A Head Full of Magic, page 10
This time I flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t easy being kind to someone so mean.
“Maybe I could pinch her schoolbag tomorrow? See if she’s left Nan’s chess piece or book in there,” I suggested hopefully. “There might even be a clue about Dame Genevieve.”
“Squawk! I don’t want you getting into trouble by looking into other people’s bags. No, let’s do as you first suggested and start with Celeste. Come on, if we’re quick, we can fly over to her house now and see what she’s up to. No time like the present. Squawk! Think about it, Fleur, it’s the only way to protect your nan and prevent the truth about her gifts and your gifts from being revealed. Squawk!”
Sir Barclay saw me chew the string of my hoodie. The thought of snooping around Celeste’s house and coming face-to-face with her terrified me more than hockey practice.
“Squawk! Don’t worry, Fleur, you’re not alone. You’ve got me. Come on!”
My hands felt cold and jittery, and I didn’t like the sound of it one bit, but I knew there wasn’t another option.
I only knew where Celeste lived because I had heard everyone at school bleating on about how it was the biggest house on Station Road. I hadn’t been there myself, which made standing in front of the enormous white house with three double garages even more daunting.
“Told you it wouldn’t take us long,” Sir Barclay squawked from a lamppost.
“Speak for yourself,” I panted, trying to recover from the uphill struggle from Farrow Park to Station Road. “It might only be ten minutes from home but it’s not easy when you don’t have wings!”
I checked my watch: 4:43pm. Mum’s show, Tat and That, would finish soon, and then she would start cooking tea. We had to hurry.
Celeste’s house was incredible. She had more windows on one side of her house than all the sixty-eight double-decker buses that passed our house each day. And then there were the cars. All sparkly clean, and proudly parked on the gravel drive in a horseshoe shape. Imagine having enough cars to make a horseshoe shape! Mum struggled to keep our Vauxhall Corsa on the road, so how anyone could afford four vehicles was beyond me.
Sir Barclay swooped down in front of the number 30 glass plaque on the wall near Celeste’s grey front door.
CLICK. CLICK.
Two sets of security lights shone onto the driveway, lighting up Celeste’s house and hanging baskets even more than the late-afternoon summer sun. Clever Sir Barclay! He had done that on purpose to give us a better idea of where to avoid being caught.
The door opened and a grey cat shot into the porch. Celeste’s mum bent down and stroked its head before pulling down her purple-rimmed glasses to take a better look outside. Her spiky, silvery hair glistened as she peered left and right.
“Meow! Forget the outside! It’s getting too cold, feed me instead! Meow!”
Unimpressed by the lack of attention, the cat poked its ears backwards before swishing its tail grumpily and heading further indoors. After a few seconds of checking the drive, Celeste’s Mum was met with none other than the ankle-bashing, hockey-thrashing bully herself.
“What is it, Mum?” Celeste placed her hand on her mum’s shoulder, eager to peer out over the top of it.
“Nothing, darling, go and finish your homework. Probably just a bird or a cat or something.”
“A bird? What type of bird? Not a grey one with spots?” Celeste asked, craning her neck to peer further out.
Her mum blocked the exit with her arm and dropped her plush, lilac scarf on the floor. “What? No! A brown one, I think. It will have flown too close to the security sensors again. Why the sudden interest? You haven’t done anything silly again, have you? This is your last chance, remember?”
Last chance at what?
“Can I go out and play before tea? Please? Five minutes, then I’ll come straight back in, I promise.”
“No, not tonight. I’ve got some work I need to do in the basement and besides, you’ve only got a few days left at school before we fly out on our next adventure. Lockton High School is expecting big things from you, and so am I. Head down, less hockey, and no trouble. It’s time you acted like a proper Hexter. One to be proud of.”
Lockton High School? Sounded like a prison to me, but the thought of Celeste not joining me at Shepson High School was brilliant news! I clicked my fingers excitedly. At last, I would be free from her meanness! What did her mum mean by a Hexter? The door slammed before I had time to think. As soon as they had gone inside, Sir Barclay ushered me around the side of the house.
“This way, Fleur! Squawk! Follow me.”
“I keep telling you, I can’t go as fast as you! Where are we going anyway?”
After Sir Barclay circled the perimeter of Celeste’s house, sticking his beak on almost every window, he turned his attention to the row of conifer trees at the bottom of Celeste’s garden. Behind them was a rickety wooden greenhouse—which was growing more damp and fungus than actual vegetables— and a shoddy garden shed.
The shed windows were blacked out with thick tape, and a new padlock protruded from its door. Sir Barclay perched on top of the moss-ridden greenhouse opposite and watched as I investigated.
“Squawk! I can’t see anything of interest around here.”
“Shh! Can you hear that?”
He flapped over to my shoulder and we both pressed an ear to the door.
A radio was on. Why would anyone be playing music in an empty shed?
“Squawk! Never mind songs, we’re here to find your nan’s things. Let’s try somewhere else before we run out of time. The treehouse? Garage? Squawk!”
“Hang on a minute!” I said, craning my neck with one eye closed. I focussed on the tiny sliver of window that hadn’t been properly taped up. “I can see something.”
“Come along, Fleur! Squawk! We’ve got to get going!”
“But I can see. . . there’s the radio. . . and a light.”
“I don’t want to attend a disco, Fleur. Honestly! Squawk!”
Sir Barclay flew onto the greenhouse roof unimpressed.
“Wait a minute, I can see a cage, Sir Barclay!” My breath frosted up a mouth-shaped section of window. Sir Barclay flapped closer. “There’s something red and spotty! Spotty feathers, Sir Barclay! It’s her!”
Sir Barclay flew at top speed back onto the shed roof and strutted excitedly. “Don’t worry, my dear Dame! I’ll get you out! Squawk!”
He reappeared on my shoulder as we both tried to open the padlock, but it was no use. Worse still, Dame Genevieve couldn’t even hear us because of the loud music. She hadn’t flinched a feather. That was why the radio was on!
SMASH!
Sir Barclay and I jolted around to see Celeste standing behind us, her signature hockey stick poised for action. A multi-coloured hockey ball had smashed through a greenhouse window and flumped onto the soil between last year’s wizened tomato plant roots and a discarded metal watering can.
Propped up behind a bag of compost was a pink, leather satchel. Celeste’s glittery water bottle poked out the top, next to a fluffy, purple pencil case and Nan’s book! Everything was now covered in shards of glass.
“And what do you think you’re doing here?” Celeste demanded.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Magic Word
The pungent aroma of rose petals and rotting compost clung to the back of my throat. It wasn’t just the smell that was making me retch. It was being face to face with an unblinking Celeste at the bottom of her enormous garden.
“I said, what are you doing here? You do know this is private property, don’t you?”
As if Celeste wasn’t basking in my fear enough, she repeatedly pounded the edge of her hockey stick into the palm of her hand, which in turn made mine sweaty. Normal sensation in my legs had been exchanged for jelly, and they were wobbling harder than a mango blancmange on a bouncy castle. Unless it happened to be one of Mum’s homemade mango blancmanges, in which case it wouldn’t wobble at all.
I wanted to answer, but the words were trapped in my mouth. I couldn’t get them out.
“Reply, quickly!” A slug was slithering towards the flowerbed.
“I’m trying!” I said through gritted teeth. My mind was racing. Everything about Celeste was making me anxious because it meant she was either going to do something mean or she was thinking about doing something mean.
“I. . . err. . . just wondered if you fancied playing out?” I lied, attempting to stop my left eye from twitching.
She studied my face as miniscule beads of sweat gathered on my top lip. This was torture.
“Why would I want to play out with you?” She finally guffawed.
The hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle, the revolting stench from the rotting compost pile covered with potato peelings and eggshells, making me feel woozy.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I wondered if you’d show me how to play hockey properly.”
“Squawk! Well done, Fleur! Brilliant answer!”
My cheeks turned bright red as I tried not to draw attention to the fact that I knew Sir Barclay was watching us from a cosy hole in the middle of the conifer hedge.
“Because it’s nice to learn from each other, isn’t it?” I added.
“Ha! Is that so?” Celeste smirked. “Even after today’s unfortunate little incident?”
I nodded without meaning to. My mind wasn’t in charge of my muscles. The jelly in my legs had wobbled its way into my stomach and engulfed the rest of my body. Celeste moved closer, forcing me to walk backwards until I bumped into her shed.
“Got a bit of a shock today, did you, when you losers got covered in parrot poo? How strange! If only there’d been someone around to put a stop to it. Someone who could—oh, I don’t know—talk to animals and ask a couple of squirrels for help maybe? Any idea who that could be?”
My heart pumped so hard, I almost thought the shed would vibrate to my beat. She knew. Celeste knew I could talk to animals and not just from reading Nan’s book. She had seen me talking to the two squirrels on the hockey pitch earlier. Not that they had helped.
“I don’t know what you’re on about,” I said. “Yeah, it was a shock. It’s not every day a parrot storms the school hockey pitch and poos over you, but it was just one of those weird things. I guess the bird ate something that disagreed with it.”
“Squawk! Well done, Fleur! Keep calm, you’re doing well.”
Celeste laughed. “I thought you might say something like that. Lots of weird things happen when you’re around, Fleur. Don’t you agree?”
Yes, I did, but what would she know? It’s not like she knew anything about me. She hadn’t bothered to find out.
“Lots of weird things don’t always happen to me,” I said. “Sometimes I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all.”
Celeste screwed up her eyes, unconvinced, and walked slowly around in a circle in front of me, still holding her hockey stick.
“Is that your excuse for being in my garden? My mum won’t be impressed that you’ve come to my house uninvited to pick on me again. You’re so unkind and unwelcoming. Don’t worry, Fleur, she knows all about you. I told her myself. One little shout from me and you’re in big trouble!”
I clenched my fists and shook them. I wasn’t the bully! She was!
“Squawk! Don’t listen to her, Fleur! She’s trying to get to you! Ignore her!”
Celeste checked her watch. “Well, lovely as this is, I must dash. Places to go, people to see, and all that. I trust you can find your own way out?”
“What about parrots to hide?” I asked, stepping towards her, fists clenched.
She narrowed her eyes. “Ha! I told you that you were weird, Fleur! I’m not the one who owns a parrot—you are—and it’s only a matter of time before everyone at school finds out that you were the one behind today’s poo-fest.”
“Why, the little twerp!” Sir Barclay shouted from behind her. “You were right, Fleur, she’s mean. Sneakily mean!”
“Can you imagine what your teammates are going to say when I tell them it was your parrot that ruined their faces and clothes?” Celeste continued.
“Why would you tell everyone that?” I asked. “That’s a lie and you know it. It was your parrot all along.”
“I keep telling you, Fleur. I don’t own a parrot! You lot are all the same, with your special gifts that you can’t figure out how to work properly. What a waste!”
“And what would you know about special gifts?”
I was desperate to wipe the know-it-all smirk off her face, but she was right, I didn’t know anything about my magic, not really. I didn’t know how it all worked or why I even had it, but the last time I checked, she wasn’t a gift expert. Reading Nan’s book and seeing me talk to two squirrels, didn’t count either.
“I mean, it’s not like you’ve got any special gifts, have you?” I added.
I was so cross I could have cried because it felt like this was life’s way of teaching me a lesson. I should’ve told Nan about Celeste’s bullying when it first started, I should never have read Nan’s private notebook, and I definitely shouldn’t have lost it at the pond. Then I remembered what Nan had said to me in her attic-room before tea, about not worrying about the ‘what ifs’ because they distracted from the here and now. I took a deep breath and another step towards Celeste.
“What would you know!” Celeste snapped. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? Just like Mum and Dad, and all the others I’ve met. Well, I don’t think you’re special at all. I think you’re weird, and I figured you out when I first clapped eyes on you in Farrow Park getting mobbed by a load of birds!”
What? Celeste was there? Watching me? I rubbed my forehead, flummoxed, wondering why she had never before mentioned seeing me wrestle pecking birds that made my ear bleed.
“Just like I figured out there was something bothering that lame, spotty parrot I found hiding in our shed when we moved here from Italy.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have a parrot.”
Celeste suddenly looked hot and sweaty.
“Squawk! That’s more like it, Fleur! Play her at her own game!”
It was great knowing Sir Barclay was with me, but it wasn’t the same as human protection. I wanted Nan.
“I don’t own it! I found it. It was moping about in the back of the shed all alone and seemed to brighten up whenever I talked to it. I never chatted about anything heavy, just made light conversation about the weather, or hockey, or my weekend plans. I think it liked the company if I’m honest, so I gave it some nuts and water and told it I would help but only if it helped me first. Seriously, animals are so gullible. As soon as I mentioned the word Animalator that was it! It would do anything for me.”
How did she know all this? I glanced at Sir Barclay who kept opening and shutting his beak in disbelief.
“I knew it would go for the bait. Birds are pretty dim. I should know because I tricked one the same way in Italy. Said I would help it if it threw a whole pizza in this annoying kid’s face. I was fed up with Marco Pinto constantly showing off to the rest of my class when I lived in Italy and all it took was one slip of the magic Animalator word and, hey presto, he got what he deserved. The smile soon disappeared from his little face when it was covered with stringy mozzarella. I don’t know why everyone was so into Marco. Seriously, being able to disguise yourself isn’t that amazing—that’s what fancy dress is for.”
She cackled. Sir Barclay made his angry, whistling noise, but I shook my head without taking my eyes off Celeste. He got the hint and stayed where he was. We had to keep it together.
“What’s mozzarella got to do with a pooing parrot?” I asked, frowning.
Celeste scoffed, which made me feel about two centimetres tall. “Ah, yes, the pooing parrot, I was getting to that. It was the dimmest of them all. I didn’t think it would believe me so imagine my surprise when it ignored you, as instructed, and took aim. Hockey match won, and another step closer to winning the Farrow Park Cup. You see, Fleur, you magical lot aren’t that special after all.”
My mind exploded. Was this how Nan felt before she had a dizzy spell, because I couldn’t keep up with everything that Celeste had said?
“Squawk! I’ve had quite enough of this!” This time it was Celeste who didn’t have time to duck as Sir Barclay raced towards her, tucking his head forward to give him extra speed. “Move aside, Fleur! Before you get covered.”
SPLAT!
The most enormous squirt of parrot poo flew from Sir Barclay’s bottom and onto Fleur’s face. Screams erupted from her as she spluttered on his rear-end surprise.
“Eugh! This is disgusting! Mum! Mum!”
I gasped in astonishment. I didn’t think he had it in him. As Celeste pulled at a rhubarb leaf to help her deal with the slimy consequences, Sir Barclay plunged into the greenhouse through the shattered window and knocked over Celeste’s bag.
He fished out Nan’s notebook with his beak and went to fly away, but a shard of broken glass caught his foot and he shuddered in pain. He squawked and the book fell, landing on the grass beside Celeste. She heard it land and quickly smeared the leaf across her eyes so she could see. Spotting the notebook, she lunged for it.
“No way!” I leapt forward and pushed her out of the way, grabbing the book tightly with both hands and hugging it to my chest as Celeste mounted my back.
“Give it back!” she hissed. “It’s staying with me.”
“Not a chance!” I tried to shove her off but she had a strong grip. “It’s not yours!” I purposefully stamped on her foot with all my might.
“Aaagh!” she screamed in my ear before immediately letting go.
I looked around for Sir Barclay and spotted him right above our heads.
“Catch!” I yelled and threw Nan’s book up high where he seized it in his beak and enveloped it with his claws. He disappeared and I quickly dashed to the shed. While Celeste was still holding her foot, I banged forcefully on the window. At last, Dame Genevieve faced me within her cage.
“Don’t worry, Dame Genevieve, we’ll get you out somehow,” I shouted. “Sir Barclay will think of something.”
