by Sally Rippin
She sits on the dirt beside Buster and opens the old exercise book across her knees to read out the list of spells on the front page. As usual, when she tries to read the words, the letters dance across the page. She traces her finger along one line as if to hold it steady, and slowly reads out the words. ‘Rock mo … ving smell …’ she begins.
Buster snorts with laughter, spraying pricklefruit everywhere. ‘Rock moving smell!’ he hoots. ‘Ha! That’s hilarious! Good one, Polly!’
Polly frowns, snapping the book shut. ‘It’s not funny, Buster!’ she says, shoving it onto Buster’s lap. ‘You read it then if you’re so clever!’
Buster’s face falls. He stares at Polly, who looks away from him, her face scrunched up with hurt. ‘You can’t read?’ he says, astonished. ‘But you’re so smart!’
Polly realises this is the first time Buster has seen her try to read something aloud. He has no idea how difficult it is for her. ‘It’s got nothing to do with being smart or not, Buster,’ she grumbles. ‘Miss Spinnaker says lots of smart people have trouble with reading.’ She crosses her arms tightly and kicks at a clod of grass with her heel.
‘Polly,’ says Buster. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t know you couldn’t read.’
‘I can read!’ Polly says. Her mouth bunches up tightly as she feels a familiar sting at the corners of her eyes. ‘I know the words. It’s just the letters in the books. They trick me. It’s like they move around when I’m trying to read them so I read out different words to what’s there.’ Her voice comes out low and small. ‘That’s why I’m so bad at school.’
‘Does Miss Spinnaker know?’ Buster asks. He is feeling Polly’s sadness and frustration so strongly now he has shrunk to almost the same shape and size as her, and his fur is tinged with a helpless shade of blue.
Polly shrugs. ‘A little bit. I don’t know how much. I try and hide it most of the time. But it’s getting harder. The witches at school make fun of me when I have to read aloud. They call me Pumpkin-Head Polly.’
‘Well that’s pretty stupid!’ Buster snorts. ‘Why would they think calling someone a pumpkin is a bad thing? Pumpkins are delicious. They should at least call you something that doesn’t taste good. Like weevils. Or spickleseed. Spickleseeds are horrible. My mum puts them in bread sometimes. They get in your teeth. Oh, but that doesn’t sound the same, does it? Spickleseed Polly doesn’t really work.’ He scrunches up his face as he thinks about it.
Polly giggles. She can never tell if Buster rambles on like this just to make her laugh or if this is what he’s really thinking, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, he is the sweetest, kindest friend a witch could ever have, and he always knows exactly how to make her feel better.
She puts her arms around his big neck and hugs him tightly until he is back to his normal shape and size again. Then she tucks Miss Spinnaker’s book back into the velvet bag and swings it over her shoulder.
‘Well, we’re not going to find water sitting around here, are we?’ she says, standing up and holding out her hand.
When she tugs at Buster’s paw, he jumps up into a standing position.
‘And she’s strong too!’ he yelps. ‘Is there nothing this witch can’t do?’
Polly laughs. ‘All right. Enough silliness, Buster. This is a very serious adventure we are on!’
Buster pulls a serious face and glowers past Polly into the forest behind her. ‘Anyone out there who makes fun of my Polly or calls her Pumpkin-Head or Weevil or Spickleseed or anything mean like that has to deal with me!’ he growls menacingly.
Then he tromps off ahead and Polly has to skip to keep up with him.
Now the forest is dense enough for them not to be seen from above, and the immediate danger of Mrs Halloway has passed, Polly and Buster trundle more slowly through the trees. Polly looks out for slipper weeds, because her father once told her that if you suck them they can keep you going until you find water. Buster strides ahead, his monster senses on alert for a river or a stream.
When they were little, Polly’s father would often take her and her sister hiking through these woods on the outskirts of town, but she doesn’t remember them ever coming as far as this. Here, it is quieter than a forest should be. Only the stripey gizzbugs still whirr annoyingly around them, and Polly swats at one every now and then before they can land on her and sting.
Eventually, Polly thinks she spies a bunch of slipper weeds in the hollow of a gannery tree, its wide, fan-shaped leaves quivering in the breeze. She wanders over to look more closely, then hears a rustling in the branches. She looks up – but it is too late! Something leaps out from where it is hidden among the leaves and lands on Polly, pinning her to the ground.
‘Buster!’ she yelps, her heart leaping in her chest.
The face of the creature is so close to hers she can only see its bared yellow teeth.
‘Buster! Help!’ Polly screams again.
Within seconds, Buster is at her side. He plucks the creature from Polly as if it were only a squawling kitten. It claws at his face, and Buster has to turn his head and hold the creature away from him to avoid getting scratched.
Polly sits up to see what has attacked her and suddenly recognises who it is.
‘Maggie!’ she cries before Buster tosses the creature into the bushes. ‘Wait, Buster. Look! It’s Maggie!’
Buster plops the snarling monster back down onto the ground and peers at her more closely. His eyes grow wide with joy when he recognises the monster who lives with his family from time to time. Buster’s mother looks after broken monsters and monsters who have no other place to go, and Maggie is the most broken and lonely of them all.
‘Maggie!’ he says, picking up her scrawny frame again, this time to squeeze her into a ferocious hug. ‘Maggie! It’s me, Buster! And Polly. You remember Polly, don’t you?’
He places her down on the ground again, more gently this time, and she looks back and forth between them, her lined face crumpled in confusion. Her eyes light up when she recognises Buster. Polly, however, she seems to be having more trouble remembering – even when Polly holds up her grubby bandaged hand.
Maggie’s bite has almost completely healed, thanks to Miss Spinnaker’s magic potion, but Polly knows she still has to be wary. Buster’s mother has warned her that Maggie can sometimes lash out if she’s startled. But Polly knows this is only because Maggie has had a hard life, which has made her not right in the head. Buster’s mother has taught her that all monsters need love, even the most unloveable.
‘Maggie!’ says Buster. ‘What are you doing here? Did you run away? Where’s Mum and Dad? Are they with you?’ he asks. ‘Maybe they are out looking for us?’ he says to Polly, hopefully.
Maggie shakes her head. Then she stands up straight and pounds her chest with one scaly claw. Polly notices she is wearing a tight red vest over her old grey dress. On the top left pocket of the vest, just above her heart, there is an ‘M’ embroidered in gold.
‘M?’ asks Buster. ‘What’s that, Maggie? Is that M for Maggie? Did Mum make that for you?’
Maggie shakes her head again and scowls. She jabs at her chest with a bony finger and jabs at Buster’s, too. Then she glares suspiciously at Polly.
‘Oh,’ says Polly quietly. She has understood. ‘M is for monster.’
Buster chuckles. ‘Monster? Is that what the M is for? But we know you’re a monster, Maggie. What are you doing with an M on your shirt, wandering around in the woods out here on your own? Are you lost?’
Maggie shakes her head and rocks from side to side, angrily hissing and spitting at the ground in frustration.
‘I don’t think so, Buster,’ Polly says slowly. ‘I don’t think she’s alone. I reckon I know what that M stands for. It stands for Monsters Against Witches. I thought it was just witches ganging up against monsters, but maybe there are monsters out here forming a gang, too?’
Maggie grins proudly and nods her head. Then she snatches Polly’s arm and begins to drag her away.
> ‘Maggie, don’t be silly!’ Buster says gently. ‘What are you doing? You don’t have to drag Polly like that! Are there other monsters here in the woods? Is that where you are taking us?’
Maggie nods fiercely. But she shoos Buster away with one claw.
‘What?’ Buster says, puzzled. ‘You don’t want me to come?’
Maggie shakes her head. She is trying to look ferocious, but with her missing teeth and pot belly sticking out from under her vest, it’s hard to take her too seriously.
Polly turns to Buster. ‘I think she’s trying to capture me,’ she whispers. ‘That’s probably what she’s been told to do. We should go with her and talk to the other monsters. Once they know we’re on their side I’m sure they’ll help us out. They might even know what happened to Miss Spinnaker. She must have flown through the forest at some stage this morning.’
‘Oh,’ says Buster, now understanding Maggie’s plan – and Polly’s, too. He lopes along beside them. ‘Good work, Maggie! Those other monsters are going to be very pleased with you, aren’t they? Capturing a witch in the forest. You don’t mind if I come along as well, do you?’
Maggie pauses for a moment, her brow wrinkling as she considers this. Then she shrugs and nods and scurries off through the trees again, pulling Polly along behind her.
Maggie drags Polly until they arrive at a clump of tightly packed bushes. She pushes some branches to one side and Polly and Buster gasp to see what a clever hide-out the monsters have created.
In a large clearing, four small huts stand in a circle. They are made from twisted tree branches tied together with rope, and each one has a red flag at the top with a gold ‘M’ sewn onto it. In the middle of the circle is a fire pit with logs stationed around it. Two monsters in red vests like Maggie’s look up from their place by the fire. They grin as Maggie approaches with her captive.
‘Well, look what this old minnie has brought us!’ the larger of the two calls out. He is broad and muscly, with rough ginger fur speckled with white spots. One of his horns has snapped off at the base, leaving only a grey stump. The other horn pokes out awkwardly from the other side of his head. When he smiles, Polly sees that his teeth are broken and yellow.
‘That minnie might be a scrawny old thing but she makes a good witch hunter, dunt she?’ the monster jokes.
He puts down his cracked tin mug and swaggers over towards them. Buster shifts a little closer to Polly’s side and she feels the backs of her knees begin to prickle. This monster doesn’t look quite as friendly as she had hoped.
‘And who else is this you got with you then, Min?’ the monster says. ‘You here to join our gang, my friend?’ he asks Buster, looking him up and down. ‘You’re a biggun, aren’t you? You’ll make a good fighter.’
‘Actually, her name isn’t Min. It’s Maggie,’ Buster says politely. ‘She lives at our house sometimes when her family can’t look after her. I’m Buster and this is Polly.’ He holds out his paw for the other monster to shake. ‘And no, I’m not here to join your gang. I actually don’t like fighting. My ma always tells me: paws before claws.’
The monster sniggers as he looks at Buster’s outstretched paw. ‘Well, you’re a well-brought-up young monster now, aren’t you? But there’s no need for all those witch manners out here. All those pleases and thank yous and crossing the road when a witch is heading towards you and sitting at the back of the bus. Nope, my frenkin, no more. We’re monsters out here and we do whatever we like.’
He stretches out his big hairy arms proudly and spins around in a circle to show off their full monster hide-out. Along with the handmade huts, Polly now notices there are ropes and swings and tyres on chains hanging from some of the biggest branches, and lookouts and cabins built right into the trees. To Polly, it almost looks like a playground and, not for the first time, she wishes she had been born a monster. Witches would never think to build a hide-out like this!
The big monster smirks when he sees how impressed Polly and Buster are. Then he snarls and grabs hold of Polly’s arm. Maggie scurries off into the forest again. ‘So, you are most welcome to join us, my friend,’ he says to Buster, ‘but any ol’ witch that comes our way, we lock up in the cage until our leader gets back.’ And with that he snatches up Polly and carries her away with him.
‘Hey, wait!’ Buster yells, loping after him. ‘Where are you taking her? Wait! Put her down!’
As she’s carried through the trees, Polly sees the other monster leave his place by the fire to follow them. He is smaller, and wiry, with scaly skin and a long, blue tongue like a lizard’s.
‘I’m OK, Buster,’ she calls out. She manages to give him a trembling smile, but she can see he doesn’t like this turn of events at all. Not one bit!
Even though she is trying not to show it, Polly can’t help feeling a little nervous around these two mean-looking monsters. None of the monsters she has ever met before look as wild and fierce as this. But Polly figures she and Buster are probably as safe here as anywhere else. And at least this will give her the time she needs to figure out how they can get to the mines.
Soon, they arrive at a tall metal cage under a tree. In the cage is a wooden stool next to a little rickety table. On the table is a wooden bowl, a tin cup and an earthenware jug. The smaller monster draws a long key from a leather pouch around his waist and wriggles it around in the hole of the rusty padlock. It snaps open and the cage door swings wide. The big monster shoves Polly in. He is just about to swing the door shut when Buster slips in behind her. The big monster roars with laughter.
‘Not you!’ he guffaws. ‘You don’t have to be locked up. You’re one of us!’
Buster stands next to Polly in the cage and puts his arm around her. ‘I stay with Polly!’ he declares. ‘She’s my friend.’
‘Ha!’ snorts the big monster. ‘Whoever heard of a witch being friends with a monster? You hear that, Zeke? This monster says this witch is his friend! You ever heard anything so ridiculous?’ He roars with laughter.
‘Oh, shut up, Domsley, you make my head hurt with all your carrying on!’ the small monster says. ‘Suit yourself!’ he snaps at Buster through the bars. ‘But you’re making the wrong choice. It’s Monsters Against Witches now, buddy. Don’t you know? And you’re choosing the wrong side.’
The skinny monster strides back to the firepit and rolls a log over towards them, plonking it in front of the cage.
‘I don’t trust a traitor,’ he hisses through the bars at Buster. ‘Any funny business and the little witch gets it!’ He slices a long, gnarly finger across his skinny throat. ‘And I’ll take that, thank you very much!’ he says, reaching into the cage and snatching the velvet bag away from Polly. He peers inside. ‘Aha! Just as I thought.’
He draws out Miss Spinnaker’s long brass wand from the bag and tries to snap it across his knee, but it won’t bend or break so he tosses it into the bushes. Then he pulls out the food Polly has stashed in there and tosses the bag in the same direction as the wand. ‘You two will stay in there til Carmen gets back, and there’ll be no trouble from you. You hear?’
The big monster sits on the log beside the skinny monster and holds out his paw for some food. They share the pickings between them while Buster watches on hungrily.
Buster turns around to where Polly is sitting on the little stool and she hands him a cup of cool water from the jug. He gulps it down, then squats on the dusty ground beside her. ‘I don’t like those two monsters,’ he grumbles. ‘I think we should go.’
He reaches out to one of the thin metal bars and pushes it hard. It bends a little. Polly can see how easily Buster could break them out of the cage, but her mind is racing with other plans. She dips her fingers into her pocket and feels the warmth of the stones. The mines are beckoning her, but she feels there is more she needs to understand about what is going on in the monsters’ hide-out first.
‘Hold on for a little while, Buster,’ she whispers. ‘I don’t think they’d really hurt us. I think that little
one is just bluffing.’
‘He ate our food!’ Buster protests. ‘That’s not bluffing!’
‘I want to find out a bit more about who Carmen is and what she’s planning to do,’ Polly explains. ‘This is pretty serious, Buster. Don’t you see? This whole monsters versus witches thing. There could be a full-blown war if we don’t find some way to stop this. We need to find out as much as we can to tell Miss Spinnaker. When we finally find her!’ she adds.
Buster hurrumphs and kicks at the dust. ‘This isn’t the kind of adventure I thought we’d be having. Stuck in a cage, starving to death. That’s a boring adventure. Not a fun one!’
‘Oh, Buster!’ Polly says. ‘You only had breakfast a couple of hours ago. I’m pretty sure you won’t starve to death. And I promise we’ll get out of here soon. All right?’
Buster sighs deeply. Polly can see he is working very hard not to show his feelings in case he changes size or colour. She knows he hates other monsters seeing how much he feels things in case they tease him about it, and this makes her heart squeeze for her dearest friend. He is the biggest, strongest monster she knows, but she also knows, all too well, how teasing can hurt in ways that nothing else can. She takes hold of his paw until a little smile creeps back to his face and she can feel him relax again. Then she stands up and wanders over to the front of the cage.
Polly takes a deep breath and tries to sound braver than she feels. She is not sure which monster she should talk to, but decides the bigger one looks less mean. She presses her face up against the bars of the cage. ‘When is Carmen coming back?’ she asks him politely.
‘None of your business,’ the little one snaps without turning around.
Polly tries again. ‘Is she your leader?’
The big monster turns his head to answer Polly. His lips are pink and shiny with pricklefruit juice. ‘That’s right!’ he says proudly. ‘Carmen is our glorious leader. She is going to lead us into a new future, where monsters will have the power and witches have to do all the dirty work, like working in the factories and mines. Monsters will sit around like fat bortals in mud and you witches and warlocks will work for us for a change.’