Agatha Parrot and the Heart of Mud Read online

“Agatha,” she said, “will you stay after with me?”

  “What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to Miss Pingle.”

  Wow. Ellie is scared silly about talking to teachers. What was she going to say? Soon there were just the three of us in the classroom.

  “Are you all right, Ellie?” asked Miss Pingle.

  “Martha’s upset,” said Ellie. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Your fault?” asked Miss P. “Why?”

  “I copied some words off the board that I shouldn’t have,” said Ellie.

  “What words?” said Miss P.

  “When you printed out the spelling words for Mrs. Twelvetrees, it came up on the board, and I didn’t know what it was, so I just thought we had to write it down.”

  What was Ellie talking about? I hadn’t seen any words. It had been too fuzzy! But did Miss Pingle know that?

  “Oh, no!” said Miss P. “That was my silly fault. I turned the screen on by accident.”

  “And I wrote it down,” said Ellie.

  Suddenly I understood.

  Goodness me, Ellie Slippin! I thought to myself. That is GENIUS!

  Ellie had just come up with a perfect explanation of how she came to be holding a list of the spelling words. If Mrs. T. found it, nobody would be in trouble. YO, ELLIE! GOOD ONE! I so wished I’d thought of that. Cross, cross, jealous, jealous.

  “So why is Martha upset?” asked Miss Pingle.

  But Ellie was biting her lip and staring at the floor. She’d obviously been practicing the first part in her head, but that was as far as she’d gotten. Never mind. I could take it from there!

  “Ellie showed us her piece of paper,” I said. “But when Martha realized it was the spelling words, she couldn’t take the test. Otherwise it would have been cheating.”

  “That was very honest of her!” said Miss P.

  “Yes, but now her mom’s going to be mad at her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s desperate for Martha to get on the spelling team. It could be nasty. She’ll be waiting for Martha at the school gates right now.”

  “Will she?” said Miss P. as she was already hurrying toward the door.

  “Big lady in a red coat,” I called out as Miss P. shot off down the hall.

  WAHOO! Ten out of ten and a gold sticker to Miss Pingle. She is going to get a big box of chocolates from me at the end of the year. And I mean SERIOUSLY big.

  Miss Pingle to the Rescue

  After school, the boys were going crazy on the playground. They were warming up for the game by charging around with a soccer ball and being a complete pain. The worst one was Danny Frost, who always runs with his head down, and charges into everybody and everything—WHAM BASH DONK. We call him the Boy with the Ten-Ton Head. It’s amazing that the school has any walls left after Danny’s been playing, ha ha!

  The usual bunch of moms was hanging around by the gate, including Martha’s mom in her big red coat. Ellie Slippin’s mom was letting her hold Ellie’s baby sister, Bubbles. Martha’s mom was asking Bubbles deep questions such as “Who’s a boot-i-ful likkoo girl, then?” when Martha came out the school door.

  Usually Martha would toss her bag down by the railing and get into the game with the boys, but this time she didn’t bother. Even when the ball rolled toward her, she didn’t kick it back. She just walked past her mom, headed out the gate, and set off up Odd Street.

  Martha’s mom couldn’t go because she was still holding the baby, and that’s when Miss Pingle came hurrying out the door.

  “Mrs. Swan?” said Miss Pingle. “I’m glad I caught you!”

  “Oh, dear,” said Martha’s mom. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

  “Oh, no!” said Miss P. “I just wanted to say how sorry we are that Martha isn’t on the spelling team.”

  “Isn’t she?” asked Martha’s mom.

  “But she tried so hard!” said Miss P. “It’s my fault she didn’t make it.”

  “Your fault?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Miss Pingle. “I accidentally showed her the list of words before the test, so Martha refused to take part. She said it would be unfair to the others.”

  “Did she?” said Martha’s mom. “Did she really?”

  “I know she’s terribly disappointed,” said Miss P. “But it was a very honest thing to do. You must be very proud of her.”

  Martha’s mom looked up the street to where Martha was leaning against their front gate, looking as sad as a wet cat.

  “You say she’s been trying hard?” asked Martha’s mom.

  “And she’s been very honest,” said Miss P.

  Guess what happened next?

  I’ll give you a clue. Martha’s mom passed Bubbles back. Then she quickly borrowed some money from Ellie’s mom and ran off to the sports supply store.

  I toddled home and waited, because I knew that in about ten minutes’ time there was going to be a loud knocking on the door and Martha would be standing there showing off her new soccer jersey.

  It was obvious, because Martha’s mom is really nice. All she had needed was the smallest excuse to let Martha play soccer again. So let’s have a round of applause for Martha’s big jolly mom: clap, clap, clap.

  So there I was waiting at home . . . and sure enough about ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Ha ha, good old Martha! I went to the hall and took a deep breath. I knew Martha was going to give me a monster hug, so I thought I’d better be ready. Yahoo, here we go!

  I opened the door.

  “I’m Bella,” said a girl. “Where’s James?”

  Who?

  I slammed the door shut.

  I was having the WEIRDEST daydream. Somehow I’d gotten this picture in my head of a girl outside our front door. She wasn’t much bigger than Tilly and had curly blond hair. She’d turned up with oodles of love and hugs, looking for James, and it wasn’t the normal James, either! She was expecting a tall, handsome version of James, complete with muscles, who would talk about spelling and would then go on to give her three computer screens’ worth of kisses. EEEKY FREAK!

  I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  Phew!

  That felt better. I even started to laugh. Honestly, James with muscles? And spelling? And kissing?

  HA HA HA . . . argh!

  There was another knock on the door.

  Very carefully I opened it, and this time I found myself face-to-face with a tummy.

  It was a very slim tummy in a cream sweater. Looking down, I saw a short black skirt, long suntanned legs, and shiny red high heels. Looking back up past the tummy, I saw a chunky necklace. Then high up on top was a face with big dark eyes and short black hair.

  “You must be Agatha,” said the tall lady, and then she smiled, and her mouth went right from one ear to the other and she had about two hundred teeth. “You won’t remember me. I’m your mom’s sister.”

  “Auntie Zoe!” I gasped.

  She was standing on our doorstep at number 5 Odd Street just like she was posing for the Duchess Catalogue. It was awesome! What was even more awesome was the car parked on the street behind her. I knew it had to be Auntie Zoe’s, because it was exactly the same color as her shoes! Matching shoes and cars is the sort of thing us models do.

  I heard the clumping noise of footsteps in the hallway behind me.

  “Good grief!” Dad gasped. He put his hand up and stroked it across the top of his bald head a few times. I wasn’t sure why.

  “Hello there!” said Auntie Z.

  “Yes, gosh, hello and hello, gosh, hello, yes,” said Dad. He stroked his hand across his head again. Then Mom appeared behind him.

  “Zoe!” she blurted out, and immediately pushed past Dad and me and gave Auntie Zoe a big rough hug that nearly pulled her out of her shoes. “What brings you here?”

  “Filming down on Main Street,” said Zoe.

  “Oh, WOW!” I said. “Are you an actress?”

  “Hardly!” said Auntie Z. “I j
ust sat in the back of a bank pretending to be a secretary for a commercial.”

  “You look fabulous!” Mom giggled.

  “I’m glad you think so,” said Auntie Z. “It took me three hours to get like this. And if I can borrow your bathroom, it’ll take me two minutes to look like a scarecrow again.”

  “Come in, come in!” said Mom.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but we didn’t know we were coming this way until today.”

  “We?” I said. “Is there somebody else?”

  “Of course,” said Auntie Zoe. “I’ve brought Bella to meet you.”

  Auntie Zoe stepped past me, and standing behind her was the girl with blond curls. Although she was small, when I got a better look at her, I realized she was at least as old as me. “Who are you?” she demanded suspiciously.

  “Agatha.”

  “But you’re supposed to be pretty,” she said.

  Well, honestly. Of all the nerve!

  This is the girl who told James that she had brown hair and was the tallest in her class! You just can’t trust some people.

  Then I remembered my really nasty thought. James was supposed to be tall and handsome, with muscles! What was she going to say when she saw him?

  I didn’t have to wait long to find out, because James came down the street bouncing a soccer ball. He just pushed past Bella and me and went in.

  “Is that James?” She gasped.

  Well, there was no point lying, was there?

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Oh, no!” she said, looking horrified.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I asked.

  “He’s . . . he’s . . . gorgeous!”

  “James? Gorgeous?” I said.

  “He’s so tall. And handsome. And has muscles!” said Bella. “What’s he going to think of me?”

  She looked really upset. I found myself feeling a bit sorry for her, since she was obviously completely insane.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s a little shy.”

  “Shy? You’re kidding!” said Bella. “You should see what he puts in his emails.”

  “He’s VERY shy about emails,” I said. “It’s best not to mention them.”

  “Oh,” said Bella, sounding disappointed. “Never mind. At least we can talk about spelling.”

  “NO!” I shouted by accident. “I mean, no, he’s even more shy about spelling.”

  “So what can we talk about?” asked Bella.

  “It’s probably best just to look at him,” I said. “You can admire his handsome muscles.”

  “Okay,” said Bella with a big happy smile.

  Yes, she was clearly as crazy as a cat in a carwash. No wonder I was beginning to like her.

  Don’t Talk About the Diaper

  Dinner with Auntie Zoe and Bella was surprisingly cool!

  We were in a little bit of a rush because James had to get to the game, so Mom sent Dad out to get some emergency food. He came back with “A Real Taste of Spain,” which had juicy shrimp, rice, peas, and an exciting blend of herbs. Each serving also had 322 calories, 11 grams of fat, and 1,240 mgs of sodium (no, I still don’t know what that is).

  But the best thing is that Dad got TWO boxes. That was enough for eight people, but there were only seven of us, so we each got an extra blob of fat and a few more mgs of sodium. YUM!

  Auntie Zoe and Mom did all the talking. Tilly stared at Bella, who stared at James, who stared at Dad . . . and Dad kept staring at Auntie Zoe and stroking the top of his head.

  Eventually I had to ask.

  “Dad, why do you keep stroking your head?”

  “I don’t,” said Dad, stroking his head.

  “Yes, you do.” Mom laughed. “You’re combing your hair to look nice for Zoe.”

  “But I haven’t got a comb!” said Dad.

  “You haven’t got any hair,” said Tilly, which was a little unkind.

  But it was still funny.

  HA HA HA HA HA!

  “Last time we saw Zoe, he had some hair,” said Mom. “And now that we’re seeing her again, Dad’s forgotten that it’s all gone.”

  “He had lovely hair,” said Auntie Zoe. “Long and shiny with beautiful curls.”

  HA HA HA HA HA!

  For some reason Dad with hair is even funnier than Dad without hair.

  “I remember he was taking my photograph,” said Auntie Zoe. “Agatha was a baby on my knee, and I was wearing a light blue skirt, and her diaper came undone . . .”

  WHAT? Now, that is NOT funny. Grrr.

  “LOOK AT THE TIME!” I said, a bit too loudly, and I immediately started putting all the plates in the sink. “We have to get to James’s soccer game.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Mom to Auntie Zoe. “You’ve only just arrived.”

  “Maybe we could come along and watch too?” said Auntie Zoe.

  So that’s what they did.

  The Surprise Substitute

  It was cold, it was muddy, and after a WHOLE HOUR of kicking and shouting, it was still zero—zero.

  YAWN! But that’s soccer for you.

  Motley had set the goals up after school, and then he’d spent the game running around the field trying to keep out of the way. It took me forever to realize he was supposed to be the referee, but he’d given up on blowing his whistle, because nobody did what he said. Poor old Motley!

  At least Martha was getting to play with James on the blue team. She’d turned up with her mom before the game, and when she’d shown off her new soccer jersey, everybody had cheered.

  “And DON’T get it dirty,” Martha’s mom had shouted.

  But everybody knows that a muddy Martha is a happy Martha. Sure enough, about four and a half seconds later, a boy on the yellow team had deliberately run into her and they’d both fallen over. He rolled about on the ground moaning and clutching his leg, while Martha got right back up with a big smile, all ready to take on the next one. WAHOO, GO, MARTHA! We love Martha.

  Dad had joined a bunch of noisy blue-team dads who were all pointing and shouting at the game. Mom and Auntie Zoe weren’t even pretending to watch. They were still yakking away like crazy. Tilly was stomping around in her rubber booties, looking for worms to squash, which left just me standing with Bella. She’d spent the whole time watching James and waving little waves at him whenever he came close.

  I should have guessed what was coming.

  “James hasn’t waved back once,” she said. “And he didn’t talk to me at dinner.”

  “Really?” I said, trying to sound surprised.

  “Do you think James likes me?” Bella asked.

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure he does,” I said.

  “Do you think he likes me a lot?”

  “It’s always hard to tell with James,” I said. “He doesn’t show his feelings much. He’s the quiet type.”

  And then suddenly . . .

  “GOAL!” shouted everybody.

  Although I hadn’t been watching, it wasn’t hard to guess who’d scored.

  James was jumping up and down, cheering. Then he stood there with his arms outstretched while all the others came to give him a big BOY HUG. He ran around giving them all high-fives, and finally he charged in front of us, beating his chest with his fists and shouting, “NUM-BER ONE! NUM-BER ONE!”

  “The quiet type?” Bella moaned. “He’s not the quiet type! Why didn’t he do that when he saw me?”

  “Ah, well . . . he does like soccer,” I said.

  “He obviously likes it more than he likes me,” said Bella sadly. “He’s got a heart of mud.”

  She got quiet again. Oh, dear. She might have been insane, but I was starting to feel rotten about the emails I’d sent.

  (By the way, you just went past the title of the book. Did you notice it? If you did, then you get a gold star and a little cheer: WAHOO!)

  When the game started again, the yellow dads did some extra-loud shouting, and the yellow team woke up a bit. At one point, there was a yellow player waiting quite
near the blues’ goal when the ball came flying over to him. Martha was too far away to do anything, but Danny Frost was close. He put his big head down and charged.

  “WAAAAAH!” shouted Danny.

  His head hit the yellow boy in the tummy and knocked him over.

  “Ha ha ha!” laughed all the blues.

  “PENALTY!” shouted all the yellow dads at Motley.

  “Is it?” said Motley. “Hang on, in that case.”

  Motley had put his whistle in his pocket to keep it warm, but by the time he’d got it out, a yellow had already taken the penalty kick and the score was 1–1.

  Now BOTH teams had woken up, and things were getting rougher.

  Two big yellows were on the attack, but Martha ran into one of them and sent him flying. That just left the other yellow to face Danny, so Danny did what Danny does.

  “WAAAAAH!” shouted the Boy with the Ten-Ton Head.

  But this time the yellow knew what to expect. As Danny came charging toward him, the yellow stepped aside. Danny missed and shot off the field and went headfirst into a tree. THUNK!

  Danny sat on the ground, looking very dizzy. There was no way he could play anymore, so the blues looked around for a substitute to take his place. All the spare players had gotten so bored at the start of the game that they’d gone home, so James ended up looking at me, but NO WAY! Then he saw Bella waving her little wave at him.

  “What do you want?” demanded James.

  “Just saying hello,” said Bella.

  “Yeah, whatever,” said James. “We need somebody who can play.”

  “Okay!” she shouted, and ran onto the field.

  There was an argument about it, but Bella wasn’t backing down.

  “I go jogging with Mom,” said Bella. “So I bet I can run faster than any of you.”

  The blues all turned to stare at Auntie Zoe, who looked like she could run one hundred miles per hour.