But James is a boy and so he has no magic in his heart. Instead he gave Tilly a dirty look and demanded: ‘What DO you look like?’
‘She’s a beautiful fairy,’ said Dad.
‘Ping pang pell, magic spell,’ said Tilly dancing around James. ‘James’s head is a big smelly potato.’
‘Oh grow up!’ snapped James. He grabbed Tilly’s wand, bent it in half and threw it across the room. As Tilly burst into tears he shouted: ‘I hate little sisters. Why can’t you be a boy like normal people?’
Oh dear. And to think I’d been feeling sorry for him . . . well that hadn’t lasted long! It was going to take more than a chocolate biscuit in the playground to save him now.
I found Tilly’s wand and straightened it up for her, then Mum came in holding a little sparkly white crown. ‘Look Tilly, I found it,’ she said putting it on Tilly’s head. ‘There everybody, do you like Tilly’s costume? Flozzy Slippin is having a magic woodland party tomorrow, and Tilly’s been invited.’
‘How sad is that?’ sneered James. ‘Thank goodness I’ve got football practice.’
Tilly stopped crying, waved her wand and turned James’s head into a teapot (although it didn’t look any different).
I leant forwards to James so I could have a secret whisper.
‘James!’ I whispered secretly, ‘Why do you think they wanted that cake so badly? It’s for Flozzy’s party. They’ll be eating it!’
‘Eating the cake?’ gasped James. ‘But what can I do?’
‘Go along with Tilly and help out. You’ll be showing Ellie’s mum that there’s no hard feelings about the competition. You could offer to cut the cake for them,’ I said. ‘That way you could make sure there’s no . . . er . . . nasty surprises.’
James’s eyes lit up with excitement. He could slip the remote out and chop the rest of the cake into bits and nobody would know!
‘Are you talking about my cake?’ asked the grumpy man with rainbow toenails. ‘What do you mean nasty surprises?’
‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ said James. ‘I’ll get rid of any bits that look funny, even if it means I’m late for football practice.’
‘You needn’t be too late,’ I said. ‘You can wear your football kit underneath it, so when you get to the pitch you just have to take it off, and you’ll be ready.’
Mum, Dad, James and Tilly all stared at me blankly. They had absolutely no idea what I was talking about ha ha! So I just sat there smiling sweetly at James, and waited for him to ask the question that was bothering them all.
‘I don’t understand,’ said James. ‘I can wear my kit underneath what? And then take what off?’
‘Oh honestly James,’ I said. ‘It’s obvious isn’t it? You’re going to a magic woodland party. There’s no way they’re going to let you in without . . . a costume!’
If You Go Down to the Woods Today . . .
Here comes the most useful bit of information in this book: happiness is watching your eleven-year-old brother trying to get into a six-year-old’s fairy dress.
Oh yes! When Mum had first mentioned the woodland party, my idea had been that James should wear my old fairy costume. He wasn’t happy about it, not happy AT ALL! But by the time the next afternoon had arrived, James had realised that he didn’t have much choice.
We all spent about twenty minutes watching him stick his feet through the legholes of the leotard and then roll around the floor as he tried to pull the shoulder straps up. It was no good, he could only do it if he was bent double, and instead of a fairy he looked like a squashed fly.
Obviously the fairy outfit wasn’t going to work, but what else could James use for a woodland party costume? It isn’t every day that you get a chance to make your big brother wear absolutely anything you want. I was tugging at my hair like I do when I’m having a think when suddenly: ‘I know where there’s a costume!’ I said. ‘In the shed!’
‘The shed?’ they all gasped.
‘There’s only a few spades and the hosepipe,’ said Dad. ‘And that smelly old red armchair.’
‘Perfect,’ I said. Everybody looked at me like I’d gone bonkers, but I hadn’t.
Soon James was standing outside the shed with the big flat cushion from the armchair tied across the top of his head. Mum had brought out an old white sheet and Tilly helped her wrap it all round James’s body and fix it with safety pins. It turned out even better than I thought it would! Can you guess what James was supposed to be? I’ll give you a clue: what’s this book called?
Yes indeed James had turned into the perfect giant mushroom with a white stalk and a red top. What’s more, he had to stay that way: ‘. . . or you’re not coming to the party!’ said Tilly strictly.
It got even better when Dad tipped the recycling bin out and found a load of round lids from jam jars and pickled onion pots. We got some tape and stuck the lids all over the cushion because it’s a fact that magic woodland mushrooms are always spotty. It’s true, you ask anyone. By the time we’d finished James looked like a total whoopsie, and the best bit was that the sheet round his legs meant that he could only move along by doing little jumps and that made all the lids come loose and rattle about. Was that wicked or what? Ha ha ha ha ha!
‘Don’t you DARE tell my friends about this,’ James warned me.
Honestly James! He really shouldn’t go giving me ideas. And just then I looked over the fence and spotted Martha staring down at us from her bedroom window. She had a big laugh on her face.
‘Don’t worry James,’ I said to him, but I knew Martha was listening. ‘I couldn’t tell your friends even if I wanted to. I don’t have their phone numbers.’
‘Good,’ said James.
When I looked back at Martha’s window, she was gone. Martha quite likes to kick a football with the boys sometimes, and she DID have their numbers. She knew they wouldn’t want to miss this!
‘It’s time to go,’ said Tilly. ‘Or we’ll be late.’
It took James ages to waddle, hop and shuffle himself in the back door and through to our hallway. Tilly ran ahead and opened the front door. Odd Street was all very quiet so James took a deep breath and then jumped out, hopped down our little front path and on to the pavement. Ping dang doddle! went all the lids.
As you should know by now, Ellie Slippin and all her lot are only two doors along at number 9, but James could only do his silly little jumps. It took him ages to get there, with Tilly the fairy skipping round and round him turning him into a banana, a cheese stick and an umbrella along the way.
‘OH WOW OH WOW OH WOW!’ came Ivy’s voice as we passed number 7. She had seen us out of their downstairs window. ‘THAT IS SO . . . OH WOW!’
Ivy was making so much noise that the Slippin front door opened and Ellie came out. She’s a bit nervous is Ellie, so as soon as she saw James, she hurried out past their little front flower bed and came to stand behind me for safety.
‘I have bad dreams about giant mushrooms,’ said Ellie. ‘They scare me.’
‘Don’t worry Ellie, they can’t hurt you,’ I told her.
‘They can when they’ve got vampire teeth and machine guns,’ said Ellie.
Poor Ellie. James must have been the most unscary thing ever, but I could feel her shaking behind me. By this time a whole crowd of pixies, elves, goblins and other fairies had come pouring out of the front door. Flozzy and her friends were all a lot smaller than James, and as soon as they saw him they gathered around to stand under his sofa cushion and do a happy little woodland dance.
‘What a lovely costume, James,’ said a big jolly gnome who turned out to be Ellie’s uncle. ‘Let’s have a photo of everybody, and I want you in the middle.’
FLASH went the camera. All the little girls rushed over to see themselves on the little screen, leaving James standing awkwardly by the gate.
‘Oh James, you were looking down,’ said the gnome. ‘All we can see is the cushion. We’ll have one more, but this time James, let’s see your face and give us a big smile. Say
cheese.’
All the little girls ran back giggling and hugged James’s legs. The big gnome was holding the camera all ready. James was staring at the ground but he knew he was going to have to get this over with. He took a deep breath then looked up and did a big sunny smile . . .
‘Cheeeeeeeeeese!’
. . . Just as two boys in football kit rode past on their bikes.
‘Hey look, it’s JAMES!’ screamed Matty the goalkeeper. ‘What team do you think YOU’RE on, James?’
‘Wait till we tell the others!’ cried Liam.
‘Wah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha . . . !’ They were laughing so much that I thought they were going to fall off their bikes.
‘Come back here you two!’ screamed James. He tried to run after them. Ping tinkle dinkle! went all the lids.
‘Oh no!’ whimpered Ellie clutching my arm. ‘It’s a giant mushroom that chases people! I’ve NEVER been so scared in my WHOLE LIFE!’
But James had forgotten about the sheet round his legs. Hop hop . . . plop! James fell over and landed face-first in the flower bed.
By this time the other boys had shot off round the corner but we could still hear them laughing. Meanwhile James was struggling so hard to get up he didn’t realise he’d got a flower stuck to his ear. FLASH went the camera. ‘Sorry,’ said the big gnome and all the little girls giggled. ‘I couldn’t resist it, but at least I got your face that time.’
Even Ellie started to giggle. She went to help him up and said: ‘Thank you James. I’ll never be scared of mushrooms again.’
‘Get off me,’ sulked James crossly.
‘Be nice,’ I said to him. ‘And then maybe Ellie can arrange for you to help cut the cake up.’
James suddenly looked hopeful. ‘Oh yes! Can I?’
Ellie looked at me as if James had gone potty, so I explained. ‘He loves cutting cakes. It really makes his day, especially if you let him do it in private.’
So Ellie and the giant mushroom went inside on a cake-cutting mission, Flozzy and the little people danced around the big jolly gnome and Tilly turned me into an elephant. What a lovely happy ending to the story, don’t you think?
Only it isn’t the end yet.
Who’s Laughing Now?
Later on that night, the front door banged open and James stomped in. I was sitting on the sofa and he just threw his sheet and cushion over me. Oooh temper temper!
‘Not going to football, James?’ asked Dad who was in the armchair watching telly again.
‘NO.’
By now I’d got the sheet off and held it up. It was covered in coloured patches of sauce and icing. It looked rather groovy actually.
‘What’s all that mess?’ asked Dad.
‘Your cake,’ sulked James.
‘Oh!’ said Dad. ‘How was it?’
‘Perfect!’ said James giving me a really filthy look. ‘Absolutely nothing wrong with it at all.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ said Dad. ‘I told you it was one of the all-time greats. Now let’s get that sheet into the washing machine.’
The telly clicked off, but there was no one near it. James was astonished until he saw that Dad was holding the TV remote. ‘Where did that come from?’ he gasped.
‘It was in the kitchen all the time,’ said Dad. ‘It had fallen inside the oven glove hanging on the back of the door.’
Dad took the sheet through and James stared after him looking confused. His little baked-bean brain was trying to work out how he’d managed to throw the remote round to the other side of the door and into an oven glove that he was sure hadn’t even been there before. Ooooh . . . so how DID it get there I wonder? Ha ha! But I had to be careful not to give myself away.
‘At least it’s turned up,’ I said sounding all cool and casual.
‘Why did you tell me it was in the cake?’ hissed James.
‘Me? I never did,’ I said. ‘It must have all been in your imagination.’
(Go on, you can turn back and check if you like. I never said anything about it going in the cake until James started it! Ha ha loser.)
‘I hate little sisters!’ he scowled, and went stomping upstairs to get away from everybody and everything.
It had all been very satisfactory, and what’s more, guess what was just about to start on the telly? Sing, Wiggle and Shine: The Backstage Special. I got myself nicely laid out on the sofa just as the music was starting. Ahhhh . . . it was well-deserved perfect luxury.
But that’s when Tilly came in. She could have sat on the armchair, but she didn’t. Instead she pulled my legs off the sofa, and then climbed up and sat herself down right close up next to me.
‘This is a bit boring,’ said Tilly.
‘Then go away,’ I told her. ‘I’m watching it.’
‘I want to watch Ballet Bears,’ said Tilly.
‘No way little girl. I was here first.’
Tilly sat there very quietly for a minute. It was spooky. Tilly never sat that quietly. It was putting me right off. ‘Tilly, can’t you just go away?’ I said.
‘But I want to watch Ballet Bears.’
‘Well you can’t.’
‘Oh yes I can.’ Tilly sounded very sure of herself.
I didn’t like the sound of this, especially when she went on to say my name really slowly like this: ‘Ag-gath-aaar? You know when James was prodding the cake and the telly channel changed?’
No, I didn’t like the sound of this one bit.
‘Does James know that you were hiding the remote up your sleeve and pushing the buttons? I know, I saw you. You wouldn’t like me to tell him, would you?’
Tilly lay back on the sofa and brought her legs up so she could push me off, but she didn’t have to. I know when I’m beaten. All I could do was get up and hand over the remote. Ballet Bears came on, and Tilly rolled over to make herself comfortable.
Just for once I found myself agreeing with James. Gosh I hate little sisters too.
The Ending
That’s the end of the story, and ever since then James has been really nice and we’ve all lived happily ever after in our little house at number 5 Odd Street . . .
. . . and that’s a big fat lie ha ha! But you guessed that didn’t you? So give yourself a round of applause clap clap clap WAHOO for YOU.
Of course James is still as horrible as ever, but I’ll tell you something secretly true about big brothers. If we didn’t have any big brothers in the world, it wouldn’t be so much fun. For instance, there was one time when James was getting emails from our cousin Bella who we never see, and she ended up thinking he was in big deep LOVE with her! (Gosh how could that have happened eh? OK I admit it was sort of my fault, I had this idea that went just a little bit slightly wrong . . . oooops ha ha!)
Sadly the old bloke that’s typing all this out for me says we’ve nearly run out of pages, so we’ll have to leave that story for another book. Instead I’ll fill up the last bit of space with a cake recipe which might come in handy for you if your school is having a fete. Hope you like it and WELL DONE for reading all of this book because it’s got 12,731 words! (The old bloke just counted them on his computer).
And remember, if you HAVE got a big brother, don’t be too mean to him. He can’t help being a) big and b) a brother. What’s he supposed to do about it? Turn into a pet rabbit or a giant pizza or something? Ha ha that’d be so wicked!
Good Byeeeeeeee!
How to Make a Cake
by Agatha Jane Parrot . . .
This is how to make a sponge cake. (Other cakes are a bit harder and fruit cakes take ages so it’s better to buy one in a shop.)
What you need:
• A cupful of soft butter or margarine (or maybe a bit less)
• A cupful of caster sugar. This is like normal sugar but more powdery.
• A cupful of self-raising flour (or maybe a bit more)
• 3 eggs
• Loads of jam and cream and stuff
What you have to do:
1.
Get an old person to turn on the oven so it warms up. Tell them that it needs to be set to 4°C or gas mark 180. Or maybe it’s the other way round.
2. Mix up the butter and the caster sugar in a big bowl. You need to squidge it round and round with a spoon so it all turns into a big mushy lump.
3. Break the eggs into a different bowl. Pick all the bits of shell out then whizz them round with a fork until all the yellow and white is mixed up. Don’t lick the fork because that’s gross.
4. Pour the eggs in with the sugar and butter mush and stir it up so it’s slimy and mushy.
5. Sprinkle flour on the top and keep squidging it round all the time until all the flour is mixed in.
6. Put the stuff in a cake tin for cooking but BEFORE YOU DO, you have to rub round the inside of the tin with a bit of butter or it will all stick and burn on the insides.
7. Get your helpful old person to put the tin of mix in the oven. That way if anybody gets a burn on their finger it’s them and not you.
8. Go and watch telly for 20 minutes while the old person moans about how messy the kitchen is.
9. Return to find the kitchen is miraculously clean. Ask old person to get cake out of the oven.
10. Go and watch more telly until the cake cools down.
11. Cover cake with cream and jam and stuff while the old person moans about how they only just cleaned the kitchen and now it’s even worse than before. And there’s your cake. Ta-dah!
Serves 6 people. (That’s if you cut it into 6 bits. If you cut it into 8 bits then it serves 8 people. And if Martha gets to it first then it only serves 1 person.)
Agatha Parrot and the Mushroom Boy Page 4