Either way, I was going to die.
Chapter Four
A Louse Up
As I soared over the heads of the children, my whole life flashed in front of my eyes.
Of course, that took less than two seconds. I’d only been hatched that morning.
Then there was nothing but the wide wall and the watery sink, both rushing to meet me. Both eager to end my short life.
But as I passed over the very last table, a miracle happened.
William stood up.
Thwack! Into his soft, curly hair I shot, landing so hard that little lights flashed inside my eyes. I lay there, panting and dizzy, clinging to a strand of hair, waiting until William sat down and the ceiling high above me stopped looping and swirling and spinning.
When it finally felt safe to move again, I carefully made my way down through William’s hair to his scalp, just above his left ear. I got out my little mouth-parts again and had a feed.
“Oh, boy!” I said to myself. “I needed that!”
I felt William’s head move under me as he looked up.
“What?” he said, turning round.
I froze. William couldn’t have heard me, could he?
“I didn’t say anything,” Gregory said.
“Oh,” said William, “I thought somebody said something.”
“Someone did,” Gregory said. “It was you.”
They went back to their work, and I realized how daft I was being. After all, louse-speak is very quiet – and it doesn’t sound anything like human language. William couldn’t possibly have heard me. The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous I felt. I almost laughed out loud.
“You’re so silly!” I told myself.
“No I’m not!” William burst out, looking up again.
I froze once more, silenced by surprise.
“Not what?” said Gregory.
“I’m not silly!” William said.
“I never said you were,” Gregory answered.
“Yes you did!” William retorted angrily. “I heard you!”
Gregory shook his head. “I didn’t say anything,” he said.
“Why are you telling lies?” William squeaked indignantly.
“Gregory doesn’t tell lies, William!” said Lizzy, passing by the table on her way back from the cloakroom. “Everyone knows that!”
“You’re lying too!” William said furiously, his voice rising. He sounded near to tears now.
“They’re not lying!” I said without thinking.
Now it was William’s turn to freeze. He looked from Gregory to Lizzy, and back again. It was obvious to me now that he could hear me; and it was clear to him that it was neither Gregory’s nor Lizzy’s voice that he’d heard. Trembling slightly, he put his hand up.
“Um . . . miss,” he said in an unusually small voice, “can I go and get a drink? I don’t feel well.”
As we passed Duncan’s table, the big bully grinned nastily.
“You’re going mad, William!” he hissed. “Only mad people hear voices!”
Out we went to the toilets, where a drinking fountain stood next to a big mirror.
“Don’t worry, William,” I said. “You weren’t hearing things.”
William looked up, and all around, startled.
“Who said that?” he demanded.
“I did,” I told him.
“Yeah, but . . . but . . . who are you? Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”
“I haven’t really got a name,” I said. “And you can’t see me because I’m very small. But I’m a bit afraid to tell you where I am.”
“Don’t be afraid!” he said. “I won’t hurt you!”
“Do you promise?” I said.
He crossed his heart. “Promise!” he said. “Double promise!”
“OK,” I said. “I’m on your head. Just above your left ear.”
I could see his face in the big mirror. He looked puzzled.
“What are you doing there?” he asked.
“Well . . .” I said hesitantly, “don’t forget – you promised not to hurt me. I’m on your head because . . . I’m a head-louse.”
William’s face lit up.
“A talking nit?” he said. “Wow! Just wait till I tell Gregory!”
It wasn’t until after school that William had the chance to tell Gregory about me. And Lizzy, too; we all agreed that it was only fair to let her in on the secret.
Gregory was going to tea at William’s house that evening; and Lizzy lived in the same street, so her mum said she could come, too. At first, neither Gregory nor Lizzy believed William when he told them that he had met a talking head-louse – or nit, as he kept saying – but finally he got them to touch heads with him, and then I crawled from head to head speaking to each of them.
“Wow!” they kept saying. “Wow!”
We had a great time together. First we watched a bit of television – which I found interesting for about five minutes, but then it got pretty boring. It was all full of people showing off. Then I said I wanted to hear a story, so we went to William’s room to look at his books.
He had hundreds!
Not Treasure Island, though. None of my new friends had a copy – which was a real shame, because I’d been thinking about it all day. I really wanted to know what happened to Jim Hawkins when he sailed away to sea.
“Cheer up!” William said. “If you like Treasure Island, you’re going to love this!” He reached up to the highest shelf and brought down an amazing book.
It was an information book, full of facts about the sea. Right in the middle was a huge photograph of an old-fashioned sailing ship.
“There you are,” said William. “That’s the sort of ship Jim Hawkins went to Treasure Island on.”
It was beautiful. Everything I’d imagined, and more. I could almost hear the flapping of the sails, the creak of the rigging, the splashing of the cool salt spray on the prow as it cut through the blue sea. I gazed at it, unable to speak for a moment. Then I whispered, “One day, I’m going to go on one of those . . .”
Lizzy found one of her favourite books on the shelf where William kept his scary stories, and read a bit to us. It was called Invasion of the Brain-Suckers. It was about a girl who discovers that her town has been invaded by little aliens who creep into people’s ears, suck their brains out and turn them into zombie mind-slaves.
I didn’t think it was terribly scary, to be honest. A story about people being chased by giant combs, now that would be really frightening.
Anyway, once we’d had a couple of chapters, it was time for Gregory and Lizzy to go home. But just before they did, Gregory made a suggestion.
“You should have a name,” he said to me.
Head-lice don’t usually have names. But then head-lice don’t usually make friends with the people they live on, and the children decided they couldn’t just call me ‘the louse’.
“What about ‘Lenny the Louse’?” William said with a chuckle. “Or . . . or ‘Ed Louse the head-louse’!”
“Don’t be silly!” Lizzy told him. He was beginning to get the giggles.
“No – no – I’ve got it!” William snorted, ignoring her. “What about . . . Robert Lousey Stevenson!” And he collapsed onto the bed, helpless with laughter.
Gregory and Lizzy looked at him scornfully.
“William,” Gregory said, “this is important. Making silly jokes isn’t very helpful. I think you should be more serious.”
“Hold on,” I said. I was sitting on Gregory’s head at the time, so he heard me clearly. “He’s just given me an idea. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote Treasure Island – about Jim Hawkins. Jim. That’s it. I want to be called Jim.”
It was perfect. Jim Hawkins was a boy who had extraordinary adventures. And now Jim Head-Louse was a louse who was doing extraordinary things. Once I’d said it, everyone agreed it was the only name for me.
I stayed with Gregory that night. He’d been a little scared by Invasion of the Brain-Suc
kers, and said he’d feel better if I kept him company. As he turned out the light, I whispered, “Goodnight, Gregory.”
He answered sofdy,“’Night, Jim.”
It felt good to have a name.
I waited until he was asleep, and then had one more feed; and as I did so my head was filled with wonderful, magical dreams and I too fell asleep.
Chapter Five
A Lousy Group of Friends
It was Gregory who worked it out.
I was a really special head-louse – but not because I could listen and run and jump and talk. Quite the reverse – it was because I was special that I could do all those things.
Whatever was most important to or about someone – whatever was truly in their blood – was passed on to me when I fed on them. Gregory’s listening, William’s talking, Lizzy’s running and jumping and sheer, pure energy – now I shared them all.
I had friends, too: Gregory and Lizzy and William. And I had a name.
There was only one problem with our friendship.
“It’s a shame Jim’s so small,” Lizzy said the next morning. “It would be nice to be able to see him – properly, I mean, instead of him just looking like a little white dot.”
“And if we could all hear him at once,” Gregory added, “instead of him talking just to one of us, and that one telling the rest of us what he’s saying.”
I agreed with that – especially when I was on William’s head. William was a great talker, but he wasn’t much of a listener, which meant that things I wanted to say just didn’t get heard sometimes.
Then Gregory had a brainwave.
“If he feeds on someone big,” he said, “then maybe he’ll get big, too!”
It was a great idea. But who?
“Duncan, of course,” said Lizzy. “He’s the biggest in the class, by a long way.”
“Yes, but he’s not huge,” said Gregory, “and anyway, it’s being mean to everyone that’s in his blood, I reckon. It’d be horrible if Jim sucked his blood and went all nasty!”
“It’d be great if Jim sucked all his blood, though!” said William, and everyone laughed again.
“Maybe if he can get really big, he will!” Lizzy grinned. “But who do we know who’s really really big?”
“Yeah,” William agreed, “someone who’s more big than they are anything else! You know, like when people talk about them they always say, ‘he’s really big, isn’t he?’”
“What, like Mr Little?” suggested Gregory.
There was a pause.
“But he’s a teacher!” William squeaked. “We can’t go giving a teacher nits!”
“Who said anything about giving him nits?” Gregory asked. “We’ll just be lending him a nit.”
“I’m not a nit, I’m a head-louse!” I said, but nobody heard me.
“That should work,” said Lizzy. “Mr Little’s probably the biggest man in the world!”
“Well, not the whole world,” said Gregory, “but he’s pretty enormous. The only problem is – how do we get Jim all the way up onto his head? He won’t be able to jump that high!”
“We need a plan,” Lizzy announced. “A very clever plan.”
Which is why, just a few minutes later, William, Lizzy and Gregory were knocking on the staff-room door and asking for Mr Little.
Mr Little was huge. He actually had to duck to get through the door without banging his head.
“Excuse me, sir,” William said, “but we were wondering if we could measure your head.”
“Measure my head?” said Mr Little, surprised. “Whatever for?”
“It’s . . . it’s for a graph,” Lizzy said. “We’re doing a graph of head sizes.”
I had no idea what a graph was, but Mr Little was obviously used to being asked to do all sorts of strange things for them, because without any more questions he bent down and let Gregory put a string round his head.
I leaped and grabbed.
As quick as I could, I got out my little mouth-parts, bit and sucked.
Wow! Even as I fed, I could feel myself growing. It was an amazing feeling.
But while I was still feeding, Mr Little stood up straight again.
“OK?” he said.
“Er . . . could we do it again, sir?” Lizzy asked. “Just to check, you know?”
Mr Little laughed, a big loud booming chuckle. “Lizzy,” he said, “I’m sure you did it right first time. Anyway, my coffee’s getting cold. Out you go, now.” He turned to go back into the staff-room.
“Wait! Sir! We forgot something!” Gregory said.
Mr Little sighed and turned around again.
“What is it, Gregory?” he asked.
“We forgot . . . we forgot to say thank you!” Gregory said.
“Oh, yes, thank you, Mr Little,” the others all chorused, crowding round him as closely as they could.
I took my chance and leaped. It was a long way down.
Chapter Six
Have a Lice Day
Down I fell towards the nearest head of hair – Gregory’s – and landed with a muffled thump. I lay still until the staff-room door closed behind Mr Little.
“That was close!” I gasped, and sat up.
William and Lizzy stared at me.
“Jim!” William gasped. “I can see you! You’re huge! You’re as big as a . . . a ladybird or something!”
“And we can hear you, too! It worked!” Lizzy said, jumping up and down with excitement.
The staff-room door opened again.
“Out!” Mr Little bellowed.
We ran.
Or at least, the children ran; I clung tight to Gregory’s hair. Out of the door we crashed, all of us laughing, and hurtled across the playground. We ran, we raced, we rocketed.
And we tripped. That is, Gregory tripped, a great crashing fall that shook us both as he hit the hard playground.
“Watch out, Eggy Greggy!” Duncan sneered. “You tripped over my foot! Say sorry!”
Gregory picked himself up, slowly and painfully.
“You did that on purpose, Duncan!” he said angrily.
“Oh, listen,” Duncan taunted him. “Eggy Greggy’s going to cry! Boo hoo!”
“Leave him alone, you big bully!” William shouted. Duncan reached out and pushed him in the face, so hard he sat down with a bump on the ground. Then he pushed Lizzy as well.
I felt furious. Just because he was bigger than them, this ugly monster was hurting my friends. But what could I do? I was only a head-louse – a big one now, but still tiny compared to Duncan.
“Right, Eggy Greggy,” Duncan went on, grabbing Gregory by the hair. “You know why I call you Eggy Greggy, don’t you? It’s because your hair’s full of nits’ eggs. And if we’re not careful, we’ll all catch nits off you. So I’m going to do us all a favour, and give your stinky hair a good washing – in the toilet! Come on!”
He started to drag Gregory away.
I could have leaped to safety on someone else’s head. But suddenly I knew I had to do something – or at least I had to try. Even if horrid old Duncan squashed me flat, I couldn’t let him hurt my friends and not do my best to stop him.
“Leave him alone!” I shouted, standing up as tall as I could.
Duncan looked round, unsure of where the voice had come from. “Who said that?” he demanded.
“I did!” I yelled at him. “Down here! Just by your ugly great fingers!”
Duncan looked down at his hand.
“No,” I said, “the other ugly great fingers!”
This time, he looked at the hand gripping Gregory’s hair. “Eeeeugh!” he went, letting go. “What is it?” He peered closet. “It’s a nit! Eeeeugh! Eeeeugh! I toldyou he was covered in nits’ eggs!”
“A nit is an egg, you imbecile!” I told him. “I’m a head-louse!”
He leaped back. “It’s talking!” he yelped. Then he peered at me again. “Wait a minute,” he said suspiciously. “Nits aren’t supposed to be this big!”
“Head-lice, you fool!” I snapped.
He jumped back again. He was starting to look a little nervous – and suddenly I had an idea.
“But you’re right,” I went on, “none of your Earth-lice are as big as me.”
“Earth-lice?” he said. “Are you trying to tell me you come from . . . from . . . outer space?”
“How else do you explain a giant talking head-louse?” I asked him. “Especially one that can suck out the brains of humans and turn you into my slaves!” Then I shouted out, “Capture him, slaves! I feel a bit hungry! I know he hasn’t got much of a brain, but it should keep me going till lunchtime!”
Lizzy was the first one to realize what I wanted them to do. After all, she was the one who’d read us Invasion of the Brain-Suckers. She widened her eyes into the horrible blank stare of a zombie mind-slave. Then, holding her hands like claws and raising them at Duncan, she lurched forward. Gregory and William gaped for a moment. Then, suddenly, they got the idea, and did the same. William made a low moaning sound.
Duncan backed away nervously.
“Hang on . . . you’re joking, right? You’re not really going to suck out my brain, are you?” He looked around wildly from one to another of my friends. “William? Lizzy? Gregory? This is a joke, isn’t it?”
“I never joke!” I thundered. “Surrender! Come close so that we may eat your brain!”
Gregory took another lurching step forward, and made a weird hissing noise.
This was too much for Duncan.
“Aaaaaaaaaagggggggh!!!” he screamed, running away. “I’ll tell! I’ll tell! I’ll tell!”
Suddenly, there was silence. All over the whole playground, all the games and noise and chatter stopped. Everyone stared in amazement. Duncan, who made everyone’s lives a misery, was running away, screaming, from quiet little Gregory – and threatening to tell!
Niteracy Hour Page 2