The Phredde Collection (65 page)

Books don’t eat, do they?

The next day was even worse.

It was Tuesday for a start. I hate Tuesdays. At least on Monday I’m all fresh from the weekend. And I can tell all my friends about how I was captured by trolls,
chained up in their dungeons, and how I had to file through the chains with my nail file and all the other fun stuff I’d been up to over the weekend.

But on Tuesdays, the whole week just stretches out in front of me and I can’t even say: ‘Well, I’m halfway through,’ like I can on Wednesday.

And school was weird.

Phredde and I popped into the library before school, just in case Miss Snagglethorpe needed a hand. She didn’t, but she’d just catalogued a couple of new books, which we could take out before anyone else had even seen them.

She really was nice.

So we stayed and chatted with her for a while, then the volcano exploded and we had to go and line up for school.

Anyway, the first hour or so of class was okay. But as the morning wore on, I just got more and more tired. It was really weird.

At least we had a library class just before lunch. But you know something? It was hard even to get enthusiastic about the library.

I mean, normally I love the library. It’s as though it’s my personal territory—and Phredde’s and the librarian’s, of course. But this morning I couldn’t even seem to remember how to find the ‘E’ section.

I glanced at Phredde. She was perched up on the top shelf of the ‘Natural Science’ bookcase, looking vaguely around the library as though she’d forgotten what book she was interested in. In fact, everyone seemed to be in much the same state, except for Miss Snagglethorpe, who seemed bright and cheery with her big grey and yellow grin.

Glop!!
I looked down. There was Bruce, gazing up at me with his googly, froggy eyes. ‘I’ve got a strange feeling about this place,’ he whispered.

I snorted. ‘You just don’t like books.’

‘I don’t like those books.’ Bruce waved a moist footpad over towards the new bookshelf.

‘Them? They’re just Miss Snagglethorpe’s pets.’

Bruce made a rude, froggy noise. ‘Who ever heard of pet books?’

‘I think it’s cute,’ I defended her. ‘It just shows how much she loves books.’

‘I just think it shows that she’s two buns short of a hamburger,’ said Bruce. ‘And I think there’s something weird about those books. In fact, the whole library feels different lately. We frogs have a feeling about these things.’

A few days ago, I’d have come up with a really good answer to that. But today, my head felt full of cotton wool. So I poked my tongue out at him instead, which was a mistake because Bruce poked his right back at me, and being a frog, his tongue is about fifty times as long as mine.

‘Anyway,’ said Bruce, when he’d rolled it back in, plus a blowfly or two he’d caught on the way. (There did seem to be more flies in the library than usual. I wondered vaguely if Miss Snagglethorpe was wearing a fly-attracting perfume.) ‘I’m not hanging around here any longer.’

I stared. ‘But you can’t go without taking a book out!’

‘Watch me,’ said Bruce. He hopped over to the window, then hopped up between the curtains and
plop!
he was gone.

I suppose being a frog must be useful sometimes.

The world was getting vaguer and vaguer…I gave myself a shake. Maybe Mum was right. Maybe I did need to get to bed earlier. I grabbed the first book I could see and took it over to the desk.

Phredde fluttered up behind me. She’d selected a book called
Traditional Dances of North Eastern Scandinavia,
which, believe me, really isn’t a topic that Phredde is fascinated with.

‘Ah, Prudence and Phredde,’ said Miss Snagglethorpe happily. ‘Are you coming to do your library monitoring again at lunchtime?’

I shook my head. ‘We only do monitor duty on Monday and Friday lunchtimes, Miss Snagglethorpe.’

Miss Snagglethorpe’s face fell. ‘Oh, what a pity! It’s so nice to have children in here. Lots and lots of children. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to change your minds?’

I glanced at Phredde. It’s awfully hard to say ‘No’ when someone really wants you to do something, especially someone as nice as Miss Snagglethorpe.

‘Okay,’ said Phredde.

‘Wonderful,’ said Miss Snagglethorpe. ‘And you tell all your friends to drop in, too. You don’t just have to wait for Tuesday mornings to take books out you know! And there are lots of lovely magazines as well!’ She leant forward conspiratorially. ‘You know what?’ she whispered.

‘What?’ I whispered back.

‘I’m going to get a Coke machine installed. And an icecream dispenser, too. Anyone who comes into the library will get free icecream and soft drink!’

‘Wow!’ I said.

Miss Snagglethorpe beamed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I hope everyone in the whole school will come to my library at lunchtime!’

‘You know, she’s really nice,’ said Phredde, as she fluttered down the library steps beside me.

‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘Fancy doing all that, just to get kids reading. She’s really dedicated.’ I paused. ‘Phredde, did you happen to notice how many fingers Miss Snagglethorpe had yesterday?’

‘Ten, I think,’ said Phredde, surprised.

‘I thought so too,’ I said. ‘But today, she only had nine.’

‘You must have miscounted,’ said Phredde, giving a butterfly a swift kick up the abdomen when it brushed too close to her.

‘Yeah, probably,’ I said vaguely. It was really hard to remember anything today.

On Wednesday, I forgot my schoolbag and had to go back for it.

On Thursday, I forgot my schoolbag, and then I forgot my lunch and then I forgot to eat it.

And it wasn’t just me, either. Everyone else was getting vaguer and vaguer, though no one was quite as vague as me and Phredde.

‘I just can’t understand what’s wrong!’ cried Mrs Olsen on Friday afternoon, after she’d forgotten where she’d put the chalk for the fifth time. ‘I’ll forget my own coffin next! Maybe I need a tonic, a different blood group, perhaps.’ She sighed. ‘Well, at least it’s a long weekend! Three whole lovely days! I think we could all do with a rest!’

Phredde and I were almost out the school gates that afternoon when we saw Miss Snagglethorpe,
tromp, tromp, tromping
across the courtyard.

‘Have a good weekend, Miss Snagglethorpe!’ yelled Phredde.

Miss Snagglethorpe shook her head. ‘I don’t like weekends,’ she sighed.

I stared. ‘Why not?’

‘The books get…lonely…’ said Miss Snagglethorpe forlornly.

I tried not to giggle. Librarians sure are strange sometimes. But it was sweet how she was concerned for her books.

‘Well, it’s only for three days,’ I said comfortingly.

‘Three!’ Miss Snagglethorpe stared at me.

‘It’s a long weekend,’ I reminded her.

‘A long weekend. Oh, dear. Oh dear, oh dear. I haven’t made any arrangements,’ she said worriedly.

‘That’s okay. The supermarket down the road is open every day,’ I assured her.

‘That wasn’t what I meant…I meant the books…’ Miss Snagglethorpe broke off and forced a grey-lipped smile. ‘Well, have a good time, girls.’

‘You bet,’ said Phredde.

It was only when we were halfway home that I remembered.

Didn’t Miss Snagglethorpe have two ears at lunchtime?

It was a fantastic weekend.

I slept late on Saturday morning and when I woke up I felt really great, not vague at all.

On Saturday afternoon, Mum, Dad, me and Mark went to the beach with Phredde’s family. We’d planned to go to Hawaii for a few hours to catch the waves, but the Phaery Splendifera had forgotten about the time difference, so it was night-time when we got there.

Then she overcorrected and we went back 1000 years instead of 10 hours and there was a great battle going on, with hundreds of canoes, spears and everything. I mean, it was really cool! Though Mum got a bit upset when a spear went through the picnic basket. (It just crushed the banana cake a bit, that’s all.)

On Sunday morning, I just hung around at home, and in the afternoon, Phredde and I went out in my pirate ship and got attacked by this giant white whale, and I got heaps from Mum because I’d accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to tell her that I was going sailing. (You know how parents stress about every little thing.)

Which meant that on Monday morning, I was grounded.

Well, it wasn’t too bad. To be honest, I was pretty tired, especially as I hadn’t got to bed until late the night before, due to having to row the dinghy back in the dark after the pirate ship sank, and then having to listen to Mum’s lecture. (‘No, Mum, I won’t go out in the pirate ship again without telling you.’ Well, I can’t, can I? Not until the captain gets it repaired, and that’ll take weeks.)

So I slept in, had breakfast just as everyone else was having lunch, and then went down to the moat to feed my piranhas.

They’re Dad’s piranhas, actually. I gave them to him last Christmas, but now that he has to spend so much of his time grooming his giant sloth (you should have seen his face when he unwrapped it), not to mention wiping up its dribble, he’s quite happy to let me feed his piranhas.

‘You feed them any time you want to, Prudence,’ he said seriously.

‘Sure thing, Dad,’ I said. ‘Hey, do you know they can skeletonise a cow in ten minutes?’

‘You told me, Prudence,’ said Dad, sort of wearily. (I think he’s been overdoing things lately, with grooming his sloth and all that. Maybe he needs to get to bed early too.)

Then he brightened a bit. ‘How long do you think it would take them to skeletonise a giant sloth?’

‘Oh, Dad!’ I giggled. I mean, I knew he was joking.

Anyway, there I was, all relaxed in the sunshine, throwing bits of bacon rind and leftover meatballs into the moat, as well as the chicken breasts that had gone green in the fridge because Mum had forgotten she had them. Luckily, piranhas don’t mind about eating stuff like that. They were leaping out of the water and gobbling up each titbit, and sometimes gobbling bits of each other accidentally-on-purpose—just like me and the pirate ship.

‘Come on, Sarah, you spit out Nathan’s fins right now.’ I mean, you have to start somewhere when you are training piranhas. ‘Laura and Chelsea, it’s not good manners to eat your friends…’

Anyway, I was halfway through seeing if Melissa would burp up Anna, and if Anna would still be able to swim away if she did, when Mark yelled down from the castle tower, ‘Hey, Prune Face, phone call for you!’ (I hate big brothers sometimes.)

‘Coming Dog’s Breath!’ I yelled back. I raced over the drawbridge, through the forecourt and up the stairs; then through the Great Hall, along the corridor, up another flight of stairs; down THAT corridor (you get really fit living in a castle) and into the Ballroom, where we keep the phone, the TV and video, and other necessities.

‘Hello?’ I said, wondering who it could be. It wouldn’t be Phredde, because she’d just have PING!ed herself over to our castle if she wanted to talk about something. Even Bruce would probably give me a PING! instead of a call.

‘Prudence dear? It’s Miss Snagglethorpe,’ said the voice on the other end of the phone.

‘Oh, hi Miss Snagglethorpe,’ I said, surprised. ‘What’s up?’

The voice on the other end of the phone seemed to hesitate. ‘I wonder if you could do me a tiny favour, dear?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

‘Would you mind just popping down to the library for a few minutes? There’s a little job I need a hand with. It really won’t take long.’

I wrinkled my nose. Actually, I wasn’t too keen on heading back to school until I had to, even if it was to the library. But, after all, we library monitors have our responsibilities.

‘Okay,’ I said agreeably. ‘I’ll just check with Mum if it’s okay. I’m supposed to be grounded today, but she’s probably forgiven me by now.’

‘Oh, no dear, don’t tell your mother,’ Miss Snagglethorpe said hurriedly.

‘Why not?’

There was another pause at the end of the phone. ‘Um…er…because I’ve got a present for you to give your mother,’ said Miss Snagglethorpe at last. ‘As a reward for all your hard work in the library.’

‘Hey, cool!’ I said. ‘It’s not a book of crossword puzzles is it? Mum loves crossword puzzles.’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Snagglethorpe. ‘How did you guess? It’s a book of crossword puzzles.’

‘Cool,’ I said again. ‘Okay, I’ll tell her I’m going over to Phredde’s to check on some homework. Hey, are you sure you wouldn’t like Phredde to come, too?’

‘Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,’ said Miss Snagglethorpe. She gave a little giggle. ‘We certainly don’t need magic powers for this little operation! See you in half an hour then?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ I said.

School is weird without any kids around. Just empty buildings and the pigeons pecking at the…

I stared. The pigeons weren’t pecking at all. They were just standing there, like they couldn’t remember what pecking was all about.

Weird.

Miss Snagglethorpe was waiting for me at the library door, in her grey dress and cardigan, and clumpy, rainy sky-coloured shoes. She smiled her yellow, toothy smile and opened the door wide. ‘Come in, my dear. Come in!’

I followed her into the library, trying not to stare.

‘Er…Miss Snagglethorpe?’ I said.

‘Yes, dear?’

‘I hope you don’t think I’m rude, but I couldn’t help noticing…’

‘Noticing what, dear?’ Miss Snagglethorpe’s grey lips smiled down at me.

‘Er…your arm,’ I said.

‘Yes? What about my arm?’

‘Well, er…it isn’t there.’ I was absolutely sure Miss Snagglethorpe’d had two arms on Friday.

‘Oh, you mean this?’ Miss Snagglethorpe looked down at the empty sleeve of her cardigan. ‘I must have dropped it accidentally,’ she said casually. ‘So careless of me.’

‘Oh…er, right,’ I said. Maybe Miss Snagglethorpe had a false arm, I thought to myself. Maybe she’d had a really bad accident and had lost an arm, so now she wore a false one and she’d taken it off to…er, to…well, for some reason or other, and had forgotten to put it back on.

‘Is that why you need a hand…er…sorry…I mean, is that why you need my help this afternoon? Because you’ve only got one arm?’