Sita, Snake Page 4

  Big Matt McBain, the most despicable, dishonourable man on Planet Earth.

  And then I pictured my mum and dad, hard at work in Farooq’s Fruits. And I could just see Dad, so worried about how I was doing that he’d be giving everyone the wrong change; and Mum, telling every single customer that her little girl was sitting the most important exam of her life. And I saw Nani, taking an oven-glove out of Bilal’s mouth, and saying a little prayer to help me.

  Then I pictured myself, writing down all these wrong answers even though I knew what the right answers were. And suddenly I had the most awful thought I have ever had… I was just as bad as Big Matt McBain. I was as much of a cheat. I was every bit as dishonourable.

  A tear trickled down my cheek and I reached for the rubber Nani had given me, and know what? As if by magic, Sister Mary Ignatius was standing right beside me. And as I picked up the rubber and began to rub out my wrong answers, she put her hand on my head and, when I looked up at her, she gave me a huge, magnified wink!

  And, also as if by magic, the horrible sinking feeling I’d had all week vanished into thin air.

  There was a big clock on the wall above me and I could see I had just enough time to correct the wrong answers and finish the paper. As soon as I had, Sister Mary Ignatius gathered in the maths paper, and gave us the English one. Which was no problem, because you had to write an essay called What I Look For in a Friend, so naturally I wrote all about Kylie and what made her special.

  As I was writing about Kylie, I started to feel a bit bad again. I was pretty sure I’d pass and get in to Our Lady of the Sorrows, and that would mean not going with Kylie to Great Malden Comprehensive. But then I remembered what Kylie had said – that wherever I was, she’d always be there for me. And I wrote that down at the end of my essay.

  It was a perfect way to end, and it made me feel a whole lot better. And I knew that later, when I explained to Kylie that I hadn’t failed, she’d understand.

  I thought the exam was finished then, but it wasn’t. Sister Mary Ignatius told us that Sister Felicity would take us in groups to the Art Room, and the big smily nun told my row to follow her.

  I just couldn’t believe it. And when I saw Sister Felicity’s Art Room, that electric current didn’t half zip up my back and make my entire body tingle!

  It was out-of-this-world amazing. There was every kind of paint you could ever have wished for, in great big pots so you didn’t have to worry about using too much. There was clay, and plaster, and wire for making statues. There was wool, and thread, and sequins for doing collages. There were bales and bales of the most wonderful bright material to do fashion design with. There was wood, and chisels, and saws, and knives for carving. And every bit of the walls was covered with fabulous pictures that other children had done.

  Sister Felicity showed us where to sit, and she gave us enormous pieces of paper.

  “Paint what inspires you, girls!” she told us. “Paint your greatest dream!”

  Well, I didn’t have to think about it for even a second. I took a piece of charcoal from the table, and I drew a big picture of Sita, Snake-Queen of Speed.

  I drew her dress with flames leaping up from its hem. I drew her snakeskin gloves, and her snakeskin boots, and the golden snake round her neck. I made her muscles bulge as she pointed to her Snake-Pod, and, in the Snake-Pod, I drew Nani and me. I also drew Kylie in the Snake-Pod, even though she wasn’t coming, because it was a picture of my greatest dream.

  I wished I could draw the Truly Massive G-Force, but I still couldn’t.

  It did occur to me, though, that Sister Mary Ignatius was just the kind of woman who’d know what a Truly Massive G-Force was…

  Finally, I drew Sita’s hair with a whole load of snakes writhing about in it.

  When I’d finished painting my picture, I really thought it was the best one I’d ever done, and when I handed it to Sister Felicity, I distinctly heard her mutter Wow! under her breath.

  So I knew she thought the same.

  Bilal Saves The Day

  Next morning, before Mum, Nani, Bilal and I had even finished breakfast, Kylie rang the doorbell, and when I opened the door she gave me a hug and a bright congratulations-on-surviving-the-Entrance-Exam smile.

  I could see behind the smile, though. Kylie’s eyes had dark circles under them and her hair was spiky in all the wrong places. I knew she was feeling terrible. I also knew that, with the Grand Ferret Championship set to start in less than four hours, there was only the slimmest of chances we’d find Thunderball Silver the Third in time.

  But I also knew that, when Kylie and me became the Fearless Band of Snake-Warriors, we could do things that were impossible to do on our own. And, when the chips were down, we had to have one last go at Righting the Great Wrong.

  “How’s your dad?” I said, leading the way upstairs.

  “He’s making the best of it,” she said, following me. “But his heart’s not in it.”

  We knotted the snakes round our necks. Kylie took the yellow one again, and I let her. I knew she needed to feel like Sita, today of all days. Then we did our Snake-Warrior salute and set off for Big Matt McBain’s house as quickly as we could.

  We didn’t set off quickly enough to avoid Mum, who made me take Bilal because he’d been crying all morning and giving Nani a headache. And Bilal howled and dribbled all the way to Big Matt McBain’s gate.

  We stood, quaking, for a while. And then we realised that Bilal had stopped howling. He was listening, with a big smile on his face, to a low, rumbling growl far off in the distant wilderness of Big Matt’s garden.

  Kylie looked at me, and I looked at Kylie. She was deathly pale, but her eyes glowed bright.

  “It’s our last chance to rescue Thunderball,” she said grimly, pushing the gate open. “We’re going in.”

  Cautiously, we slipped through. Spike’s terrible rumbling seemed to make even the tips of the long grass vibrate.

  “Think of it as a dragon roaring,” I whispered. “Sita would make mincemeat of a dragon!”

  Slightly comforted, we began to pick our way along the path in between the rubbish. Then we reached the second gate, that led into Big Matt’s back garden.

  It had a notice on it too, which said:

  …which didn’t exactly cheer us up.

  Suddenly the rumbling growl changed into a volley of barks, and Big Matt, with Spike on the lead, rose out of the long grass with a bucket in his hand and a furious scowl on his face. They both hurtled towards us.

  I turned to leave, but I didn’t get far because when Bilal saw Big Matt, he wriggled out of my arms and, before I could grab him, he ran towards the gate with very wobbly, but very fast, steps.

  His first steps.

  Then he fell against the gate with such a bang that it opened. And before you could say spitting cobras, he was sniffing at Big Matt’s trouser legs, and Spike, who’d slipped his spiky collar, was running towards him as fast as his skinny legs would let him.

  I don’t think I’ve ever felt as scared. I had this terrible picture in my head of Spike sinking his sharp yellow teeth into Bilal, just like Nani’s mongoose. For a moment I closed my eyes, and the next thing I remember seeing was Spike licking the side of Bilal’s head as if he’d found a long-lost friend.

  I was so relieved! Not that being licked by a dog with yellow teeth is the best thing for a toddler, but compared to being savaged to death, it’s a picnic.

  Big Matt McBain, meanwhile, looked as if he’d explode with rage.

  “I ain’t got your dad’s flipping ferret!” he bellowed at us. “So get lost!”

  I slipped through the gate and began to haul Bilal away from the trouser leg, but Spike snarled at me so I stopped. I couldn’t have budged Bilal anyway. He clung like a limpet, sniffing and sucking at the string that was tied near the ankle. And that trouser leg was writhing like it had never writhed before.

  Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, Bilal bit through the string and it fell off. Like
a bright little river, a long thin flash of silvery-white poured out of the bottom of Big Matt’s trouser leg.

  Kylie yelled “Thunderball!” at the top her voice, and went charging through the long grass, jumping over empty beer barrels and weaving her way in between clumps of thistles and ferret cages. Every now and then, Kylie would make a dive for Thunderball, but he was far too fast and silky-slippery for her.

  Spike was chasing after Thunderball too, though we couldn’t see him. We could just hear lots of little high-pitched yelps. And Bilal was howling, and Big Matt McBain was stamping through the grass behind Kylie shouting, “I only borrowed him, honest!”

  So it was hardly surprising that no one saw me pick Bilal up, and give him a cuddle, and say, “Wow! You cut your first tooth!”

  After a while, Kylie gave up chasing Thunderball and Big Matt gave up chasing Kylie, and they came stomping back to the gate, shouting at one another.

  “I’ll have you know, Mr McBain,” Kylie was yelling, “that there’s a law against borrowing ferrets!”

  I couldn’t believe how strong and fearless Kylie was, standing up to Big Matt McBain like that. The streaks in her hair looked like lots of tiny snakes, and the yellow rubber snake round her neck glowed in the sun, like gold. Also, I hadn’t known there was a law against borrowing ferrets, so I was dead impressed that Kylie did.

  Big Matt McBain looked down at his big boots, and his face went very red.

  “I didn’t mean no harm, lass,” he muttered. “I’d ’ave given ’im back…”

  But Kylie was having none of it.

  “We’ve got two hours to catch Thunderball,” she told him, “or there will be Big Trouble.”

  Big Matt, looking extremely humble, got a bag and a pole, and set off to try. Kylie and I sat on a car tyre and watched him.

  “It’s no good, Yosser,” Kylie said, after about half an hour. “Thunderball isn’t called Thunderball for nothing. He’s the fastest ferret in Yorkshire.”

  I wanted to say something to cheer her up, but I couldn’t, so I changed the subject.

  “Good about Bilal’s tooth, isn’t it?” I said. “If he hadn’t bitten through the string, we’d never have found Thunderball.”

  “Great,” said Kylie, doing her best to sound enthusiastic. “Now maybe he’ll stop sucking things…”

  We both looked over at Bilal. He was leaning happily against Spike, making smacking noises with his lips.

  “Funny he hasn’t talked yet…” Kylie said thoughtfully.

  In the distance the Town Hall clock struck twelve.

  “Dad’ll be arriving with his ferrets,” Kylie sighed. “But in the spot that’s reserved for Thunderball Silver the Third, there will be an empty cage.”

  I leant over and gave Kylie’s back a pat. And it was as I leant over that I saw I was being watched.

  A few metres away, from inside a tunnel of car tyres, two bright black eyes stared out at me. I nudged Kylie.

  “Oh Yosser,” Kylie whispered, gripping my arm hard.

  For when our eyes got used to the dark, we could see that those deep black starry-bright eyes were twinkling in a sky of silvery-white fur.

  Sita, Snake-Queen of Speed

  Don’t make any sudden movements,” Kylie whispered.

  We sat as still as stuffed mongooses, staring at Thunderball’s bright eyes. And Thunderball, safe inside his car-tyre tunnel, stared back at us.

  “Can’t you call him to heel?” I asked.

  Kylie shook her head, and my heart sank. At this rate, we could be sitting in Big Matt’s garden staring at Thunderball till next year’s Grand Ferret Championships.

  But we were saved from that. We were saved, because at that moment Bilal said his first word – and a very odd word it was.

  “Nake.”

  Hardly believing our ears, we turned to look at him.

  “Nake!” he repeated, more loudly.

  “What’s he saying?” Kylie hissed. “He’s going to scare Thunderball…”

  “Nake!” Bilal shouted again, at the top of his voice. “Nake! Nake! NAKE!”

  He bounced up and down, waving his hands in Kylie’s direction.

  I looked over at what Bilal was pointing at, and suddenly it all came clear. And I realised that my baby brother Bilal was not only able to walk, chew, and speak…

  My baby brother Bilal was a genius!

  There was no time to lose. Carefully I pulled the yellow plastic snake from Kylie’s neck. Kylie wrinkled her brow, but there was no time for explanations. The Humble Vassal was taking charge.

  I crept up to the car tyre tunnel with the snake. Thunderball stared out at me. I prayed he wouldn’t back away.

  He didn’t. He crept forward. Soon he was close enough for me to see his nose. It was sniffing excitedly.

  Kylie had cottoned on by that time. “Make it writhe,” she whispered.

  I gave the snake a shake. It writhed ever so realistically, and Thunderball sniffed faster.

  “Writhe it a bit more…” Kylie said.

  I gave three enormous writhes, and on the third one, Thunderball raced toward the snake and pounced.

  He hurled himself onto it, and I let go. Then he bit it over and over again, making furious spitting noises as he tumbled about, wrapping the snake round and round himself.

  Big Matt and Bilal and Spike had joined us by then, and we all watched as Thunderball tore the plastic snake limb from limb. Except snakes haven’t got any limbs, but you know what I mean.

  Then Thunderball, his mouth spattered with foamy white spit, reared up above what was left of the snake. He looked quite noble, in a vicious, ferrety sort of way, and more like Nani’s stuffed mongoose than ever.

  But his moment of glory didn’t last. Before he had the chance to lunge down for the final kill, Big Matt threw a sack over him, scooped him up, and tied a knot. Then he handed the sack to Kylie.

  “May the best ferret win, lass,” he said quietly.

  Then he walked over to one of his cages, stuck a finger in, and began, very gently, to stroke a pink quivering nose.

  “He’ll never show ferrets again,” Kylie whispered as I picked Bilal up and we made our way out of the garden. “Never.”

  “Quite right too,” I whispered back.

  And so it was. The Fearless Band of Snake Warriors had Righted the Great Wrong.

  All the same though, I knew it would be a long time before I forgot the look on Big Matt McBain’s face as he stroked that pink, quivering, nose…

  * * *

  Kylie and me ran like the wind to the Town Hall, which was difficult because Kylie had a sackful of writhing Thunderball, and I had an armful of screaming Bilal. We tumbled up the steps just in time to hear the judge announce, “And now – the moment you’ve all been waiting for…”

  “There’s your dad, Kylie!” I said, pulling her over to a table where her dad was standing, surrounded by ferret-cages. He looked more miserable than I’ve ever seen anyone look, ever.

  “This year,” the judge was saying, “the Best In Show prize of £500 goes to…”

  He paused. I braced myself.

  “Wait!” I shouted. I ran right up to the judge, who stopped and looked over his specs at me.

  “Please, your honour,” I said, as politely as I could, “there’s a Late Entry.”

  You could have heard a ferret-whisker quiver in the silence that fell over that hall. Kylie tipped the sack on to her dad’s table, and Thunderball Silver the Third, covered in what looked like yellow confetti, tumbled out.

  The moment his feet hit the table he stood, like the champion ferret he was, with his legs straight and his silky-white tail stretched out behind him like a magnificent plume, and Kylie’s dad, his mouth wide open, gaped at him in utter, delighted, astonishment.

  He stroked him from nose to tail, removing the last of the plastic snake-bits, and muttered lovingly, “Me little Treasure… me little Treasure…”

  The judge marched to the table, and Kylie cupped
her hand and whispered in his ear for ages. When she had finished, he straightened up and gave her an understanding nod.

  Then he pushed and prodded Thunderball like anything. He peered into his eyes and he peered into his mouth. He even lifted up his tail and peered into his bottom. And when he had finished, he walked back to the stage and said:

  “It is my pleasure to announce this year’s Best In Show – Stanley Teasdale’s Thunderball Silver the Third!”

  As Kylie’s dad made his way to the stage, he could hardly get through the crowd of clapping, cheering people. When he did, and the judge presented him with the big bundle of prize money, he had tears streaming down his face.

  And when he handed us each a £20 note, Kylie and me thought we would die of happiness.

  Then Kylie looked down to the floor where Bilal was sitting. He was in his own little world, breathing in the wonderful ferrety smells all around him.

  “It’d take too long to explain just now,” she whispered to her dad, “but actually, it was Bilal who got Thunderball back.”

  Her Dad gave her a funny look, and then he smiled.

  “Well, in that case,” he said, handing Bilal another £20 note, “he’ll be wanting one of these too, won’t he!”

  I thanked Kylie’s dad and removed the £20 note before it hit Bilal’s mouth. Then I picked him up, and wiped him down, and we walked home, doing mental maths like mad.

  “Altogether,” I told Kylie after a while, “I reckon we’ve got £47.56.”

  “Which is nearly £50,” Kylie pointed out. “Which, trebled… is…”

  “… enough to go to Thrill City, I’ll bet!” I said.

  “And I’ll tell you something else, Kylie,” I added. “If Nani and me go, you’ve got to come too. Think your mum and dad’ll let you?”

  * * *

  Nani and I did go to Thrill City. And of course Stanley Teasdale, Ferret Champion of Yorkshire, let Kylie go too.

  We got to go for two nights, too, in a brilliant hotel with a pool and a jacussi, and that was because I not only passed my entrance exam to Our Lady of the Sorrows, I won the Bursary. When Sister Mary Ignatius phoned, she told us there had been extremely stiff competition, and that I’d done really well in maths and English, but what had clinched it was my painting. My painting of Sita, Snake-Queen of Speed!