Turtle Terror (8 page)

“Can you get me out?” Josh begged, dimly aware that he was negotiating with a crab—possibly the same one he'd picked up a couple of hours ago. “Snip-snip?”

“Sorry, mate,” went on the crab. “You're too snarled up. It'd take me all day, and let's face it—you ‘aven't got that long.” And he went on his way, his little flickery mouth parts waving regretfully.

Josh pleaded, “You could try . . . !” But the crab didn't come back. Things didn't get much worse, he reflected, than feebly begging for help from a saltwater crustacean.

And then things did get much worse.

There was a powerful thump in the water around him, and all of a sudden the net was biting hard into his skin. He had S.W.I.T.C.H.ed back into boy form! A moment ago he might have had five minutes of air. Now he had thirty seconds.

Josh wriggled desperately, trying to reach his pocket. He could feel that the S.W.I.T.C.H. spray bottle was still in there, and it had to be worth trying to get some of it on his skin, so he could turn turtle again and have a few more minutes. He could spray it right into his mouth. That would work, wouldn't it?

But he just couldn't reach his pocket. His hands were too tightly snagged in the net. In his mind, Josh sighed. Now he
really
knew what it was like to be a leatherback turtle—or a dolphin or a porpoise. Thousands of aquatic reptiles and mammals died in fishing nets every year. He was just about to join the sad tally.

Then he felt something clawing at his arm. He looked around, his mouth clenched shut and his heart hammering, and saw . . . PIDDLE! His dog was scrabbling and biting at the net, his furry
snout sending a plume of bubbles as he struggled to stay down underwater and help.

And just behind Piddle was . . . DANNY! Danny as a boy, with a snorkel and—A BIG PAIR OF SCISSORS.

Danny began hacking at the net, After what seemed like an eternity, just as Josh thought his lungs were going to explode, he was pulled free and shot up to the surface of the water. He burst through it and expelled all the dead air inside him in a cough before dragging in a huge, rasping breath.

Struggling to stay above the waves, his feet sliding against the rocky outcrop he'd been trapped on, Josh breathed and breathed and breathed—in spite of Piddle doggy-paddling around him and trying to lick his face.

Then Danny grabbed his arm and helped him swim back to the shore, which wasn't that far. Over the past few minutes, it had felt to Josh as if it was ten miles away.

The twins collapsed onto the beach and lay gasping, staring up into the late afternoon sun.

“All right now, are we?” asked Petty Potts, looming over them and blocking out the light.

“Yes . . .” puffed Danny. “Thanks . . . Petty. I'd . . . never . . . have done it . . . without you!”

“Well, not for the first time,” Petty said, crisply. “And I think I'll have this back now, thank you!” She reached into Josh's soaked shorts pocket and retrieved the turtle REPTOSWITCH spray.

“Oh, and what's this?” Petty stood up, holding something else that had come out of Josh's pocket with the spray bottle—a small black fabric bag. She opened it and peered inside.

“A marble . . .” she said. “Not much of a collection, Josh. One marble.”

Danny and Josh sat up and stared at each other. To begin with, they stared at each other because they realized the time had come to tell Petty about the Mystery Marble Sender. But they carried on staring at each other for a completely different reason.

“There's a note too,” Petty said. “But it's all blurry. Seawater and ink don't go well together.”

“Do I look like that?” Josh asked, peering hard at Danny's chest. His T-shirt had been ripped open, and his chest was . . . different.

Danny glanced down and then back at Josh, whose dripping T-shirt was also half hanging off him. “Yup,” he said. “Mom and Dad are going to turtle-y freak when they see us!”

They both had pale milky scales all over their chests—and across their bellies—and darker brown and gray scales across their shoulders.

“Yes,” Petty said, still gazing at the green marble. “There's a glitch in the REPTOSWITCH formula. I would have told you about it when you came to the lab next week. I thought it was just the chameleon formula. Remember when you were S.W.I.T.C.H.ed back half-chameleon, half-boy a couple of weeks ago? Well, it seems it's not just that REPTOSWITCH that has been affected. Hector and Percy are having the same problem with turtle REPTOSWITCH.” And she fished out the two mice by their tails. They looked very, very put out. And scaly.

“How long until this wears off?” Danny sighed. It had been like this with AMPHISWITCH too.
They'd ended up with frogs' legs for nearly a whole day after they should have properly S.W.I.T.C.H.ed back.

Petty sprayed their scaly areas with more antidote spray. “It will have all gone by tomorrow morning,” she said. “Just don't run around in your undies until then!”

And she put all her bottles and the snorkel and the scissors in her bag and started back along the beach.

“Hey—wait!” Josh called. “You've got our marble!”

“Oh—it's lost in my bag now,” Petty called back. “I'll dig it out for you later.”

“But . . . it's a SPECIAL one!” Danny yelled, as they hurried after her.

Petty turned round and looked at them.

“I know,” she said, raising one of her shaggy gray eyebrows. “I made it.”

Josh and Danny gaped at her.

“Not a word!” she yelled back, turning away and walking on up the cliff path. “I will see you next week in my lab. We'll have a game of marbles then . . .”

“Josh, Danny! Look—Dad's found a hot tub! We've been heating it up!” Mom said as they climbed wearily into the cottage garden with Piddle at their heels. They were bruised and whacked and in need of big cups of tea and even bigger slices of cake.

“What have you both been up to?” Mom asked, suddenly noticing. “Look at the state of you!”

“We fell in a rock pool,” Danny said. It was sort of true.

“And the T-shirts?” Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Josh said. “Things got a bit . . . scrapey.”

Dad pulled the wooden cover off the big round tub. Underneath, the clear, clean water was steaming and bubbling and looked wonderful. Mom was too cheerful to be cross with them. “Well, why don't you strip off and jump in while I make tea for us all?” she suggested.

Danny and Josh exchanged woeful looks. Suddenly, there was nothing they wanted more than to have a dip in the inviting warm bubbles and ease away the aches and pains brought on by their latest S.W.I.T.C.H. adventure. But they couldn't. Not unless their parents had always
wanted
scaly semi-reptilian sons and never thought to tell them.

“Erm . . . maybe later,” Josh said, pulling his T-shirt close around his neck. “I think we need a quick shower—we're all mucky from the beach.”

“Yeah . . .” Danny said. “We'll clog up the filter with sand.”

“Oh, well—we'll have a go then, shall we?” Mom beamed at Dad. And three seconds later their parents, wearing swimming gear, were happily bobbing up and down in the bubbly water.