Toothy!

by Alan MacDonald

  Bertie wasn’t listening. He reached up to a switch above him.

  “What’s this?”

  CLICK! A light came on.

  “A reading light,” said Dad. “Leave it alone.”

  “And what does this one do?” asked Bertie, fiddling with a catch on the seat in front.

  CLONK! A table flopped down, knocking his sweets out of his hand. Bertie scrambled on the floor to find them. Dad shut his eyes. Three hours on a plane with Bertie! He didn’t know if his nerves could stand it.

  None of the other passengers seemed to want the seat next to them. Eventually, a tall, elderly man sat down. He had big pink ears and a grumpy expression.

  Bertie leaned over. “It’s my first time on a plane,” he said.

  “Really,” said Big Ears.

  “Yes. Is it yours?”

  “No,” said Big Ears. He shook open his newspaper and hid behind it.

  “Welcome aboard this Cheapy Jet Flight 647,” said a voice over the tannoy. “Please listen carefully while we go through the safety procedures…”

  Bertie leaned forward to watch as the flight attendants waved their arms.

  “There are three emergency exits: here, here and here…”

  “What’s an emergency exit?” Bertie whispered.

  “It’s the way out in an emergency,” said Dad.

  “What sort of emergency?”

  Dad sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You mean like if one of the wings drops off?” asked Bertie.

  “Hopefully that won’t happen,” replied Dad, loosening his collar.

  The voice went on. “You’ll find a life jacket under your seat…”

  “Have I got one?” Bertie asked.

  “Yes,” said Dad.

  “Can I put it on now?”

  “No!” groaned Dad. “It’s only for … well, if we came down in the sea.”

  “In the sea? WOW!” said Bertie. “You mean like if we crash-land because the plane’s on fire…”

  “Bertie, please!” moaned Dad.

  “I was only asking,” said Bertie.

  The plane shook as the engines rumbled into life. Dad gripped the arms of his seat.

  “This is it. We’re going!” cried Bertie.

  Dad closed his eyes. He seemed to be praying. The plane bumped out towards the runway. It swung sharp left then began to pick up speed. Dad shrank back in his seat. Bertie had his nose glued to the window, so he didn’t miss a thing.

  “We’re up!” he yelled. “Wahoo! Look, you can see the airport. And the cars! They’re tiny, look!”

  Dad moaned. “I don’t want to look!”

  “Why not?” asked Bertie.

  “Because I hate flying, okay? It makes me nervous.”

  Bertie frowned. How could anyone hate flying? It was brilliant – even better than going on a roller coaster.

  CHAPTER 3

  Bertie stared out of the window at the vast blue sky. They’d been flying for ages now. Dad was listening to music on his headphones. Bertie had eaten all his sweets. He was bored. A flight attendant came past pushing the drinks trolley. Her badge said “Tina”.

  Bertie nudged Dad.

  “Can I have some crisps?”

  “What? No!”

  “How about a Coke?”

  “You’re not having anything,” said Dad. “Read your comic.”

  Bertie sighed. He had already read his comic and done his sticker book. It turned out they weren’t even showing a film. No wonder the airline was called Cheapy Jet! He found a button on his armrest that he hadn’t tried yet.

  CLUNK!

  His seat suddenly flipped backwards.

  “OWW!” wailed Suzy. “Mum!”

  “Bertie!” sighed Mum.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” said Bertie. “How was I to know it did that?”

  “Just sit still and leave things alone,” said Mum.

  Bertie tilted his seat back up. He’d been sitting still for ages. His bottom ached. He poked Dad again.

  “What now?” said Dad, removing his headphones.

  “I need the toilet!” said Bertie.

  Dad sighed. “It’s at the front.”

  Bertie clambered past Dad and Big Ears and made his way down the aisle. He had to pass Tina, who was heading back with the drinks trolley. Bertie eyed the bags of crisps hungrily.

  “Can I help you?” asked Tina.

  “I need the toilet,” said Bertie.

  “It’s occupied at the moment. You can wait outside,” said Tina.

  She disappeared behind a grey curtain with the trolley. Bertie stood tapping his feet. Whoever was in the toilet was taking ages! He wondered what happened when you flushed the loo on a plane. Did everything shoot out into the sky? Tina came out again and went down the aisle with the trolley.

  Bertie stared at the curtain. Maybe that was where the drinks and snacks were kept – the ones nobody wanted? It seemed a pity to waste them. No one was about, so he slipped through the curtain. He found himself looking at a wall of metal cases. Bertie tried to open one, but it wouldn’t budge. Then he spotted something else – a panel of switches and buttons on the wall. At the top – just in reach – was a large red button.

  Bertie had been told a million times not to touch things, especially things like worms and snails. But buttons were different. Bertie loved pressing them because he wanted to know what they did. Maybe this one fired the booster rockets? Or set the plane to warp speed? Bertie reached out a finger and pressed…

  WOOP! WOOP! WOOP! WOOP!

  Yikes! A red light began to flash.

  Bertie ducked back through the curtain just as Tina came hurrying up the gangway.

  “I’m sorry, you’ll have to return to your seat,” she said.

  “But I still need the toilet,” said Bertie.

  “The seatbelt sign is on. Everyone must take their seats,” said Tina firmly.

  Bertie headed back, with the alarm ringing in his ears. People were looking round. This was not good. What if they found out it was him who set off the alarm? Maybe he’d be arrested. Or thrown out of the emergency exit!

  CHAPTER 4

  Bertie sank back in his seat.

  “What’s going on?” asked Dad.

  “I don’t know!” said Bertie. “I only went to the toilet.”

  Dad clutched at the arm of his seat.

  “What’s that alarm? Is something wrong?” he worried.

  “It’s probably just a mistake,” said Bertie. “A fire alarm or something.”

  “A FIRE ALARM?” cried Dad.

  “Did you say fire?” shouted Big Ears.

  Bertie wished he’d never mentioned it.

  “I didn’t say there was…” he began.

  But it was too late. The rumour was spreading from one row to the next.

  “A fire? Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Someone said they smelled smoke!”

  “It’s one of the engines!”

  “Good grief! Are we going to be all right?”

  Dad had gone white. He was breathing heavily. Big Ears was arguing loudly with the man in front. A baby started wailing. Bertie sunk down in his seat. Help! he thought. All I did was press one little button!

  A voice on the tannoy rang out. “If I can have your attention! Everyone please stay in their seats. There is no reason to panic.”

  Flight attendants hurried to and fro, trying to calm everyone down.

  Tina came past.

  “What’s that alarm?” Big Ears demanded.

  “Nothing to worry about, sir,” said Tina.

  “Are we on fire?”

  “No, of course not,” said Tina.

  WOOP! WOOP! WOO—

  The alarm suddenly stopped. Silence fell. It was broken by a new voice over the tannoy.

  “Captain Rogers here. Awfully sorry about that. It seems someone set off an alarm by mistake. Anyway, no harm done. Please remain seated while the cabin crew come round and
serve refreshments.”

  Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief. Big Ears went back to his paper, muttering to himself. Dad slumped back in his seat, exhausted. Bertie puffed out his cheeks.

  Tina appeared again, pushing the drinks trolley.

  “Any drinks? Tea, coffee, juice?” she asked.

  “Tea,” said Big Ears. “And maybe you can tell me exactly how this alarm went off?”

  “We don’t know, sir,” said Tina. “It could have been a passenger.”

  “Where was it?”

  Tina pointed. “In the serving area, past the toilet.”

  Dad frowned. A worrying thought crossed his mind. Where was Bertie when the alarm went off? He turned to him.

  “Did you have anything to do with this?”

  “M-me?” gulped Bertie.

  “Yes, you. Did you set off the alarm?”

  “No!” said Bertie. “I never touched it!”

  “Touched what?” said Dad.

  “You know … the thing … the red button.”

  Dad narrowed his eyes. “How do you know it’s a red button?” he said.

  “Um…” said Bertie.

  Nobody spoke much to Bertie for the rest of the flight. Dad kept his headphones on. Mum had her nose in her book. Now and again, other passengers turned round to glare in Bertie’s direction.

  At last, the plane came in to land. Dad grabbed their bags and they hurried off.

  At the bottom of the steps a young man was waiting. He handed them a card.

  “Would you like to fill in our Cheapy Jet survey?” he asked. “You could win a free flight for all the family.”

  “A free flight?” said Dad.

  “Fantastic!” cried Bertie.

  Mum and Dad looked down at him.

  “No, thanks,” said Dad, handing back the card. “We are never going on a plane again!”

  CHAPTER 1

  It was hot. Scorching hot. Sitting at the back of the class, Bertie felt he was going to melt. It was ages till afternoon break. His head flopped on to his desk. He was certain it must be 1000 degrees. There ought to be a law against going to school in this heat.

  It was all right for teachers, he thought bitterly. Miss Boot had a fan on her desk to keep her cool. The rest of them had to roast. Eugene’s cheeks had gone bright pink. Darren’s hair was sticking up like a paintbrush. Only Know-All Nick looked as pale and neat as ever.

  Bertie moaned. “I’m dying of thirst!”

  “Me, too,” said Darren. “Ask Miss Boot if we can get a drink.”

  “You ask her,” replied Bertie.

  Darren raised his hand.

  “Miss, please may I go to the toilet?”

  “Certainly not. Wait till break time,” snapped Miss Boot.

  Darren squirmed in his seat.

  “Pleeeeease! I’ve been holding on since lunchtime!”

  Miss Boot rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, very well.”

  Darren got up, giving Bertie a wink as he left the class. There was a drinking fountain by the boys’ toilets. Bertie watched him go and stuck up his hand.

  “Miss…”

  “No, you can’t,” snapped Miss Boot.

  “But Miss, I…”

  “No means NO!” thundered Miss Boot.

  Bertie’s shoulders slumped. It was so unfair! How come Darren got to go and he didn’t? He glanced up at the clock. He’d never last till break. He was actually dying of thirst. Soon he’d be nothing but clothes in a puddle of sweat.

  DING-A-DING! DING-A-DING!

  Bertie sat up. He knew that sound. It was Mr Frosty’s ice-cream van! The van tootled down the road, playing its merry tune, and parked near the school gates. Bertie stared out of the window. What he would give now for a juicy Cola-Cooler lolly! Or an extra-large cone with soft ice cream…

  “BERTIE!”

  Miss Boot was standing over him.

  “Yes, Miss?”

  “Get on with your work. You haven’t written two words.”

  Bertie sighed. It was cruelty. He needed an ice cream. Besides, ice cream was good for you. It contained healthy stuff like um … cream. If Miss Boot wasn’t such a meanie, she would go and buy him one.

  CHAPTER 2

  At break time Bertie and his friends stood staring out through the fence. They watched the nursery children come out and get ice creams.

  This is torture, thought Bertie. The van was parked ten metres up the road, but it might as well have been a million miles. School was just like prison. The gates were locked and the teachers were on patrol at all times.

  “There must be a way,” said Bertie.

  “Face it,” said Eugene. “It’s impossible.”

  Darren nodded. “Forget it.”

  Bertie flopped against the fence. All he wanted was one teeny-weeny ice cream (with a chocolate flake). Was that too much to ask? If he closed his eyes, he could almost taste it. Smooth, silky ice cream slipping down his throat.

  He opened his eyes and stared at the fence. There had to be a way out somewhere… Hang on, what was that? A little further along, the wire fence was bent back. It left a tiny gap underneath, big enough for a cat or a small person to crawl through. They could escape! There was just one problem – Miss Boot was on playground duty. If she spotted them, she’d swoop down like a fire-breathing dragon.

  Bertie racked his brains. They needed some way to distract her. But what? Eugene tap-dancing? Know-All Nick yelling that his pants were on fire? What would get Miss Boot’s full attention? Bertie smiled. He knew just the thing.

  Miss Boot sat on a bench in the shade, fanning herself with her sun hat. Darren wandered over.

  “Miss,” he said. “What do rats look like?”

  Miss Boot frowned. “Rats?” she said. “They’re like mice, only bigger and dirtier. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just I thought I saw one,” said Darren.

  Miss Boot turned pale. Rats? In the school? If there was one thing she hated it was rats. Filthy, horrible vermin!

  “Where?” she said.

  “Over there,” said Darren, pointing to the rubbish bins.

  Miss Boot followed him over. She was certain Darren had imagined it. All the same, she didn’t want to get too close, just in case. If there was a rat, it might run over her foot – or even up her leg. She shuddered at the thought.

  “Where was it?” she demanded.

  “Just there, Miss, by the bin,” said Darren. “A great big rat with blood-red eyes and pointy teeth.”

  Miss Boot went a bit closer. She bent down to look.

  THUMP!

  Suddenly, one of the bins jumped.

  “ARRRRRGHH!” screamed Miss Boot, leaping back. If that was a rat, it was a monster. A king rat!

  “I’ll er … I’ll fetch Mr Grouch,” she gulped. “Rats are his job, really. Keep away from there, Darren.”

  She hurried off to find the caretaker.

  As soon as she was gone, Eugene popped up from behind the bin.

  “Did it work?” he asked.

  “Like a dream,” said Darren. He hurried over to Bertie by the fence.

  “All clear?” said Bertie.

  “Yes, but you’d better be quick,” said Darren, holding up the fence.

  They didn’t have long. Miss Boot would be back any minute with Mr Grouch. Bertie looked around. No one was watching. He got down and squeezed through the small hole. Now to grab the ice creams and make it back before anyone saw him.

  CHAPTER 3

  Bertie waited, hopping from foot to foot. There were two other people in the queue and they were taking ages. At any moment he expected to hear Miss Boot screeching his name. At last he reached the front.

  “Three large cones, please,” he said. “With sprinkles and a chocolate flake.”

  He watched the smooth, soft ice cream ooze from the nozzle.

  “Three pounds,” said the ice-cream man.

  Bertie handed over the money they’d scraped together and grabbed the cones.
He’d been dreaming of this moment all day.

  He lifted one of the ice creams to his mouth…

  DRRRRING!

  Bertie looked up. No way! Surely that couldn’t be the bell already?

  But the playground was starting to empty. His class were lining up under the stern eye of Miss Boot. Bertie quickly ducked out of sight behind a tree.

  Darren stood in line with Eugene. He glanced back towards the fence. There was no sign of Bertie. What was he playing at? A hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned round to see Know-All Nick’s smug face.

  “Where’s Bertie?” Nick asked.

  “How should I know?” shrugged Darren. “He’s here somewhere.”

  Nick looked around. “Really? I don’t see him. Shall I tell Miss Boot?”

  “Mind your own business,” said Darren.

  “No talking!” shouted Miss Boot. They trooped inside.

  Bertie came out from behind the tree and stared at the empty playground.

  Help! Now what? He couldn’t crawl under the fence without Darren to hold it up. And anyway, he had his hands full of ice creams. This was terrible! He’d escaped, but now he couldn’t get back in!

  Ice cream dripped down his fingers. How could he give Darren and Eugene their cornets now? But if he hung on to them, they’d only melt! It seemed a pity to let them go to waste. Bertie licked his own ice cream, then the other two.

  All his class would be sitting down now. And Miss Boot would be sure to notice his empty chair. Sooner or later she’d worm the truth out of Darren and Eugene. Then a search party would be sent out with sniffer dogs. If they found him, he was in BIG trouble. Miss Boot would move him away from his friends. He’d have to sit at the front – probably next to a GIRL! Bertie felt ill at the thought. Somehow he had to get back into school.