The Curse of the Deadly 7

by Garth Jennings

  ‘Hooooonk,’ cooed Crush, and Nelson felt a wave of happiness fight back the tide of sadness threatening to engulf him.

  ‘Master Nelson, please remember we are made from you and therefore still a part of you,’ said Miser as he opened the ceramic jar containing the Bang Stone.

  ‘I know, I know,’ muttered Nelson breathlessly.

  ‘I don’t understand that at all,’ sobbed Hoot.

  ‘Never mind, let’s just do this,’ urged Stan.

  Crush let go of Nelson and slid down on to the deck. The other monsters gathered around him, and Miser passed Nosh the Bang Stone.

  ‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ Once again Nelson realized he sounded just like his mother.

  ‘Oh yeah, we know where and when we’re going,’ said Stan with a chuckle.

  ‘Where? What year?’ said Nelson. Spike took hold of Nelson’s hand.

  ‘We decided it’s better you don’t know, or you’ll be thinking about it all the time. And you have to start moving on now, Nelson.’

  ‘But don’t worry, dear boy,’ said Hoot with a wink. ‘We’ll be absolutely fine.’

  ‘Better stand back, Nelson, you know what these things are like,’ warned Spike.

  ‘HONK! HONK! HONK!’ said Crush, and it sounded so rude and funny that Nelson laughed.

  And as he laughed, Nosh popped the Bang Stone into his mouth, the monsters clustered around him and . . . BANG! They were gone in a puff of blue smoke.

  GROWING PAINS

  The pain was instant and awful. Nelson collapsed on to the wooden jetty, the end of which had been broken in the blast. He clutched the sides of his head, which pounded as if someone were squeezing him in a vice, while his back, knees and ankles felt as if they were being taken apart bit by bit. Nelson screamed, but his face was buried into his balled fists and no one was close enough to hear him. The tips of his fingers pulsed with pain, and as he opened his eyes he saw his fingernails growing and stretching. At the very same time, Nelson could feel his hair getting longer, being dragged out of his skull, strand by strand, until he could see it hanging in front of his eyes.

  Though the pain consumed him, Nelson knew what was happening: now that the monsters had gone, the curse had been lifted, and all the growing he would have done over the last year was happening in just a few seconds.

  The fish in the harbour could only gaze up at Nelson, who lay breathless on the wooden jetty. If they could have leaped out of the water and stroked the hair from his eyes, they would have done. Instead, they swam away, back into the cool, moonlit waters and hoped he would feel better soon.

  The sun was about to rise when Nelson staggered back to the little house like someone who had just completed a marathon. The hardest part of the journey was getting back up the steps into his bunk-bed because his knees were as creaky and stubborn as cellar doors, but once his body had flopped on to the mattress and the breeze from the ceiling fan touched the back of his neck, Nelson fell into a deep and dream-filled sleep.

  When he finally awoke, the day had passed, the sun was already setting, and he found Celeste sitting on the end of his bed.

  ‘You’ve changed.’

  ‘What?’ ‘Your hair and everything. Even the little freckle on the end of your nose is back.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yeah. They’ve gone, haven’t they?’

  Nelson burst into tears, and Celeste hugged him.

  ‘You’ll be all right. Want me to give you a haircut?’

  ‘Do I need one?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Celeste had been careful to wake Nelson while their parents were out enjoying a dinner at a local Greek tavern with Ivan and some of the locals in town. His mother had put Nelson’s sleepiness down to being exhausted from the heat and swimming, and had enjoyed a few too many gin and tonics to notice the change in Nelson’s hair when she came in to check on him.

  ‘Sit here, I’ll be right back,’ said Celeste. She had put a stool from the kitchen right at the end of the garden, overlooking the sea. The moon was bright, and the view of the harbour was so beautiful it was hard to imagine there could be anywhere else in the universe as perfect as this. The garden suddenly lit up with fairy lights, and Celeste called from inside, ‘Did the lights just go on?!’

  ‘YES!’ replied Nelson.

  Celeste reappeared carrying a comb, scissors and water spray.

  ‘What’ll it be, Nelson Green? Short back and sides?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  Celeste set to work, first spraying Nelson’s hair with water, then combing it through and beginning to snip away.

  ‘You know what I think? I think your monsters prove a point.’

  ‘What point?’

  ‘That we all have our bad sides, but we can use them for good. You know, like pride, anger, laziness, envy . . . all that stuff is technically bad, right? They were supposedly seven deadly sins, but they could do just as much good as bad. It’s what you do with them that counts.’

  Nelson puffed the wet hair off his nose and smiled, happy to be the brother of the best sister in the world.

  IT TAKES TWO

  Everyone cried at the party, even the priest who had married Doody and Pogo months ago, though that might have been because she had a terrible case of wind after drinking a bottle of fizzy water and eating an entire bowl of corn chips. It had been just over three weeks since they returned from the holiday, but Doody and Pogo were still determined to have their wedding party. The emotions of their guests were running as freely as the wine and food, and this meant that when Pogo and Doody began their first dance, the place erupted with cheers and whistles.

  At first it had been a slow number – a melancholy song called ‘Nature Boy’ by Nat King Cole that Pogo and Doody swayed to. Nelson’s mother tried to drag his father on to the dance floor, but he managed to stand his ground by pretending his back hurt.

  Nelson felt a hand gently land on his shoulder and turned to find Ivan smiling at him.

  You OK? he signed.

  Nelson nodded and smiled.

  They wanted me to give you this when the time was right. Ivan pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket.

  Nelson’s heart raced. A present from his monsters? What on earth could be more fantastic than that?

  What does it say?

  You tell me.

  Nelson tore the envelope open and there, in the worst handwriting he had ever seen, was the following note:

  Dear Nelson,

  We left you a present buried in your garden where we used to put the tent. Only use it in emergencies.

  Love,

  THE DEADLY SEVEN

  Nelson guessed it must be cactus juice, and grinned from ear to ear at the thought of his monsters taking the time and care to leave him a present.

  It hadn’t been more than a verse or two before Nat King Cole suddenly stopped and was replaced by the intro to ‘It Takes Two’ by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock. Pogo and Doody threw off their jackets and faced each other like matadors. The lights went out and a laser struck the glitter ball hanging from the ceiling, sending beams of light in every direction. The wedding guests lost their minds as the beat kicked in and the two of them began to dance like they were in their own music video.

  ‘OH MY GOD! THEY’RE DOING A ROUTINE!’ screamed Nelson’s mum.

  Doody and Pogo were phenomenal. Their timing and their footwork were perfect, and the fact that Uncle Pogo had a false leg meant it was doubly impressive.

  Nelson looked around at all the guests cheering and clapping for his uncles. There were Ivan and Celeste, leaping up and down as if they were in the mosh pit of a rock concert. Beside them were his parents and the team who had made Doody and Pogo’s TV show, all of them swaying all over the place, having had way too much to drink. Bouncing up and down on the spot next to them, as if he were still on his trampoline, was his neighbour, George. Ever since the incident with Jim Tindle and his army of monsters, George had become much more chatty, and
Nelson had taken his sister’s advice to invite him along to the party.

  Doody and Pogo hadn’t finished their routine, but they threw their arms open wide and beckoned to all the guests to join them on the dance floor. No one could resist them. Nelson’s mother grabbed Ivan and off they went. Celeste took George by the hand, and though George resisted at first, she succeeded in teasing him out of his comfort zone. Uncle Pogo crossed the room to ask Doody’s auntie Ailsa, his only living relative, if she would like to dance, and though the lady was almost a hundred years old, she took hold of Pogo’s hand and followed him on to the dance floor. Nelson’s dad was dancing with Doody, and Nelson was genuinely shocked at how well his dad could dance. Nelson didn’t need a dance partner or an excuse to join in. He shimmied his way into the middle of the dancing crowd and lost himself in the music and the happiness of the moment.

  GOODNIGHT, NELSON GREEN

  It was way past midnight when Nelson climbed into the bed of his recently restored home and pulled the covers up to his chin. He had snuck into the garden as soon as the taxi had dropped them off, and while his parents went through their usual bathroom routines and loudly recounted their favourite parts of the day, Nelson dug up the bottle of cactus juice his monsters had left for him. It was full, but Nelson didn’t open it. They had said it was for emergencies only, and that was what he would save it for.

  Nelson’s new bedroom was very cool. Now he had a bunk-bed under which sat a neat little desk and a little music system. His copy of the script of Bugsy Malone lay open on the desk, though he had learned every word of it and was ready for the first show next week. He loved being in the show, and he especially loved the splurge guns. It made him feel like a cooler version of himself. Katy Newman had cast herself as Blousey Brown, which meant they had to kiss each other briefly on stage. He was surprised to find he actually liked kissing her. His monsters would have been appalled to hear this and would certainly have made fun of him. Maybe there were a few upsides to not having them around.

  The coolest thing about his new room was that his mother had allowed Nelson to paint on the wall next to his window, and as he had never been able to take a photo of his monsters, he had painted them instead. It was a colourful picture, and Nelson only needed to glance at it for a smile to appear instantly on his face. He thought about his friends and where they might be. Were they happy? Were they safe? Was there enough to eat? Did they get as sad as he did at times?

  As Nelson lay there feeling a little sadness begin to creep up on him, the bedroom door creaked open . . .

  It was Minty.

  Nelson had never seen the dog awake at night, let alone venture upstairs. She was clearly a little exhausted from climbing the stairs, but she continued to plod across Nelson’s bedroom carpet and stopped beside his bed.

  ‘Minty? What are you doing here?’ said Nelson. As if in reply, the dog put its paw on Nelson’s bed.

  ‘What is it? You want to come up?’

  At the sound of these words, Minty began to pant enthusiastically.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then,’ said Nelson, and he lifted Minty on to his bed.

  No sooner had he done this than Minty curled up on top of Nelson’s feet and went to sleep.

  Nelson felt his sadness drift away, and a happy and sleepy feeling washed over him. Minty, who had never shown the slightest interest in anything much, had picked up on how Nelson was feeling and was here to comfort him. Finally, after all these years, Minty had decided to join the family.

  As Minty snored, Nelson looked at the painting of his monsters on the wall. He felt certain that wherever they were right now, they were safe and they were happy, and that everything was going to be fine.

  And he was absolutely right.

  THANK YOU . . .

  . . . to Rachel Petty for being the most ingenious and supportive book editor I could hope to collaborate with.

  To Sarah Hughes for taking over editing duties with such grace while Rachel was off having twins. To Rob Biddulph for his brilliant series of book covers. I love them, Rob. To Kat and Jo in marketing and publicity at Macmillan Children’s Books for helping spread the word despite having to work with an author who is never around when you need him. To Rachel Vale and Tracey Ridgewell in the design department, and to everyone else at Macmillan Children’s Books for making me feel so welcome.

  To Felicity Rubinstein at Luytens & Rubinstein for her beautiful handmade coffee cups, the gossipy lunches and for letting me raid her book shop when I am lucky enough to visit. To Frank Wuliger at Gersh for the wise words, for being the only film agent in Hollywood to wear a fedora and for helping me up when ‘the wheels fell off.’

  To Hope Buxton, Jago Kubaisi, Flo Roberts, Nancy Stirling and all you wonderful readers who sent me cards and drawings of Nelson and his monsters. They all mean the world to me.

  To my mum and dad for being the most loyal and loving fan club anyone could wish for. To my sons Oscar, Leo, Caspar and Asa for being the loveliest twits I have ever met and the inspiration for so many bad jokes and peculiar ideas. They were all for you and I hope you like them.

  And finally to my magical best friend and co-pilot, Woz for . . . well, just everything. X

  About the Author

  Garth Jennings has directed many music videos and commercials. His work includes videos for Blur, Radiohead, Beck, Fatboy Slim and Vampire Weekend.

  He is the director of three feature films: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (2005); Son of Rambow (2007), for which he also wrote the screenplay; and Golden Globe-nominated Sing (2016), a feature-length animated film with an all-star cast, from the studio that created Despicable Me. He has also written The Wildest Cowboy, a picture book, for Macmillan Children’s Books.

  Other books by Garth Jennings

  The Deadly 7

  The Good, the Bad and the Deadly 7

  The Wildest Cowboy

  Published 2020 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  This electronic edition published 2021 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan

  The Smithson, 6 Briset Street, London EC1M 5NR

  EU representative: Macmillan Publishers Ireland Limited,

  Mallard Lodge, Lansdowne Village, Dublin 4

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-1-5098-9936-4

  Text and illustrations copyright © Garth Jennings 2020

  Cover illustration by Rob Biddulph

  The right of Garth Jennings to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Pan Macmillan does not have any control over, or any responsibility for, any author or third-party websites referred to in or on this book.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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