by Tom Nicoll
“No,” she said shaking her head, “not that, I mean… Wait, you’ve finished the report?”
“Of course, Miss,” I said. “I finished it a while ago, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“But how could you have?” she said, looking confused. “You weren’t even here!”
I gave her a puzzled look. “I’ve been here all through lunch, Miss.”
By now kids were filing into the class, Min and Jayden among them.
“No, you haven’t,” she said, her voice getting higher. “You left… And then you came back, and I told you off… And then a tiny dragon started yelling at me.”
The class fell silent as everyone looked at Miss Biggs.
“A dragon, Miss?” I asked in a low voice.
“Yes! It was … it was little…”
“A Mini-Dragon, Miss?” asked Min.
Jayden stifled a giggle.
“Well … I mean … that is…” said Miss Biggs, scratching her head.
“Are you sure it wasn’t just a dream you were having, Miss?” I said, trying to sound helpful.
Miss Biggs considered this. “I… I suppose that does make more sense… I mean, well, there’s no such thing as dragons … is there?”
“I don’t think so, Miss,” I said.
She nodded slowly. “Right … right. Well, it must have been a dream then. And you definitely didn’t sneak out?”
“No, Miss,” I said, approaching her desk and handing her my report. “If I hadn’t been here I wouldn’t have had time to finish this.”
She looked blankly at the report. “No,” she said slowly. “That’s true. Yes … a dream, it must have been. Thank you, Eric.”
Every head in the classroom turned from Miss Biggs to me.
If I had to guess why, I’d say it was probably because none of them could remember Miss Biggs ever calling someone by their first name.
Later that afternoon, Min, Jayden and I were giving our presentation for Show and Tell. We were the last ones up and by that time, fatigue had set in throughout the class. It was almost home time and everyone just wanted the bell to hurry up and put them out of their misery. Even Jayden getting inside a cupboard and Min radioing in from the corridor wasn’t enough to get anyone to take their eyes off the clock. But we had a plan to win them back.
“We use the walkie-talkies mostly to talk to each other,” I said, standing at the front of the class, “but every now and again we pick up transmissions from other people, too.”
“From all over the place,” added Min, still outside the room.
A few pairs of eyes drifted from the clock to look at us doubtfully.
“Really?” said Miss Biggs, who had been a bit distracted ever since lunch, but now seemed to be giving us her full attention. “Show us, then.”
“Er … well, it doesn’t always work, you see,” I said.
“There’s always an excuse with you, isn’t there?” she said drily.
“…Hello?” said Pan.
Miss Biggs’s jaw dropped to the floor.
“Hello?” I said, pretending to look surprised. “Who is this?”
“My name’s Pan. Who is this?”
“My name’s Eric,” I said. “I’m in the middle of a Show and Tell.”
“Nice. How’s it going?” asked Pan.
“Much better,” I said, as all eyes in the room were now on me.
“Where are you from, Pan?” asked Jayden, from the cupboard.
“China,” he replied.
“Me, too,” said Min. “Well, my mum and dad are anyway.”
“But I live in England now,” continued Pan. “It’s brilliant! I’ve got the greatest friends in the whole world. They’re the reason I’m talking to you now. You see, I found out today that they all chipped in their pocket money and bought me my very own walkie-talkie.”
“Wow,” said Jayden. “They sound pretty excellent.”
“They are,” said Pan.
It had taken a couple of weeks for the three of us to save up for the fourth walkie-talkie. Dad had only picked it up for me yesterday – I told him mine had broken. We had been planning on giving it to Pan when we were all together, but today seemed as good a time as any. From the comfort of my backpack, on the back of my chair, Pan got to be part of a Show and Tell after all.
Miss Biggs had stood up and was slowly crossing the room towards us.
“That voice…” she said. “I know it from somewhere…”
“Anyway … I, er … need to be off now,” said Pan, obviously sensing trouble. “Good luck with your talk.”
“Bye,” said the three of us.
“No, wait!” cried Miss Biggs, but Pan was gone.
Miss Biggs stared at us. “It was a dream … wasn’t it?” she muttered, almost to herself. Then something caught her eye through the window. We looked out to see a golf cart being towed away by a removal truck.
Miss Biggs shook her head. “I need a holiday.”
At that moment, finally, the bell rang.
“How was your day, dear?” asked Mum, as we drove home. “Anything exciting happen?”
I felt a surge of panic – had Mum seen us in the golf cart at lunchtime? “No,” I said quietly.
“Well, that’s not true, is it?” she said.
I gulped. “W-w-what do you mean?” I asked.
“Toby’s school,” she said.
My heart sank. She knew. We had almost got away with it. Almost.
“I can explain,” I said, playing nervously with the walkie-talkie I still had in my hand.
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” she said. “I know all about it.”
“You do?”
“Oh yes, I was talking to Mr Gunnar before you arrived,” she said. “He was telling me all about the Dimbleford Dragons crushing the La-Di-Da 49–0.”
I almost melted into my seat with relief.
“Probably best we don’t mention it to Toby though,” said Mum, giving me a wink in the rear-view mirror.
“No,” I said, laughing. “I won’t.”
“It was quite funny today, actually,” said Mum. “We were just on our way back from Posy’s nursery when she started saying your name over and over again. I think she must have seen someone who looked like you.”
I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. “Ha! Yeah, must have done.”
As Mum switched on her awful show-tunes, my walkie-talkie crackled into life.
“Hey, it’s me,” whispered Pan.
“Can this wait?” I said as quietly as I could.
“It won’t take long,” he said.
“OK, quickly,” I said.
“I was just wondering where we stood on me coming with you to school tomorrow?”
I stared at the walkie-talkie, speechless. There was only one possible answer to a question like that.
I clicked the walkie-talkie off.
“Echo-Romeo-India-Charlie, I have eyes on the objective. The chickens are in the hen house. I repeat, the chickens are in the hen house.”
I looked blankly at the walkie-talkie in my hand. We didn’t have a hen house. Or chickens. I clicked the button to talk. “Pan, what are you on about?” I asked.
Even above the noise of all the people gathered behind me in my living room, I could hear Pan sighing on the other end. “It’s code, Eric,” he said. “Honestly, are Mini-Dragons the only ones who know how to use walkie-talkies properly?”
“No, but not everyone gets to hang around the house all day learning stuff from old cop movies,” I said.
“Fine. The message is: your parents are here,” he said. “And now that I’ve finished being lookout, can I come downstairs?”
“In a couple of minutes,” I said. “Come down once they’re inside. I’ll meet you in the hall and then you can hide in my pocket.”
“Ah, the glamorous life of a Mini-Dragon,” said Pan.
I turned to face the room. “All right, everyone, it’s time,” I shouted before switching off the lig
hts.
There was silence, followed by the sound of the front door opening, footsteps walking through the hall, the opening of the door, the clicking of the light switch, then:
“Arrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!!!” screamed Mum.
“Arrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!!!” screamed Dad.
“Mum, Dad, relax! It’s OK!” I said.
“Eric?” said Mum, her fright turning to confusion. “What is all this?”
I glanced back at the dozens of people in our living room wearing party hats, the balloons scattered everywhere, the brightly coloured gift boxes piled in a corner and the huge ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner draped from the ceiling.
I thought it was kind of obvious.
“It’s a surprise party,” I said.
“Oh, right,” said Mum, nodding slowly. “For who?”
I slapped my forehead. “For you and Dad, of course. Happy twentieth wedding anniversary!”
“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!” bellowed everyone behind me.
My parents stared at each other in shock.
“Well,” said Dad. “It’s certainly a surprise.”
“You have Eric to thank for that,” said my Auntie Ruth, appearing next to me. She had been looking after us while Mum and Dad were out. “Organized the whole thing himself.”
My parents’ heads turned sharply back towards me. They looked even more surprised than before.
“This was all you?” asked Dad, unable to hide the doubt in his voice.
He was right to be doubtful, of course. I hadn’t organized this by myself. In fact, I’d hardly done any of it. I just happened to be good friends with a Mini-Dragon. And Mini-Dragons are excellent at party planning.
The whole idea had been Pan’s to begin with. Once he’d found out that my parents’ anniversary was coming up, he had been like a Mini-Dragon possessed. I think maybe he wanted to do something nice for them to try and make up for all the trouble he had caused since his arrival. Or maybe it was just because he had enjoyed my last birthday party so much. Now that was a good party, though hopefully this time we could avoid firing anyone into a tree in a rocket-powered scooter.
Pan’s party planning had consisted of:
Of course I could hardly tell my parents that a Mini-Dragon had arranged their party, so I smiled and nodded, taking all the credit.
“But … how did you afford everything?” said Mum, looking panicked. “Tell me you’ve not been using our credit cards?”
“I’ve not been using your credit cards,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Of course he hasn’t, Maya,” said Auntie Ruth. “We all chipped in.”
“Oh,” said Mum. “Well … I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Eric. This is lovely.”
I could see her eyes beginning to well up and I knew what was coming next. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me to within an inch of my life, then planted a massive kiss on my face.
“Yeah, nice one, son,” said Dad, punching me affectionately on the arm.
Suddenly a flash of light almost blinded us.
“Pic-ture,” said Posy, my two-and-a-half-year-old sister, wielding her new favourite toy – a kid’s camera that my auntie Ruth had bought her.
She was obsessed with it, always popping up when you least expected it to take a photo. It was a bit of a nuisance, especially as I had to check it all the time in case she snapped Pan. Usually it was OK because Mini-Dragons can freeze themselves if they sense danger so mostly he just looked like a toy. But she was sneakier than you’d expect a toddler to be and the camera also had a video mode, so I couldn’t take any chances. On this occasion however I was only too happy to pose for Posy. She took one of me, Mum and Dad, and then Auntie Ruth took one of the four of us.
Pictures out of the way, I left my parents to mingle with the rest of our friends and family. The Blooms, our next-door neighbours, had turned up, too. Mr Bloom was like a bigger version of his son Toby – the same curly hair, the same bright red cheeks and the same appetite. Together they had taken the buffet table hostage, the pair of them busy stuffing their faces with prawn crackers (well, I had to let Pan order some, didn’t I?). Mrs Bloom stood next to them dressed in something my mum called a ‘Power Suit’, which isn’t nearly as exciting as it sounds. Unlike her family, Mrs Bloom showed no interest in the buffet, or anything else for that matter other than the phone she was tapping away on.
“Mini-Dragons sure know how to throw a party,” said Jayden, appearing at my side, with Min.
“Yeah … they … sure … do,” she panted. “Sorry … cycled … over … here … as quickly … as I … could … after your … parents left. Where is … Pan, anyway?”
“Surely you let him come?” said Jayden. “After he put in so much work?”
“Of course,” I said. “As if I could stop him even if I wanted to. He was going to come down and hide in my pocket once my parents arrived. I’ll go and get him.”
I walked out to the hall, where we’d arranged to meet, but there was no sign of Pan.
“That’s weird,” I said, stepping back into the living room. “He’s not there.”
“Give him a shout,” suggested Jayden, pointing towards my walkie-talkie.
“Right, yeah,” I said, clicking the call button. “Pan. Are you coming? Pan?”
There was no reply.
The three of us looked at each other with the same anxious expression on our faces. I could tell we were all thinking the same thing. Pan wasn’t the type of Mini-Dragon to take his time joining a party. To be honest, I don’t know if there is a type of Mini-Dragon who does like to take their time, but Pan definitely isn’t one of them.
It was time to start worrying.
COPYRIGHT
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2016
Text copyright © Tom Nicoll, 2016
Illustrations copyright © Sarah Horne, 2016
Author photograph © Kaye Nicoll, 2016
eSBN: 978-1-84715-745-4
The rights of Tom Nicoll and Sarah Horne to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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