by Lou Kuenzler
As soon as I was outside, I into the seat behind the steering wheel. The sun was shining – not a cloud in the summer sky.
“The perfect day for a drive,” I smiled, pulling on a pair of Patty’s miniature sunglasses, which had been left on the seat.
“Looking good,” I said, checking my reflection in the little tinfoil mirror. Now all I had to do was find Nisha. She must be worried sick by now. The last place she had seen me was in the park. I was sure she would go back there to look for me as soon as she knew I was lost.
If only we could be back together in time to see Stella Lightfoot, I thought, gripping the little steering wheel in my hands.
I had escaped from a terrible life of toy torture – no more haircuts or glitter – but this wasn’t going to be easy. I stared at the wide tarmac driveway and listened to the of traffic on the busy road beyond…
There was no floor in the toy beach buggy, so I was able to push the ground beneath me with the tips of my toes. The harder I pushed, the the car rolled forward.
Then … I was away … steering wildly as the little buggy sped down the slope. It was like driving a runaway go-kart.
I , heaving the steering wheel sharply to the left. I’d be safe if I kept well away from the road. There was no need to go anywhere near the traffic. I stayed tucked in close to the garden fences along the back of the pavement. I wouldn’t get run over up here and no one would see me either as I along in the cool shadows.
I passed a mum with a pushchair who didn’t even glance in my direction.
“What a ride,” I cried as I hurtled down the hill. A breeze was blowing in my hair.
I round a pothole and steered perfectly between a sharp stone and a mound of sticky chewing gum. This was even better than the dodgems at the fair. I’ve always said I’d be a great driver. But Dad never lets me have a go in our car. Not even when I begged him at a completely empty campsite once.
I gripped the little pink steering wheel. It was amazing, racing along twice as fast as I could have walked. In no time at all, I was rolling alongside the busy main road opposite the park.
“Hmm.” I peered out from under my sunglasses. I was safe on the pavement for now. But at some point, I’d have to find a way to cross the road to reach the park. Nisha was most likely to be in the sandpit, searching where she’d last seen me.
If I waited by the pedestrian lights, someone would be sure to spot me. Some new little girl might snatch the beach buggy and take me home for more home-made beauty treatments.
“Poor Rosie,” I murmured, as I remembered how proud of herself she’d looked when she appeared at the top of the stairs. Her hair was so short there was nothing left but tiny like a … hang on a second…
“Like a hedgehog,” I gasped. I had a brilliant plan.
I pushed my feet along the ground as fast as I could. The council had built a special mini underpass so that hedgehogs from the park could cross the busy main road safely without being . If I went through there, I could get to the other side without being seen … and without being myself.
It was our class at school who had started a petition asking the council to build the Hedgehog Underpass in the first place. We gathered hundreds of signatures saying that it wasn’t fair the poor little hedgehogs kept being run over. We helped raise money for the tunnel. I’d even written to Stella Lightfoot, asking if she would come and cut the ribbon at the opening ceremony. She never wrote back. Mum said I couldn’t expect her to – a superstar celebrity like Stella Lightfoot is far too busy.
I whizzed on down the side of the pavement. Two minutes and I’d be at the tunnel.
I took my hands off the steering wheel and raised them in the air for a second, as if I was riding a roller coaster.
“Whee!” I sped around a sharp bend in the pavement.
But the buggy suddenly hit a
“Ahhhhh,” I yelled as I flew through the air. My sunglasses spun off my nose and…
“Uh oh!” I felt my tummy turn a somersault. Even in mid-air, I knew this feeling. It was as if were exploding inside me. I was shooting back to FULL SIZE.
A second later, I was skidding along the ground fully grown.
“Look out!” A cyclist swerved sideways on the pavement, narrowly missing me as she sped around the corner. Patty’s funky sunglasses were by the wheel of her bike.
I flung out my hand and grabbed the tiny pink beach buggy before she on it.
“Sorry,” she squealed.
Mum is always shouting at grown-up cyclists when they ride on the pavement. But this one didn’t need telling off. She already looked as white as a sheet.
“Are you all right?” she said, screeching to a stop and pushing back her helmet. “I didn’t see you. It was like you came out of nowhere.”
“Yes… I… Er… Well…” I sat in a heap and looked down at my hands. There was a graze on my palm but nothing worse than that. “I’m fine,” I smiled.
Poor woman. She looked really shaken up. But how could I explain that she couldn’t have seen me – just a moment before I’d been the size of a key ring.
“You must be on the way to a fancy-dress party,” she smiled as she helped me stand up.
I had completely forgotten I was still wearing the rubber mermaid suit.
“I’m going to find my best friend,” I said as the lady led me safely to the pedestrian crossing (there was no point in trying to fit through the hedgehog pass now). “We’re off to the bookshop together,” I said, across the road with my mermaid tail tucked over my arm. “We’re going to meet Stella Lightfoot. Just as long as she’s still there…”
I hurried across the park as fast as I could. I soon found that on two feet like a bunny rabbit was much easier than trying to walk in the mermaid suit. I ignored all the funny looks I was getting, leaping out of the way just in time when a dog tried to bite my tail.
I sprang along.
Everything was going to work out fine. I had escaped from Rosie. I was back to full size. All I had to do now was find Nisha.
I headed straight across the grass towards the playground and
But the minute I came bouncing round the side of the community centre, I could see that something was wrong.
Yellow-and-black stripy tape was crossed over the doorway of the café like a police crime scene. A sign had been nailed up saying:
The skinny man in the white coat was standing on the doorstep frowning like a . He was balanced on one foot, clutching his clipboard and dangling the other foot in mid-air. He had one of Mo’s brooms turned upside down under his armpit like a crutch.
Oh dear! I remembered how Nisha and I had heard him fall. I’d thought he was all right but he must have twisted his ankle or something.
“Health and safety is a very important issue, madam,” he was saying, shaking his finger at Mo. “A community café like this is a place for children and young families. We cannot afford to take any risks. At the first sign of danger we have to close you down.”
“Danger?” sighed Mo. “It was one spilt milkshake.”
I could see from a gold badge pinned neatly to his pocket that the man’s real name was Mr O. Zeal. The badge also said that he was a RISK EVALUATION OFFICER from Swanchester Town Council, Health and Safety Department. Mo was in big trouble … and all because of me. I felt a crimson blush underneath the smudges of green mermaid glitter left on my face.
“Sir.” I forward and tugged Mr White Coat’s sleeve.
“Please, Mr Zeal, sir … it’s my fault you slipped on the milkshake,” I explained, tugging his sleeve again. “I spilt it. I should have cleaned it up, but I was in a hurry and…”
“You should have cleaned it up?” Mr Zeal scratched his bristly as if he was confused. “Do you work at the Café?”
“N-no,” I stuttered. “Not really. I do jobs for Mo sometimes, but…”
“Jobs?” Mr Zeal stared at me. “Do you get paid for this work, young lady?”
“Of course not.” I shook my head. I had
a horrible feeling I had said something wrong. Mo was towards the sky, not making eye contact with me.
“Sometimes I get free milkshakes or doughnuts – that’s all,” I explained.
“I see.” Mr Zeal clicked the end of his thin silver biro. He wrote something carefully on his clipboard, then he hobbled towards his white van, which was parked neatly in the delivery bay.
“This café will remain ,” he said.
“But you can’t close down the café.” I hopped after him. “What about all Mo’s customers? Everyone her milkshakes … they’re the BEST in the world. Did you try one?”
“No. I did not.” Mr Zeal leant against the side of his van and handed Mo back her broom.
“You won’t get away with this,” she said. “I’ll lodge a formal complaint.”
“Please do. But the HEALTH AND SAFETY DEPARTMENT will agree with my findings,” said Mr Zeal. “First there is the dangerous spillage of slippery liquid – which in this event caused personal injury to a council employee.” He pointed towards his ankle. “And now I have uncovered additional evidence of unpaid child labour.”
“That is simply not true,” said Mo. “I don’t have any children working here.”
Mr Zeal poked a bony finger at me. “This young…” He looked confused for a moment as if he didn’t know quite how to describe me. “This young … mermaid gave clear evidence of working for you with payment of nothing more than flavoured milk and doughnuts!”
“It’s not a job,” I said. “Not a real one. It’s just a bit of . I love helping Mo – I get to invent new milkshake flavours and—”
Mo laid her hand on my arm. “I know you’re only trying to make things better, Violet. But—”
“But I haven’t made them better,” I groaned, as Mr Zeal clambered into his van and carefully shut the door. “All I have done is make everything much, much worse.”
As soon as Mr Zeal left, Mo pulled out her mobile phone and dialled Swanchester Council.
“Tsk.” She clicked her tongue in the cross way I knew so well. But then she smiled at me.
“Don’t look so glum, Violet,” she said. “He’s not going to get away with this. I’m going to talk to the people in charge. They can’t close me down just because of a tiny bit of milkshake.”
“But you said the council have been trying to find an excuse to close for ages,” I reminded her. “So they can build the multi-storey car park.”
“Well, I’m not beaten that easily,” said Mo. She frowned at her mobile phone. “It doesn’t look like anybody is going to answer. I’ll have to go down to the town hall myself.”
“Wait, Mo,” I said as she picked up her handbag. “I’m … I’m really sorry. You wouldn’t even be in this mess if it wasn’t for me.”
“Rubbish.” Mo took hold of my face in both hands. “You look at me, Violet Potts. This is not your fault. This is silly grown-ups making silly rules, that’s all. Do you understand me?”
I nodded. Mo doesn’t stand for any nonsense from anybody. No matter how bad something seems, she can always make it better.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why exactly are you dressed as a mermaid, Violet?” She squinted at me. “And who has been cutting your hair?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, smoothing down my fringe. I realized I was still holding the little beach buggy too.
“Well, don’t stand here feeling sorry for yourself,” said Mo. “If you really want to help me, you can talk to your friends. Start a petition – Save From Being Closed Down. Get everyone we know to sign it.”
“A petition?” I said, hitching up my mermaid skirt. “That’s it … I’ve had an idea. A fantastic idea. really can be saved.”
I away across the sandpit as fast as I could go.
“Hedgehogs,” I called over my shoulder. “You’ll see. Leave it all to me.”
My plan was totally tremendous. If a petition had saved the hedgehogs from being , we could save the café in the same way. But if the idea was going to work, I had to see Stella Lightfoot and convince her to join our campaign. The local papers would write all about it if a real celebrity was involved. It would be on the news and everything. The council would have to listen to us then.
First, I needed to find Nisha.
As I hopped across the sandpit, I nearly tripped over her. She was , combing through the sand with a little plastic fork.
“Nish!” I cried, tapping her on the shoulder.
“Violet, you’re FULL SIZE. You’re safe!” Nish threw her arms around my neck. “I didn’t realize you had fallen out of my pocket until I got all the way to the bookshop,” she said. “I searched everywhere in case I’d dropped you on the high street. Then I came back here. I thought you were still TINY.” Nish waved the plastic fork in the air. “That’s why I’m using this.” She scraped it across the sand as if to demonstrate. “I thought you were—”
“…buried in the sandpit like a miniature Egyptian mummy?” I took the fork and tossed it into the litter bin. “I very nearly was. But listen, Nish, we’ve got to go. We need to head back to town and catch Stella Lightfoot if we still can.”
“I think she’ll be gone already,” said Nisha. “And surely you don’t want to meet her dressed up like that.” Nish tried not to laugh as she pointed at my green mermaid suit.
“I thought you liked mermaids,” I said. “You’re always pretending to be one when we go swimming.”
“I do like mermaids,” Nish. “But it looks like one of the sharks that you always pretend to be has taken a bite out of your fringe. And where are your new shorts? You mum will go mad if you’ve lost them.”
“Still shrunk,” I groaned. “I had to leave them behind. At least Patty might get to wear them. They should be her size.”
“Who’s Patty?” asked Nish. “And why are you carrying that little pink car?”
“I’ll explain everything on the way to the bookshop,” I said. “Come on!”
I grabbed Nisha’s hand. If we were going to see Stella Lightfoot, we didn’t have a moment to lose.
Behind me, someone tugged on my tail.
“Are you a weal mermaid?” said a small voice.
I spun round and saw that the boy was still playing in the sandpit.
“Totally real,” I grinned, waving my tail. “I’m a friend of Rosie’s.”
The little boy’s eyes were as as fishcakes.
“Weally? But I know Wosie,” he said.
“Good. You can give her this next time you see her,” I said, holding out the little beach buggy. “Say Princess Tiny-Twinkle sent it.”
With that, Nisha and I hurried away.
As we headed out of the park, I explained everything that had happened with Rosie and how I had become her doll. Then I told Nisha about the trouble our spilt milkshake had caused for Mo.
“That’s why we have to get Stella Lightfoot to help us,” I said.
“But she never even wrote back to you about the hedgehog petition,” said Nisha.
“Only because she’s too busy to read letters. Think about it,” I said. “She’s usually in the jungle. Or up a mountain. I bet thousands of fans write to her every day. But if we see her now – in person – at the bookshop, we can explain how important it is. She’ll definitely help us. I know she will.”
I pulled Nish down the street, as fast as I could.
“You know what Stella says at the end of every episode of ,” I reminded her.
“ is Mo’s dream,” I said. “She worked really hard and saved up for years to make it happen. We can’t let her lose it now … not when the spilt milkshake was all our fault. Even it was an accident…”
“Look!” cried Nisha, pointing down the street. We could see Pages Bookshop at last. A long white limousine pulled up outside it.
“I bet that’s come to collect Stella,” I said. “Come on, Nisha. Run!”
“Hello!” I shouted, calling out to the limousine driver. The long white car was parked up against the pavement like an enorm
ous whale.
“Are you here for Stella Lightfoot?” I asked, forward with Nisha. There was a sticker in the back window saying
“Might be,” sniffed the driver, straightening his shiny black cap. He spat on a cloth and rubbed at an invisible smudge on the already gleaming bonnet. “I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say.”
But just at that moment, the door to Pages Bookshop swung open and a crowd of people spilt on to the street.
“Wow!” I grabbed hold of Nisha’s hand as Stella Lightfoot – the actual Stella Lightfoot – stepped out on to the pavement just a few metres away from us.
“Stamp on my toe, Nish,” I hissed. “Stamp on it quick before I shrink with excitement.”
“Really?” said Nish, looking worried. But before I could answer, she stamped … .
“Yow!” I let out a scream of pain. Stella Lightfoot glanced in my direction, her long blonde ponytail in the air as she turned her head.
“She’s so pretty,” whispered Nish.
Stella was wearing her famous purple and black shorts and a T-shirt with a picture of an open-mouthed shark saying: She had nothing on her feet except thin green flip-flops. She might only have been standing on Swanchester High Street but, in my head, I could see her looking just the same if she was marooned on a desert island or canoeing down the Amazon.
“Wow!” I gasped again. She just looked so … so And
“It’s funny to think of Stella in a limousine, isn’t it?” I said to Nish as we pushed our way through the crowd that was now blocking the pavement. “On telly, she’s always in a hot-air balloon. Or a helicopter … or riding an elephant.”
“Where’s she going to get an elephant in Swanchester?” laughed Nish as I tried to past a lady with a buggy.
Stella was almost at the car.
“Wait,” I shouted. “Miss Lightfoot!” I was surprised how loud my voice came out, but the driver had already opened the limousine door. I had to get Stella’s attention. I had to stop her before she drove away and vanished for ever.
“Stella! I need your help,” I cried. Nisha’s hand slipped from my fingers as the woman with the buggy pushed between us. Stella turned her head.