by Tom Nicoll
“Um … fine,” I said. Of course it hadn’t been fine, but I could barely remember school at that point, I was so confused.
“It’s Show and Tell tomorrow, isn’t it, Eric?” said Mum.
“Oh, we’ve got that, too,” said Toby.
(Toby and I don’t go to the same school. I go to Dimbleford Primary and Toby goes to the Lexington Academy for the Development and Improvement of the Deeply Advantaged. Toby calls it Lexington. To everyone else it’s the La-Di-Da.
I don’t know that much about the La-Di-Da really, except that it’s expensive to go there and they have just about everything you could ever think of, like their own football stadium and a safari park and a private airfield. At least that’s what Toby says. I’m not sure he’s always truthful about his school. Jayden is convinced that all the kids who go there are exactly like Toby, which doesn’t bear thinking about.)
“So, what are you showing?” continued Toby. “Not the Mini-Drag—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. Mum and Dad do know about Pan, but what they know is different to what Toby knows. In fact it was getting so hard to keep track of who believed what that I ended up creating this handy cut-out-and-keep chart:
The first time Toby ever saw Pan I told him he was a new toy. Pan had frozen at the time – a defence mechanism that Mini-Dragons have when they sense danger – so it wasn’t that hard to convince him. Since then, Toby has witnessed Pan talking, moving and even lighting his own fart with his dragon breath, yet somehow it still hasn’t occurred to him that Pan isn’t battery-operated.
Yeah, he’s not that bright.
“I’m doing my Show and Tell with Min and Jayden,” I replied. “We’re showing the walkie-talkies we’ve been using recently.”
“Walkie-talkies?” said Toby, looking unimpressed. “Why don’t you just use your smartphones? Mine lets you video chat with a hundred people at the same time. And you can play Penguin Ninja on it.”
“Eric doesn’t have a smartphone,” said Mum.
Toby looked at her as if she had just spoken a foreign language.
“The range on the walkie-talkies is amazing,” I said. “Up to three miles.”
Toby shook his head in bewilderment. “My phone has a range of the entire planet.”
Wow, I thought, finally something I have that Toby doesn’t want. Although, in this case, only because he has something better.
“So, what are you taking to your Show and Tell, Toby?” asked Dad.
Toby shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, that’s still up in the air at the moment. Actually, Eric, about that… Could I have a word? In private?”
“I can’t chat for long – I’ve got a report due tomorrow,” I said as we entered the sitting room. “Can we give video games a miss?”
Toby looked around distractedly. “What? Oh right, yeah fine, whatever. Listen, since you’re not using that dragon … can I borrow it for a bit? Please? Only for a day, I promise.”
Somehow I managed to avoid laughing in Toby’s face. He had already stolen Pan once before, the chances of me voluntarily handing Pan over to him were about the same as Toby being awarded a Nobel Prize for Honesty.
But still, I was curious. “What do you need him for?” I asked.
“You’ve no idea what Show and Tell is like at Lexington,” said Toby. “These are the most privileged kids in the country. Showing off their things is like an Olympic sport to them. If you don’t have something amazing that no one else has, then the other kids humiliate you.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad…” I said.
Toby flopped on to the couch, holding his head in his hands. “It is!” he said. “They made a kid cry last month because he brought in a solid gold watch.”
“Wow,” I said, impressed. “What was wrong with that?”
“It was from last season’s range!”
I shook my head in amazement. “Well … I’m sure you have plenty of cool things you could show them.”
“I have plenty of cool things I could show you,” said Toby, rolling his eyes, “but not them. Please, Crispo— I mean, Eric, I need your help. I’ve searched the internet trying to find a dragon myself, but it’s like they don’t exist. Did you get yours delivered?”
I nodded, hiding a smile, and decided against telling Toby that Pan had arrived in a Chinese takeaway.
Toby put his hands together, his face pleading like a puppy. “Please, Eric, I’m desperate,” he said.
“I can see that,” I said, realizing how hard it must be for Toby to beg like this. “But I’m sorry, the answer’s no.”
Toby’s face almost exploded with rage. “I knew you’d be no help! I can’t believe I was actually nice to you. And your parents. Your mum’s cooking is rubbish by the way.”
Toby stormed out of the house, leaving me alone in the sitting room with my mouth open, catching flies.
“What was all that about?” asked Pan, popping out from behind the sofa.
“I have no idea,” I said, smiling down at him. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to know that boy is still crazy,” said Pan.
I nodded. “Oh well, at least I’ll have some peace to work on the report that I’m never going to finish for tomorrow. Five hundred words in one night! It’s impossible.”
Pan folded his tiny arms and leaned confidently against the sofa. “Funny you should say that,” he said, “because you’ll never guess what Mini-Dragons happen to be excellent at…”
The following morning, Dad had left for training and I was outside waiting by the car for Mum and Posy when my backpack began to crackle.
I opened the zip a little and peered in. “Pan,” I said. “Switch off the walkie-talkie.”
“Oops, sorry,” the Mini-Dragon replied. “I was just checking it still works.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “You’ll use up the battery. And remember the deal: you helped me with my report so I’m bringing you to school again. But this time you need to stay in my backpack – no more breaks for freedom. And you need to stay quiet. I don’t mean your usual noisy quiet. I mean real quiet this time.”
“Ah,” said Pan. “You mean quiet quiet. All right, gotcha.”
“Good,” I said.
“You won’t hear a peep from me all day,” said Pan.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Not a word.”
“Right,” I said.
“Total silence.”
“OK…”
“Complete and utter—”
“Pan!”
“All right, all right,” said Pan. “No more talking, starting … now.”
I zipped up my bag and put it down on the ground while I enjoyed the silence, which only lasted for a few seconds. But this time it wasn’t Pan’s fault.
“All right, Crispo?”
I burst out laughing.
Toby frowned. “Ugh. Every morning’s the same with you. As soon as I show up you start laughing. But I never see anything funny and you never tell me what the joke is.”
“Heh … sorry, Toby,” I said, wiping a tear from my eye. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I could write you a list,” grumbled Toby.
The truth was, I knew exactly what made me laugh every day. It was the sight of Toby in his La-Di-Da uniform, which consisted of:
All in all it was a little more extravagant than our plain red jumper, black trousers, white shirt and grey-and-black tie.
“Don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about that dragon toy?” asked Toby.
I shook my head. “Sorry.”
“What a surprise…” he muttered.
“So what are you taking to Show and Tell instead?” I asked.
“What?” said Toby, barely listening. “Oh, Dad got me some book… Charlie Dickens’s Great Expeditions or something.”
“You mean … Great Expectations?” I asked. “Dad has that one. I think he said it was pretty good.”
; Toby snorted. “Hardly! It’s ancient. Who’s going to be impressed by some old book? Dad keeps banging on about it being a first edition and to be careful with it, but honestly, it’s all brown and horrible-looking. If you ask me I’d be doing him a favour to chuck it away so he can get himself a new one.”
“Er … I wouldn’t do that,” I said.
“Whatever,” mumbled Toby. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to show … thanks to you.”
“ERRRRRIIIICCCCC!” shouted Mum from the house.
“Uh-oh, I better go,” I said. I ran back inside to find Mum on the kitchen floor with her feet pinning her arms to the back of her head. Posy, a purple crayon stuffed in her mouth, and our cat, Pusskin, were sitting watching her like she was putting on some kind of show.
“Um…” said Mum, her face looking a bit flushed. “I had an idea for my yoga class this morning, but I don’t think it’s going to work. You couldn’t give me a hand could you?” I untied Mum and she let out a sigh of relief. “Ah, that’s better, thanks, Eric.” She scooped Posy up in her arms. “Right, everyone out … now. Not you, Pusskin.”
We rushed out and got into the car. As I strapped myself in, I heard a tapping sound and looked up to see Toby knocking on the window. I pressed the button to open it.
“Forgetting something?” said Toby, holding up my bag.
My stomach dropped. “Oh no!” I said, pulling the bag into the car. “Thanks, Toby.”
Toby smiled the same way he had been smiling the night before. “No problem, Eric. Anything for my good friend!”
I frowned. “All right, Toby, you can drop the nice-guy act. The answer is still no. I’m sure your Show and Tell will go just fine without the dragon.”
Toby nodded, still smiling. “Oh, I’m sure you’re right, Eric. Best of luck for yours, too. Have a great day!”
Baffled, I shook my head and watched him waving as we drove off, before Mum switched the CD player on and launched into her daily playlist of terrible show-tunes. To his credit, I didn’t hear a peep out of Pan for the entire journey.
I should have known then that something was wrong.
”Report, Crisp,” barked Miss Biggs, before I had even sat down in class.
“Yes, Miss,” I said. I opened my backpack carefully, just in case Pan forgot where he was and sprung out. But he didn’t.
I reached into the bag for the folder I had put the report in – Miss Biggs hated crumpled homework. As I fumbled about, I was overcome by a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Had I left the folder at home?
Then my hand fell on something I didn’t recognize. Something hard and leathery. Not leathery like a Mini-Dragon – leathery like an old book. A very old book.
I pulled on the zip, opening the bag up completely. There wasn’t much inside – a pencil case, a couple of exercise books and an old-looking copy of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.
No report. And no Pan.
Pan being quiet had been a clue something was wrong, but I realized that I’d missed an even bigger one – Toby being nice. He must have switched our bags while I was helping Mum. Which meant…
…Toby had Pan.
I had never felt so ill in all my life.
“What’s wrong, Crisp?” asked Miss Biggs with mock concern. “Forgotten your report by any chance?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I nodded.
“Oh dear,” she said, not even bothering to hide her delight. “What a surprise. Don’t worry, Crisp, you’ll have plenty of time to finish it – in lunchtime detention.”
I couldn’t wait to talk to Min and Jayden at break time and explain what had happened.
“Oh no!” gasped Min, covering her mouth with her hands. “Poor Pan.”
“I can’t believe that thieving Toby,” said Jayden. “Well … actually, I can. This is exactly the sort of thing he’d do.”
“I can’t believe I left my bag outside,” I said.
“Eric, you mustn’t blame yourself,” said Min. “Although, obviously, it was your fault.”
“Er … thanks, Min,” I said. “That’s made me feel a whole lot better.”
Suddenly, I heard a familiar-sounding crackle.
“What’s that?” I said, looking around.
“It’s my walkie-talkie,” said Jayden. “Didn’t realize I still had it on.”
“Switch it off,” said Min. “You’ll waste the battery. We only have two walkie-talkies to show now and if yours doesn’t work, what am I meant to do?”
Jayden thought about this. “You could talk to yourself?”
Min rolled her eyes.
“Fine, but I can’t believe you’re worried about battery life at a time like this,” said Jayden, taking the walkie-talkie out of his pocket. He was just about to click the off-switch when we heard a familiar voice.
“Eric … are you there? Eric, over?”
“PAN!” shouted the three of us at once, which got us some funny looks from the other kids in the playground.
“Eric, is that you, over?” asked Pan.
“Yes, Pan, it’s me,” I said. “Min and Jayden are here, too. Where are you?”
There was silence at the other end.
“Pan, are you still there?” I asked eventually.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” said Pan. “I thought you hadn’t finished talking – you didn’t say ‘over’ like in that cop film I watched last week when you were in school. Over.”
I let out a sigh. “Pan, don’t worry about saying ‘over’. Just tell me where you are.”
“I’m in your bag,” said Pan, “but I don’t think I’m at your school. For one thing, Toby is here.”
“He switched the backpacks, Pan,” said Jayden.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” said Pan, his voice trembling a little. “Mini-Dragons are excellent at knowing when they’ve been dragon-napped.”
“Is Toby there right now?” I asked, trying to stop my own voice from wobbling. I wasn’t going to help Pan by sounding scared. Even though I definitely was.
“No,” said Pan. “He’s doing pee-wee at the moment.”
The three of us looked at each other blankly. “He’s in the toilet?” I asked.
“No, pee-wee,” said Pan. “You know … sport.”
“Oh,” I said. “You mean P.E.?”
“That’s what I said,” said Pan.
Jayden looked confused. “Wait … are you telling me Toby actually plays sport? That’s like finding out Miss Biggs is human.”
I ignored him. “Pan, about Toby’s Show and Tell—” I began.
“That’s not happening till twelve,” interrupted Pan. “I heard Toby and some other boys talking about it.”
“Twelve?” said Min. “At lunchtime?”
“No, they have lunch later than us,” I said. “Everything’s different at La-Di-Da’s. Hang on, Pan – I’m coming to get you.”
“We’re coming to get you,” corrected Min.
“We are?” said Jayden. “Um … I mean … we are! But when are we going to be able to sneak out?”
“Lunchtime,” I said.
“But you’ve got detention with Miss Biggs,” said Min.
“Not to mention that La-Di-Da is miles away,” added Jayden.
“There has to be a way,” I said. “We can’t let Toby show Pan to his classmates. Anyone with half a brain will figure out he’s not a toy. He could end up locked away in a laboratory with mad scientists experimenting on him all day. I’m sure Toby said that La-Di-Da have their own science labs – they’ll probably just take him there. We might never see him again.”
“Eric’s right,” said Min. “A lot of the kids at Toby’s school are smart.”
“I dunno,” said Jayden, looking unconvinced. “They can’t be that smart if they agree to wear that uniform.”
But I wasn’t really listening any more. I was trying to come up with a plan. And I had nothing.
By the time lunchtime rolled around I still had nothing.
>
“Have a seat, Crisp,” said Miss Biggs, who seemed to be taking great delight in my punishment. Well, at least one of us was having a good time.
“Just you and me today,” she said, slamming her legs on to her desk and leaning back in her comfy leather chair. “Which means you have my entire focus. So don’t even think about trying to get something past me, Crisp. I’ve got eyes like a hawk. A hawk carrying binoculars, in fact. And I have eyes on the back of my head, too.”
“Normal eyes or hawk eyes?” I asked, slightly confused.
“Hawk eyes,” said Miss Biggs.
“So how many eyes do you have in total?”
“What? No, look, I have two eyes – two actual eyes – but they’re very good and they see all around.”
“Like … an owl?” I suggested.
Miss Biggs thought about this. “Yes, a bit like an owl. So I’m an owl and a hawk. Clear?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Look, it’s— Oh, never mind. Get that report written and no more talking.”
“Yes, Miss.”
I stared at the blank piece of paper on the desk in front of me, but all I could think about was what might be happening to Pan. Or what would happen to him if we couldn’t get him back. I suddenly had a vision of Pan trapped inside a glass box. He looked terrified, tears running down his snout.
I shook my head to try and get rid of the image. I had to get out of here. But how?
A plan began to formulate in my mind:
I was about to raise my hand when I realized that my masterplan wouldn’t be required after all.
It turns out Miss Biggs is like an owl. They both like to sleep during the day.
It was a pity. I was really looking forward to flying that fighter jet.
“Wow, you made it,” said Jayden, as I arrived at the school’s front gate where we’d arranged to meet. “How did you manage that?”