“Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” I said, sliding the disc back to him.
Dad deflected it back towards me. “Go on. It’s good.”
I returned the CD. “They’ve already got a theme tune.”
“This one’s better,” said Dad. The disc came back to my side of the table. I gazed down at it for a little while, before coming to a decision.
“OK, I’ll take it,” I said.
“And you’ll give it to the producer?” Dad said.
Argh! He’d seen through my carefully selected choice of words.
“Definitely not,” I said.
“Morning!” trilled Mum, bustling through the front door with such a burst of enthusiasm that Dad and I both jumped in our seats.
She was dressed in tight Lycra leggings and a baggy T-shirt. The T-shirt was an eye-watering shade of orange, with “Ready, Steady … Fun!” printed on the front in an even more painful shade of lime green.
“I’ve been running,” Mum announced. “Helen and I decided to go for a morning jog. It’s time we started looking after ourselves, getting more exercise, cutting down on unhealthy food…”
Jodie leaned her head out from the kitchen. “I’ve got some bacon on, Mum. Want some?”
“Ooh, yes, please!” said Mum. “And stick a couple of sausages on while you’re at it, will you? And tea. Two sugars. Thanks, love.”
Jodie rolled her eyes. “Wish I’d never offered,” she muttered.
Mum pulled out a chair and sat down next to me.
“You smell,” I told her.
“Thanks for that, Dylan,” said Mum, but her smile didn’t falter. “I was talking to Helen earlier…”
“What were you saying?” I asked. “Was it, ‘Please slow down’?”
“No…”
“Was it, ‘I’ve got to stop or I’ll be sick’?”
“No!” said Mum. “We were saying how nice it is that you and Evie are—”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” I cried. My gobstopper was upstairs, so I settled for quickly cramming five spoonfuls of Coco Pops into my mouth.
Mum and Dad swapped smiles across the table.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Mum said. “Oh, and did I hear right? There’s going to be a wasp that ties knots on the TV pet thing?”
I nodded, forcing more cereal into my gob.
“Wait. A wasp?” said Dad. “Someone’s got a pet wasp?”
I nodded again, making a little bit of chocolatey milk dribble down my chin.
With a sigh, Dad reached across the table and picked up his CD. “Oh dear. Back to the drawing board,” he said. “Verse four is a bit … anti-insect.”
“I can’t remember, did you actually tell us?” said Mum. “What is Destructo’s talent?”
“Eating. Got to be eating,” said Dad.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” I slurred through my mouthful of mushed-up cereal. “That would’ve made total sense. But, well, I told them he could—”
Before I could finish the sentence, there was a shout from the kitchen. “Destructo! Don’t you dare!”
The dog bounded out of the kitchen, a string of sausages trailing behind him. He shot across the room like a furry bullet, just as Jodie emerged from the kitchen waving a wooden spoon.
“Get back here!” she called after him, but Destructo was already halfway up the stairs. If past performances were anything to go by, the sausages would already be gone.
“Yep,” I mumbled. “Definitely should’ve gone with eating.”
We had play rehearsals for most of the day, so school passed quite quickly. At least, those bits of it where Wayne wasn’t bombarding me with questions about TV’s Most Talented Pets and his role in the plan.
I was excited about the TV show but nervous at the same time. If everything went according to plan, Destructo would appear to ride my bike. If it didn’t go according to plan, I’d probably be arrested for attempted fraud.
Or disqualified from the competition, at least.
Still, if the whole thing was a complete disaster, they’d probably just edit me out of the finished episode.
Or so I thought.
“Live? What do you mean live?”
Theo shrugged. Rehearsals had finished and we were heading for the school gates a full twelve minutes before the bell rang. “It’s broadcast live. It said so on the listings thing on my telly. Today’s episode has got your name on it and everything.”
“But what if my plan doesn’t work? I’ll look stupid!” I shook my head emphatically. “No. It can’t go out live.”
“Well, it is,” said Theo. “Good luck convincing them to change it.”
“Wait up!” called Wayne, jogging after us. He was struggling to carry a box that was roughly the size of a washing machine.
“Did you get it?” Theo asked him.
“Of course I got it. What do you think this is?” Wayne hissed.
Theo reacted as if he was only just seeing the box for the first time. “Oh right. Yeah.”
“Did you take all the alien stuff off it?” I asked.
“It looks just like a dog,” Wayne confirmed. “But if anyone gets too close, they’ll spot it’s a costume right away.”
“Leave that bit to us,” I said. “Just be in position at 5 p.m., like we planned. And don’t forget your bike.”
“I’m not an idiot,” said Wayne. “See you losers later.”
Once he’d gone, Theo made a confession. “Beaky, I’m not sure I can do this.”
“What? But you’ve got to!”
“What if I get caught fiddling with the laptop?” said Theo. “I could get into big trouble.”
“You won’t get caught,” I said. “I’ll cause a distraction.”
“It’d better be a big one,” Theo said.
I grinned. “Oh, trust me. It will be.”
The church hall was busier than I had ever seen it. Mind you, it was only the second time I’d ever set foot in the place, so that wasn’t saying much.
It was an ancient wooden building with windows that had been painted shut and some worrying black stains on the ceiling. Destructo and I had been shown to the “Green Room” when we’d arrived, but it was really just a tiny kitchen with a folding table in the corner and a jug of weak orange squash. The lights flickered whenever anyone walked beneath them, so I hadn’t hung around in there in case the dodgy electrics zapped me on the head like a bolt of lightning.
There were seven people from the TV company in the main hall, all busily doing stuff in a way that suggested it was very important. A woman said, “One … one, two,” into a big furry microphone. A wiry-looking man positioned lights around a green-screen set that had been put together at the far end of the hall. Another woman with a spiky white Mohican put make-up on the only person I recognized – the presenter, Howard Howard (not his real name, I’m guessing).
Theo was lurking in the corner, watching everyone and occasionally glancing at a laptop set up in front of a row of monitors.
Sebastian Farrinton from Foxley Hill School was already perched on one of the four stools that had been placed on the show’s set – three on the left and one on the right. Sebastian was sitting in the middle of the group of three, leaving a space for Evie and me on either side of him. He had a glass jar in one hand and a long piece of string in the other, and he was smirking as if his victory was already in the bag.
“Watch out, coming through,” said a cameraman, wheeling his camera past us. Destructo eyed the little wheels on the base of the tripod hungrily.
“Don’t you dare,” I whispered, tightening my grip on his lead. For all the good that would do me if he decided to run. Even if I could stand my ground, he’d probably rip my arm right off.
I glanced up at the hall’s clock and let out a little yelp of panic. There were fewer than forty minutes until the show started, which meant we were running out of time to put my plan into action. I looked over to where Theo was standing and he gestured with his e
yes towards the laptop.
I nodded and raised my eyebrows. He looked worried but nodded back. I took a deep breath. This was it, then. It was now or never.
I’d have liked to be sneaky about my distraction but my need to tell the truth didn’t let me.
“Just letting Destructo off his lead,” I announced. Luckily no one paid me any attention. I unfastened the metal clip. Destructo looked up at me, his tongue hanging out. “And now I’m bouncing this rubber ball, which will make him go nuts.”
I hurled the little bouncy ball at the hall floor with all my might. It boinged up, ricocheted off the camera, then went flying off towards the show’s set. Barking excitedly, Destructo tore after it, barging aside the cameraman, the sound woman and a teenager whose entire job seemed to involve carrying cups of coffee around and getting shouted at.
“Sorry, my fault! I threw that on purpose!” I announced, despite all my best efforts not to. But no one heard me over the shouts and barks and crashing of equipment as Destructo powered across the hall, knocking over everything in his path.
The woman doing the make-up was thrown on to Howard Howard, smearing mascara across his forehead.
“You blithering idiot!” he roared, sounding nothing like the warm and friendly chap he always seemed to be on TV.
As the set collapsed like dominoes, I glanced over to see Theo frantically typing on the laptop’s keyboard. He stopped every few seconds to take photos of the screen, and to make sure no one was about to catch him.
After almost a minute of tapping and snapping, he backed away and gave me a thumbs up, then sidled towards the door.
By this point, half of the equipment in the hall had been knocked over, two thirds of the production crew were shouting as they tried to catch falling bits of the set, and Sebastian Farrinton was standing on his stool, clutching the jar to his chest.
“G-get away!” he wailed, even though Destructo was paying him no attention whatsoever. “Get away, you brute!”
Destructo let out a happy yelp as he finally caught the ball, then chewed it twice before swallowing it. He trotted back towards me, licking his chops and looking really quite pleased with himself.
I clipped him back on his lead and looked up to find every single person in the room staring at me in mute disbelief.
I smiled sheepishly. “Dogs, eh?” I said, then I about-turned and let Destructo drag me towards the door. “It’s probably best if I take him outside. Just shout when you’re ready for us.”
With Destructo leading the way, we ran out into the car park to find Theo sitting with his back to the wall, writing on a big piece of card with a Sharpie.
“Did you get it?” I asked.
Theo nodded and held up his phone. “Got it. Photographed the whole script.”
“Brilliant!” I cheered. “Now you can write a load of lies about Destructo and the bike, I’ll be able to read them, and no one will be any the wiser.”
“Any the wiser about what?”
I turned to find Evie standing right behind me, her cat Gizmo in her arms. Destructo shot the cat a wary glance, then tucked himself in behind me. Despite being the size of a lion, he’d been scared of cats ever since one had roughed him up in an alleyway when he was a puppy.
Gizmo shot him a look that seemed to say, “I’m watching you, sunshine,” then went back to licking her paws.
“About Theo feeding me the answers to Howard’s questions, and Wayne dressing up as Destructo,” I blurted, then I smiled and waved. “Hi.”
“Oh, that,” said Evie. “Hi yourself.” She nodded towards the door. “Should we go in?”
“I’d maybe give it a minute,” I said. “Destructo kind of wrecked … well, everything, really. They’re probably still a bit angry.”
“Aaargh! That stupid dog!” snapped a voice from inside the hall.
“OK, a lot angry,” I said.
“Oh! I forgot! I saw Wayne,” said Evie. “He says he can’t make it.”
My heart somersaulted into my throat. “What?”
“Just kidding,” Evie giggled. “He said to tell you he’s in position and ready when you are.”
“Thank goodness for that,” I wheezed, clutching at my chest.
Evie shuffled on the spot for a bit, obviously building up to something. “So … still on for hanging out after this?”
The squeaking of Theo’s Sharpie stopped. I didn’t dare turn to look at him. “Um … yeah. Yep. Still on for … that. What you said.”
“Cool,” Evie said.
“Right,” I said. “Cool.”
The teenager whose job it was to get coffee and be shouted at appeared in the doorway. “Uh, Dylan and … are you Evie?”
“That’s me,” said Evie.
“Great. I need you both to come inside with your pets, so you can get your mics on.”
Theo’s Sharpie started squeaking again, faster than ever.
“OK, then!” I puffed out my cheeks and shot Evie a worried smile. “Looks like it’s show time!”
Over the course of the next twenty minutes, Evie and I were introduced to everyone involved in the show. Despite Destructo’s rampage earlier, everyone seemed pretty nice, with the exception of Howard Howard, who – from what I could tell – hated everyone.
The only person in the room who was even more unpleasant than the show’s presenter was Sebastian, the Foxley Hill kid. Whenever Evie or I tried to speak to him his nostrils flared like he’d detected a bad smell and he started babbling baby talk to the jar with his wasp in it.
“Where’s my wittle Gavin? Where’s my ittle wittle Gavin?”
“Why did you call him Gavin?” I asked.
Sebastian sighed quite forcibly. “Because he looks like my great-uncle.”
“Oh right. So was Gavin your great-uncle’s name?” asked Evie.
Sebastian sighed even more violently. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Evie and I both exchanged a look, then shrugged. “Bit weird, but fair enough,” I said, and we left the conversation there.
Across the hall, Howard Howard batted the make-up woman away and strode over to us. As he took his seat, he shot Destructo a look of such contempt I could have sworn I felt the air crackle. Of course, it might just have been the dodgy electrics.
“Hello,” said Sebastian, offering a hand to shake.
Howard didn’t acknowledge it, and instead just gave the Foxley Hill boy a slow look up and down.
“Are you the wasp one?”
“Uh, yes. I’m Sebastian. This is Gavin.” He held up the jar and I got my first proper glimpse of the wasp. It looked just like any other wasp, and I was glad it was currently trapped behind glass.
Howard made no effort to hide his distaste and turned his attention to Evie. Gizmo was still in her arms, peering out suspiciously at all the unfamiliar faces.
“Are you the drum-cat?”
“Uh, I’m not, no. My cat is.”
“Ha. Yes,” said Howard, very much not laughing. “Quite. And you…” He fixed me with a cold stare. “I’m painfully aware of who you are. Keep that mutt under control.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
“OK, quiet on set, everyone,” announced someone from behind the camera. “Going live in fifteen.”
Evie, Sebastian and I all shuffled on our stools. Howard Howard leaned in and glared at us all in turn. “Remember, this is going out live to the nation. Millions of people will be watching your every move and listening to your every word. We could well be in line for a TV Choice Award this year, so do not mess this up, or so help me God, I will rain down fire upon you all. Is that understood? I will rain down fire upon—!”
“Five, four, three…”
Howard straightened up and fixed the camera with a beaming smile, just as the light above it turned red. “Hello! And welcome to a very special live roadshow edition of TV’s Most Talented Pets,” he said, his voice light and breezy. “I’m Howard Howard, and joining me today are Evie Green and her drum-playing ca
t, Gizmo!”
The crew applauded as the camera angled slightly to focus on Evie. She held up one of Gizmo’s paws and made him wave.
“Haha! Delightful,” said Howard Howard. “Say hello to Sebastian Farrinton and his rather unusual pet, Gavin, who – wait for it – is a wasp!”
“Hello,” said Sebastian, lifting the jar up so the camera could see it.
“Now, Sebastian, I’ve heard a lot of buzz about Gavin, and I for one can’t wait to see him in action later,” said Howard Howard, and the crew made a valiant attempt at laughter.
“Aaaaand last, but by no means least, it’s Dylan Malone and his Great Dane, Destructo.”
From my seat, I could see the autocue screen right above the camera lens, where Howard’s lines were slowly scrolling. I glanced past the cameraman at the window beyond. On the other side of the glass, Theo was flicking through the pieces of card he’d written my answers on. Luckily I could manage this one by myself.
“All right?” I said.
“And there we have this week’s three contestants and their perfectly precocious pets!”
The cameraman moved backwards as a short blast of music rang out from somewhere right behind my head. When it stopped Howard clapped his hands together, then turned to address us all.
“OK, before we get started, a quick question for all three of you. Aside from their talent, what’s the very best thing about your pets?” he asked. “Evie, coming to you first. What’s the best thing about Gizmo?”
“She’s always up for playing and having fun. I suppose that’s the best thing about… Oh, no wait! Killing stuff.”
Howard Howard’s face froze. “I’m sorry?”
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