by Hilary McKay
www.hodderchildrens.co.uk
Look out for all the Charlie books!
Charlie and the Cheese and Onion Crisps
and Charlie and the Cat Flap
Charlie and the Rocket Boy
and Charlie and the Great Escape
Charlie and the Tooth Fairy and Charlie
and the Big Birthday Bash
Charlie and the Haunted Tent
and Charlie and the Big Snow
For older readers:
Saffy’s Angel
(Winner of the Whitbread Children’s Book Award)
Indigo’s Star
Permanent Rose
Caddy Ever After
Forever Rose
Caddy’s World
Binny for Short
Contents
Charlie and the Cheese and Onion Crisps
Charlie and the Cat Flap
Sneak Peek
Copyright
If you liked this, you’ll love…
1
No Crisps
It was lunch time at school and Charlie and Henry were sitting together. They always sat together because they were best friends. Charlie and Henry had been best friends for five years, ever since they met on the Naughty Bench at Pre-school.
Nobody understood Henry as well as Charlie did, and nobody understood Charlie as well as Henry did. So when Charlie said to Henry, ‘You can have my cheese and onion crisps if you want! They give you such a ponky smell!’
Henry understood at once. ‘You don’t usually mind smelling ponky,’ he said. ‘Usually you like them the best! You’ve gone bonkers again, haven’t you?’
Charlie smiled and did not say he hadn’t.
‘Who is it this time?’ demanded Henry. ‘No, don’t tell me! I can guess! It’s the new student teacher that came this morning!’
Charlie’s smile got worse than ever, and he gazed across the dining hall at the new student teacher.
‘What’s her name?’ asked Henry. ‘I wasn’t listening when she said.’
Charlie shrugged. He hadn’t been listening either. He didn’t think her name mattered. She was simply the New Miss, fascinating and lovely because she had long red curly hair and a leather thong round her neck with a stone threaded on to it.
‘I can’t see anything special about her,’ said Henry, ‘she gets ratty dead easy and she looks like a witch. That stone round her neck is just a normal boring stone.’
‘I know. I heard her tell Lulu she found it on the beach.’
‘That’s not a good reason to wear it round her neck,’ said Henry. ‘I found a dead seal on the beach once …’
‘You’ve told me a million times!’
‘… A huge dead seal …’
‘Seals aren’t that huge,’ objected Charlie.
‘They look much bigger dead than they do in zoos. Parts of it had been chewed or something. It smelled a bit like …’ (Henry glanced into Charlie’s lunch box) ‘… ham sandwiches and a bit like it had died of old age …’
‘I don’t know why you’re telling me all this again!’ groaned Charlie.
‘I’m just explaining that it definitely wasn’t the sort of thing you’d want to wear round your neck …’
Charlie picked the ham out of his sandwich and pushed it down Henry’s collar. A dinner lady caught him ham-handed and sent him to stand by the wall. Henry trailed after him because they were friends and they continued gazing at the New Miss.
‘Rubbish shoes,’ remarked Henry.
‘Girls,’ said Charlie, ‘only ever look good in very high heels or roller skates. I don’t see why they don’t just wear them all the time. I would.’
‘You’d fall over all the time then.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ said Charlie, rolling his eyes at Henry’s silliness, ‘because I’d be a girl! Dope!’
Henry fished a bit of ham up from under his collar and ate it. He did not bother to argue any more. He knew it would be no good. Falling in love did weird things to Charlie’s brain. Now (like countless times before) he would give up cheese and onion crisps, try and teach himself football tricks, spend a great deal of time smiling and leaning against walls, and arrange his hair in unnatural formations of swirls and spikes with hair gel borrowed from Henry’s vast hair gel collection.
There was only one good thing about Charlie in love.
‘It never lasts long,’ said Henry thankfully.
Lunch ended, Henry and Charlie went outside and the New Miss went back to the classroom. Charlie practised football tricks as close to the window as he dared while Henry kept an eye on her through the glass and from time to time said helpfully, ‘She’s not watching … good job she didn’t see that … she’s still not watching …’
The New Miss did not survive the afternoon. First she ruined Art by handing out paper plates and demanding they all draw healthy salads and then she gave out worksheets about Henry the Eighth with pictures of all of his six unfortunate wives.
‘Label the wives and colour them in,’ she ordered.
Charlie gave all six red floppy hair and stones round their necks and the New Miss put his worksheet in the recycling bin.
‘I hope you are not trying to be rude,’ she said.
Charlie, who could be much ruder than that without trying at all, was very offended indeed.
Henry was right; he decided, she did look like a witch.
‘I should like to meet someone perfect,’ he said as he walked home with Henry, and he described his perfect girl to Henry. Henry was not a bit surprised to hear that she would have floppy hair and sticky out plaits and her neck would be hung with interesting things on strings.
Also she would be a whiz on a skateboard or roller blades or very high heels.
‘And,’ said Charlie, tossing his Art into a nearby bin, ‘she will never eat salad!’
‘Salad is good for you,’ said Henry. ‘Look at elephants.’
‘Yes, look at elephants!’ said Charlie. ‘They are fat and wrinkly and nearly extinct!’
‘I’ll tell my mum that,’ said Henry, very impressed. ‘She’s been saying look at elephants and making me eat salad for years!’
‘You tell her then,’ said Charlie.
‘I will,’ said Henry, and he did, while Charlie stood around nodding helpfully.
‘Look at elephants!’ cried Henry’s mother, vacuuming around them as if they were furniture. ‘Whenever am I supposed to get time to look at elephants, may I ask?’ and she shooed them upstairs with an apple and a satsuma each and two tubes of smarties because it was Friday.
They gobbled up their apples and exploded their satsumas and agreed to save the Smarties for a little bit later when Charlie would teach Henry the Truly Amazing Smarties Trick (at which he was almost perfect). After that they gelled up their hair into gravity defying banana-scented spikes with Henry’s latest hair gel (Tropical Fruits Extra Firm Hold) and Henry described his perfect girl to Charlie. And she was going to be so very, very rich that she would insist on giving Henry at least a million pounds just to save her the bother of looking after it.
And then she would go and live on the other side of the world.
The moment Henry took delivery of the cash.
‘Admit she sounds perfect,’ said Henry smugly.
Charlie said she didn’t sound real.
‘Neither does yours,’ said Henry, and then they went back into the street to check their spikes would stay up in the wind, and Henry said, ‘Crikey!’
Because there she was.
Charlie’s perfect girl.
Coming
down the street with Charlie’s big brother Max.
2
Quite a Lot of Smarties
The Perfect Girl was in school uniform, and she made it look like the coolest clothes in the world. Her huge school uniform shirt almost covered her tiny school uniform skirt. Her school uniform tie had been transformed into a belt. A denim backpack swung from one shoulder and two sticky-out blonde plaits bounced from under a heap of blonde floppy hair. Around her neck were silver chains, strings of shells and a large blue stone on a leather thong. She did not walk, she glided and spun as if she was on wheels.
She was on wheels; she wore white wheelie trainers.
She floated along the pavement, sometimes a little ahead, sometimes backwards talking and shaking her plaits, but she kept coming back to Max.
‘It is NOT FAIR!’ wailed Charlie.
It never was fair with Max. He was four years older than Charlie, and it seemed to Charlie that he had been born with Charlie’s share of good luck as well as his own.
Max was very nearly a teenager and so tall he looked even older than that. He was good at everything. He could whistle through his fingers, raise one eyebrow and juggle with a football. He could swing from the crossbars of the swings in the park, do running dives into the swimming pool and ride a bike with no hands. He grew so quickly his clothes did not get time to wear out and then Charlie, who never seemed to grow at all, had to wear them for ever.
There were times when Charlie could hardly bear his big brother Max.
Max and Charlie’s perfect girl had paused on their way. She had pointed to a notice fastened to a lamp post, and they had read it together. Charlie and Henry saw the Perfect Girl smiling and nodding. They saw Max shrug and move away. They were getting closer and closer but they did not seem to see Charlie bobbing up and down on the pavement.
In fact, they both kept glancing backwards.
‘What’ll I do to make her notice me?’ wailed Charlie and almost at once found the answer in his hand.
The Truly Amazing (Nearly Perfect) Smarties Trick.
The Truly Amazing (Nearly Perfect) Smarties Trick had another name: Drinking Smarties.
The performer held a tube of Smarties high above his open mouth and drank them as they poured.
It was a wonder of breathing and swallowing and timing. Max and the Perfect Girl were only a few steps away.
Charlie pulled open his Smarties tube, and tipped back his head.
Rattle, rattle, rattle, went the stream of Smarties into Charlie’s open mouth, and vanished.
It really was spectacular.
It was a five second multicoloured miracle. Not a single Smarties missed. It was Charlie’s most successful performance ever.
Henry applauded, Max looked disgusted and the girl on wheelie trainers who had missed the whole thing asked, ‘What?’
‘Me!’ squeaked Charlie. ‘Watch properly this time!’ and he grabbed Henry’s tube of Smarties.
‘OY!’ shouted Henry, but too late. Charlie was beginning the whole trick all over again.
It should have worked but it didn’t. Henry’s shout put Charlie off so that the whole drinking and breathing and timing thing was ruined.
Charlie choked like an explosion and a volcanic eruption of Smarties shot from his face and showered his astonished audience.
‘What a waste! What a waste!’ yelled Henry, scurrying round gathering up his property.
‘OUUFFF!’ went Charlie, and hurled another rain of Smarties into the air.
‘Stop it! Stop it!’ complained Henry furiously.
‘He’ll die!’ announced the Perfect Girl. ‘He’s choking! He’ll die!’
‘He’ll not,’ said Max grumpily. ‘He’s my brother. I’ve seen him do it thousands of times before. He’s just disgusting.’
‘WHARRRGGGHHH!!!!!’ said Charlie, erupting again.
‘Do something!’ the girl ordered Max, so Max picked Charlie up, hoisted him upside down and shook him. A stream of Smarties tumbled out like pennies from a piggy bank and Charlie stopped choking and went suddenly boneless.
‘That was the most amazing thing I ever saw!’ said the Perfect Girl, gazing round at the constellations of Smarties still ungathered by Henry. ‘How many do you think he ate? Shouldn’t someone be taking care of him?’
‘I just did,’ said Max, lowering Charlie not very gently on to the pavement and beginning to move quickly away.
‘Does he do it often?’ asked the Perfect Girl, hurrying after him.
‘Yes. Quite.’
‘They’re both gathering up Smarties now!’
‘Probably going to eat them.’
‘The one that’s your brother is smiling at me. I love his hair! He must have done it himself …’
Max grunted and walked a bit faster. They were quite far away now but the voice of the Perfect Girl came floating back, laughing and clear.
‘He really is kind of cute …’
Charlie suddenly came alive with happiness.
‘It worked!’ he cried, punching Henry joyfully. ‘Did you hear what she said? Cute! She said cute! How about that?’
‘Oh fantastic,’ said Henry sourly. ‘Are you sitting on any more Smarties?’
‘Loads!’
‘I’m having all mine back!’
‘OK. I only borrowed them.’
‘Borrowed them and swallowed them!’
‘Just for a minute,’ said Charlie soothingly. ‘What did you think Henry, when you heard her say I was cute?’
‘I thought she was bonkers,’ said Henry.
3
Skateboard Tricks
‘So,’ said Charlie to Henry on Saturday morning. ‘What’ll I do next? Now that I’ve got her thinking that I’m cute and everything?’
‘Why don’t you ask Max?’ asked Henry. ‘He should know. He likes her too.’
They were in the park at the time, the little green park just along the street from their houses. Their mothers had decided that this summer they were allowed to be there on their own. After all, it was so close that you could see it from the windows of Charlie’s house, and the road in between was very quiet.
‘They ought to be safe,’ said Charlie and Henry’s mothers.
Charlie and Henry did not feel very safe that Saturday morning. They were taking turns with Henry’s skateboard which they had recklessly oiled before they came out. Oiling had transformed it. Before only two of the wheels moved at all. Now all four of them spun at a touch. Charlie and Henry hardly dared step on it.
‘Maybe we should gunge it up again,’ suggested Charlie. ‘And Max doesn’t like her. He’s not bothered about her at all. He told me.’
‘Ho!’ said Henry disbelievingly, and looked across the park. Gemma was in the little one’s playground, carefully pushing someone’s toddler on one of the baby swings. A group of Max’s friends were taking turns to vault a bench. Max was all by himself, not quite in the little one’s playground because no footballs were allowed there, but very nearby. He was doing fantastic football tricks. He could bounce the ball from his knees to his head, catch it on his shoulders, slide it down his back, and hook it up with his foot all in one easy movement. It was lovely to watch, but no one was looking except Charlie and Henry.
‘He’s got his hair gelled up just like yours,’ said Henry. ‘And he’s looking at her just the way you looked at the New Miss on Friday.’
‘The way I looked at who?’
‘The New Miss,’ said Henry. ‘Floppy hair! Awful shoes! Half a dead seal round her neck!’
‘Oh her,’ said Charlie, stepping very carefully with one foot on to the skateboard, ‘Look, I’m doing it Henry! I’m balanced!’
‘Make it move then!’
Charlie scooted forward the smallest amount possible and stayed triumphantly upright.
‘Woo hoo!’ he sang, glided at least six inches and waved boldly to Gemma.
Gemma smiled and waved back.
This was too much for Charlie. His arms flailed in
frantic windmill circles and he toppled over backwards into a flower bed.
Gemma’s eyebrows flew up and she raised a hand to her mouth.
‘I’m all right! I’m all right!’ cried Charlie, bouncing to his feet and racing across the grass to the swings with Henry stumping along behind him. ‘I’m actually very tough, aren’t I Henry? I really like your pink hat! D’you mind if I look at your trainers? Did you know you’ve got my favourite sort of hair? I heard what you said about me yesterday, you know!’
‘What did I say?’ asked Gemma.
‘You said I was cute!’
‘Did I?’
‘You know you did!’ said Charlie, attempting a somersault over a baby swing and landing at her feet.
‘Well,’ said Gemma (who had delicious dimples both sides of her mouth), ‘so you are!’
And she reached down with both hands and pulled him up again.
A football shot like a comet past Charlie’s left ear, close enough for him to feel the whoosh of air as it passed. A flying figure sped across the grass, leaped on to Henry’s abandoned skateboard, rode it in a tremendous screeching curve down the path, jumped the three steps down to the gate (landing perfectly, crouched and balanced like a cat) and vanished beyond the bushes between the park and the road.
Moments later the skateboard came sailing into view.
It landed with a flump on the grass.
‘Max,’ said Henry, ‘does not think that Charlie is cute.’