Flight of the Pummeled Parakeet

by Sam Hay

  For Mum-SH

  For Amy and Sam the Man-SC

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Penguin Young Readers Group

  An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

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  Text © 2013 by Sam Hay. Illustrations © 2013 by Simon Cooper. All rights reserved. First printed in Great Britain in 2013 by Stripes Publishing. First published in the United States of America in 2015 by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. Printed in the USA.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN 978-0-399-54002-8

  Version_1

  Contents

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Title Page

  The Story So Far . . .

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Joe grabbed a handful of strawberries and dropped them into the jug.

  PLOP!

  “Maybe a little more banana,” he said, stirring the mixture with a long wooden spoon.

  His best friend, Matt, was standing next to him, smashing a bag of ice cubes with a rolling pin. He glanced at the jug. “There’s no room.”

  “A few more blueberries, then . . .” Joe was just searching along the countertop for the bowl of berries when something hit his cheek.

  “Hey!” He spun around to find the most annoying boy in the class, Spiker, smirking back at him. In his hand was the bowl of blueberries.

  “Want some more?” Spiker fired another berry in Joe’s direction.

  Joe and Matt both ducked.

  “Ow!” Leonie, who was behind Joe, let out a shriek as the blueberry bounced off her head.

  Another volley followed. Joe and Matt dodged out of the way.

  “Argh!” groaned Leonie. She turned around to see who was throwing the fruit just in time for a big squishy berry to explode on her cheek. “Ms. Bruce! Someone’s throwing fruit at me!”

  In the blink of an eye, Spiker slid the bowl of blue- berries away from him along the countertop like a cowboy barman serving drinks in a saloon. “It was Joe!” he shouted.

  “What? No, it wasn’t!” Joe cried.

  “Joe Edmunds!” shouted Ms. Bruce from the other side of the classroom. “I’m surprised at you!”

  “But I didn’t do anything . . .”

  “It was Spiker!” Matt added.

  Ms. Bruce held up her hand to silence them both. “Finish what you’re doing, then bring your mixture over to the blender. It’s your turn next.”

  It was Friday morning and the sixth grade students were making fruit smoothies in their home economics class. There was going to be an official tasting at the end of the day by their principal, Mr. Hill. The best smoothie would win a prize!

  “Hold it still,” said Matt as he poured the bag of crushed ice into their mixture.

  “What’s your smoothie called?” asked Molly, peering over Joe’s shoulder.

  “Berry Blaster!” He scowled over at Spiker.

  “Joe, Matt, hurry up!” called Ms. Bruce, who was supervising the blender. “Bring your jug over here.”

  Matt shoved in the rest of the crushed ice, and Joe picked up the jug.

  Just then, something splattered on his head. He spun around, expecting to find Spiker lobbing more fruit at him. But Spiker was over by the trash can, getting some paper towels. Joe glanced around suspiciously. Who was it, then?

  SPLAT!

  “Hey!” Something else had landed on his head. Joe reached up and touched it. It was soft and squishy. He inspected his fingers. “Ugh . . .” It was white with black bits in it. It looked just like bird poo.

  There was a loud squawk and a brightly colored bird flashed in front of him.

  Joe gasped. He twisted around to see where it had gone. “Did you see that? It looked like a parakeet!”

  “Very funny!” said Matt, taking the jug out of Joe’s hand. “And there’s a UFO landing in the playground! Come on, or Leonie and Natalie will grab the blender before us!”

  “Wait! Look over there!” said Joe. “On top of the whiteboard.”

  But Matt wasn’t listening. He was already helping Ms. Bruce tip their mixture into the blender. “Get the spoon,” he called over to Joe. “There are some bits stuck at the bottom.”

  But Joe didn’t move. He couldn’t take his eyes off the bird. It was hopping along the top ledge of the whiteboard now, cocking its head and nervously looking around the room.

  Joe blinked a few times. Why hadn’t anyone else noticed it? You couldn’t miss it—a bright green parakeet with a big scar and one bulging red eye!

  Must have gotten in through the window, Joe muttered to himself. Ms. Bruce always had the windows open. She said fresh air was good for you. But Joe figured she just couldn’t stand the smell of Spiker’s sweaty feet!

  “Look!” said Joe as Ava walked past with a bag of apples. “It’s a parakeet.”

  “What?” She glanced to where Joe was pointing, then rolled her eyes. “Very funny!”

  “Hurry up, Joe!” Matt called from the blender.

  “Hurry up, Joe!” echoed the bird in a high-pitched singsong voice.

  Joe grinned. It was mimicking Matt!

  Then suddenly it fluttered over, landing on Joe’s head.

  “Hey!” Joe said, trying to swat it away.

  “Hey!” it repeated. “Kissy, kissy!”

  “Stop that!” Joe tried to wriggle free.

  “Stop that!” copied the parakeet. “Who’s a pretty boy?” it twittered. Then it dug its feet into Joe’s scalp.

  “Get off!” Joe yelled.

  Ava glanced up from the workbench and nudged her twin sister, Molly. They were looking at Joe like he was nuts! Others were staring, too . . . Leonie giggled. Bethany pointed.

  Joe was just about to shout to Ms. Bruce when the bird fluttered down from his head and hovered in front of his nose. It blinked a few times, then cocked its head at him.

  “Sorry about that, Joe—just had one of my funny turns!”

  “What?”

  “My name’s Petey, and I need your help!”

  Joe gazed into the parakeet’s single staring eye. “You’re a zombie!” he whispered. That was all he needed! Another crazy undead pet—stuck in limbo land between this life and the next until someone solved its problems. And thanks to a magical Egyptian amulet that his great-uncle Charlie had given him, that someone was Joe!

  He sighed. It wasn’t even as if he could ask the parakeet what he wanted—not with everyone watching!

  Just then, Matt turned on the blender . . .

  SQUAWK!

  The noise made Petey shoot up in the air like a firework. He hit the ceiling, then flapped jerkily across th
e room before bumping into a pile of apples and crash-landing in the twins’ smoothie mixture!

  PLOP!

  Thick green goo splattered all over the worktop—and the girls!

  “What was that?” yelled Molly.

  “Yuck!” groaned Ava. Their shirts were covered in lumps of kiwi.

  Petey bobbed up to the surface of their smoothie mixture, coughing and spluttering. He hauled himself over the edge of the jug . . .

  SPLAT!

  He landed on the worktop—a soggy ball of green goo.

  Joe gulped. No one except him could see the undead pets—but people couldn’t miss the mess they made.

  “Was that you?” snapped Ava, glaring at Joe. “Did you chuck something in to our jug?”

  “What?” Joe could barely hear her over the noise of the blender.

  “Was it a tangerine?” Molly yelled. She peered into the mixture to see what had landed in there.

  “I didn’t chuck anything!” shouted Joe just as the blender stopped. The room was suddenly silent. Everyone turned and stared at him.

  Ms. Bruce frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “Joe threw something into our smoothie!” wailed Ava. “Look at the mess!”

  Spiker snickered.

  “I didn’t!” said Joe. “Honestly, I’ll show you.” He picked up a wooden spoon. He was about to use it to stir Molly and Ava’s smoothie mixture, to prove there was nothing in there that shouldn’t be, when his foot slipped on the smoothie splatter and he lost his balance. As he grabbed hold of the worktop to steady himself, he knocked into the twins’ jug and it toppled off the bench . . .

  A gigantic puddle of lumpy green goo spread across the floor. For a second, no one spoke. And then . . .

  “Our smoothie!” wailed Molly.

  “Way to go, Joe!” yelled Spiker, who was jumping up and down with excitement.

  Then suddenly the whole class was roaring with laughter.

  SQUAWK!

  Petey took flight and flapped soggily back up to the top ledge of the whiteboard, where he shook out his feathers and began twittering, “Time for tea! Good boy, Petey! See a penny, pick it up. All day long you’ll have good luck!”

  Joe looked at Petey, then at the sea of smoothie spreading across the floor. He wished the ground would swallow him up!

  “Couldn’t you have waited until after school?” grumbled Joe as he headed to the cafeteria to borrow a mop and bucket.

  “There’s no time!” said Petey, who had stopped twittering gibberish and was perched on Joe’s shoulder, rocking back and forth like he needed to go to the bathroom. “You’ve got to help me—now!”

  “Why?” said Joe. “What’s the rush?”

  “My owner, Maggie, is about to lose five hundred dollars!”

  “What?”

  “Her sister’s going to steal it!”

  Joe stopped. “Really? Her sister?”

  Petey nodded. “Unless we stop her, Maggie will lose the money!”

  “That’s awful!” Joe thought for a moment. “Wait a minute! How do you know?”

  “How do you know?” repeated Petey.

  “How do you know?” Joe frowned. Petey’s mimicking was beginning to get a bit annoying!

  Petey cocked his head to one side. “Because I heard Maggie’s sister say so! They live together.”

  “But why was the sister talking about it? That’s not very smart.”

  They’d reached the door to the cafeteria. Joe could hear the lunch ladies clanking pots inside. “You’ll have to tell me about it later—I’ve got to borrow a mop and bucket now, or I’ll be in even more trouble with Ms. Bruce—”

  “Wait!” shrieked Petey. “You don’t understand.”

  “Later!” said Joe firmly, and he knocked loudly on the door.

  “But Maggie is in that kitchen!” cried Petey. “And so is her sister!”

  The kitchen door swung open and one of the lunch ladies appeared—red-faced and smelling like onions.

  “Yes? What do you want?” she asked.

  “That’s her!” tweeted Petey. “That’s Maggie, my owner!” Then he started whistling loudly and chirping, “Kissy, kissy! Petey loves Maggie, kissy, kissy!”

  Joe gulped. It was Ms. Pringle. Ms. Maggie Pringle. The Pringle sisters, Maggie and Pauline, were lunch ladies at Joe’s school. Although they were sisters, they were very different. Maggie was loud and round, with bright pink cheeks and wild curly gray hair that was always escaping from her hairnet. Pauline was smaller and spiky-looking. She never went anywhere without a thick smudge of bright red lipstick and a big squirt of stinky perfume.

  “Yes? What is it?” Maggie boomed again.

  Joe gulped. “Um, Ms. Bruce would like to borrow a mop and bucket, please.”

  “Pauline!” shouted Maggie. “Get a mop and bucket. Beverley needs it in grade six!”

  Joe frowned. It was weird to hear Ms. Bruce referred to as “Beverley”!

  “Wait there!” said Maggie. She bustled back into the kitchen, half closing the door behind her.

  “Do something, Joe!” chirped Petey. “Go in there and tell Maggie what Pauline’s planning!”

  “Are you crazy? I can’t do that!”

  Inside, he could hear Pauline huffing and puffing, moaning about being too busy to go get mops and buckets.

  “They’re always squabbling,” Petey said with a sigh.

  Just then, the door opened and a mop was thrust under Joe’s nose, closely followed by a heavy metal bucket.

  “Bring them back when you’re finished,” said Pauline. And she slammed the door shut.

  “I still don’t understand how Pauline could steal from her own sister,” whispered Joe.

  “They don’t like each other!” explained Petey. “They’re so different.”

  “How?”

  “Maggie is a real saver. She loves a good bargain . . .” Petey seemed to drift off, daydreaming about Maggie. “Two-for-one! Good deal, Petey! Maggie likes a bargain! Good—”

  “Hey!” interrupted Joe.

  “Take care of the pennies, and the dollars will take care of themselves!”

  “Petey!”

  “What? Oh yeah . . . What was I saying?”

  “About Maggie?”

  “She’s wonderful! She liked to stay home and play with me. She taught me to speak, and to sing songs and nursery rhymes. She loved my singing! Sometimes she’d give me a treat when I sang to her. Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear. One step, two step, tickly under there!”

  “Petey! Concentrate!” Joe said.

  “Sorry!” Petey squawked. “I miss Maggie, that’s all!”

  “What about Pauline?” said Joe.

  “What about Pauline?” mimicked Petey. "What about Pauline!” Then he made a grumpy face. “She’s always out! Shop, shop, shop! Silly Pauline! Shops till she drops! She’s never got any money—she spends it all. That’s why she’s going to steal Maggie’s prize! I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t, and now look at me!”

  Joe glanced up the corridor to check whether anyone else was coming. He had to make sure no one heard him speaking to Petey! “What do you mean?” he asked. “Did Pauline kill you? And what’s this about a prize?”

  “Well, it was last Saturday morning,” began Petey. “Maggie was upstairs taking a bath when a letter arrived for her. Pauline was on her way to go shopping. She opened it by mistake—they’ve got the same last name, so it happens a lot.”

  Joe picked up the mop and bucket. “Go on, tell me the rest while we walk back to class.”

  Joe grimaced. “Is that why your flying is a bit wonky?”

  Petey nodded. Then he began to twitter again. “Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye. Four-and-twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie!”

&
nbsp; “I think the bump’s made your brain wonky, too,” mumbled Joe. Then, in a louder voice, he said, “So what happens now? What about the prize money? Doesn’t Pauline have to go and collect it or something?”

  Petey stopped twittering. “I dunno.”

  They’d arrived outside the classroom, and Joe could see the rest of the class cleaning up.

  “Maybe Pauline’s already got the money,” said Joe. “Maybe you’re too late.”

  Petey cocked his head to one side. “No! I’ve been following her.”

  “What? Spying on her?”

  Petey nodded. “There’s still time to stop her! That’s why I need your help—to get the letter back and give it to Maggie!”

  “What?” Joe gulped. “Steal it, you mean?”

  “Yes, from Pauline’s coat pocket!” Petey nodded solemnly. “Her coat’s in the school kitchen, Joe. You have to go and get it. It’s the only way!”

  While the rest of the class drew labels for their smoothie mixtures, Joe got started cleaning up the big green puddle. He heaved another mop full of soapy water onto the classroom floor and sighed. He couldn’t think how to help Petey. And he really did want to help him—and Maggie. After all, he knew what it was like to have an annoying sister. But there was no way he was going to steal a letter from someone’s coat!

  “You missed a spot,” sneered Spiker, deliberately walking through the green goo so he could spread it across the floor.

  “Get lost!” Joe flicked the soapy mop at him.

  Matt appeared holding a wad of paper towels. “Hey, our smoothie tastes amazing, by the way,” he said.

  “Great!” Joe dunked the mop back into the bucket. “Maybe we’ll win!” Then he spotted the twins in the corner, sticking labels on empty plastic bottles. “What about Ava and Molly?”

  “They made another batch,” said Matt. “With everyone’s leftovers.”

  Joe watched the girls pour a jug of orangey brown liquid into one of the bottles. He felt bad that Petey had ruined their smoothie. He glanced around the room. Where was Petey, anyway?