Charlie Changes Into a Chicken

by Sam Copeland

  Well, NOW who looks silly? You haven’t a clue what’s going on, have you? You don’t know who Charlie is or who Dylan is or why Dylan is trying to put Charlie in a matchbox. All I can say is good luck with the rest of the book, pinheads.

  Author’s Note II

  The publishers have informed me that apparently I am not allowed to refer to my ‘valued readers’ as ‘pinheads’. They have therefore instructed me to apologize to you. So, here we are:

  I’m really, really, truly sorry.fn1

  I hope you’re happy.fn2

  They have also instructed me to give you a quick rundown on what happens in Book 1. So, for those of you too lazy to go to the library to get it, here we go:

  Charlie McGuffin keeps turning into animals. He discovers, with the help of his friends Flora, Mohsen and Wogan, that he changes when he is stressed and upset. Together they work out that he can control it (sort of) if he relaxes and tries to be happy. Also, Charlie’s nemesis, Dylan, who you just met, saw Charlie change and basically went very weird and turned into a bit of a movie villain who’s determined to expose Charlie’s secret to the whole world.

  OK, now you’ve caught up, shall we get on with the story? Good.

  ‘Wow! So you’re sure you have the whole changing-into-an-animal thing under control?’ asked Mohsen.

  ‘Oh yes. Absolutely,’ replied Charlie.

  It was playtime, but he was sitting with Flora and Mohsen in a noisy classroom, as cold sleety rain was pattering against the window. Flora was absent-mindedly flicking through a magazine called The World’s Fluffiest But Deadly Animals. The autumn term was coming to an end, and Christmas was on everybody’s mind. The class had spent the morning making paper chains, and they were now hung all across the classroom.

  Wogan was over the other side of the room, talking to the new girl Daisy. Daisy had long brown curly hair and she loved unicorns more than anything. And ponies. But mostly unicorns. Wogan had spent the whole of the past couple of days telling anybody who listened that he absolutely did not think Daisy was pretty and that he had, in fact, actually always thought unicorns were ‘cool’.

  ‘You’re totally sure?’ Flora said to Charlie, eyeing him suspiciously.

  ‘Yes! Definitely. Sheesh! I told you. Dylan tried getting me to change in the corridor just now, but I stopped it. So I’m completely one hundred per cent sure that I am totally in control of the whole changing-into-an-animal thing and it won’t happen again. I can guarantee that.’

  Charlie couldn’t guarantee that.

  In fact, Charlie, deep down, wasn’t at all sure that he had control of the whole changing-into-an-animal thing. But he wanted to be brave in front of Flora, who had managed to increase in awesomeness by about six per cent since Book 1 after winning the Interschool County Rap Battle with her rap ‘Top Flor’.

  ‘Charlie, you don’t have to be brave in front of me, you know. You can tell me the truth,’ Flora said, placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

  ‘Will you stop putting that thing on me?’ Charlie said, knocking the fake toy hand off his shoulder. ‘Honestly, it’s just weird.’

  ‘Well, it’s just … It’s just … It’s a big thing to have to learn and it might take time to get the hang of it completely,’ said Flora, picking up her toy hand and putting it in her bag. ‘Don’t be disappointed if you do change again.’

  Charlie made a humphing noise.

  Wogan wandered over. ‘Hey, Charlie,’ said Wogan. ‘Have you changed into any animals again?’

  ‘NO! I HAVE NOT! I CAN CONTROL IT, OK?’ Charlie snapped.

  Mohsen and Wogan edged away from Charlie.

  ‘O-K,’ said Wogan, holding his hands up. ‘That’s great. Good for you.’

  ‘Guys!’ whispered Flora. ‘Keep it down! We don’t want everyone to hear!’

  ‘It really is quite amazing,’ said Mohsen in a low voice, ‘that you, a small boy of just nine years of age, have succeeded so easily in totally mastering your mysterious and extraordinary power, the likes of which mankind has never seen before.’

  Charlie narrowed his eyes. ‘You don’t believe me! You don’t think I have mastered it! Well, I have. It won’t happen again,’ said Charlie certainly.

  ⋆⋆⋆

  Well, thought Charlie later that very evening, as he began licking himself clean, I was certainly wrong.

  And why was Charlie licking himself clean?

  Well, to find that out let’s go back a short while in time …

  Charlie had arrived home feeling pretty chipper. It had been a good day: his class had had the supply teacher in all day, because their usual teacher Arthur Wind was on a three-day intensive strategy course with the headteacher, Miss Fyre, on a boat on the Norfolk Broads.

  Mr Pointment, the supply teacher, had let them sit wherever they liked, and had let them do whatever they wanted in class as long as they were very quiet and hadn’t bothered him. He had sat at the front of the class for almost the whole day, eyes closed and holding his head in his hands, apart from a couple of times when he’d suddenly run out of the room, a look of pale urgency on his face.

  Charlie’s good mood was spoilt not long after he got home. He and SmoothMove (Charlie’s big brother who had been ill but was now much better) had wolfed down their tea and were lying in front of the TV under the glow of the Christmas-tree lights, playing FIFA 19.

  Charlie was losing as per usual.

  They heard the key in the front door. It was their dad, home unusually early. He didn’t poke his head into the sitting room to say hello, which was also unusual.

  Charlie and SmoothMove could hear a low muttered conversation between their mum and dad coming from the kitchen. They could tell by the tone of their parents’ voices that all wasn’t right. SmoothMove and Charlie looked at each.

  ‘What’s that all about?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Dunno,’ SmoothMove replied. ‘Boring adult stuff, I reckon.’ He shrugged, then turned back to the game, but a nervous tension still rippled between them.

  A little while later, their mum called them both into the kitchen. They both wandered in. Their mum and dad were sat at the table, both looking serious, both with their arms crossed.

  ‘Could you sit down?’ Charlie’s dad said. ‘We need to have a family conference.’

  Charlie knew a family conference meant something big. Either something good-big or something bad-big. Unless Charlie was very much mistaken, the looks on his parents’ faces said this was something bad-big. His first thought was something was wrong with SmoothMove again, but his brother was sitting next to him looking healthy and equally mystified at his dad’s behaviour, so it couldn’t be that.

  ‘I’m afraid to say,’ his dad announced, ‘we’re going to have to tighten our belts a little for a while.’

  ‘Why? Are we losing weight?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘No, Charlie. It’s a phrase. It means we are going to have to save some money. A lot of money actually.’

  This sounded like pretty terrible news to Charlie, especially as Christmas was fast approaching.

  ‘You see,’ continued his dad. ‘There’s been a bit of trouble at work and it could have some pretty serious repercussions.’

  Charlie thought that Reaper Cushions sounded both awesome and comfortable but knew, by looking at his dad’s face, that now was not the time to say that.

  ‘What sort of repercussions, Dad?’ SmoothMove asked.

  ‘Well, it looks like we might have to downsize.’

  ‘Downsize? How do you mean?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I mean that we might have to sell the house,’ his father replied.

  Silence hit the kitchen. Charlie stared at his dad.

  ‘And then what?’ asked SmoothMove. ‘Where will we live?’

  ‘Well, there’s a chance we might have to move in with Aunt Brenda. Just for a short while. Until we sort things out more permanently.’

  ‘Aunt Brenda?!’ cried Charlie. ‘We can’t move in with Aunt Brenda!’ />
  Aunt Brenda’s house was all the way over the other side of town and it smelled of cat wee. Aunt Brenda had seventeen cats and one leg. She refused to get a fancy modern prosthetic leg, and as she walked around her house her wooden leg rapped on the floorboards like the deck of a pirate ship.

  ‘Now, it’s not certain,’ his dad continued. ‘Nothing’s set in stone. Fingers crossed, we’ll be able to sort out the work issue and everything will just go back to normal. But in the meantime we’re going to have to make a few savings.’ Charlie’s dad gave the table a watery smile.

  ‘But try not to worry, kids. We’ll all pull together as a family,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘And if the worst comes to the worst, we can sell one of you,’ she continued with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘Oh, that’s a good idea!’ said Dad, a cheeky smile crinkling his face. ‘That would be a proper money-saver. But it will be too tough to decide which one of you to keep, so you boys need to do rock-paper-scissors and the loser gets eBayed.’

  They all laughed, breaking the tension a little.

  But although his dad might have been smiling again, Charlie couldn’t mistake the shadow of concern still clouding his father’s eyes. And that shadow gave Charlie a knot in his stomach.

  THE BEGINNING

  Wait – you didn’t think that was it, did you?

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  First published 2019

  Text copyright © Sam Copeland, 2019

  Illustrations copyright © Sarah Horne, 2019

  The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted

  Text design by Janene Spencer

  ISBN: 978-0-241-34625-9

  All correspondence to

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  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL

  CHAPTER 1 (AGAIN)

  fn1 Although he’s called Charles, everybody calls him Charlie for short, which is pretty silly because Charlie actually has the same number of letters as Charles.

  P.S. This is called a footnote. It’s called a footnote because when a clever person from ancient Greece thought of something really important and absolutely had to write it down so they didn’t forget it, but didn’t have any paper to write it on, they used to write it on their foot.

  You know what, I’m not too sure about that fact. Don’t trust me on that one.

  fn2 Well spotted! It’s another footnote. You’re probably wondering what ‘woe betide’ means. Well, only parents and teachers are allowed to say, ‘Woe betide you …’ It’s the law. But, if you want some fun, next time a teacher or parent says, ‘Woe betide you,’ ask them what it means. What it means exactly. You will probably see steam coming out of their ears and you’ll get into more trouble but it will be worth it.

  fn3 If you are very clever, you will have realized that this is not actually a fact. It is actually completely untrue. Spiders only have one bum, for which they are very grateful. However, if everybody reading this can convince as many other people as they can that spiders DO have eight bums, then that would be awesome and the world would be a better place. So, if you have younger brothers and sisters, start by getting them to believe that spiders have eight bums.

  CHAPTER 2

  fn1 Another footnote. I promise you, though, this one is interesting. Most animals do fart. Real scientists actually got paid actual money to make a list of animals that fart and animals that don’t. That would be one seriously stinky laboratory. I bet they went home smelling of rhino farts and nobody wanted to stand next to them on the train. The scientists discovered that goats and baboons and whales (can you imagine that blast?) DO fart, whereas birds and crabs and oysters DON’T. And do you know what? Scientists don’t know if spiders fart! Well, I think Charlie has just proved here conclusively that spiders DO fart. You can thank us later, Science.

  fn2 Remember: eight bums. Keep the lie going. Let’s make it happen.

  fn3 Technically spiders don’t actually shoot webs out of their bums. They come out of tiny holes called ‘spigots’. Spigots are actually a bit like tiny bumholes, but instead of poo they shoot out spider silk. Which is pretty awesome when you think about it. Now remember the word ‘spigots’, because one day in twenty-five years’ time, it will be a crossword clue or a question in a quiz and everyone will think you are very clever for knowing it. ‘Spigots’ will also be a very useful word to know for a game called Scrabble.

  CHAPTER 3 (CONTINUED)

  fn1 The Great Catsby was Charlie’s other cat. But he was incredibly lazy and did nothing except eat and sit in a cardboard box on top of the small fridge in the kitchen. The Great Catsby was highly unlikely to leave his box, never mind run upstairs to eat a spider.

  CHAPTER 7

  fn1 Wogan’s dad was also the worst namer of children. He had meant to call Wogan Logan, after Wolverine’s real name, but after one too many whiskies he had got confused and accidentally named him after an old BBC presenter instead.

  CHAPPTER 8

  fn1 Copyright © Arthur Wind & Fyre Music Corporation Ltd, 2019

  fn2 Copyright © Arthur Wind & Fyre Music Corporation Ltd, 2019

  CHAPTER 9

  fn1 You see, I told you you’d find out, Mr and Mrs Lloyd.

  fn2 Charlie could throw Flora approximately 26 centimetres. So Charlie trusted Flora about 26 centimetres, which does not make any sense at all when you think about it. Just take from this that Charlie doesn’t trust Flora very much, and let’s just move on. But you should also know that Charlie has never actually attempted to throw Flora, who has a blue belt in karate and would probably beat him up if he did.

  CHAPTER 10

  fn1 Or no-handed, technically, because snakes don’t have hands.

  CHAPTER 11

  fn1 There is much discussion among scientists whether snakes have foreheads. One scientist has even argued that a snake’s body is essentially one long forehead, but he has been shunned by all the other snakeologists for his barmy theories, and he is now banned from coming to the Annual Snakeologists’ Christmas Party, which is sad and unfair but quite understandable.

  There is no discussion among scientists whether snakes have hands.

  fn2 There wasn’t.

  fn3 There will be.

  CHAPTER 13

  fn1 Their own fingernails, not each other’s.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE II

  fn1 I’m not really sorry. I lied. Pinheads.

  fn2 I don’t.