The Phredde Collection (68 page)

‘Heeeelllp meeeee!’ screamed Amelia as he slung her back over his shoulder.

‘Grrrrooowwwwlllll!’ snarled sort-of-cousin Tobias, staring around and baring his fangs at us, as though daring us to come any closer.

And that’s when it happened.

All at once, there was a small, brown streak way over the other side of the lily pond. It grew closer, closer, closer…

‘It’s another werewolf!’ shrieked Phredde from somewhere up towards Mars.

‘A real one!’ I added from under the tablecloth.

‘Just what we need,’ groaned Bruce from the lily pond.

The new werewolf paid no attention. It leapt from lily pad to lily pad towards us, growling under its breath. Then it was launching itself at sort-of-cousin Tobias, snapping at his throat.

Well, after that, it was all over very quickly. Sort-of-cousin Tobias—or whoever he was—screamed. He dropped Amelia and made a grab for the werewolf, who bit his ankle. Sort-of-cousin Tobias shrieked again and crumpled to the ground.

‘Tie him up someone!’ yelled the werewolf, but it was sort of muffled because his fangs were around his enemy’s throat again.

I looked around for a rope but there wasn’t one. Then suddenly PING! there was one in my hand (apparently Phredde could magic rope at full moon, just not werewolves). I crawled out and looped it around sort-of-cousin Tobias’s feet and pulled it tight, and then around his arms, then I strung them both together just like the hero did in that great movie I saw last Saturday. Then I shoved a few fried moths into his mouth, just in case he felt like a snack, and gagged him with a bit of tablecloth.

Well, by this time Phredde had descended and was perched on the table between the pizza and the caramel icecream with pecan brittle, Bruce had hopped out of the lily pond, and the rest of the class were all crowded around trying to peer over each other’s shoulders to see what was going on. Even
Amelia had stopped screaming and was just snuffling against a leg of the table.

‘Wow!’ I said to the werewolf. ‘That was some rescue!’

‘Think nothing of it,’ said the werewolf modestly. ‘I’m your sort-of-cousin Tobias, by the way. You must be Prudence.’

‘Er, hi,’ I said. I wondered if I should try to explain the mix up to him, but then decided not to bother. ‘Er…how did you get here?’

‘Uncle Ron took longer mowing the lawn than he thought he would,’ explained the real sort-of-cousin Tobias. ‘So we were late getting to your place. Your mum gave the Phaery Splendifera a ring and she PING!ed me over here…’

‘Just in time too,’ croaked Bruce.

‘My hero!’ breathed Amelia from the table leg, but luckily no one heard her except me. How embarrassing can you get? I mean, that’s no way to thank someone who’s just saved you from a wereman.

Anyway, Bruce’s parents turned up about then (I suppose they finally noticed all the commotion). They helped us haul the wereman down into the castle dungeons, where he would stay until they worked out what they were going to do with him.

Then we all had supper and went back to dancing. Like I said, it was a really cool party, and the real sort-of-cousin Tobias had a really great time, which is what he deserved after defeating the wereman. (Although, he did keep well away from Amelia. Maybe he HAD heard what she’d said back there.)

Actually, Amelia seemed a bit shaken by it all—she hardly said anything the rest of the night. But Phredde and I reckoned that was an improvement.

‘Did you have a good time?’ Mum asked later that night, as I dragged myself off to bed.

‘Really great, Mum,’ I said.

‘And there weren’t any problems with the lily pond?’

‘Of course not, Mum,’ I said. ‘I told you it was perfectly safe.’

And I wasn’t lying, was I? It wasn’t the lily pond that was the problem…After all, there are just some things it’s better for mothers not to know.

Anyway, Mum has asked the real sort-of-cousin Tobias if he’d like to stay with us during the next school holidays, which is okay by me, because even if he is a bit younger than me and Phredde and Bruce, he’s pretty cool for a little kid. I mean, even Phredde has to admit that someone who knows how to go for the jugular like that can be a pretty handy wolf to have around.

Oh, as for the wereman, Bruce’s parents decided to send him to dog-obedience classes, plus charm school during the full moon. He’s much better-behaved now, and he has learnt to bring the newspaper inside in the morning, and how to heel and all sorts of useful things.

Of course, Phredde still won’t admit that werewolves are just like the rest of us except for the fur and fangs and pointy ears. Phaeries can be awfully stubborn, just like that time I was kidnapped by the Tooth Phaery…

But that’s another story.

‘Errrraaaaahhhhhh!’ screamed Mrs Olsen. The note from Mum dropped from her hand, and fluttered down onto the classroom floor.

‘Er…’ I said.

Mrs Olsen covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh, my dear,’ she muttered. ‘Oh, my poor dear child…’

‘But Mrs Olsen—’ I said.

‘It’s horrible. Simply horrible!’ sobbed Mrs Olsen. ‘And you’re so young too!’

‘But it’s just—’ I said.

Mrs Olsen took her hands away from her face and grasped my hands. ‘You’re being so brave about it, Prudence! So terribly brave!’

‘It’s only—’ I tried again.

‘We’ll all come with you!’ promised Mrs Olsen earnestly. ‘You shan’t face this alone, Prudence!’

‘I don’t want the whole class coming to the dentist with me!’ I protested.

‘The dentist!’ groaned Mrs Olsen. ‘That place of vile torture! Why, I remember when my Aunt Griselda had one of her fangs removed! I’ve never forgotten how…’

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe a visit to the dentist was a lot worse for a vampire than it was for a human.

‘Er…Mrs Olsen…’ I said.

‘And then we mopped up the blood and…Yes, Prudence?’ said Mrs Olsen, still kindly gripping my hand.

‘It really isn’t such a big deal going to the dentist.’

‘But…’ Mrs Olsen picked up the note from Mum in a trembling hand. ‘Your mother says you have to have a tooth out! One of your dear little fangs!’

‘Yeah, the dentist says my mouth is too crowded and if I don’t have a tooth out now the rest’ll grow all crooked.’

Actually, I thought it was a bum deal. I mean, I’ve brushed and brushed every night and every morning too, and sometimes even at lunchtime if we’ve had something sticky like pavlova with cream and passionfruit and raspberry sauce, or vanilla icecream with cracked almond toffee through it (especially if Mum nags me about it for half an hour).

I mean I don’t deserve to lose a tooth. But it was no big deal.

‘It’s no big deal,’ I assured Mrs Olsen again.

Mrs Olsen shuddered. ‘Oh, Prudence…’ she began again.

Well, it took about half an hour to get Mrs Olsen sorted out. I had just enough time to gulp my lunch with Phredde before I had to trot off to the dentist.

‘Have you ever been to the dentist?’ I asked Phredde, as I finished off my banana and cream cheese
focaccia with black olives and walnuts (our butler, Gark, makes great focaccia).

Phredde considered. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But I have met the Tooth Phaery.’

‘What? Really? But I thought the Tooth Fairy—I mean Phaery—was just pretend!’

‘Of course not!’ said Phredde, surprised. ‘Whatever gave you that idea? The Tooth Phaery is…’

Beeeeeeep!
Mum was on the other side of the road, hitting the car horn impatiently. So I had to run.

Anyway, that got me thinking. (There’s not much else you can do when you’re perched in a dentist’s chair waiting to get your tooth hauled out. Well, I suppose there are other things you can do, like shriek ‘Get away from me!’ or, ‘One step closer and you’ll get my foot in your mouth, buster!’ But thinking about something is actually a lot more practical.

So, there was I, thinking as hard as I could about what WASN’T happening to me, when I got this idea.

What if I tried to trap the Tooth Fairy—sorry, Phaery?

As far as I knew no one had even seen the Tooth Phaery before. Well, no one human anyway. I concentrated even harder because the dentist was doing stuff now that I really didn’t want to notice. What if I sort of borrowed Mark’s fishing net? And if I tied two bits of string around my tooth (I was really concentrating on not noticing now) and tied one bit of string to the net and the other bit of string to my finger? Then as soon as the Tooth Phaery picked up my tooth, the string would tug down the net, and the net would fall on the Tooth Phaery (just like a hunter trapping a wild tiger) and, just in case I fell
asleep and missed it all, the other bit of string would tug on my finger. And then I’d get to meet the Tooth Phaery!

‘All over now,’ said the dentist, holding up my bloody fang. ‘Now, how about I wrap this up for you so you can leave it out for the Tooth Fairy?’

‘Oh, she’s much too old to believe in the Tooth Fairy,’ Mum assured him.

‘That’s Phaery, buster,’ I said to the dentist. ‘And you’d better believe it!’

Well, I won’t bore you about what I had to go through to borrow Mark’s fishing net. (Big brothers don’t understand ANYTHING. There was no reason at all for him to laugh like that, just because I said I needed it to trap the Tooth Phaery.)

But, eventually, I got the trap all fixed up, had my tomato soup and icecream for dinner (stuff that doesn’t need chewing, although actually my mouth felt pretty much okay by then), and brushed my remaining teeth, and wriggled down between the sheets, and Mum and Dad said goodnight…

…and I was ready to close my eyes and pretend to be asleep till my trap went off.

Well, that’s what I meant to do. But it had been a long day, what with school all morning, then the dentist in the afternoon. (My tongue kept exploring where my tooth used to be. Or near it anyway—I didn’t quite have the guts to probe too close.) Anyway, between one thing and another, my eyes dropped lower…and lower…and lower.

I was just about to drift gently into a dream about me, Phredde, the magic carpet and the longest beach
you ever saw, when suddenly, there was a tug at my finger and a giant
Crash!
came from across the room.

‘Glopp!’ I said, sitting bolt upright in the darkness and trying to focus on something very large that was thrashing about in the net.

‘HeywhattheImeanhelpImeangroolff,’ said whatever it was, struggling madly as it tried to escape. ‘Get me out of here!’

I switched on the light just as there was a loud PING! and the net disappeared. ‘Hey, how did you do that?’ I demanded.

The Phaery looked at me indignantly. ‘Well, I AM a phaery!’

I stared. ‘But you can’t be the Tooth Phaery!’ I declared.

‘Why not?’ snapped the Tooth Phaery.

‘But you’re supposed to be a woman!’

The Tooth Phaery looked at me furiously. ‘Pure sex discrimination,’ he hissed. ‘Blokes have just as much right to be Tooth Phaeries as women!’

‘But…but…’ I said, still staring.

The Tooth Phaery was tall—well, tall for a phaery anyway—and very thin. He had long, drooping hair and long, drooping wings, and a headband with a fringe of long, white beads around it. His bell-bottom trousers had ruffled fringes that went from his knees to the floor, and the pockets of his shirt were fringed as well. Dangling from one shoulder was a large carry bag, which was covered with patterns of flowers made of tiny beads.

‘People are just so prejudiced,’ the Tooth Phaery went on, shaking his head so angrily that all the little white beads rattled.

‘But…but…’ I said.

‘Just because a bloke’s a…well, a bloke, they think he isn’t capable of doing the simplest things.’

‘But…but…’ I said.

‘It’s not as though it’s hard to collect teeth, is it?’ demanded the Tooth Phaery indignantly, opening his bead-encrusted shoulder bag and hauling out a length of rope.

Suddenly, I realised what I’d been looking at. ‘Those aren’t beads! They’re teeth!’

The Tooth Phaery grinned nastily. ‘Pretty, aren’t they?’ he declared proudly.

‘But…but…’ I said. ‘What are you going to do with that rope?’

The Tooth Phaery looked at me in surprise. ‘Tie you up,’ he stated.

‘What? Oh, no, you don’t!’ I said, wriggling back as fast as I could into my pillows before he could flutter any closer. But it was too late. After all, he was a phaery.

PING! my hands were tied.

PING! my legs were tied, too.

‘Helpppp!’ I shrieked. But it was no use. Another PING! and all that came out when I screamed was a tiny whisper.

‘But why? What have I done?’ I shrieked in a whisper. ‘I didn’t do anything to you! Well, except for catch you in a net,’ I admitted. ‘But I apologise! Really!’

The Tooth Phaery flashed me a smile. ‘And your apology is accepted!’ he assured me generously.

‘Then you’ll let me go?’

‘Oh, no,’ said the Tooth Phaery. ‘I didn’t tie you up just because of your little practical joke. Dear me, no.’

‘Then…then why?’ I whispered hoarsely.

The Tooth Phaery gazed at me gleefully. ‘I can’t have you going round telling everyone you’ve met the Tooth Phaery, now, can I?’ he explained sweetly.

‘But I won’t tell anyone! I promise!’

‘Not good enough,’ declared the Tooth Phaery. ‘I’d like to believe you. I really would,’ he added insincerely. ‘But I just can’t risk it.’

‘But why not? I could tell everyone what a wonderful Tooth Phaery you are, even though you’re a bloke!’

‘It’s a matter of tradition,’ stated the Tooth Phaery airily. ‘No one’s ever seen the Tooth Phaery before. Or at least, they haven’t seen me and lived to tell the tale.’

‘What?’ I shrieked. But it was too late. The world PING!ed all around me and my bedroom vanished.

It was a lovely dream.

I was on my pirate ship. The sun was shining, the seagulls were seagulling and the waves were blip, blip, blipping, as they slapped against the side of the boat.

‘Hey, Pru, do you want a snack?’ called Phredde.

‘Mmmmmm?’ I asked. It’s hard to speak clearly when you’re still asleep.

‘I said, do you want a snack…want a snack…want a snack…WANT A SNACK?’ boomed someone about a metre away from my right ear.

I opened my eyes.

‘I said, would you like a snack?’

I zapped my eyes shut as fast as possible, then opened them again—cautiously. I was still in my dressing gown. My tooth was still tied to my finger. I was still tied up. And I still wasn’t in my bedroom. And the creature was still there.

He was small and round and blobby. His wings looked melted, too. His head was a blob—it sort of merged into shoulders, which bulged into a body that finished with a pair of tiny feet. His feet were wearing silver sandals with plastic daisies glued onto the tops.

He grinned at me. His teeth were green and slimy. ‘You want a sandwich?’ he offered generously, but with a suspiciously gleeful look in his eye. ‘A nice delicious sandwich?’

‘Er…where am I?’ I groaned, trying to sit up and shove my tooth into my pocket at the same time. (There was no way I wanted the Tooth Phaery to have my tooth now.)

‘You’re at our place,’ announced the creature, taking a large jar filled with yellow and green stuff out of the fridge and shutting the door.

‘But where’s that?’

‘Oh, nowhere in particular,’ said the creature vaguely, as he set the jar down on the bench and dipped a knife into it.

‘Who are you?’

‘Me?’ The creature’s little piggy eyes gleamed at me as he spread the green and yellow stuff onto a slice of bread. ‘Oh, I’m the Snot Phaery.’

‘You’re what?’ I tried to sit up properly, but it’s not easy when you’re on a beanbag with your wrists and ankles tied.

‘The Snot Phaery,’ said the Snot Phaery matter-of-factly, flapping his blobby wings. They reminded me of something…

‘But I didn’t even know there was a Snot Phaery!’ I protested.

‘I’m not very well-known,’ said the Snot Phaery modestly. ‘But there has to be a Snot Phaery. Who do you think takes away all the goolies when you blow your nose?’

I shuddered. Now I knew what his wings reminded me of. ‘I thought the hanky sort of absorbed them,’ I said lamely.

The Snot Phaery smiled damply. ‘A likely story,’ he said, slapping another slice of bread onto the first, and cutting it into triangles.

‘But why don’t you leave money in exchange, like the Tooth Phaery?’

The Snot Phaery gave an evil little giggle. ‘Leave money for snot? Don’t be silly. Anyway, would you like a sandwich?’ Holding it out, he flapped a bit closer to me. He looked like a constipated budgie trying to stay airborne.

‘What’s on it?’ I asked, as the green and yellow stuff oozed out between the slices of bread.

‘Snot!’ cried the Snot Phaery gleefully, leaping into the air with a great thrashing of wings.

‘Glerrrrppp,’ I said, as the Snot Phaery chuckled above me. ‘You can’t EAT that stuff!’

‘Why not?’ demanded the Snot Phaery, taking a big bite. ‘Kids pick their noses all the time!’

‘But their OWN noses…’ I decided it was time to change the subject. ‘Look, you couldn’t untie me could you?’ I asked, not very hopefully.

‘No,’ panted the Snot Phaery, landing with a thunk on the fridge and taking another giant bite out of his sandwich

‘Not even if I say, pretty please with a cherry, or, I mean, a goolie, on top?’

‘No,’ said the Snot Phaery, swinging his legs happily.

‘Er…could you PING! me back to my bedroom?’

‘No,’ said the Snot Phaery, throwing his crusts onto the floor.

‘Let me make a phone call to my best friend?’

‘Definitely not,’ said the Snot Phaery.

‘What are you going to do with me, then?’ I wailed.

The Snot Phaery shrugged. (A Snot Phaery shrugging is a pretty gruesome sight, so I won’t describe it.)

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We’re going to have a house meeting about it.’ He gave a happy little chuckle. ‘But whatever it is, I bet it’s going to be fun! For us, I mean. Not for you, of course,’ he added.

And with that, he flapped out the door.

For the first time, I had a chance to look around me without being distracted. I hauled myself somewhat upright and tried to take in my surroundings.

The room was large and tatty—stained wallpaper that might once have been striped, and ratty-looking seagrass matting on the floor. The fridge in the corner was round-shouldered and looked old. As for the other furniture, there was a long table with metal legs and a faded vinyl top, half a dozen matching chairs (all phaery-sized, of course), plus some kitchen cupboards that looked like they belonged at the dump, and three black vinyl beanbags that had spider-web cracks—they were very old beanbags, indeed.

The beanbags were the only human-sized bits of furniture in the room. No, make that four beanbags, I decided, because I was in the fourth.

I considered my position. The first priority, obviously, was to get free before either the Tooth
Phaery or the Snot Phaery—or any more of the house’s inhabitants—came back.