by Humza Arshad
I helped Umer to his feet and we started heading towards the door. By this point, most of the slugs were looking more battered than Umer and they weren’t putting up a fight any more. Even the tubes left us alone.
Yeah, that’s right, I thought. You’ve met your match, haven’t you?
Turns out, though, they knew something we didn’t. As we approached the main doors, I realized what it was: they weren’t trying to stop us because they didn’t need to. The ship had already begun to take off. Where the playground used to be, now there was just a drop. And it was getting bigger every second.
‘Humza!’ shouted my dad, ten feet below. ‘Jump! You have to jump!’
‘Jump!’ shouted Wendy.
‘We’ll catch you!’ shouted Grandpa.
I looked at Umer. He was still half asleep.
‘Man, I hope you never have to do this for me,’ I told him.
Then I shoved him out the door and into the night sky. I didn’t have time to watch him land. We were getting higher and higher every moment.
I closed my eyes … and leapt.
And that’s how I died. The End.
Nah, not really. Course I didn’t die! How would I have written all this if I’d died? Don’t be stupid. I’m fine! I broke my arm, but whatever. Broken arm’s gangsta.
The last thing I remember before blacking out was the school canteen floating above me in the night sky. It hovered over the crowd for just a moment. And then, with a flash of light, it was gone, firing off into the stars above.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Badman Done
I thought nothing would ever be the same again after that. I mean, how could it be? There were aliens out there! Plus, we’d just saved the world. We were gonna be the most famous kids on the planet, right? Nope. Apparently, Grandpa’s friends had other ideas. And before you start asking me who the hell these friends of Grandpa’s were who showed up with an army, I’m just about to tell you.
Funny thing is, the clues were there all along, I just didn’t put it together. Sure, the last few months had taught me that Grandpa kept a few tricks up his sleeve, but this last one I don’t think I could ever have guessed. See, it turns out my comics about the secret agents of the PIA hadn’t entirely come from my imagination after all. Though the real guys go by a different name …
‘You do not remember?’ asked Grandpa, as we sat together in the doctor’s waiting room.
‘Nah, not really,’ I replied, trying to scratch the skin under my plaster with a pencil.
Man, I was glad to be getting this thing off. A month of not being able to scratch an itch is almost worse than an alien invasion.
‘I guess I kind of remember you telling me stories as a kid,’ I said. ‘I remember sitting on your knee.’
‘You were the only one I could tell,’ he said. ‘Like the magic tricks, those stories were secret. You were so little. You would not tell anyone. You liked my stories.’
‘I guess I must have. I’ve been drawing comics about you for years. I just didn’t realize it. I thought I made ’em up.’
Grandpa laughed.
‘I had no idea,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You never showed me.’
‘I can’t believe you’re a spy, man. I can’t believe the PIA are real and you’re one of them.’
‘Not “PIA”,’ said Grandpa. ‘We are called the Agency. And, anyway, I am retired now.’
‘Yeah? You didn’t look so retired when you showed up with the cavalry last month.’
Grandpa shrugged and gave a small smile. He was quiet for a moment. He looked like he was remembering something from a long time ago.
‘Hey,’ I eventually said, ‘cos you’re always sleeping, does that make you a sleeper agent?’
‘Not funny,’ he replied, grinning. ‘You try doing two jobs. Dry cleaner’s all day, secret Agency all night. Very tiring.’
‘Yeah, I bet. Still, it was a pretty good disguise. I don’t think I’d have ever figured you for a spy.’
‘Not a spy. Agent.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘We have many different roles. Far more than just spying. Work with many different agencies, all over the globe.’
‘Huh. Maybe I’ve underestimated things in Pakistan a bit.’
‘There will be time to put that right,’ he said with a smile.
‘Does anyone else in the family know about all this?’
‘No.’
‘Not even Auntie Uzma?’
‘Especially not Auntie Uzma. Oh boy, she would make nihari out of me if she found out what I have been up to all these years.’
‘Damn, Grandpa, you are a sly old goat.’
‘Simple misdirection,’ he said, slipping a coin from his pocket. ‘Like magic tricks. Make people notice one thing …’
He flipped the coin towards me, high into the air, and I caught it as it fell.
‘… so they fail to notice another,’ he added.
When I turned back to him, Grandpa was holding a red gift-wrapped box in his lap. It had appeared from nowhere in the split second my eye was turned.
‘What’s that?’ I asked him.
‘Your reward,’ he said, passing it to me. ‘For saving the world, for saving your family and, most importantly, for finishing your first-ever after-school job.’
‘Ah, man, you didn’t have to get me anything.’
‘I was glad to have spent time with you again. Go on!’ He grinned, nodding to the box. ‘Open it.’
I peeled back the wrapping paper at the top. I didn’t even need to open it all the way to work out what it was. White moulded plastic with sharp black outlining! Optical zoom lens! 16-megapixel sensor!
‘The Matsani S3000 Home Pro Compact Video Camera!’ I yelled.
Grandpa laughed.
‘So next time you need to prove an alien invasion, you are ready to go,’ he added.
‘Yeah, this would have been pretty helpful a month ago,’ I said, peeling off the rest of the paper. ‘Thanks, Grandpa. You didn’t have to do this.’
‘You’ve earned it,’ he said, smiling.
‘Grandpa,’ I said, looking up, ‘I still don’t understand why we can’t talk about what happened. Why cover it up? Aliens tried to take over the world. It’s big news.’
‘People are not ready yet. Maybe one day. But, for now, the Agency says no. People get scared. People panic. So they cover things up. And life goes on.’
‘But I still don’t understand how they made everyone forget what happened,’ I said. ‘How’d they do that? Mind control? Hypnosis? Some kind of brain-melting ray gun?’
‘Honestly, I do not know. They don’t tell me everything,’ replied Grandpa. ‘But at least you and your friends get to remember. That will have to do.’
‘Yeah, I guess. Thanks for convincing them not to wipe our memories too.’
‘Oh, I did not have to convince them,’ replied Grandpa. ‘They want to meet you.’
‘Who, the Agency?’
‘Mm-hmm.’ Grandpa nodded.
‘They want to meet me? Really? When?’
‘Humza Khan,’ called the nurse.
‘Right now,’ replied Grandpa with a grin.
Leaving the camera on my chair, I followed the nurse down the corridor to Doctor Kapoor’s room. But, when she opened the door, it wasn’t him there waiting for me as usual. Instead, there were two gigantic soldier-looking guys in the little room, standing hunched over, arms folded. They were crammed into dark suits and neither of them had taken off their sunglasses, even though we were inside. Gangsta.
Sitting between them, behind Doctor Kapoor’s desk, was a third guy. He was normal-sized, not wearing sunglasses, and he smiled at me when I entered.
‘Hello, Humza,’ said the desk guy in a strong Pakistani accent. ‘Come, come, come,’ he added, gesturing to the seat opposite. ‘We have much to talk about …’
A week later, Umer, Wendy and I were in Mr Turnbull’s classroom, adding the last touches to t
he music video. The Matsani S3000 sat on the desk, plugged into Wendy’s laptop. Wendy was doing the editing, as she was the only one who’d figured out how to use it. Umer and I were behind her, giving her direction.
‘Looking good,’ said Mr Turnbull as he walked past, carrying a stack of sheet music. ‘You can have ten more minutes, then you’re going to have to get out into that sunshine. It’s your last break time ever, guys. Go and enjoy it.’
‘Last one at this school,’ I replied. ‘But it all starts again in September. I wish you were coming with us, sir.’
‘Well, you know where I am if you ever need me,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m just glad I was able to help you finish your track. I think you might have something special there.’
Umer, Wendy and I all shot each other a quick glance. Mr T had no idea how ‘special’ his track was, how important it had been. He had no memory of the aliens, of the abduction, of the rescue. It had all been wiped. It was like none of it had ever happened. And who’d believe us if we told them?
When the final bell sounded, every kid in the school ran through the gates cheering. And none of them cheered as loud or as long as the Year Sixes. Primary school was done. We had the whole summer ahead of us. I had the finished music video on a memory stick in my bag and I was with my two best friends. Life was pretty good.
‘It’s still so weird that we can’t talk to anyone about it, isn’t it?’ said Umer as we walked into the park.
‘Yeah, I reckon it’ll probably feel weird for a while,’ I replied. ‘Maybe forever.’
‘Why do you think they let us remember?’ asked Wendy. ‘I mean, why just us?’
Man, I was so desperate to tell my friends about my meeting at the doctor’s with the Agency guys. But they’d made me promise to keep that a secret too. Damn, these secret agents sure can be secretive. This was gonna be the hardest thing I’d ever done.
‘I guess it’s a reward,’ I said. ‘You know, for saving the whole planet.’
We walked quietly through the park, towards the pond.
‘Are you going to put it online?’ said Umer, after a while.
‘The music video?’ I replied. ‘I guess so. I haven’t really thought about it.’
It was funny – I still loved working on the track, writing the rap lyrics, shooting the video, all of it. But what I realized now was that just making it was the important bit. If you’re lucky enough to get that excited about doing something, then what happens to it afterwards really isn’t that big a deal.
Putting too much pressure on yourself over what’s going to happen next can stop you enjoying what’s happening right now. And what’s the point of that? I’d got so caught up in the idea of being famous that I couldn’t even perform properly when I got the chance.
So, as I stood there looking at the stepping stones across the pond, I realized that maybe I didn’t care so much about what other people thought about me after all. Cos if all you were ever trying to do was impress other people you’d never be happy. Not really.
But, hey, don’t get me wrong. I’ll probably still be ridiculously famous. With this much talent, it’s not like I’ve got a choice, right? But maybe I needed it a little less than I did a month ago. And that ain’t no bad thing.
‘Maybe I’ll put it online tomorrow,’ I said to Umer. ‘Or the next day. No rush.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Umer, smiling.
‘Right now though,’ I said, turning to face them, ‘I got something more important to do.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Wendy.
‘Beat you two suckers to the other side of the pond!’ I replied.
And, with that, I turned and ran as fast as I could towards the stepping stones. The others laughed and chased after me. I knew already it was gonna be a good summer.
Grandpa and Auntie Uzma were hosting the family dinner that weekend, and all the usual gang showed up. Aunts, uncles and cousins crowded round the table. I gotta tell you, I was pleased to see everyone bring a bit less food than they had a month ago. I never thought I’d be a healthy eater, but I had a whole new appreciation of salad. As long as it had been checked for slugs, that is …
‘Oh, no, no, no,’ said Uncle Bashir, refusing Auntie Uzma’s bowl of butter chicken. ‘I’m on a diet. I have put on two stone this year.’
Everyone turned to Auntie Uzma, waiting for her to give him a hard time.
‘What?’ said Uzma. ‘No argument here. I am on a diet too.’
After that, no one had another bite. A couple of months like this and we might finally get back to our usual slightly out-of-shape shapes.
Later, while the kids all played and the grownups all talked, I sat down in the corner of the living room with Grandpa.
‘Have you had a chance to think about what they asked you?’ he said.
‘Who, the Agency?’ I replied.
Grandpa nodded.
‘Yeah, course. I ain’t been able to think about much else.’
‘Whatever you decide, that is the right choice,’ he said, putting his arm round my shoulder.
He didn’t ask me anything more about it after that.
‘What about you? What are you going to do next?’ I asked him.
‘I shall take your auntie to Peru,’ he said with a grin.
He was staring over to the far side of the living room, where Auntie Uzma was sitting with a purring David Chesterton in her lap. She and Mum were flicking their way through a travel catalogue called ‘Peruvian Paradise’.
‘I have been too sleepy,’ said Grandpa. ‘Not paid enough attention. Time to put that right.’
‘I think that sounds like a good plan, Uncle,’ I told him.
‘And then, when I am back,’ he added, ‘maybe you can come and visit and I will teach you magic trick number two?’
‘Yeah, I’d like that,’ I replied. ‘I’d like that a lot.’
It was still light outside when Mum and Dad drove me home that evening. Man, I love summer. And, even though Dad was driving, it was a pretty smooth journey. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but something had changed. I knew that neither of them could remember a thing about what had happened. About the cricket or the after-school job, or, you know, the whole alien invasion bit.
Everything that had taken place since that first day with Mustafa and Miss Crumble had been erased. Umer, Wendy, Grandpa and I were the only ones in Eggington who remembered any of it. Yet somehow, deep inside the rest of them, I think something of that time had remained.
Yeah, my dad was still hot-headed and prone to exaggeration – and I’m pretty sure he’d still send me to live in Pakistan at the drop of a hat. But for some reason I couldn’t place, I knew I’d got through to him. He wasn’t making stuff up so much any more. He wasn’t getting nearly so angry. And most importantly, at that particular moment, he wasn’t driving like he wanted to kill us all.
Mum was still the same though. Twice as clever as me and three times as clever as Dad. Still, a few times that night, while I’d sat talking with Grandpa, I’d caught her smiling at me from across the room. I reckon that’s all she had wanted. For me to appreciate my family. And, as luck would have it, there’s nothing in the world quite like an alien slug invasion to make you appreciate your loved ones. Turns out mine weren’t so bad after all.
So that’s pretty much it. That’s my story. I know some of you will say I made it up, but that’s OK – I’m used to it. I do make a lot of stuff up. Whether you believed it or not, I hope you enjoyed it.
And, whatever the case, I promised those Agency guys I wouldn’t tell anyone about the whole alien invasion thing, so best keep it to yourself, yeah? I wouldn’t want to get in trouble and lose my job.
… Oh, did I forget to mention that? That’s what they wanted to talk to me about at the doctor’s. Turns out they’d been looking to recruit some fresh blood since my uncle had retired. I guess I’m not going to be a ninja-rapper-gangster after all.
I’m going to be a ninja-rapper-secret-a
gent.
I can live with that.
Disappearing Coin Trick!
OK, just like I promised,
here’s the secret to Grandpa’s amazing
coin trick! Get practising!
1 Right, so first up, hold the coin between your thumb and forefinger like this, yeah?
2 Next, reach in like you’re gonna take it with the other hand – but really just cover it up so the audience can’t see.
3 Once it’s hidden from view, let it drop into your palm. Then, really carefully, hide the coin in your pocket – but you have to be sneaky cos you don’t want anyone to see you doing it!
4 Make a fist with your other hand. Hold up your fist and blow on it.
5 And TA-DA! Open your hands to reveal the coin has vanished!
There you go! Now you’re a magician too.
Remember not to tell anyone!
Acknowledgements
Firstly, a big thank-you to our lovely aunties, who’ve never once tried to murder us or take over the world. A huge thanks to our mums – for all the obvious mum stuff – but also for being first-draft readers and early note-givers. And, of course, a big thanks to our dads, for allowing us years of research into the field of crazy, shouting dads. It would be a different book without you.
Massive thanks to Humza’s manager, Dhanny Joshi, and agent, Matilda Forbes-Watson, for all your hard work getting this book off the ground. And to Henry’s agent, Sean Gascoine, for all your help over the years and for supporting me in trying something new (and to Hannah Begbie for the first leg). Thanks to Sam Bryant who first introduced us and kicked off this creative partnership. Thanks to Andy Siddons for always being there to read drafts and offer thoughts.
A special thanks to our editors, Holly Harris and Sharan Matharu, for all their incredible work and support throughout this process. Fanks to Shreeta Shah four picking up are million litle errors and putting them wright ;-) Thanks to Roz Hutchison for telling the world about our funny little story. And to all the rest of the amazing team at Puffin Books who have helped get this book polished up and ready to go – thanks a million. Plus, of course, a great big well-inked and shockingly shaded thank-you to Aleksei Bitskoff for his awesome artwork.