Toothy! (3 page)

CHAPTER 1

Mum burst into the kitchen excitedly.

“The holiday’s booked!” she said. “And we’re flying out!”

Suzy whooped. Dad groaned. Bertie almost fainted. Had he heard right? Was he dreaming?

“Flying?” he said.

“That’s right,” said Mum.

“On a plane?”

“Of course on a plane, how else?”

“WAHOO!”

Bertie had never flown in his life. Loads of his friends had been on planes. Eugene said it was amazing. They showed films and brought you free drinks! Royston Rich claimed he’d been up in his dad’s private jet. But Bertie had never even been to an airport. Whenever they’d talked about flying, Dad always found an excuse.

“Is Whiffer coming?” asked Bertie.

“Dogs aren’t allowed on planes,” said Dad. “Now, on the car ferry—”

“Don’t start,” sighed Mum wearily. “We agreed.”

“Where are we sitting? Can I sit next to the pilot?” asked Bertie.

“No,” said Dad firmly. “You sit where you’re told.”

Bertie didn’t think Dad sounded that thrilled to be going on a plane. But
he
was. Wait till he told Darren and Eugene!

“When do we go?” asked Suzy.

“In half term. That’s three weeks,” said Mum.

THREE WHOLE WEEKS! That was ages! Bertie didn’t think he could wait that long.

“EEEEOWWW!” he cried, taking
off and zooming round the kitchen. He swooped down at supersonic speed, then trod in Whiffer’s bowl and skidded…

“Yarghhh!”

CRASH!

“BERTIE!” yelled Dad.

Bertie scrambled to his feet. Honestly, some people were so touchy!

CHAPTER 2

Three weeks later, the great day finally dawned. Bertie was so excited he’d been dressed since 5 a.m. His bag had been packed for weeks. He had everything he needed for the flight: sweets, comics, his Jumbo Jet Sticker Book and more sweets, in case he ran out.

At the airport, Dad loaded the cases
on to a trolley and they went inside. Bertie hurried past the shops and cafés.

“Can we get on the plane now?” he said. “I want to get a good seat.”

Suzy rolled her eyes. “It’s not going for hours! We need tickets.”

“Yes,” said Mum. “First we have to check in and get our boarding passes.”

The queue at the desk tailed back for about a mile. Bertie stared in horror.

“What? We’ve got to wait behind all these people?” he groaned.

“I’m afraid so,” sighed Mum.

“But we’ll miss the plane! Why can’t we go to that desk?”

He pointed to the next one, where no one was waiting.

“That’s not our airline,” said Dad. “We’re flying with Cheapy Jet.”

They joined the queue and waited as it shuffled forward at a snail’s pace.

“Can I push the trolley?” begged Bertie.

“No,” said Dad.

“But Suzy’s had her turn!”

“Don’t argue!” snapped Dad.

Bertie let go of the trolley. Dad had been in a bad mood since breakfast.

After half an hour they reached the desk and got their boarding passes. Next they queued at Passport Control. Then they joined the end of the snaking line at security. Finally, they had to wait an hour at the gate because their flight was delayed. Bertie couldn’t believe catching a plane took so long. With buses you just got on!

At long last it was time to board. Bertie hurtled up the steps.

“Bags I sit by the window!” he cried, racing down the gangway. There were three seats to a row. Bertie plonked himself down by the window and took out his sweets.

“Who’s sitting with Bertie?” asked Dad.

“You can,” said Mum, quickly. “I’ll sit behind with Suzy.”

Dad sank into his seat. Bertie was staring out of the window, sucking a fruity chew. At last, this was it – he was actually going to fly!

“Aren’t you excited?” he asked, bouncing up and down.

“Not really,” said Dad. “Fasten your seatbelt.”

Bertie wasn’t listening. He reached up to a switch above him.

“What’s this?”

CLICK! A light came on.

“A reading light,” said Dad. “Leave it alone.”

“And what does this one do?” asked Bertie, fiddling with a catch on the seat in front.

CLONK! A table flopped down, knocking his sweets out of his hand. Bertie scrambled on the floor to find them. Dad shut his eyes. Three hours on a plane with Bertie! He didn’t know if his nerves could stand it.

None of the other passengers seemed to want the seat next to them. Eventually, a tall, elderly man sat down. He had big pink ears and a grumpy expression.

Bertie leaned over. “It’s my first time on a plane,” he said.

“Really,” said Big Ears.

“Yes. Is it yours?”

“No,” said Big Ears. He shook open his newspaper and hid behind it.

“Welcome aboard this Cheapy Jet Flight 647,” said a voice over the tannoy. “Please listen carefully while we go through the safety procedures…”

Bertie leaned forward to watch as the flight attendants waved their arms.

“There are three emergency exits: here, here and here…”

“What’s an emergency exit?” Bertie whispered.

“It’s the way out in an emergency,” said Dad.

“What sort of emergency?”

Dad sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You mean like if one of the wings drops off?” asked Bertie.

“Hopefully that won’t happen,” replied Dad, loosening his collar.

The voice went on. “You’ll find a life jacket under your seat…”

“Have I got one?” Bertie asked.

“Yes,” said Dad.

“Can I put it on now?”

“No!” groaned Dad. “It’s only for … well, if we came down in the sea.”

“In the sea? WOW!” said Bertie. “You mean like if we crash-land because the plane’s on fire…”

“Bertie,
please!
” moaned Dad.

“I was only asking,” said Bertie.

The plane shook as the engines rumbled into life. Dad gripped the arms of his seat.

“This is it. We’re going!” cried Bertie.

Dad closed his eyes. He seemed to be praying. The plane bumped out towards the runway. It swung sharp left then
began to pick up speed. Dad shrank back in his seat. Bertie had his nose glued to the window, so he didn’t miss a thing.

“We’re up!” he yelled. “Wahoo! Look, you can see the airport. And the cars! They’re tiny, look!”

Dad moaned. “I don’t want to look!”

“Why not?” asked Bertie.

“Because I hate flying, okay? It makes me nervous.”

Bertie frowned. How could anyone hate flying? It was brilliant – even better than going on a roller coaster.