ladybird or something.' I smile. ‘Or a bird might carry you off. You need us, you know.'

‘Yes,' says Eric. ‘Without us to explain just what's happened, someone with eyesight like Tom's grandma would think you were a mouse. If you start running around and squealing on the floor – well, who knows . . .?'

Jacob's tiny face wrinkles up, as if he's just realised what's going on.

‘But I could tell them afterwards, when I'm big.'

‘You could,' I say. I can't think of a reason why he couldn't. Except that he might never be big again.

‘Hmmm, you could – but
I
wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it happen, right in front of me.' Eric shrugs. ‘So go ahead,' he says. ‘But they'll think you're mad – like my dad. The only person who ever believed him about the aliens was Tom's grandma. No one else did, not even my mum, not even his mum. He's had years of ridicule. Look at him now.'

‘Do you believe him?' I ask.

‘Probably. Something massive happened to him.' I can't tell what Eric thinks as he says this – the light shines off his glasses. He points at Jacob. ‘A bit like you, really.'

We both stare at Jacob. His face is all crumpled. He's smaller – well, he's not smaller, he's just stopped being big and full.

‘I promise.'

‘What?'

‘I promise to keep quiet. At least I promise to keep quiet while I'm small.'

‘Why?'

‘Because.'

‘Because why?'

‘Because I just do.'

I charge into the house and pound up the stairs, but Grandma's sitting out on the landing, knitting a tiny tent.

‘Hello, Tom, love.'

I push Jacob deeper into my pocket.

‘Hello, Grandma.'

I dodge for my room.

There's a game lying on the floor outside. Tilly must have left it.

‘Tom – is there anything you want to tell me?'

I wish she'd stop asking that.

‘N-no.'

I crash in through the door, throwing the game on the bed.

Jacob leaps out of my pocket and runs for the catch-the-baby thing. He seems bigger now. How did he ever fit in that treasure chest?

‘Aren't you going to help?' I whisper, just in case Grandma's listening at the door.

He stares at me for a moment.
‘But I always play computer games when I get home from school.'

‘Shhh.' I turn on the radio. ‘Well, this isn't home. It's a crisis and you gotta help,' I say, dropping to my hands and knees and looking under the chest of drawers for the millionth time.

He takes a long look at the game, opens and closes the lid, then clambers off the table and, much to my surprise, crawls off under the bed.
‘Better be a reward, Model Village. Yuk – what's this?'
He kicks a cheese and pickle sandwich out from under the bed that I hid from Grandma the first weekend we were here. I was too scared to tell her that I don't like pickle.

I shake each of my shoes out on to a piece of paper. All I find is a teddy bear head and a ten cent coin.

I sit back against the bed and think.

Where else could it be?

Jacob's trying out a toy car, but he won't fit through the window.

I stare at the wall.

There's a drawing pin, stuck to the plaster the wrong way round. The pin seems to be sticking towards me.

Weird.

I get up to have a look and pull at the drawing pin. It comes away quite easily, but when I let go, it sticks to the wall again. Two paper clips and a picture nail hover just above the skirting board. They're not apparently held up by anything.

I pull at them and it feels like pulling a nail away from a magnet.

Magnet?

What did Eric say about magnetic pull? With Jupiter the size it was when it came out of the sky, the magnetic force field would only have been about five centimetres. But the paper clip and the drawing pin are a metre apart. Eric must have got the calculation wrong. The magnetic field must be at least a metre, and it's on the other side of the wall.

Tilly's room.

She's got Jupiter. That's why she won't let me in her room.

Yeah! That means I haven't lost it.

Yippee! Yippee! Yippee! We won't all be fried by the sun, or blasted by asteroids. I've saved the world – I'm a hero.

Except that it's in Tilly's room, she's doing after-school ballet, and Grandma's out there fiddling about.

And I'm still too scared of Grandma.

I pull the door open, really quietly.

I don't breathe. I reckon Grandma can hear breathing. She can't hear the telly but she can hear someone eating a biscuit.

I stick my head out to have a look.

She's still there, really close. There's no way I can get into Tilly's room without her spotting me.

Blast.

So I come back in. Jacob's legs are sticking out from under the bed.

How can I get into Tilly's room? It's only on the other side of the wall. The other side of a five-hundred-year-old stone wall, with no convenient hole in it.

Why is none of this easy?

I check the landing again and Grandma's still there.

Is there any other way in? We could distract her somehow and rush in, but I don't think she's that deaf. Anyway there's always the chance that she would think that Jacob really was a bed bug and squash him.

I look around my bedroom again.

The window.

It's a big sash window, and it nearly fully opens. I push it up as far as it'll go. It wedges open.

I stick my head out and look along the front of the house to Tilly's room. There's a ledge that runs along under the windows, but I don't think you're supposed to walk along it, and below is the model village church with a tall spire.