Flight of the Pummeled Parakeet

by Sam Hay

  Then he heard a strange tapping sound and spotted the small parakeet sitting next to the mirror above the sink, pecking it.

  “Kissy, kissy,” he chirped. “Kissy, kissy, for Petey boy!”

  Joe rolled his eyes. What a birdbrain!

  “Well done, Joe!” said Ms. Bruce, who’d come over to inspect the floor. “You’ve done a good job. You’d better take the mop and bucket back now.” She looked at her watch. “Be quick! The lunch ladies will be getting ready to serve lunch soon!” Ms. Bruce turned to the rest of the class. “Everyone else, go and wash your hands.”

  Joe headed for the door, the dirty water in the bucket slopping over the sides.

  “Wait for me!” squawked Petey, swooping down to land on Joe’s shoulder and gripping with his claws. Joe winced. Joe was beginning to feel like a pirate with a bothersome parrot stuck to his shoulder!

  He headed down the corridor toward the kitchens just as the lunch bell rang and classroom doors sprang open.

  “Watch it!” muttered a girl as Joe bumped into her with the bucket, splashing dirty green water on her tights.

  “Sorry,” he said, doing his best to dodge through the crowds.

  As they reached the kitchen door, Petey pecked his ear. “Are you going to get the letter now? Pauline’s coat’s in there!”

  “No! I told you, I can’t just steal it.” He knocked loudly.

  After a few minutes, the door was flung open and Maggie stood there, her face even redder than last time. She glanced at the mop. “Just shove it in the closet over there,” she said, pointing to the back of the kitchen. Then she grabbed a tray of fries off the counter and bustled away, through the door to the cafeteria.

  “Quick, Joe!” squawked Petey. “Now’s your chance!”

  Joe hesitated. He’d never been in the kitchen before. It was strictly out of bounds to students. He glanced at the enormous steaming pots bubbling on the stovetop and the huge metal jugs of gravy lined up, ready to be taken to the cafeteria.

  “Don’t just stand there!” said Maggie, who’d reappeared. “You’ll miss your lunch! Stick the mop in the closet!” Then she grabbed two jugs full of gravy and rushed off again.

  “Come on, Joe! Pauline’s coat’s in the same closet!” Petey took off, flying unevenly across the kitchen. “Over here!”

  Joe followed nervously, dragging the mop and bucket with him.

  Petey was hovering in front of the closet. “Quick, Joe! Get the letter!”

  With a slightly sweaty hand, Joe pulled open the door. Inside were some brooms and, hanging up, two coats . . .

  Joe gulped.

  “That’s Pauline’s!” squawked Petey, fluttering around a puffy purple jacket. “Look! There’s something in the pocket!”

  Joe swallowed hard. This felt all wrong.

  “Go on, Joe! What are you waiting for?”

  But Joe couldn’t do it. Even though the letter rightfully belonged to Maggie, not Pauline, he still felt like a thief!

  “Hurry!” trilled Petey. “You’ve got to help Maggie!”

  Joe reached out and took the piece of paper. It was a letter from Beddows—the big department store in the center of town.

  B

  Beddows

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  You are the winner of the grand prize in the Beddows raffle! Please bring your raffle ticket to our store to collect your prize!

  $500

  Before Joe could read any more, he heard footsteps behind him. He jammed the letter back in Pauline’s coat pocket and spun around. But he’d forgotten about the mop . . .

  He tripped and stumbled, then lost his balance, landing bottom down in the bucket! Cold, soapy green water seeped through his pants.

  “What’s going on?”

  Joe looked up into the shocked face of Pauline Pringle.

  “What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

  “Ms. Bruce said I should bring back the mop and bucket. I knocked at the door and Ms. Pringle—I mean, the other Ms. Pringle—said I should put it in the closet. But then I sort of tripped over the mop and . . .”

  Pauline rolled her eyes and pursed her bright red lips. “And got yourself stuck in the bucket!”

  Joe struggled to his feet and the cold water dripped out of his pants and onto the floor.

  “Mop it up,” snapped Pauline, “then stick some newspaper down on the floor so no one slips on it.” She opened a metal cabinet and pulled out a couple of old newspapers and a box marked LOST PROPERTY. “And you’d better borrow some dry clothes out of there!” Then she grabbed the rest of the gravy jugs and left.

  Joe groaned. That was the last straw. Now he’d have to spend the rest of the day wearing someone else’s clothes. And even worse, the only thing he could find in the box that was his size was an old pair of gray sweatpants that smelled like pee . . .

  “What about the letter?” squawked Petey. “You need to give it to Maggie!”

  “I can’t!” hissed Joe. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got to clean up this mess! And anyway, Pauline could pop her head back in here anytime!”

  He dunked the mop back into the bucket, gave it a swirl, then slopped it down onto the floor.

  A few minutes later, Pauline reappeared carrying a stack of empty metal trays that she banged down on the kitchen counter. “That’s enough mopping! Put down some newspaper, then go and get your lunch.”

  Petey was fluttering around Joe’s head, clearly annoyed. “Do something, Joe! We’ve got to get that letter! As soon as she’s gone, try again!”

  But Pauline wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll put it away!” she said, taking the mop out of Joe’s hands and shoving it roughly into the closet. Then she turned to her coat, glanced furtively over her shoulder, took out the letter, and stuffed it in her apron pocket.

  “The letter!” shrieked Petey. “She’s taking away the letter!”

  “Get a move on,” said Pauline as she passed Joe. “Or there’ll be nothing left to eat!”

  Petey collapsed on the floor and buried his head under his wing. “We’ll never get the letter now!” And then he started twittering again. “Polly put the kettle on! Polly put the kettle on!”

  “Petey!” said Joe, trying to get his attention.

  But the parakeet ignored him. “Kissy, kissy! Time for tea! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”

  “PETEY!” said Joe. “Snap out of it!”

  But Petey didn’t stop singing, and he began plucking out his green feathers, too. “She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not . . .”

  “Stop it! You’ll go bald!” Joe gritted his teeth and turned back to the wet floor.

  As he put down a sheet of newspaper, he spotted something—a large advertisement on the back page. It was for Beddows department store, advertising a special one-day super sale on Sunday to celebrate the store’s fiftieth anniversary. But that wasn’t what caught Joe’s eye. It was the line at the bottom of the ad that made him sit up straight.

  GRAND PRIZE DRAWING

  The winner of our $500 raffle will be presented with their prize at 12 noon this Sunday. To celebrate, we’ll be giving away a free slice of cake to all our customers. Everyone is welcome!

  “Petey!” Joe gasped. “It’s Maggie’s prize!”

  Petey stopped gibbering and his head spun around to look at Joe, his beak full of feathers.

  “Wmmmph?” he mumbled.

  Joe frowned.

  “Sorry,” Petey said, spitting out the feathers. “What did you say?”

  “Look!” said Joe, pointing at the page. “It says here that the winner of the raffle will be presented with their prize on Sunday!”

  Petey cocked his head and looked blankly at Joe.

  “Don’t you see? That must be Maggie’s prize! She’s
supposed to collect it on Sunday. That means we’ve still got two days to find a way to stop Pauline!”

  “What kept you so long?” asked Ben as Joe came into the cafeteria and flopped down in the seat next to Matt.

  “Don’t ask,” Joe groaned. He glanced around. There were a lot of empty places at the table, as most of the kids had already finished eating. Petey was hopping around on the table pecking crumbs. Joe was glad to have a break from him!

  Matt made a face. “What’s that smell? Why are you wearing those?” He pointed at Joe’s sweatpants.

  “It’s a long story,” said Joe, stabbing a carrot with his fork and looking at his food miserably.

  The carrot was mushy, and the shriveled slice of pizza didn’t look too tasty, either. He put down his fork.

  “You’re not leaving that, I hope!” Maggie Pringle loomed over him, a wet dishcloth in her hand. “That’s good food. You shouldn’t waste it!”

  “It’s cold,” said Matt.

  “And soggy,” added Ben.

  “Others would be happy to get a meal like that,” said Maggie solemnly. “Now eat it up like a good boy!”

  Joe picked up a knife and tried to saw through the pizza crust.

  “You need an ax,” Ben said with a giggle.

  “More like a chainsaw!” Matt replied with a snicker.

  Maggie gave them a stern look, then went off to wipe down a table nearby.

  “So, what’s with the clothes?” asked Matt.

  “I had an accident with the bucket,” mumbled Joe. He was still trying to chew the lump of concrete pizza.

  “What sort of an accident?”

  “I fell in the bucket.”

  Ben snickered.

  “Loser!” Matt grinned.

  Joe used his finger to flick a small piece of pizza crust off his plate toward Matt.

  “Hey!” Matt laughed. “Anyway, did I tell you I’m getting some new boots on Sunday?”

  “What?” Ben stopped eating his pudding and frowned. “You’re always getting new stuff!”

  “There’s a big sale—” began Matt.

  “At Beddows department store?” Joe put in. “I heard about that.”

  “I wish my mom would buy me new boots,” said Ben glumly.

  “Tell her about the sale. There’s free cake, too!” said Matt. “I heard Mom telling my dad that he could go and eat cake while she went shopping!”

  Suddenly a hand appeared in front of Joe and swiped his plate away.

  “Had enough?” It was Pauline. She was piling empty plates onto a cart. She was about to scrape his pizza into a bucket of scraps when Maggie thundered over.

  “Stop! He’s not finished!”

  Pauline looked at the plate, then at Joe, then at the clock on the wall. “Yes, he has. He should be eating the pudding by now!”

  Maggie glared at her sister. “But look at all that good food going to waste!”

  Pauline pursed her lips. “He was late for lunch, so it’s his own fault if he doesn’t have time to finish it. He’s got to eat his pudding now!” She looked at the clock again.

  Joe coughed. “Um, I’d had enough anyway.”

  The lunch ladies glared at him, then at each other.

  Petey fluttered over and landed on Joe’s shoulder. “It’s always like this!” He sighed. “Bicker, bicker, argue, argue. I wish they’d put a sock in it!” He shook his head and flew off.

  “Give him his plate back!” growled Maggie.

  “No!” snapped Pauline.

  Moments later, there was a loud bang on the other side of the room.

  A large plastic water jug had fallen off the serving counter.

  Maggie gave a loud sigh, then turned to go and sort it out. As soon as she’d gone, Pauline made off with the cart—and Joe’s plate!

  “Lucky escape!” Matt grinned.

  “Yeah, I thought she was going to chain you in the kitchen until you’d finished it all!” Ben giggled.

  Joe wolfed down his pudding, just in case Pauline came back. Then they trooped out of the cafeteria.

  As they left, Petey fluttered down and landed on his shoulder again. “Smart boy, Petey! Petey’s a smart boy!” Then he leaned over and whispered in Joe’s ear, “I knocked over the water jug to make them stop arguing!”

  Joe smiled.

  Petey cocked his head to one side. “It was close to the edge—so I gave it a shove. Good boy, Petey! Petey is a smart boy!”

  Perhaps Petey wasn’t as much of a birdbrain as Joe had thought . . .

  “I still think we should have won!” grumbled Matt as he, Joe, and Joe’s little brother, Toby, walked home from school.

  “Won what?” asked Toby, who was walking along the edge of the curb as though it were a tightrope.

  “The smoothie competition!” said Matt. He and Joe had been talking about nothing else since they’d left school, but Toby hadn’t been listening.

  “Who won it?” asked Toby.

  “The twins!” said Joe and Matt together.

  “I think Mr. Hill just felt sorry for them,” said Matt. “Because they lost their first batch.”

  Joe glanced at Petey out of the corner of his eye. The parakeet was hopping up and down on his shoulder, whistling tunelessly.

  “Want to come over to my house and play Xbox tonight?” asked Matt.

  “I can’t,” said Joe. “I’m helping Mom with the flyers for her new business.”

  “Huh?” Matt looked at him blankly.

  “You know—my mom’s new hairdressing business.”

  Matt shrugged.

  “She’s left the hair salon and set up on her own. She’s going to cut people’s hair in their own homes.”

  “Oh, right,” said Matt. “And you’re going to be doing that all night?”

  “Yeah, well, I said I’d help her sort out the flyers she’s had printed. We’re going to put them in people’s mailboxes tomorrow to try and get her some customers.”

  “What?” Petey stopped whistling and gave a squawk. “But you’ve got to go over to Maggie’s house tomorrow and find that letter!”

  Joe ignored him. “She’s paying me,” he added. “Hey, do you want to help deliver them? I’ll split the money with you.”

  Matt shrugged. “Okay.”

  Petey was shrieking now. “What about Maggie? You need to get that letter!”

  When Joe didn’t reply, Petey pecked his ear.

  “Yow!” Joe tried to bat Petey away, but he’d already taken off—fluttering lopsidedly up into the branches of a nearby tree, where he sat twittering angrily.

  Joe rubbed his ear.

  “What happened?” Matt asked.

  “Wow!” said Toby, his eyes like saucers. “Your ear’s bright red!”

  “Um, something must have stung me,” Joe mumbled.

  “What? Like a killer bee?” Toby was peering at his ear now. “I saw some on TV! They stung a man’s nose and it swelled up—and then it exploded!”

  “Great!” Joe rolled his eyes. “Come on, Toby. Mom will be waiting . . .”

  “Why did you peck me?” Joe asked.

  Petey was sitting on top of the curtain pole in Joe’s bedroom, his head tucked under his wing, muttering to himself. “Bad Petey. Petey is a bad, bad boy!”

  Joe groaned. “Don’t go all bonkers on me again!”

  Petey shook his feathers. “Sorry! Sorry about pecking you . . . But I hate it when people ignore me!” He puffed up his little chest and let out a deep sigh. “What’s the plan to stop Pauline?”

  Joe sank down onto his bed. “I dunno.” He glanced aimlessly around the room. Then his eyes rested on the magical Egyptian amulet Uncle Charlie had given him. It was small and black and shaped like a jackal. It was this amulet that had started all of his undead-pet trou
bles in the first place!

  Joe reached over to pick it up, and spotted something underneath.

  “Raffle tickets!”

  Petey flew over to Joe.

  “Look,” said Joe. “These are raffle tickets I got from my soccer team. I’ve got to keep them safe until the drawing.”

  Petey shrugged. He still looked like his brain had gone on vacation.

  “When I bought these tickets,” explained Joe, “the soccer team kept one half of the ticket—the stubby bit. And they gave me the other half, see?” Joe showed Petey the tear down the side of each ticket. “The piece that the team kept is going into a hat, and when they’ve sold all the tickets, they’ll pick one ticket out of the hat as the winner. But the drawing isn’t till next month, so I’ve got to keep the tickets safe until then. If they draw my ticket out of the hat, then I have to show them this half of the ticket to prove I bought it! Don’t you see?”

  The parakeet shook his head.

  “The letter in Pauline’s pocket said that Maggie had to bring her winning raffle ticket to the store to receive her prize. That means she’s probably got her part of the ticket in the house somewhere!”

  “I get it! I get it!” Petey bobbed his head excitedly. “If we can find the ticket before Pauline, she won’t be able to get the prize!”

  Joe sagged a bit. “But what if Pauline already has Maggie’s half of the ticket as well as the letter? And anyway, there’s no way I can get inside the house to look!”

  Petey let out a long sad whistle. “We’ll never stop Pauline!” Then he plucked out one of his feathers. “One, two, buckle my shoe, three, four, knock at the door!”

  “Don’t start saying all that silly stuff again!” said Joe. “And stop pulling out your feathers! You’ve already got a bald patch on your wing, you know!”

  “Five, six, pick up sticks, seven, eight, lay them straight!”

  PLUCK! PLUCK! PLUCK!

  Joe sighed. It was probably best to leave the bird alone. He kicked off his shoes and pulled a pair of jeans out of his drawer. He couldn’t wait to get out of the stinky “lost and found” sweats!