Alex Sparrow and the Really Big Stink

by Jennifer Killick

  ‘Nice one Double-O-Dufus.’

  ‘Well, how was I supposed to know that one day I’d be asking him to spy on a psychopath and her freaky minions in the PALS suite for me?’

  ‘Hold on, he has another question… He wants to know what happened to the previous occupant of his tank?’

  ‘Oh, er, that’s a bit of a long story.’

  ‘He says he has time.’

  ‘The old Miley had a little accident involving some Red Bull.’

  Jess looked at me, eyes wide. ‘What kind of accident?’

  ‘Well, she was a very different kind of person, I mean fish. She was always leaping about all over the place, throwing herself around willy-nilly. And one day I left some Red Bull next to her tank. The nutter jumped out of the water and dived right in! I tried to save her, gave her the kiss of life and everything, but it was no use.’

  Jess sniffed the air and raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t tell Bob the truth though, could I? Seriously, what would you do in that situation?

  ‘He said she sounds like a lunatic.’

  ‘Oh, yes, she was.’

  ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that you called him fat.’

  ‘I’m sorry. What can I do?’

  ‘He’s thought of something we can do in exchange for him providing the services we’ve discussed.’

  ‘Brilliant. What is it?’

  Jess twitched away for a bit and then looked at me, completely deadpan and said, ‘He wants to go on a special diet he’s heard about. It requires that he only eats one colour of food at a time. A different colour each day. He wants us to separate his food into different colours and make sure he only gets one colour of flake per day. Starting with green, then orange, yellow, blue, brown, back to green and so on.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘He’s always serious.’

  ‘Have you seen his food?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘It’s a pot of millions of tiny paper-thin flakes in lots of colours, all mixed up together. It will take hours to separate them. Hours!’

  Jess sighed. ‘You get the food and I’ll get some tweezers.’

  Our first job was to transfer Bob into a washed-out coffee jar with holes in the lid that we’d prepared the night before. When I say prepared, I mean we spent about an hour following his endless instructions: ‘Make sure you scrub it at least three times with a mild detergent, if there’s any coffee residue in there, it could bring on a migraine. Rinse it out properly, at least five times, any detergent residue could result in a severe allergic reaction. Make sure the air holes are large and evenly spaced, if they are too small, or not lined up symmetrically, it could cause a sudden painful death…’ You get the picture.

  To be fair, it must have been quite scary for him, leaving his comfortable tank and being sent on a dangerous mission.

  ‘Ah, bless him, poor little chap. Do you think he knows what he’s getting himself into? Those crazy PALS could be capable of anything.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Alex.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t even bring myself to say it again.’

  ‘What?’

  She looked down at Bob in his Nescafé jar and then she looked at me, both eyebrows raised.

  ‘Oh, bums! Sorry, Bob, I forgot you could hear… I mean, I was only joking about the crazy PALS kids – there’s no way they’d do anything to hurt you.’

  There was an awkward silence while Bob stared at me.

  ‘Will he still help us?’

  ‘He’s weighed up his options and thinks it’s worth the risk. Statistics prove that there are more obesity-related deaths than cult-related deaths. The odds are in his favour.’

  ‘Fair play, Bob. You strange, strange little fish.’

  The best time to get Bob into position was at the very beginning of the lunch hour, while Smilie and the PALS were eating in the canteen. We were lucky, the PALS suite was open and the coast was clear. I found a great hiding place for Bob, up on a high shelf in the main room, behind a load of musical instruments. We made sure he was comfortable and had a good view of the room and quietly left.

  Jess looked worried. ‘Do you think he’ll be OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure he will. He was quite happy in his jar and he was well hidden. They won’t find him.’

  ‘I feel bad. Like we’ve exploited him or something. Maybe we should hand ourselves in to the RSPCA.’

  ‘Bob knew the risks. He’s a soldier. He’ll be fine.’

  I tried to reassure Jess, but I felt pretty worried myself. Lunch dragged by, until finally it was time to go and pick him up.

  Collecting Bob was more risky. The PALS left the suite four minutes before afternoon registration, which left only a window of three minutes to get Bob and return to our classrooms. We watched them file out and then made our move.

  The PALS room was exactly as we’d left it. I was almost disappointed.

  ‘It doesn’t look like anything weird has been going on in here,’ I said.

  ‘What were you expecting to find? Ropes and gags? Some blood spatters on the floor? Maybe some booklets called How to Survive a Lobotomy?’

  Yes. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘We’d better get out of here before your stink gives us away.’

  I climbed up to the shelf and was happy to see Bob swimming very small circuits around his jar. I passed him down to Jess and she hid him in her bag. Just in time.

  ‘Alex Sparrow and Jessica Lawler. Why aren’t I surprised to see you again?’

  We both turned to see Miss Smilie standing by the door. Perfect. How did she always know where I was? We needed to get away – when people got stuck in the PALS suite with Smilie, they came out different. I had to get us out of this. I might have a defective ear and an odour issue, but I was still Agent Alex. I had skills and tactics. I had street smarts. And above all else I was an expert in winding people up.

  ‘It is a bit odd that we keep bumping into each other,’ I said. ‘To be honest, it’s getting awkward. I have to ask: are you following me?’

  ‘That is beyond ridiculous – why would I be following you?’

  She’d avoided answering the question. ‘We could call it “keeping an eye on me” if you’re more comfortable with that?’

  ‘I am not keeping an eye on you.’

  ‘Something tells me you are.’

  ‘I have no interest in impudent boys with smart mouths.’

  ‘It’s OK, Miss, I get it: I’m a very charismatic person. Most people want to be close to me. Jess was the same; that’s how we became friends, isn’t it, Jess?’

  Jess just stared at me and did a tiny shake of the head. She was seriously no help in these situations.

  ‘You’re not supposed to be in here. What are you doing?’ Smilie was still smiling but I could tell she was annoyed.

  ‘Well, first we came to make sure your door handles hadn’t dropped off,’ I said, looking around and trying to think up a convincing excuse. The shelf of musical instruments caught my eye. ‘And then we came into the PALS room, because we’re, erm, starting a band.’

  ‘Well, that’s wonderful news! And what instruments do you play?’

  ‘Jess plays the recorder and I’m the singer.’

  ‘As fabulous as that sounds, it still doesn’t explain why you are here and why you are climbing up to that top shelf.’

  ‘Yes, but I can explain that. We needed some stuff for our band.’ I grabbed the two closest things from the shelf. ‘One of these tambourines and some, erm, music, the music, on this paper, for a song we want to do.’

  ‘He means the sheet music for a song we’re covering.’

  Thanks for your help, Jess. Could have done with some input a little bit earlier.

  Miss Smilie put her hands on her hips and smiled again. All teeth and lipstick. She looked like something out of Doctor Who that was about to swallow us whole.

  ‘And what song are you going to be covering?’

 
I looked down at the sheet music and tried to act casual. It wouldn’t have been my first choice but at least it worked with the tambourine.

  ‘“If You’re Happy And You Know It”: the PALS remix.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought that would be quite your style, Jessica?’

  Jess rolled her eyes and said, again in her most scathing, sarcastic tone, ‘It’s my favourite.’

  Smilie’s gaze fixed on Jess. I swear she was going to open her mouth at any second and gobble her up. So I tried to divert her attention.

  ‘Come on, Miss, join in:

  ‘If you’re happy and you know it, hug a PAL; if you’re happy and you know it, hug a PAL…’ I sang as enthusiastically as I could, and rattled the tambourine. I was hoping Jess would join in but she just stood there looking appalled. She was a flipping useless sidekick.

  Miss Smilie took a step towards us. ‘You know, we have a musical group in PALS and we are always looking for new members. You two should join. We’re all pals in PALS.’

  We were doomed.

  The bell rang for afternoon registration. Smilie’s face went back to normal.

  ‘You two had better go to your classrooms. And next time you want to borrow school equipment, ask permission.’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  We half ran out of the music block. When I turned to look behind, Smilie was still watching us.

  11

  She Wants To Eat Your Brain

  We had to wait until after school to talk to Bob and find out what had happened in the PALS suite. When we got to my house, Jess tipped Bob back into his tank and I sprinkled his food (green flakes only) into the water. We waited until he’d finished his dinner and gone back to swimming his circuits and then we asked him what he’d seen.

  ‘What happened in there, Bob?’

  ‘He said there was nothing out of the ordinary.’

  ‘How can that be?’

  ‘I don’t know, I’m just telling you what he said.’

  ‘But that can’t be right, it can’t be. Ask him to run us through everything that went on.’

  ‘OK… The kids went in, and then the lady with the bright red smile. The kids stood round the piano singing. They all smiled and gave themselves a clap when they finished each song.’

  ‘Hang on, I’m still on bright red smile…’

  ‘Are you writing this down?’

  ‘Yes. In the mission log.’

  ‘We have a mission log?’

  ‘Of course we do. We don’t want to forget anything, do we? And think how much the log will be worth to The Professor. I bet he’ll take my power away in exchange for this little beauty.’

  ‘Alex, that’s a Cherry Tree Lane homework diary.’

  ‘Exactly, it blends in, doesn’t draw attention to itself. Also, I spent all of my pocket money on sausage rolls and the homework diary was free from the stationery cupboard in the school office. Please tell Bob to continue.’

  ‘Twenty minutes in, the red smile lady said she had to collect a new member from the tasting room. She went to the end of the room; he couldn’t see exactly where because his view was blocked. She came back a moment later with a boy.’

  ‘Back-up a sec – what’s the tasting room?’

  ‘He doesn’t know. But it must be close to the main room because she was only gone for a moment.’

  ‘Bob, are you sure she said tasting room?’

  ‘He said he couldn’t hear very well so he had to lip-read. But he’s ninety-nine per cent sure she said tasting room.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘The other kids all smiled and cheered, but the new boy didn’t smile back. He didn’t say anything, just rubbed the side of his head.’

  ‘That’s weird. Then what?’

  ‘They lined up and left in an orderly fashion.’

  ‘So we have a boy coming out of a tasting room with a sore head? How is that nothing out of the ordinary, Bob?!’

  ‘He said it was an hour of calm and structure, and seemed far more normal than the goings on in your house. The most alarming thing he saw was the giant aquarium. All those different fish sharing one tank doing whatever they liked and living in the moment. He says there didn’t appear to be any kind of rota or timetable. He’s quite upset about it.’

  We were still leaning on the breakfast bar, watching Bob swimming round and round.

  ‘Blimey.’

  ‘I know I’m going to regret asking this,’ Jess said, ‘but what do you think was going on?’

  ‘It’s obvious – it can only be one thing. Smilie is an alien. She is eating the brains of the kids at school and replacing them with alien brains.’

  ‘Oh yeah, obvious.’

  ‘Do you have a better theory, Jessticles?’

  ‘No, but brain-eating aliens isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.’

  ‘It’s Smilie – she gives me the creeps.’

  Jess stopped disagreeing with me for once. ‘Smilie is creepy. No normal person smiles that much.’

  ‘I don’t even think it’s proper smiling. She looks like a shark who’s smelled blood.’

  ‘So what do we do next? We need to find out where and what the tasting room is, but I think we ought to stay away from the PALS suite for a while. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Agreed. We can’t go back there again. We’ll have to find another way.’

  12

  Hacking the Mainframe

  After Bob’s successful mission, we were certain that Smilie was the big, bad baddie we were looking for. What we didn’t know was why she was changing the kids, or how, or if anyone was helping her. We needed to find out more about her and Miss Fortress, who we suspected was her accomplice.

  ‘If we could get a look at their files in the school records, that might tell us something.’

  Even when Jess’s ideas were good, they were sensible and dull. It was lucky she had me to inject a bit of danger and excitement into them.

  ‘We’ll have to hack the mainframe.’

  Jess sighed. ‘And how are we going to do that?’

  ‘All spies either have hacking abilities themselves, or a geeky associate who is an expert hacker. It’s in all the books and all the movies.’

  ‘I can’t hack.’

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t hack? Now I’m going to have to stop calling you Web Master.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Well, if you’re going to be stubborn, we’ll have to go old school. Agent Alex and his sidekick, Owlface, must risk their lives and their golden time, to break into a maximum security establishment…’

  ‘First, you’re narrating again. Second, Owlface? Really? And third, how are we going to break into the school office?’

  ‘First, someone has to tell our story. Second, yes, because of your overly large eyes and spike nose, which is like a little beak. And third, I’ve had an idea but we’ll need cunning disguises, preferably some prosthetics and a taser.’

  ‘How about an idea we can use in the real world, rather than just in your head?’

  ‘But it’s do-able! We’ll just have to find an expert make-up artist who is sympathetic to our cause, order a taser online…’

  ‘And how much is a taser going to cost?’

  ‘Well, I’ve seen one on American eBay for 400 dollars. That’s only about £40.’

  ‘Er, more like £250, idiot.’

  ‘Really? Are you sure? Oh. Well I expect we can find a cheaper one.’

  ‘No, Alex. No tasers. What a stupid plan.’

  ‘Have a better one, do you?’

  The following morning, the Life Coach was coming to school. It was basically a bunch of people who drove around in a special bus and put on plays about what to do if you’re getting bullied, or why you shouldn’t make prank 999 calls – stuff like that. They wore yellow baseball caps and thought they were totally down with the kids. The whole school had to watch the plays and go to workshops to discuss them. Usually it meant a morning withou
t numeracy, which was pretty awesome, but this time it gave me and Jess the opportunity to carry out some serious recon.

  Our plan was double pronged, so I decided to call it ‘Operation BOGOF’. While everyone in school was distracted, we were going to plant Bob in Miss Fortress’s classroom so he could spy on her, while we broke into the head’s office to get a look at the staff files. Putting Bob in place was easy once we’d convinced him to accept the mission. The school office was harder. There was just one person in our way – Mrs Cobb, the school secretary. She was a big lady. She was a mean lady. She really hated kids.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Cobb. Lovely day.’

  She didn’t even answer me, just grunted and carried on with her typing.

  ‘I wondered if I might speak to you for a moment about a little problem I’ve been having?’

  ‘You need Mrs Halloway.’ Mrs Halloway was the medical lady.

  ‘Usually I would speak to Mrs Halloway, but I can’t find her and this is urgent.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait for her. I’m not a first aider.’

  ‘It really can’t wait, you see, I’ve got bad diarrhoea.’

  She looked up and I saw the glint of recognition in her eyes. She remembered my stink from the other day. She looked horrified.

  ‘It started earlier this week and has been getting worse every day. My poo is really liquidy, like brown water and it burns as it comes out…’

  She wheeled her chair a little further away from me.

  ‘I must have spent half the morning sitting on the toilet. And every time the poo comes out, well, gushes out, it makes a lot of noise and the smell is disgusting…’

  And of course, while I was telling such whopping lies, my ear was doing its job and creating a really bad smell.

  ‘It’s getting quite hard to stop it from, you know, coming out. I think I may have even stained my…’

  Mrs Cobb jumped out of her chair and ran past me towards the door. ‘I’ll have to get Mrs Halloway.’

  As soon as she was gone, Jess ran in.

  ‘Good work, stinkboy.’

  ‘We don’t have much time. Where would the files be? Look in unlikely places and be ready to pick a lock.’

  ‘How are we going to pick a lock?’

  ‘With a hair-grip thingy. That’s how everyone does it on telly. Unless you have a sonic screwdriver, which I doubt.’