The Phredde Collection

by Jackie French

I shut my ears at that point. It was all blah, blah, blah, how a school is made up of friends all working together towards…

  I spent my time studying everyone’s faces instead. You can always tell if someone is listening, because they blink more. And, no, I wasn’t looking to see if Bruce had arrived, not at all. Or not very much.

  Then suddenly my ears flapped open, because Mr Ploppy Bottom was saying, ‘So there will be some changes. Just a few little changes. To start with, it’s now school policy to have free ice blocks at lunchtime.’

  There was another startled silence. But this one was a Hey, did I really hear right? Whoopee! sort of silence.

  ‘Each child will be limited to six free ice blocks every lunchtime.’ Mr Ploppy Bottom looked us over kindly. ‘If you eat more than six, of course, you’ll have to pay for them.’

  It took another three seconds for that to sink in. Then someone down the back yelled, ‘Yay!’ and the whole school joined in.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom was eating up those cheers like they were ice cream. ‘And lunchtime will now last for two hours, not one,’ he added. ‘And this will be a homework-free term!’

  The cheers were even louder now. But I didn’t cheer at all. There was something about this guy’s smile that made me itch.

  ‘Eating in class will be compulsory.’ In fact six extralarge pizzas will be delivered to each classroom every day.’

  You could hardly hear him over the cheers now.

  ‘And Fridays will be a school work-free day!’ yelled Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘This Friday I have a little treat for you all. We’re going to have an interschool sports day!’

  Even I felt like cheering now, despite the niggling feeling that something was wrong. I’m on the football team you see. So is Phredde and Br…a few other people. The team wasn’t so keen on having girls at first, but then they saw how Phredde can kick. She doesn’t even have to wait for the ball to touch the ground before she sticks the boot in and zammms!

  ‘It’s not a regular competition,’ beamed Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘This one is special! And I thought just to make it even more special, we’ll have a Halloween dance afterwards!’

  My heart went flutter, flutter, flop at that. I know you don’t have to go to a dance with anyone, except all your friends, of course. And it didn’t matter to me at all if Br…someone didn’t ask me to go with him. Not that I would want to be seen dead with him if he was still a frog. But what if he took—my heart flopped even further—took AMELIA with him?

  Then I realised Mr Ploppy Bottom was still speaking.

  ‘Now, I want volunteers to billet the visiting students for two nights.’

  I put my hand up reluctantly. The last thing I felt like was having some strange kid staying with us. I mean I know we have lots of room in the castle—1,428 rooms to be exact, because Phredde and I counted them—I just didn’t feel like being jolly and friendly to a total stranger, when I wasn’t even talking to Br…one of my so-called friends. But I was in the football team, so it was my duty.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom’s beam shone over the forest of hands like a lighthouse beacon. ‘Good! Good!’ he cried.

  I realised Phredde’s hand was still in the air.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom’s eyes fixed on her, then skidded away. People do that sometimes when they see someone who looks a bit different. You know, they don’t want to stare, so they don’t look at all.

  ‘Sir! Sir!’ said Phredde urgently.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom ignored her. Just then Amelia’s hand shot up too.

  ‘Yes, little girl?’ Mr Ploppy Bottom asked Amelia kindly.

  Amelia smirked. That’s her normal look, not specially for him. She’s the sort of kid who doesn’t even mind being called ‘little girl’. ‘Who will we be playing, sir?’

  ‘What a good question!’ Mr Ploppy Bottom said, and rubbed his hands with glee. ‘I’ve invited Batrock Central School to be our guests and our opponents.’

  There was a gasp beside me. It was Mrs Olsen. ‘But Mr Plothiebotham!’ she cried.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom smiled nicely at her. ‘Yes? It’s Mrs Olsen, isn’t it?’

  ‘Our school can’t play Batrock Central!’ cried Mrs Olsen.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom’s beam faded a bit. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because they are a pack of bloodsuckers!’ Mrs Olsen shrieked.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom’s beam dripped right out and down through the oval. ‘I presume you mean they are vampires, Mrs Olsen…’ said Mr Ploppy Bottom warningly.

  ‘Yes, vampires!’ said Mrs Olsen. ‘Horrible, bloodsucking…’

  ‘Mrs Olsen!’ Mr Ploppy Bottom sounded more sad than angry, which is the worst kind of angry. ‘Just because people are…are…’

  ‘Bloodsuckers?’ suggested Mrs Olsen.

  ‘Exactly. Just because some people have a different national cuisine there is no reason to be prejudiced. Different cultures have much to teach us, and I would be very sad indeed if I thought that any teacher in my school could possibly—’

  ‘Mr Plothiebotham!’ said Mrs Olsen. ‘I am a vampire!’

  Mr Ploppy Bottom took a step backwards, then forced his beam back onto his face. ‘Then you of all people should know how prejudice—’

  ‘It isn’t prejudice!’ interrupted Mrs Olsen.

  ‘Mrs Olsen!’ thundered Mr Ploppy Bottom. For a guy who wasn’t prejudiced, he didn’t seem to like vampires much either, not when they were right in front of him. ‘That is enough!’

  ‘But…’ she said.

  ‘There will be no prejudice in my school as long as I am Principal. And that goes for…’

  And that’s when Bruce arrived.

  Chapter 7

  Bruce Arrives

  Bruce didn’t even look at me. He just hopped onto the end of the row with his school bag on his back, looking as though he’d spent the whole of the holidays…Well, I don’t know what he looked like he had been doing, but he didn’t look like he’d spent any time missing me. Not that I looked at him either.

  In fact I was so busy NOT looking at him that I hadn’t noticed Mr Ploppy Bottom had stopped thundering.

  He was staring at Bruce instead. His mouth opened once or twice—a bit like my piranhas when they’re hungry and want to skeletonise a cow in ten minutes—like he’d never seen a giant frog with a school bag on his back before.

  And then he tore his gaze away and stared at Phredde. There wasn’t even a hint of his I’m your friendly-wendy beam left now.

  ‘You! Phaery!’ he thundered, pointing at Phredde.

  ‘Me?’ asked Phredde, surprised.

  ‘Is there any other phaery in this school?’ roared Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘No, I don’t think there is. Un-enchant this poor boy immediately!’

  ‘But, sir,’ began Phredde.

  ‘Now!’ yelled Mr Ploppy Bottom.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Phredde.

  ‘I don’t care what excuse you’ve got! I don’t care what you think this boy has done to you! I won’t—repeat, won’t—have any misuse of magical power in this school! Magic! Huh, you think you’re so powerful, don’t you! If you think that just because you have the powers to enchant some poor lad into a frog it gives you the right to do it, you have another think coming.’

  ‘But, sir,’ croaked Bruce.

  ‘While I’m Principal of this school there will be no misuse of magic,’ roared Mr Ploppy Bottom.

  PING!

  Mr Ploppy Bottom’s mouth stayed open, but no sound came out. At all.

  ‘Phredde!’ I hissed. ‘You can’t PING! a Principal!’

  ‘I didn’t,’ whispered Phredde.

  ‘It was me!’ Bruce said as he hopped up to the microphone. ‘I just want to say, it wasn’t Phredde who PING!ed me into a frog. It was me. I LIKE being a frog! And I apologise for PING!ing you but it was the only way I could shut you up long enough to explain.’

  PING!

  Mr Ploppy Bottom’s mouth opened and shut a few times, then he realised he could speak again. ‘Both of you!’ he yelled. ‘Detent
ion! My office! Lunchtime!’ He turned on his heel and stamped off towards his office.

  ‘Detention?’ hissed Phredde.

  ‘Detention!’ croaked Bruce.

  ‘Blood-sucking vampires!’ whispered Mrs Olsen.

  That’s when Cuddles arrived and shook things up a bit.

  Chapter 8

  Vampires! (and Cuddles tries to eat the boys’ toilets…again)

  ‘Prudence…’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Olsen?’

  Mrs Olsen sighed. ‘Prudence, I have told you before, pets are not allowed at school.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Olsen.’

  ‘It was upsetting for poor Mr Ploppy Bottom, I mean poor Mr Plothiebotham, to be carried off in the beak of a gigantic…what is your pet again?’

  ‘She’s a Dromornis stirtoni, or Demon Duck of Doom, Mrs Olsen,’ I said. ‘And Cuddles SAID she was sorry.’

  ‘Did she?’ asked Mrs Olsen, interested. ‘I didn’t hear her.’

  ‘Well, she did quack,’ I explained.

  Mrs Olsen sighed again, showing her vampire fangs. ‘That was after she dropped Mr Plothiebotham into the hippopotamus pond, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Olsen,’ I said. ‘But Cuddles likes ponds. She would have thought Mr Plothiebotham could play with the hippopotamuses.’

  ‘I don’t think Mr Plothiebotham is very fond of hippopotamuses,’ said Mrs Olsen.

  Or phaeries. Or vampires, I thought, no matter what he says. Or me, because he’d given me a detention at lunchtime too, which wasn’t fair, because I’d called Cuddles off right away. Well, almost right away. As soon as I’d stopped laughing, anyway.

  ‘Cuddles just wanted to eat the boys’ toilets again. I think she likes the taste.’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Olsen.’

  ‘All right, Prudence,’ said Mrs Olsen. ‘The boys can use the infants’ toilets again. You can go back to your seat now. You’re quite sure Cuddles is back home?’

  I nodded. ‘Phredde PING!ed her back to the moat. She’ll be happy there till I come home.’

  For some reason the piranhas never try to skeletonise Cuddles. In fact they keep out of her way. Maybe Demon Ducks of Doom don’t taste as good as cows, or pineapple and sausage pizza, or Mark’s guinea pigs—but that was an accident. Well, almost.

  I trudged back to my seat and looked around. It all looked normal, just like it had been last term, which was reassuring after Mr Plothiebotham.

  There was the coffin, the storeroom and Mrs Olsen’s flask of blo…red stuff on her desk, and the blinds pulled down to keep the daylight out. And there was Phredde perched up on the back of her seat, Amelia looking studious even before there was anything to look studious about, Edwin with his mouth open and Bruce with his mouth open too, about to zap a passing fly…

  I forced my gaze away.

  ‘Mrs Olsen!’ Phredde had her hand up.

  ‘Yes, Phredde?’

  ‘Why did you call the Batrock Central School a mob of bloodsuckers?’

  Mrs Olsen’s face set like concrete. ‘That is none of your business, Phredde,’ she snapped. ‘Now, open your books to page…’

  ‘But, Mrs Olsen,’ persisted Phredde. ‘It is our business. If we’re going to play football with a mob of dangerous bloodsuckers we have a right to know!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ snapped Mrs Olsen. Then her face lost a bit of its concrete look. ‘But it is your business, isn’t it?’ she whispered. ‘Oh, this is so embarrassing. It is so terrible for a vampire to have to admit.’ Her fangs grew longer, till they were sticking out right over her lower lip, just like they always do when she’s upset.

  Mrs Olsen sat down at her desk and shook her head. ‘The Batrock vampires have a reputation. They are…old-traditional vampires,’ she whispered. ‘They practise somewhat old-fashioned ways.’

  ‘You mean they lift their hats when they meet a woman and let girls through the door first?’ enquired Bruce.

  Mrs Olsen shook her head. Her face was white. Well, okay, it’s always white because she’s a vampire, but now it was even whiter than usual.

  ‘You mean…’ asked Phredde nervously.

  Mrs Olsen nodded. ‘Old-fashioned ways means sucking blood from living creatures! They hunt their prey! They turn into bats! Well…’ she admitted. ‘I too turn into a bat sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of a flutter now and then. But I do not sleep hanging from the rafters! I do not seize my prey and stick my fangs into their jugular! I do not suck their warm, sweet blood…’

  ‘Er, Mrs Olsen,’ said Phredde even more nervously. ‘I think we get the idea now.’

  ‘Blood!’ cried Mrs Olsen. ‘Warm, sweet bloo…’ She blinked. ‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered. Her Ruritanian accent was even stronger now. ‘I am forgetting myself.’ She took a deep gulp of the blo…red stuff in her flask. ‘Now, turn to page 22…’

  Chapter 9

  No Magic!

  ‘Vampires,’ muttered Phredde hollowly.

  ‘Blood-sucking bats,’ I said, even more hollowly. I bit into my foccacia. It was pretty good, but even a black olive and sun-dried tomato foccacia with cheese and lettuce isn’t much comfort when you’re faced with a blood-sucking football team.

  Or lunchtime detention.

  ‘Anyway,’ pointed out Phredde. ‘YOU have nothing to worry about. If any vampire tried to bite you whatever it is protecting you will FLOING! you to safety.’

  ‘Well, you can PING! any vampire that attacks you into a cockroach, then squash them,’ I told her.

  Phredde brightened. ‘So I can!’ she said.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, cheering up. ‘Maybe whatever it is will FLOING! me out of detention!’

  Phredde frowned. ‘Detention probably isn’t life-threatening enough for a FLOING!’

  ‘We’ll see.’ I felt definitely better now, and it wasn’t because I’d seen Bruce hop away when Amelia sat down next to him. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We’d better get up to Mr Ploppy Bottom’s office.’

  Bruce was already there when we arrived. He was sitting on one of the chairs along the wall. Chairs aren’t designed for frogs to sit on, so his long shiny feet sort of hung over the seat.

  ‘Hi, Bruce,’ said Phredde.

  ‘Hi, Phredde. Er, hi, Pru,’ croaked Bruce, a bit nervously. I wondered if he was afraid I’d do THAT to him again. ‘Did you have a good holiday?’

  ‘It was okay,’ said Phredde. ‘A giant gorilla tried to swallow Pru but…’ I elbowed her in the ribs. ‘Um, it was fine,’ said Phredde, just as Mr Ploppy Bottom’s door opened a few centimetres and Mr Ploppy Bottom slid out into the corridor. He shut the door quickly behind him and pasted on his I-am-a-concerned-and-caring adult smile.

  ‘All here?’ he said, calm and friendly. ‘Good. Now, children…’

  Children? Huh! You can have a pretty good idea what’s going to happen when grown-ups start addressing you as ‘children’.

  ‘I don’t want you to think of this as punishment,’ said Mr Ploppy Bottom, as kind and concerned-looking as can be. ‘This is just a little get-to-know-you talk. Do you understand?’

  None of us said anything.

  ‘I said, do you understand?’ repeated Mr Ploppy Bottom. His smile had slipped a little bit.

  ‘Yes, Mr Ploppy Bottom,’ we chorused.

  The smiled slipped a bit more. ‘That’s Plothiebotham,’ he said, not quite as kindly as before. ‘I want this to be a friendly school. Do you understand? I want us all to be equal here.’

  ‘Does that mean that us kids can go in the staff room and use the staff toilets and give teachers homework?’ began Bruce.

  Mr Ploppy Bottom’s smile had headed back to the Jurassic now. ‘Of course not,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t be stupid, boy. I mean no one—do you understand me?—NO ONE is going to use magic in my school!’

  ‘No magic!’ gasped Phredde.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mr Ploppy Bottom smugly.

  ‘But what if a giant slug oozes across the oval and is about to squash the library, or a volcano erupts and�
��’

  Mr Ploppy Bottom gave a little laugh. ‘The chances of a volcano blowing up the school yard are highly unlikely!’

  ‘One did last term!’ Phredde informed him. ‘And I had to PING! everyone to safety.’

  ‘That is enough! If there is any rescuing to be done, I will do it! That is what being a Principal means. And you, boy,’ he said to Bruce. ‘You will stop being a frog! Immediately.’

  You could have heard a feather drop off a Dromornis stirtoni.

  ‘Stop being a frog!’ croaked Bruce.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘Now!’

  I held my breath. Bruce hadn’t even stopped being a frog for my birthday party, even when I’d done THAT to him! Was he going to do it just because a teacher told him to?

  ‘But I LIKE being a frog!’ cried Bruce.

  ‘I would like to be a rock star,’ snapped Mr Ploppy Bottom. ‘But we can’t all have what we LIKE.’

  The silence stretched some more. Then Bruce shook his froggy head. ‘I can’t,’ he said.

  ‘And why not?’

  ‘Because it’s against the new school rules,’ said Bruce smugly. ‘You just said no magic at school.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Ploppy Bottom, puzzled. ‘But what has that…’

  ‘I’d have to use magic to stop being a frog,’ said Bruce reasonably. ‘And I wouldn’t want to break the school rules, sir.’

  Mr Ploppy Bottom took a deep breath. ‘Very well. You may turn yourself out of being a frog in your own time. But you hear me well, boy. If you aren’t back to normal by the time Batrock Central arrive, you will not be allowed to participate in the game! Or the dance! Or anything!’

  He suddenly seemed to remember he was supposed to be nice. The beam appeared like magic again, except of course it wasn’t magic because that was now against school rules. ‘Now off you run and get your free ice blocks. Dismissed.’ He scuttled back to his office, opened the door a crack, then slid inside.

  Chapter 10

  How Do I Tell Mum?

  Phredde and I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at the floor.