Downcast, he shuffled through to the kitchen, where a wild boiled egg was waiting for him.
6
Luke
‘Someone attacked our house,’ Alfie said.
‘Really?’ said Noura.
Noura was Alfie’s friend and they sat next to each other at school. Just like him, she turned into a werewolf at full moon. A black one.
Mr French was explaining something about rhyme. He wrote some words on the blackboard: shopper, walker, orange.
‘This morning,’ Alfie said.
‘Really?’ said Noura.
Alfie noticed that she wasn’t really listening to him. She was smiling at Luke.
Luke was a new boy with shoulder-length black hair. His face always looked smooth and slightly blank, and he wore a silver earring in his left ear. Around his neck he wore a cool leather strap that looked a bit like a dog collar, and he was a very good roller-blader.
Alfie thought he was stupid. His ears stuck out and he had a strange, croaky voice. But Noura didn’t seem to notice.
Alfie glanced outside for a moment. A blur passed by the window.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Noura.
Alfie looked at her. ‘What?’
‘What kind of attack?’ said Noura, who must have been listening after all.
‘Oh, yeah, by the Row Club,’ said Alfie. ‘They bombed our front door. With eggs.’
‘Wow, egg terrorists,’ said Noura, waving at Luke.
Mr French turned back to the class. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Yesterday we talked about rhymes. Now I’d like you to write down as many words as you can think of that rhyme with these three words.’
Alfie sighed. ‘It was probably because of Dad,’ he said. ‘Dad started playing the accordion all of a sudden. He’s terrible.’
‘Oh, that’s sad,’ said Noura.
‘Yeah, and he sings along too.’
‘That’s even sadder.’
‘Yeah, and his singing’s even worse.’
Suddenly Alfie fell silent. He stared past Noura at the window. There were smudges and handprints all over the glass, but he could still make out a shadow outside. There was someone standing there.
‘Hey, Noura, look,’ Alfie whispered. ‘Someone’s spying on us.’
‘What? Where?’ Noura turned round, but there was no one there.
Alfie shook his head. ‘No, it’s nothing. I must have been seeing things.’
‘Alfie. Noura,’ Mr French called out. ‘Stop gossiping. You’re not writing anything down. What rhymes with walker?’
‘Um, water?’ said Alfie vacantly, still peering at the window out of the corner of one eye.
Mr French smiled. ‘I’m afraid not. Who knows one?’
Vincent put up his hand. ‘Talker?’
‘That’s right,’ said Mr French, writing the word on the blackboard. ‘Who knows another one? If you get more than twelve, I’ll buy ice creams for the whole class.’
All over the room, fingers shot up in the air.
‘Squawker.’
‘Stalker.’
‘Hawker.’
‘Keep going, keep going,’ laughed Mr French, tossing a piece of chalk up and down in his hand.
Suddenly Alfie saw the shadow reappear at the window. A face pressed up against the window pane. Skinny. With a bony nose. Fierce eyes moved behind the dirty glass.
‘Sir, look,’ exclaimed Alfie. ‘At the window.’
‘Chalker!’ a voice behind him cried.
7
Being Different
Alfie looked round in fright and saw Luke with his hand in the air.
‘Chalker,’ he said again.
‘Yes, excellent, Luke,’ Mr French said. ‘Now you just need seven more.’ He looked around the class, but no one else had any suggestions. Then he laughed. ‘That was a trick question. There aren’t twelve words that rhyme with walker. Mean of me, huh?’
‘That’s very mean,’ Noura shouted.
Luke smiled at her.
When he smiles, he looks like a panting dog, thought Alfie.
‘Not fair!’ the class shouted.
Alfie sighed with relief. For a moment he’d been reminded of Mrs Chalker, and just thinking of his evil neighbour sent a shiver down his spine. What would he do if she suddenly appeared in front of him? Fortunately that wasn’t possible. She was safely locked away. It was just a shame that stupid Luke—
‘What did you just call out, Alfie?’ Mr French asked.
Alfie pointed at the window. ‘Someone was standing there, sir. A peeper.’
Mr French walked over to the window, looked out and shrugged. ‘I can’t see anyone, Alfie. Maybe it was a lonesome tramp.’ He gave a reassuring smile. ‘Either way, they’re gone now. What rhymes with lonesome? If you get more than twelve, I’ll buy ice creams for the whole class every day for the rest of the year …’
Alfie walked home with Tim.
Tim was a year older than Alfie and a year above him at school. He was Alfie’s best friend and Alfie lived with him too. Tim’s parents had adopted Alfie and that kind of made them brothers, which they both thought was super cool. They were crazy about each other and never argued.
‘What’s wrong?’ Tim said. ‘You look so thoughtful.’
Alfie kicked a stone across the street and scratched his head hard. ‘I don’t know. All kinds of stuff. I’ve had a funny feeling lately. Last night I heard a really weird song in my dream. And there’s a new kid in our class. He’s called Luke. Noura likes him.’
‘Oh, that’s a pain!’ Tim said.
Alfie nodded. ‘So I think he’s stupid. And just now there was a sneaky peeper outside our classroom.’
Tim laughed. ‘Maybe it was Dad. Not the peeper, that song in your dream.’
‘No, it was different,’ Alfie said. ‘Not one of those crazy songs of Dad’s. The dream song was really nasty. But I’ve forgotten how it went.’
They crossed the road. Suddenly Tim stopped. ‘Oops, hide. There he is.’ He dived behind a car. ‘Quick, Alfie, get down.’
Alfie didn’t understand. He went over behind the car and stood next to Tim. ‘What’s wrong? Why do we have to hide?’
Tim pointed. ‘Look. There. On the corner.’
Alfie peered along Tim’s finger. Then he saw it. Someone was standing on the other side of the street on the corner. He had a big case with him and an upturned hat on the pavement in front of him. On his head he was wearing an upside-down rubber boot.
‘Oh no,’ Tim groaned. ‘Now Dad’s going to star busking. He probably thinks he’s going to be discovered and end up on TV. I’m so embarrassed, I could die.’
Alfie watched Dad strap on the Green Monster. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Dad likes being different. It makes him happy.’
Tim shook his head. ‘But everyone will laugh at him. When he plays, he sounds like a cat yowling. He sings like a crow. He’s making a real fool of himself. And that makes me look stupid too. I’m going to pretend I don’t know him.’
Alfie scratched his head. Then he scratched under his chin and behind his ears. He always got very itchy at full moon. He got itchy when he was angry too. He could feel his ears burning.
‘Tim,’ Alfie said. ‘Listen to me! I’m a werewolf! At full moon I turn into a monster. But your dad loves me. He adopted me, with Mum. I’ll never be ashamed of him. No matter how silly he acts. And I think it’s really stupid of you to think like that.’ Then he strode away from Tim.
He crossed the road and walked straight up to Dad.
8
Busking
Alfie’s heart pounded in his chest. He felt very strange.
He’d never had an argument with Tim before, but now he was angry at him for the first time ever. What was happening?
Maybe it’s because I’ll turn into a werewolf again tonight, he thought. It always makes me a bit snappier than usual. But it’s still stupid of Tim to be ashamed of Dad!
He took a deep breath.
&nbs
p; He was having a very bad day.
First there was the Row Club attack. Then a mysterious peeper. And stupid Luke, of course. And now he’d had an argument with Tim. Things couldn’t get worse.
Then he had no more time to think. He’d reached the other side of the street, where Dad was standing with his accordion. ‘Who wants to hear a song?’ he called. ‘I’m Will Friend, the folk singer. For a small donation, I’ll sing a song for you.’
People hurried by without asking for a song. Some of them even sped up. There wasn’t a single coin in his hat.
‘Hi, Dad,’ said Alfie.
Dad looked up with surprise and a big grin immediately covered his face. ‘Hey, Alfie. Is school finished already? Where’s Tim?’
Alfie glanced back at the car Tim was hiding behind and shrugged. ‘He … um, I think he went straight home, Dad. He had a lot of homework, I think.’
Dad smiled. ‘Ah, Tim always does his best. He’s a real chip off the old block. I’m proud of him. And I’m proud of you too, Alfie.’
He pulled the accordion out as far as it went, making it wheeze like an asthmatic cow. Passers-by looked up in horror.
‘Who wants a song?’ Dad called. ‘Get out your hankies, here it comes.’
He started singing loudly.
‘Ye-hesterdayyyyy …’
An old man threw a coin into the hat. ‘That’s for you, kid,’ he whispered. ‘If you can get him to stop that caterwauling.’ He hurried on quickly.
Dad beamed at Alfie. ‘You see that, Alfie? It works. People are paying for my music.’
Alfie nodded. ‘I’m going home, Dad,’ he said. ‘I’ve got homework too. And tonight …’
Dad smiled. ‘I know, son. Full moon. Then you’ll go out werewolfing. Au-wooo and all that. Fabulous. All that werewolf stuff’s amazing. If only I could do it too.’ He ruffled Alfie’s hair. ‘But fortunately I have other talents. I can play music. Off you go, Alfie. I’ll see you later. There are people here who need entertaining.’
‘See you later, Dad.’
Alfie walked off.
He didn’t wait for Tim.
9
An Old Lady
Dad looked around. ‘Who’d like to hear something?’
An old lady with a weird hat on her head shuffled past.
‘Madam, would you like to hear a beautiful, sentimental song?’ Dad asked, and started to sing.
‘Oh, Granny, now your hair is grey,
Remember on that sunny day …’
The old lady stared at him. She had a long bony face, one eye closed tight, and a nose like a beak.
Dad studied her more closely.
‘Do I know you? You look very much like someone I know. Is that you?’
The old lady shook her head.
‘I very much doubt it, Mr Busker. I don’t know you.’
She leant closer to Dad, sniffed him, then breathed in deeply through her nose. She seemed to think for a moment, before shaking her head softly. She brought her umbrella up and pointed it at Dad.
‘You can do me a favour, boy.’
Dad gave her a broad smile. ‘It would be my pleasure. What can I do for you?’
‘Keep your big mouth shut,’ the old lady snarled, moving the sharp silver point of her umbrella closer to Dad.
Dad took hold of the point carefully and pushed the umbrella aside. ‘Don’t you know that’s dangerous? You shouldn’t point at people with something sharp like that.’
‘So I shouldn’t point at people, hey, smart alec?’ the old lady said. Then she swung her umbrella at him. WHAM! The boot flew off Dad’s head.
By the time Dad had scrambled back up on to his feet, the old lady was gone. The boot was on the ground. Dad felt his head.
‘Wow, sometimes the fans get a bit too enthusiastic. I think I’d better go home and lie down on the sofa for a while.’ He put the accordion back in its case and wobbled off down the street.
The old lady was standing in a dark doorway. She still had one eye squeezed shut and peered at Dad with the other. Then she pulled a mobile phone out of her handbag and typed in a number.
‘Code 3,’ she said. ‘Suspicious local observed and whacked. He seems harmless enough. Wears head-boot and accordion. Does not react to silver. Probably isn’t one of them. But still a weirdo.’ She peered around silently for a moment. ‘I went to the school too. Looked in all the classrooms. Couldn’t tell which ones were and which ones weren’t. Maybe they all are. All those little brats look alike. We’ll have to rely on little brother.’ The old lady glared at a boy who was walking past. ‘What you looking at, guttersnipe? Get outta here or I’ll whack you one.’ She lashed out at him with the umbrella. ‘Scat. Hssss. Scram.’
Her closed eyelid opened, showing an empty black hole.
The boy turned pale and ran away.
‘Moron,’ the old lady sneered.
‘We have to stay alert,’ she panted into her mobile. ‘Time for new action. The R.O.W. Club for ever.’ The old lady peered left and right. ‘I’m hanging up now. The walls have ears …’
10
Her!
Tim and Alfie didn’t say a word to each other during dinner. Alfie was angry because Tim had been embarrassed about Dad. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Noura and Luke.
Tim was angry because Alfie was angry.
Mum was staring into space and seemed miles away.
‘It’s very quiet here at the table,’ Dad said. He was wearing his favourite tea cosy on his head: the elephant. ‘Shall I play a song on my accordion? A bit of mood music?’
Nobody answered.
Suddenly Mum stood up. ‘Now I remember. I forgot to buy a new broom. I need a really good one. And I have to go to my course.’
‘Good idea,’ Dad said. ‘But shall I play a song first?’
‘Well, that’s really not necessary, dear,’ Mum said.
But Dad had already turned round to the big case leaning against the wall behind him. He lifted out the Green Monster.
‘There, time for a beautiful ballad,’ he said, turning around.
All of the chairs were empty. There was no one left at the table.
‘How odd,’ Dad said. ‘They must have gone to the toilet.’
Alfie went up to his bedroom, passing Tim on the landing, but they both turned their heads and didn’t say a word. Tim went into his room and slammed the door behind him. Alfie did the same, slamming his door even harder. He flopped down on his bed. He couldn’t be bothered getting undressed and he was too tired to look for his pyjamas. There was a brand-new duvet on his bed. And a soft new pillow too.
Dear old Mum, thought Alfie, but he wasn’t able to be really happy. His stomach was hurting from the argument with Tim.
He sighed, laid his glasses on the bedside table and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about the argument any more. And he didn’t want to think about Luke either.
He fell asleep almost straightaway.
The light shining in through Alfie’s bedroom window woke him up. He opened his sleepy eyes.
The moonbeams tickled his skin, as if he was lying under a fine shower. His muscles tingled and his blood rushed through his veins. He felt fur growing on his arms. His nose changed into a snout. And his fingers and toes grew claws.
It was werewolf time! Fantastic! He’d even forgotten about the argument.
Alfie leapt out of bed in one smooth movement. He straightened his glasses. His pointy wolf’s ears stood up.
‘Wrow.’
He climbed out of the window and rolled off the roof, landing in the garden with a soft thud, then jumping up easily. He looked around. Everything was fine. No one had seen him. The houses were dark, the whole street was asleep and the full moon was smiling down on him.
‘Wrow. Hello, moon,’ Alfie growled.
The stars winked.
Alfie was almost out of the street when he noticed something strange and stopped. There was one house where the lights were still on.
&
nbsp; Huh? he thought, his heart pounding. That’s impossible. That house has been empty for ages. Nobody lives there any more. That used to be Mrs Chalker’s house.
He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the road and slipped into the garden. It had been a long time since anyone had done any gardening and tall weeds now stood where there had once been a chicken coop.
Alfie peered through the undergrowth at the window. There was someone there! A shadow was moving behind the glass. Suddenly the curtain jerked aside. Alfie dropped to the ground quickly, behind a bush with red flowers.
Yellow light shone into the garden from inside the room, revealing a black silhouette. Alfie froze. The shadow was as skinny and scrawny as a scarecrow. With a thin hooked nose, a silly feather hat on its head and an umbrella in one hand.
‘Oh no,’ he groaned. ‘It wasn’t a dream after all. It’s her! She’s back!’
11
Warning
Mrs Chalker pushed the window open wide and Alfie heard a strange sound: creak-crack, creak-crack …
She’s crunching like a bag of crisps, thought Alfie. She must have gone rusty in the RCUPA.
The woman stuck her head out of the window.
‘Hello, dear moon,’ she said in a sweet voice. ‘You look as lovely as ever. As beautiful and full as a round of cheese.’ She blew the moon a kiss.
Completely bonkers, thought Alfie. She’s back and she’s madder than ever! He crawled in under the bush when she looked in his direction.
His memories of Mrs Chalker were all bad. Sometimes he even had nightmares about her. Mrs Chalker hated werewolves. She’d already caught him once, in a vicious iron trap. Fortunately Grandpa Werewolf had saved him in the nick of time. Together with Tim and Mum and Dad.
Alfie had been very relieved when they locked Mrs Chalker up in the RCUPA. Permanently, he’d hoped. But now she was back and he didn’t understand how it was possible.
Alfie the Werewolf 5: The Evil Triplets Page 2