Whizziwig and Whizziwig Returns Omnibus

by Malorie Blackman

  ‘I know, darling, but everything – and I mean everything – went wrong yesterday. The building materials for stage two still haven’t arrived, the site foreman broke his leg and my plans for this month’s work have gone missing. If I’m not there today to supervize, things will go from bad to worse.’

  ‘Can’t you get someone else to handle it?’ asked Mum.

  ‘It’s my project, babe. I’ve got to be there to sort things out,’ Dad soothed.

  The doorbell rang.

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Ben leapt to his feet.

  As he left the kitchen, he saw Whizziwig floating in the hall just below the ceiling. ‘Whizziwig, you can’t stay there. Someone will see you.’

  ‘No chance. I can duck.’ Whizziwig zipped to one side of the doorframe. ‘I can dodge.’ Whizziwig zipped to the other side. ‘I can weave—’

  ‘Yeah! Yeah! Just stay out of sight,’ Ben pleaded.

  ‘Don’t I always?’ Whizziwig smiled.

  Ben opened the front door. It was Steve.

  ‘Hi! D’you want some breakfast?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Wouldn’t say no.’ Steve licked his lips.

  They made their way to the kitchen.

  ‘Hi, Whizzy,’ Steve grinned. ‘Welcome back!’

  ‘You saw me then?’ Whizziwig said, surprised.

  Ben gave Whizziwig an ‘I told you so!’ look.

  ‘’Course I saw you. Why? Are you meant to be invisible or something?’ asked Steve.

  ‘Or something!’ Ben answered before Whizziwig could.

  As they walked into the kitchen, Mum and Dad were still arguing.

  ‘I had it all arranged,’ said Mum. ‘Aunt Dottie has Lizzie, and Ben was going there straight after school, and you and I—’

  ‘Sorry, love. Can’t be helped.’ Dad glanced down at his watch. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder if you wanted to take this day off in the first place.’ Mum’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘How can you say that?’ Dad exclaimed. ‘I wish you could’ve had a day like I had yesterday. I’m telling you, everything went wrong.’

  Ben and Steve exchanged a worried look before both glancing out of the kitchen door. Whizziwig was hanging upside down from the top of the doorframe like a furry bat and she had a huge grin on her face.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll bother with breakfast,’ Steve said hastily. ‘Maybe we should just go.’

  ‘Don’t mind me, Steve.’ Mum shook her head. ‘I’m a bit disappointed, that’s all.’

  Dad gave Mum a quick kiss before he rushed out of the room and out of the house. Mum sighed deeply and picked up her coffee cup to take a sip. Somehow the coffee missed her mouth and spilt down the front of her shirt. Ben decided it was definitely time to go before things got any worse.

  ‘Bye, Mum,’ said Ben.

  And giving Mum no time to say another word, he and Steve raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Ben’s room.

  ‘D’you think we should warn her that she might be in for a bad day?’ Ben asked, flopping down on his bed.

  ‘She wouldn’t believe you, not without proof,’ said Steve, looking straight at Whizziwig.

  Whizziwig took one look at Steve’s face and floated out of harm’s way. ‘My! That’s an interesting bit of the ceiling!’ she said.

  Steve and Ben smiled. It made a change to wind up Whizziwig, rather than the other way around.

  ‘So, did you finish your science project then?’ Steve asked.

  ‘Almost! D’you want to see? It’s up there on top of my wardrobe.’

  ‘Why did you put it up there?’ Steve frowned.

  ‘So Tarzan couldn’t get at it, of course,’ Ben replied. Tarzan was their large black and white Collie dog. ‘Dad put it up there for me. Help me get it down.’

  Steve and Ben walked over to the wardrobe.

  ‘I’ll lift you up,’ said Ben.

  Huffing and puffing, Ben held on to Steve’s legs and hoisted him up.

  Steve stretched out a hand towards Ben’s science project but he couldn’t quite reach.

  ‘A little higher,’ Steve said.

  ‘Hurry up, Steve. You’re breaking my back.’

  ‘Don’t drop me,’ Steve ordered. ‘Almost got it—’

  ‘Steve . . . Ouch! Hurry . . . up . . . Ooh, I wish you were a bit lighter. My arms are killing me.’

  Whizziwig’s eyes sparkled. The wish was granted. Only neither Ben nor Steve realized what had just happened. Steve managed to get the board with Ben’s weather-station science project off the top of the wardrobe.

  ‘Oh, that’s better,’ said Ben, surprised. It no longer felt like he was lifting up a baby elephant!

  Ben let Steve down and took the weather-station off him to make sure it was still OK. Immediately, Steve started to float up to the ceiling.

  ‘What’s going on? HELP!’ Steve cried out.

  Ben stared. ‘Steve, what’re you . . . Whizziwig!’

  ‘You did wish Steve was a bit lighter,’ Whizziwig reminded him.

  ‘I didn’t mean for you to turn him into a helium balloon.’ Ben shook his head.

  ‘Argue about it later. Get me down.’ Steve’s head hit the ceiling. ‘Ouch!’

  Whizziwig floated up to Steve’s eye level. ‘It’s good up here, isn’t it? You get a great view of the whole room. And you just wait until you see—’

  ‘Get me down – NOW!’ Steve roared.

  Ben pulled at Steve’s legs. Steve came down all right, but then Ben had to keep pressing on his shoulders to keep him on the ground.

  ‘Whizziwig, change me back.’

  ‘Sorry. You know the rules.’ Whizziwig shrugged.

  ‘But . . . but I can’t go to school like this.’

  ‘School!’ Ben exclaimed. ‘We’d better hurry up or we’ll be late.’

  Ben let go of Steve and ran over to his bookcase to get his school books. Steve started to float up to the ceiling again. Ben grabbed him and pulled him down.

  ‘What am I supposed to do?’ Steve asked.

  Ben looked around his room. ‘Wait here.’

  Ben ran downstairs as Steve floated upwards. Steve put out his hands to try to stop his head banging into the lampshade in the middle of the room. And all the time he scowled at Whizziwig.

  ‘If looks could kill, I’d be in serious trouble!’ Whizziwig muttered.

  Ben ran into the kitchen and started rummaging through one of the cupboards.

  ‘Ben, what’re you looking for?’ said Mum.

  ‘Er . . . something heavy,’ Ben replied.

  ‘Pardon?’

  Ben took out as many tin cans and full jars as he could carry.

  ‘Where d’you think you’re going with all those?’ frowned Mum.

  ‘I . . . er, I need them for the school’s Harvest Festival.’

  ‘In spring?’

  ‘Mr Archer wants us to rehearse as much as possible before autumn. Bye.’ Ben tried to rush out of the kitchen before his mum could ask any more awkward questions.

  ‘Hang on, Ben. You can’t take all that stuff.’

  ‘Please, Mum. You’ll get it back tomorrow – I promise.’

  ‘Oh, all right then,’ Mum grumbled. ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘No! It’s OK. Steve and I can manage.’ Ben raced out of the room.

  ‘What d’you mean “manage”?’ Mum started to go after Ben, but she stubbed her toe on a chair leg. ‘Ow! Ouch!’ Hopping around in agony, Mum bumped into the table. Ben’s half-full glass of milk fell off the table and on to the floor with a CRAA-AAA-AASH!

  Ben strode rather than ran up the stairs because he didn’t want to drop any cans or jars on his feet. By the time he got back to his bedroom, Steve’s whole body was floating prone against the ceiling.

  ‘Get me down,’ Steve yelled.

  ‘Shush! Hang on.’

  Ben dumped all the cans and jars in his arms on his bed. Then he ran downstairs again. He went into the kitchen to get a broom out of the cu
pboard before racing off again. Mum was under the table, carefully picking up the bits of broken glass.

  ‘Ben . . .’ Mum raised her head, only to bang it on the underside of the table. ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Can’t stop, Mum. Bye.’ Ben rushed out.

  In his bedroom, Ben used the brush end to hook Steve’s arm and pull him down.

  ‘Ouch! Watch what you’re doing!’ Steve said angrily when Ben hit him on the head with the broom.

  ‘That’s a strange way to brush his hair!’ said Whizziwig.

  ‘I’m trying to get him down,’ Ben said.

  ‘How? By knocking my head off?’ Steve snapped.

  ‘Then try grabbing for the broom instead of letting me do all the work.’ Ben was beginning to lose patience now.

  Steve managed to reach the broom and Ben pulled him down.

  ‘Hold onto my headboard or the wardrobe door while I sort out these cans,’ said Ben.

  Steve held onto the wardrobe door, his feet floating behind and above him so that he looked like he was about to dive into the wardrobe. Ben emptied all of Steve’s stuff out onto his bed, then filled his bag with the cans and jars. He topped it up with a couple of thick encyclopaedias.

  ‘There! That ought to do it!’ Ben helped Steve to put his bag back on.

  ‘It weighs a ton,’ Steve complained.

  ‘That’s the whole idea,’ Ben pointed out. ‘Try walking.’

  Steve let go of the wardrobe very, very carefully. He didn’t float! He didn’t rise! Ben beamed at him. Steve tried to walk. It was a bit loppity, a cross between how a kangaroo and a rabbit might walk, but at least he was down on the ground.

  ‘Come on, Steve. We’d better get to school.’

  ‘This should be interesting!’ Whizziwig grinned.

  Chapter Three

  One of Those Days for Mum

  MUM HAD ALL the broken pieces of glass in the dustpan. Now she needed some newspaper to wrap them in before she put them in the bin. Where had Daniel put all the old newspapers? Mum opened the cupboard over the sink. Ah! There were some newspapers – right up on the top shelf! It was a bit of a stretch, but if she stood on tiptoe . . .

  Mum reached up to pull the newspapers from above her head. They were a bit reluctant to move. She pulled harder. They still didn’t budge.

  ‘Why on earth did he put them up there?’ Mum said crossly. She pulled harder still. Suddenly the newspapers shifted. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only things to shift. Ben’s dad had put a number of small pots of paint on top of the newspapers and they all came tumbling down on top of Mum. They were small enough not to hurt too much, but that didn’t stop the lids flying off in all directions. Forest-green, midnight-blue and sunshine-yellow paints rained down. Mum’s face, her hair, her clothes, they were all covered.

  ‘ARGGHHH!’ Mum let out a shriek and tried to duck out of the way – but she was too late.

  She stood in the kitchen, snorting with rage like a demented bull.

  ‘Daniel . . .’ Laser beams shot out of Mum’s eyes. Ben’s dad would never know how lucky he was not to be in the house at that precise moment. ‘DANIEL!’ Mum stamped her foot.

  She wiped the paint off her eyelids and from around her mouth. She’d have more than one or two choice words to say to Dad when he got home, that was for sure.

  Chapter Four

  One of Those Days for Steve

  STEVE AND BEN walked to school together, but Steve wasn’t happy.

  ‘This doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m about to float off at any second,’ said Steve.

  ‘You mustn’t,’ Ben said, panicking. ‘Outside there’s nothing to stop you floating up and up and up.’

  ‘Then do something.’ Steve frowned. ‘Hold my hand or something.’

  ‘Are you nuts? I’m not walking to school holding your hand! Suppose someone sees us?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Steve said impatiently. ‘I meant hold onto my arm or my shoulder.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that either,’ Ben said doubtfully.

  ‘Then think of something – fast.’

  Just then they saw a girl of about five or six standing in her front garden under a tree. She was crying her eyes out.

  ‘Are you OK? What’s the matter?’ Ben asked.

  The girl pointed up. ‘My cat’s stuck in that tree.’

  ‘I’ll get it down,’ Steve said at once.

  He shrugged his rucksack carefully off his back, letting it drop to the pavement. Immediately he began to float upwards. As he grabbed hold of the lower branches of the tree, the cat took one look at him, snarled and spat in fright, before scarpering down as fast as it could.

  ‘Steve, you moron. You got the cat down, but who’s going to get you down?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Wow!’ The girl stared at Steve. ‘Superboy!’

  Whizziwig popped up from Ben’s bag. ‘What’s happening?’ She glanced up at Steve. ‘That’s very brave, Steve. Stupid but brave!’

  ‘Wow!’ The girl stared at Whizziwig. ‘Are you from Krypton too?’

  ‘No. I’m from Oricon.’ Whizziwig smiled.

  Ben pulled off his jacket and threw one end of it up towards the tree branches. ‘Steve, grab hold.’

  ‘I’m trying.’

  ‘You can say that again!’ Ben said crossly.

  Ben threw up his jacket again and this time Steve managed to get hold of the sleeve. Ben pulled him back down to the ground like reeling in a weightless fish. The girl ran up the path to her open front door.

  ‘Mum! Mum!’

  ‘Let’s go!’ Ben said quickly.

  Whizziwig ducked back down into Ben’s bag. Ben helped to put Steve’s rucksack on his back.

  They set off just as the girl’s mum came running.

  ‘Mum, Superboy got Ginger down from the tree,’ the girl told her mum. ‘Look! Over there! Superboy! He can fly!’

  ‘I think you’ve been watching too much telly.’ The girl’s mum frowned. ‘Come into the house.’

  ‘But . . .’

  And the girl was ushered back into the house, with her mum shutting the door firmly behind her.

  ‘Phew!’ Ben breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That was a bit too close.’

  Chapter Five

  Bad to Worse

  MUM STEPPED INTO her bath and breathed a huge sigh of contentment. After practically scrubbing her skin off in the shower to get rid of all the paint, it was lovely just to relax in a warm bath. Mum leaned back and closed her eyes. As soon as she’d had a long soak, she’d go and pick up Lizzie from Aunt Dottie. But for now she had at least an hour to herself. Delightful!

  Ding-dong! Oh, no! She couldn’t believe it! The doorbell! Ding-dong! There it was again. With an expression like a bulldog chewing a wasp, Mum stood up and stepped out of the bath. She put on her dressing gown and slippers and marched downstairs. She flung the door open, but to her surprise there was no one there.

  ‘Hello?’ Mum stared all around. She took a couple of steps down the garden path to take a look up and down the street. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Oh, hello, Mrs! I’m here to make your day. I’ve got mops, brushes, cloths . . .’

  Mum glared at the tall, gangly man with a pencil-thin moustache who appeared from around next-door’s hedge. With a huge, cheesy smile, he moved to stand just outside her gate.

  ‘No, thank you. I don’t want any.’

  ‘But they’re all good quality, top of the range—’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Mum said firmly. She was very aware that bathwater was running down her shins and calves and that her slippers were getting soggier by the second.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure I can’t persuade you?’ the salesman tried one last time.

  ‘You can’t. Goodbye,’ Mum said.

  The man walked off to try further up the road. Mum turned to go back into the house, but just at that moment the wind caught the door. She dived for the door but she was too late. It slammed shut just as she had her fingers on it.


  ‘No!’ Mum battered against the door with her fists. ‘No! No! NO!’ Then she leaned her head against it. Now what was she going to do? She scowled at the closed front door, willing it to open. But of course it didn’t. And the back door was locked too. There was only one thing for it. She’d have to walk to the nearest phone box and call Daniel on his mobile phone. Then he could come home and let her in. Pulling her dressing gown more tightly around her, she set off down the road. She could only hope and pray that she didn’t meet anyone she knew.

  After ducking down in someone’s front garden and hiding behind a letter box and two trees to make sure she wasn’t seen, Mum finally made it to the nearest phone box. She dialled Daniel’s mobile, but it just kept ringing.

  ‘Come on, Daniel,’ Mum muttered.

  There was no answer. And now an elderly woman was standing outside the phone box waiting to use it. And she was giving Mum a very peculiar look as she waited. Mum put the phone down and tried again, in case she’d dialled the wrong number. No luck. It still kept ringing. And now a young man and a teenage girl had joined the queue outside. Mum’s whole body was on fire with embarrassment. Heaven only knew what they thought of her, standing in the phone box in her dressing gown and slippers and muttering to herself.

  Mum came out, doing her best not to catch anyone’s eye. What was she going to do now? There was only one answer. She’d have to get Ben’s front-door key – which meant walking all the way to his school. She didn’t fancy that idea at all, but she had no choice. At least she could cut through the park. That should be less embarrassing than walking along the main road.

  Mum slunk along in the shadows, hiding behind cars and even behind a lamppost when she thought she spotted someone she knew. When at last she did reach the park, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. She ran in and darted from tree to tree like an overgrown squirrel. No way was she going to be seen. Now, if she could just make it around the pond and the children’s playground to the opposite exit, then she’d—

  ‘Gina? Gina, is that you?’