Authors: Alan MacDonald
Smash! (3 page)
They were dead meat, doomed, done for. Sooner or later Mrs Nicely would notice the broken window and find the football.
“Doo-dee doo-dee doo…!”
A shrill voice floated over the fence. Angela! She was back outside. Perhaps
she
would be able to help. Angela was
in love with Bertie and told everyone that he was her boyfriend. Normally Bertie avoided her like a cold bath, but not today – she was their last hope. He walked over to the fence.
“Psst! Angela!” he hissed.
“Is that you, Bertie?” asked Angela.
“Of course it’s me. Listen, I need your help. It’s very important,” said Bertie.
Angela nodded seriously. “Are we looking for dinosaur footprints?”
“Not this time,” said Bertie. “You see the greenhouse?”
Angela turned and gasped. “Umm! Someone broke the window!”
“Yes… Never mind that,” said Bertie. “There’s a football in there and I need you to get it, okay?”
Angela frowned. “Is it your football?”
“Yes,” said Bertie.
“Actually it’s mine,” said Darren. “But Bertie booted it over.”
“Is that how you broke the window?” asked Angela, wide-eyed.
“Look, never mind about the window,” said Bertie. “Just go and find the football. It’s
really
important we get it back.”
Angela was silent for a while, thinking. “What do
I
get?” she said at last.
“You?”
“Yes, if I get the ball for you, what do I get?”
Bertie rolled his eyes at his friends. By now they should have known that nothing with Angela was ever simple. Luckily they’d been to the sweet shop that morning.
“I’ll give you a jelly snake,” he said. “It’s my last one.”
“Where is it?” said Angela. Bertie poked the snake through the crack in the fence. Angela grabbed it and bit off the head.
“What else?” she said, chewing.
“What do you mean, what else? That’s my last jelly snake!” grumbled Bertie.
“I know, but now I’ve eaten it,” said Angela.
Bertie ground his teeth. This was robbery. But if they wanted the ball they didn’t have any choice. He held
out his hand to Darren and Eugene, and reluctantly they parted with their goodies. Angela accepted two fizzy bootlaces and a half-sucked lollipop.
“
Now
will you get the ball?” said Bertie.
“Okay!” sang Angela, dancing away from them.
A minute later they heard a ball bouncing on the lawn.
“Great,” called Bertie. “Hurry up!”
THUD, THUD, THUD! The ball went on bouncing.
“Throw it over!” cried Bertie impatiently. “You promised!”
Angela shook her head. “I promised I’d get it, I didn’t say I’d give it back.”
She went on bouncing – she’d always wanted her own ball.
Bertie couldn’t believe it. They’d been tricked. Cheated out of their sweets – and all for nothing.
“ANGELA!”
The bouncing suddenly stopped. Mrs Nicely had returned. Bertie and his friends ducked down behind the fence to avoid her.
“Angela, where did you get that ball?” she demanded.
Angela said nothing. If she admitted it wasn’t hers she’d have to give it back.
Mrs Nicely marched down the lawn. “You know what I think about footballs,” she scolded. “Things always get broken. If you don’t—” She stopped, catching sight of the smashed window.
“ANGELA!” she screeched.
“But it wasn’t me…” said Angela.
“Don’t tell lies!” snapped Mrs Nicely. “Give me that ball – and go to your room, right now!”
Angela’s lip wobbled. She dropped the ball and fled indoors, wailing all the way. “WAAAAAAH!”
Mrs Nicely picked up the muddy football. Nasty horrible thing! She hurled it over her shoulder and stormed inside.
THUD!
The ball landed over the fence, bouncing twice. Bertie blinked at it, astonished.
“Crumbs! It came back!” he said.
“And we’re not in trouble,” said Eugene. “She thinks Angela did it!”
Bertie picked up the football and spun it round. “Come on then, let’s finish the game,” he said. “Next goal’s the winner!”
Bertie had just got back from school. As usual on a Friday, Gran had dropped in for tea.
“What’s this, Bertie? It was in your pocket,” asked Mum.
“Oh yes,” said Bertie. “It’s a letter from school. I was going to give it to you.”
Mum read it out.
“Goodie!” said Gran. “I love bingo! Can we go?”
Mum shook her head. “Not on Saturday, we’re taking Suzy to her dance show. But you can go.”
“What? By myself?” said Gran.
“Take Bertie, he might like it,” suggested Mum.
“ME? Why me?” asked Bertie.
“I’m sure other children will be there,” said Mum. “It’ll be fun.”
“Not if it’s at school,” said Bertie. It was bad enough having to go all week, without being dragged there on a Saturday night! Anyway, bingo was for grannies. Why didn’t school put on something
he’d
enjoy – like mud wrestling? “It’ll be boring!” he moaned.
“No it won’t,” said Gran. “Bingo’s dead exciting.”
“Only if you’re over a hundred,” said Bertie gloomily.
“Anyone can play,” said Gran. “Everyone has a bingo card and the idea’s to collect all the numbers as they’re called out. The first one to do it wins!”
Bertie pulled a face. It sounded as exciting as laying the table.
“Can’t I just stay at home and watch TV?” he begged.
“Suit yourself,” said Gran. “But I won’t be sharing my prizes.”
Bertie blinked. “Prizes?”
“Of course,” said Gran. “You can’t have bingo without prizes.”
“What sort of prizes?”
Gran shrugged. “I don’t know – toys, chocolates, TV sets maybe…”
“TV SETS?” yelled Bertie. They desperately needed a new super-widescreen TV. Their TV was so small you practically needed a magnifying glass to watch it!
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” said Mum. “It’s only a school bingo night.”
“There’s free pizza as well,” said Gran. “It says so in the letter.”
Free pizza?
That settled it. There was no way Bertie was going to miss a night like that!
