Charlie Changes Into a Chicken Page 9

‘Oh yeah …’ said Charlie.

  ‘So,’ continued Flora, business-like. ‘We therefore know the following:

  1. You turn into an animal when you get stressed.

  2. Deep-breathing and relaxing helps to slow it down, but it doesn’t stop it.

  3. Happiness changes you back.

  ‘Now, that might not be the complete answer to everything that’s going on, but it’s an awful lot more than we knew when you first started changing. We are close to a cure, Charlie. So close.’

  Mr O’Dere, the Irish caretaker, started ringing a handbell, barking at everybody to start taking their seats. The four friends walked back towards their classroom to get ready for the play, all of them lost in thought about Charlie’s problem (apart from Wogan, who was wondering if a naked mole rat was a real animal or not). Behind them, unnoticed, a split appeared in the black clouds overhead, and a shaft of golden sunlight broke through.

  ⋆⋆⋆

  They may have been closer to the cure, but it still felt like a million miles away to Charlie.

  He had watched with dread through the curtains as the hall had filled up with parents and children until almost every seat was taken, apart from some in the front few rows. Now, pale-faced, he was stood backstage, all dressed up in his potato outfit, heart pounding in his mouth. Good-luck wishes from Flora and Mohsen still rang in his ears. Wogan was already on stage. Charlie could hear him with Cara.

  In a matter of minutes he would have to go on himself.

  ‘You’re going to change,’ came a sudden whisper in Charlie’s ear. It was Dylan, looking painfully smug in his carrot costume. ‘And don’t think you’re going to get away with it this time, McGuffin. I’m going to make sure everyone sees. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.’

  Charlie found he had nothing smart to say back to Dylan. He was right.

  ‘Well, what do you want from me, Dylan? You expect me to go bananas or cry or punch you?’

  ‘No, Mr McGuffin, I expect you to change!’

  ‘Oh God, you are just so completely insane.’

  ‘The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success,’ Dylan replied, eyes ablaze.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Charlie in disbelief. ‘Are you quoting James Bond villains at me?’

  ‘Goodbye, Mr McGuffin.’

  And with that Dylan turned around and walked away.

  It was time.

  ⋆⋆⋆

  Flora and Mohsen sat in the audience biting their fingernails.fn1 Neither dared breathe as they waited for Charlie to come out on stage for his big song.

  And then, out of the corner of her eye, Flora saw somebody slipping into a seat near the front of the audience.

  Somebody she wasn’t expecting to see.

  Somebody Charlie really wasn’t expecting to see.

  And it gave her a brilliant idea …

  ⋆⋆⋆

  Charlie closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself.

  And then he stood up, and walked into the wings.

  It was dark and, just before he stepped on the stage, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Dylan.

  Grinning his smug grin, he produced a key from beneath his carrot costume with a dramatic flourish and waved it in front of Charlie’s face, and then locked the door they had just walked through. Then, with a final even smugger grin, he walked out on to the stage.

  Dylan had locked the door. Charlie’s only exit was blocked. If he started changing on stage now, he couldn’t just escape through the wings. He’d have to try to run all the way through the audience. With a heavy sinking feeling Charlie realized that Dylan had destroyed his one chance of escape.

  Charlie trudged out on to the stage, where Dylan was waiting for him expectantly.

  It was hot and bright. Two spotlights were shining on to the stage: one trained directly on Dylan, one on Charlie.

  Charlie blinked in the glare. It was so bright he couldn’t see out into the audience. It was a sea of black behind the light. But he could feel them waiting: rustling, hushed.

  Trickles of sweat were running down his forehead and back. His palms were wet. He was already feeling dizzy. Dylan, a victorious look on his face, turned to Charlie, looked him in the eye and mouthed one word:

  Change.

  And then Dylan started singing. A carrot had never sounded happier.

  Straight away it started. Charlie’s heart began to beat faster and his stomach plummeted.

  His eye began to twitch.

  Then his other eye began to twitch.

  Before Dylan was halfway through his song Charlie could feel fire racing through his body, his nerves searing with electricity.

  This was it.

  He was changing in front of the whole school.

  ⋆⋆⋆

  Even from where she was sitting in the audience Flora could see Charlie’s eyes glaze over with fear.

  Deep down in the pit of her stomach she knew it was all about to go terribly, terribly wrong.

  She knew Charlie was changing.

  And she knew exactly what she needed to do.

  She jumped out of her seat and began pushing past people, running towards the back of the hall.

  Colm Flower, the beefy Year Six captain of the school rugby team, was manning Charlie’s spotlight. He looked up in surprise as Flora appeared by his side.

  ‘Whadda you want?’ he asked

  ‘I need to borrow that spotlight for a minute,’ she said, smiling sweetly.

  ‘Bog off,’ replied Colm.

  ‘Now that’s not very polite,’ replied Flora. ‘I’ll give you till a count of three. One … two …’

  ⋆⋆⋆

  Dylan was reaching the end of his song.

  Charlie’s body was fizzing, explosions of electricity inside him.

  It was happening.

  Breathe, Charlie told himself. Breathe! Charlie tried taking slow, deep breaths, calming himself. In, out. In, out.

  But although the fire and the electricity racing through his veins was slowing it wasn’t stopping.

  Dylan finished his song and took a bow.

  The audience applauded.

  Silence fell, everybody waiting for Charlie to sing.

  Seconds felt like years.

  Then Charlie felt his body change.

  The insides of his body squeezing.

  Underneath his costume his body started to itch, hair sprouting on his legs. On his back. On his stomach.

  His face.

  This was it. It was all over …

  ‘Three!’

  There was a yell of pain and a sudden clattering sound from the back of the hall and the spotlight swung off Charlie, plunging him into darkness.

  Charlie’s arms were lengthening; he could reach the stage floor with them. Charlie knew no one could see him now, but that wouldn’t last. When the spotlight swung back on to him the whole world would know he was a freak.

  But the spotlight didn’t come back to him. Instead, it arced into the audience, strafing the front few rows until it landed on one person.

  A boy a bit older than Charlie, wearing a hat to cover his baldness.

  Charlie couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  It was impossible.

  There, sat between Charlie’s mum and dad, was SmoothMove.

  And Charlie knew that could only mean one thing: the scan was good. His big brother didn’t need that operation after all. He was coming home.

  Charlie felt his heart burst with joy and relief and, as those happy feelings flooded through him, he immediately felt himself changing again. Changing back to who he should be: a small nine-year-old boy standing awkwardly on stage in a potato costume in a strange school play about vegetables in love.

  And at the very moment Charlie felt he was completely back to normal the spotlight swung back on to him.

  Next to Charlie, looking utterly furious, Dylan glared at him.

  Charlie winked at Dylan, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.


  And then Charlie sang, with happiness bursting out of every fibre of his body and with a smile plastered across his face, a song about a sad potato.

  And that’s that, there or thereabouts. There are a few things to wrap up, and then there will be time for questions.

  Ms Fyre and Mr Wind were ‘disappointed’ with Charlie for ‘grinning like a loon’ all the way through his song. Charlie grinned all the way through his telling-off too, at which point Mr Wind and Ms Fyre began to worry Charlie had a screw loose. In fact, Mr Wind and Ms Fyre were so disappointed they immediately had to go off to a local wine bar together, to discuss what went wrong with the play and how it could be improved next year.

  Dylan remained furious with Charlie for a long time. He had been the only one to see Charlie change into a chimpanzee, and the only one to see him change back. His plans had come to nothing. But he would spend many days, weeks and months planning and plotting how he could expose Charlie to the wider world for the freak that he was.

  Mohsen and Wogan remained in awe of Flora. They also remained slightly terrified of Flora. No one knew exactly what Flora had said or done to Colm Flower in order to gain control of the spotlight on the night of the play, but he now ran the other way down the corridor whenever he saw her coming.

  Flora stayed exactly the same. And so she should because she’s AWESOME.

  The McGuffins were a family, together again. SmoothMove was back home and, although it took some time, he got completely better. It didn’t take any time at all for him to beat Charlie at FIFA, though.

  And Charlie? He had his brother back. And he never changed into an animal again. Well, not for a while at least.

  So, there you go. That’s it. The end. The finish line. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. A lot more actually, because to be honest, writing it was a pretty dreadful experience. My fingers still have blisters.

  So. Questions?

  Q: Charlie, nine years old, asks: ‘My name is Charlie and I am also nine years old. Is this book about me?’

  A: Do you turn into animals, Charlie? No? Exactly. Well, the book isn’t about you then. Obviously.

  Q: Josh, nine, from Whitstable asks: ‘If this book was so miserable to write, why did you bother doing it? And it’s not even a particularly long book. It’s only just over 27,500 words. That’s not long for a book. The Harry Potter series is over a million words. That’s over thirty-five times as long as your book.’

  A: Oh, marvellous, it’s Josh from Whitstable again. Didn’t you ask enough questions last time? Well, to answer your question, yes, the Harry Potter series is forty times longer than this book, but you know what? It’s not the quantity of words that matters. It’s the quality. And I like to think that one word in this book is equal to about forty words from J. K. Rowling waffling on about Professor Bumblebore and Severus Snooze, right? RIGHT?

  Q: Bethany, aged two, from A Couple of Houses Down the Road asks: ‘Why did you have to make Dylan so mean?’

  A: Let me tell you something, Bethany: I didn’t make Dylan mean. Life made him mean. Dylan has had a tough time and, deep down, he’s really unhappy. And most angry or unpleasant people are almost always, deep down, very unhappy.

  Q: Emily, ten, from Frimpton-on-Sea asks: ‘Is there a deeper meaning to this book? Exactly what important message are you trying to give the reader? Because if you don’t have a deeper meaning, then is this just a silly story about a boy who turns into animals?’

  A: Thank you for the question, Emily.

  Q: Emily, ten, from Frimpton-on-Sea asks: ‘Are you trying to avoid the question? You DO have a deep and important message behind the book, don’t you?’

  A: Of course I’m not avoiding the question. And of COURSE I have a deep message in the book. And the message is … the message is … Ooh! Look! Behind you! There’s a big flying thing! Oh, you just missed it. It’s gone now. Never mind. Anyway, what were we talking about? Next question, please.

  Q: Nathaniella Warglefloom, sixty-seven, from Banjax-on-Thames asks: ‘I noticed that a previous questioner, “Bethany”, was only two years old. That can’t be right. Are you just making all these people up? Are the questions even real?’

  A: What is real, Nathaniella? Are you real? Am I real? Does it actually matter what’s real and what isn’t?

  Q: Charlie, nine years old, asks: ‘You actually didn’t let me answer your question. You just answered for me. In answer to your question, yes, actually, I do turn into animals. And my surname is McGuffin. And my best friends are Wogan, Mohsen and Flora. This book is clearly based on my life. And I did not give you permission to turn my life story into a poorly written book. I have sought legal advice and I will see you in court.’

  A: This is a question-and-answer session, Charlie. You just gave a series of statements there and no question. And I have ALSO sought legal advice. Unfortunately they have told me to stop writing immediately. There would have been loads more in this book, loads of stuff that would have been way better. But I am now not allowed to write any more. Big shame. You’ve spoiled everybody’s fun, Charlie McGuffin. I hope you’re happy.

  Puffin Books

  80 Strand

  London

  Dear Reader,

  Many of you have written to our esteemed company to complain about the lack of chickens in this story. You were explicitly promised by the ‘author’, on the very cover of this ‘book’, that the central character would turn into a chicken. We are saddened to report that the author lied to you. He drew you in with promises of chickens and then betrayed your trust. That is unforgivable.

  We were similarly taken in by the author’s deceit. We published this book in good faith, and the lack of chickens has come as a shock and disappointment to us too. We can only apologize to you, our valued readers, and assure you that this situation will not arise again. The editor responsible for checking chicken-inclusions has been dismissed, and we have agreed that all future books published by our company shall include at least one chicken.

  Some of our forthcoming chicken-featured publications include: Lord of the Wings, Moby Chick, The Adventures of Cluckleberry Finn, and Great Eggspectations by Charles Chickens.

  Needless to say, we shall not be working with the author again. He is a disreputable liar and a writer of little talent. We recommend that you never read any more of his tawdry tales.

  With deepest respect and humble apologies,

  Yours faithfully,

  The Publisher

  Charlie McGuffin was being followed.

  A malevolent shadow was watching him. Waiting.

  Something – or someone – was stalking him through the corridors of the school. A dark presence, menacing, unseen and unknowable –

  ‘Look, Dylan, I know it’s you following me. I can see you there,’ Charlie said, hands on hips. ‘Can you actually stop? You just look weird doing it. Seriously, Dylan – come out from behind the pillar.’

  Dylan stepped out from behind a pillar.

  ‘And take that ridiculous hat off,’ Charlie added.

  Dylan took off the ridiculous hat, a floppy summer hat borrowed from his mum.

  ‘And the sunglasses. Take those off as well.’

  Dylan took off the sunglasses.

  ‘Now please stop following me.’

  Dylan stepped forward, chest puffed. ‘You know you can run, McGuffin, but you can’t hide. You. Can’t. Hide.’ A smile slid across Dylan’s face like a slug trail. ‘I’m your shadow. Your dark half. Wherever you go, I will be there. Hunting you. Ready to pounce like a … like a … frog.’

  ‘A frog? A pouncing frog? Frogs don’t even pounce.’

  ‘Yes, they do. They pounce on flies. And you’re my fly. Trapped in my web.’

  ‘A … frog web?’ said Charlie, looking a little baffled.

  ‘You think you’re so clever, McGuffin, don’t you? Well, you’re not. Your silly little friends might think you’re a genius –’

  ‘I’m not sure they d
o actually. In fact, I’m pretty certain Flora thinks I’m the total opposite. She even said that to me yesterday. She said “Charlie, you are actually the total opposite of a genius.” ’

  ‘Enough!’ Dylan held his hand up. ‘Just know that I am going to capture you.’ Dylan opened his hand. Inside was a matchbox. He shook it. It was empty. ‘I am going to wait until you change into an animal. And I’m going to trap you. And then you won’t be laughing. Or if you are, no one will hear you. Because you’ll be trapped in a matchbox. A matchbox prison!’

  Dylan started laughing to himself and then walked off, still laughing wildly, leaving Charlie standing alone in an empty corridor.

  Charlie couldn’t help it – Dylan was getting to him. He could feel his stress levels begin to rise, little shivers of electricity darting through him. This was the first sign that Charlie was about to change. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply a couple of times, focusing on his breath. Then he opened his eyes wide.

  ‘Hey, Dylan!’ Charlie shouted to the small figure at the end of the long corridor. ‘Dylan! I think I’m changing! Quick!’

  Dylan turned round and began running back as fast as he could.

  ‘Quick, Dylan! It’s happening!’

  Dylan sprinted as fast as he could. He reached Charlie, panting.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ Charlie said. ‘False alarm.’

  Dylan glared at Charlie. ‘WHAT?’

  ‘I’m sorry!’ Charlie said, grinning. ‘I could have sworn I started feeling it. Ah, well, it’s an unpredictable science, this whole changing business. Better luck next time. Actually there won’t be a next time. You’re wasting your time. I’ve worked out how to control it, you see, so I can absolutely guarantee a hundred per cent that there’ll be no more Charlie changing into anything.’

  Charlie winked at Dylan, and then walked off, laughing maniacally, leaving Dylan stood alone in the empty corridor.

  Author’s Note

  If you haven’t read Book 1 in this series, Charlie Changes Into a Chicken, then you’re probably pretty confused about what’s going on right now.

  Tough luck.

  You should have bought Book 1.

  You come waltzing in here thinking, Oh, I don’t need to read Book 1. I’m very clever and I’m sure I’ll work out what’s happening as I go along.