Fleas! Read online

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

  Bertie’s chance came a few minutes later. Mr Weakly took off his reading glasses and asked them to copy some questions into their workbooks. Bertie raised his hand.

  “Yes? What is it?” asked Mr Weakly.

  “I’ve run out of space in my workbook, sir,” said Bertie.

  “Oh,” said Mr Weakly. “Um, what do you normally do?”

  “Miss Boot keeps new workbooks in the store room,” said Bertie, pointing at the door. “The key’s in the drawer.”

  “Thank you, um…” said Mr Weakly, forgetting Bertie’s name. “The rest of you carry on with your work.”

  Mr Weakly found the key and unlocked the store room door. He disappeared inside, leaving the door open and the key in the lock. Bertie could hear him rummaging on the shelves, looking for the workbooks.

  “Go on!” whispered Darren. “Before he comes out!”

  Bertie slid out of his seat and crept towards the door. One or two of the class looked up from their work.

  Bertie reached out a hand.

  “SLAM!” The door swung shut.

  “CLICK!” The key turned in the lock.

  “OH!” cried Mr Weakly from inside. “What’s happening?”

  Bertie pocketed the key and turned to Darren in triumph. The class were all staring at him open-mouthed.

  “You’ve locked him in!” said Darren.

  “I know,” grinned Bertie. “That was the dare.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it. What are you going to do now?” asked Darren.

  Bertie’s grin faded – he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He supposed Mr Weakly might be a bit cross. More than a bit in fact. If he’d locked Miss Boot in the store room she would have snorted like a mad bull.

  “You’re for it,” said Donna.

  “He’s going to kill you,” said Know-All Nick.

  “No he isn’t,” said Bertie. “How does he know it was me?”

  CHAPTER 2

  THUMP! THUMP! Mr Weakly was knocking on the door.

  “Children!” he pleaded. “Really, this isn’t funny. I’m going to count to three.” He counted to three. “One … two … three.” Nothing happened.

  Eugene looked anxious. “We can’t just leave him there,” he said.

  “You let him out then,” said Darren. “I’m not getting into trouble.”

  “Why me?” said Eugene. “I didn’t lock him in, Bertie did.”

  They all turned to look at Bertie who had crossed to Mr Weakly’s desk.

  He had always wondered what it would be like to sit in the teacher’s chair. He picked up Mr Weakly’s reading glasses and put them on. He added Mr Weakly’s jacket.

  “Too much chatter!” he said, sternly. “Get on with your work!”

  “You look like a teacher,” giggled Donna.

  “I am a teacher,” said Bertie. “I’m a very strict teacher and you’ll all be staying in at playtime if you don’t behave!”

  The class laughed. Bertie sounded like Miss Boot in a bad mood.

  He peered at them over his glasses. “Who made that pong?” he demanded. “Nick, was that you?”

  The class howled with laughter. Know-All Nick turned scarlet.

  “You wait. You’re in so much trouble,” he said. “When Miss Skinner finds out, she’ll go up the wall.”

  Bertie hadn’t thought of Miss Skinner. The head teacher had a nasty habit of looking in on a class unexpectedly. If Miss Skinner found out he’d locked Mr Weakly in the store room there’d be trouble. The thumps were getting louder. Bertie eyed the door. Maybe he should unlock it? If he moved fast he could be back in his seat before Mr Weakly got free. He felt in his pocket. He plunged his hand in deeper. A look of horror crossed his face.

  “It’s gone!” he said. “I’ve lost the key!”

  “Ha ha!” said Darren. “Come on Bertie, stop messing around.”

  “I’m not messing around! I put it in my pocket just now.”

  Bertie turned out his pocket and saw the small hole in the lining.

  The key must have slipped through and fallen out. What if he couldn’t find it? What if Mr Weakly was locked in the store room for ever?

  “Don’t just stand there!” he cried. “Help me look!”

  Bertie, Darren and Donna got down on their hands and knees to search the floor.

  Know-All Nick leaned back in his chair, smiling. “I told you,” he jeered. “You are in so much trouble, Bertie.”

  Eugene had been keeping watch at the window. “Hurry up!” he warned. “Someone’s coming!”

  “What?” said Bertie.

  The class crowded at the window to look. A woman with wild red hair was striding purposefully across the courtyard towards them.

  “Oh her,” said Know-all Nick. “She’s the school inspector. Miss Skinner said she was coming today.”

  “Inspector?” said Bertie, horrified. “What’s she inspecting?”

  “Our school. Weren’t you listening in assembly? I expect she wants to inspect Mr Weakly.”

  They all looked at the store room door. Mr Weakly was rattling the handle.

  “We’ve got to get him out!” said Bertie, starting to panic.

  “We?” said Know-All Nick. “You locked him in there, you get him out.”

  “But I can’t find the key!” moaned Bertie.

  “Do something!” cried Eugene. “She’s coming up the stairs.”

  “Wait, I’ve got an idea,” said Donna. “Bertie can pretend he’s our teacher.”

  “What?” said Bertie.

  “Pretend to be Mr Weakly. You’re wearing his jacket and glasses. Just say you’re him.”

  “Are you crazy?” said Bertie. “She’ll know I’m not him!”

  “No she won’t, she’s probably never met him. All you have to do is sit at a desk and act like a teacher. You can do it!”

  “Yeah,” said Darren. “I dare you!”

  Bertie shot Darren a look. But maybe Donna was right. He was always doing impressions of Miss Boot, so why couldn’t he be Mr Weakly? In any case he didn’t have a better idea. He sat down at the teacher’s desk. The class were all out of their seats, milling around like lost sheep.

  “Well SIT DOWN!” cried Bertie. “Look as if you’re working!”

  Everyone ran to their desks and sat down. Even Know-All Nick did as he was told. Bertie was amazed at his own power. He gave an order and everyone obeyed him. So this was what it was like to be a teacher!

  CHAPTER 3

  Miss Barker knocked on the classroom door and entered. She had heard scuffling as she approached but now the class all seemed to be working quietly. A scruffy boy sat at the teacher’s desk in a jacket that was far too big for him.

  “Good morning. My name is Miss Barker,” she said. “Where is your teacher?”

  “Yes, good morning,” replied Bertie. “I am the teacher.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” snapped Miss Barker. “Where is Mr Weakly?”

  “Yes, Mr Weakly. That’s my name,” nodded Bertie, his glasses sliding down his nose. He pushed them back up again.

  Miss Barker peered down at the boy. Teachers seemed to be getting younger and younger these days, but this was absurd. This one hardly looked any older than the rest of the class. When she’d first entered the room she could have sworn he had a finger up his nose.

  “How old are you?” she demanded.

  “Seven … seventeen,” said Bertie, correcting himself quickly.

  “Seventeen? That’s far too young to be a teacher!”

  “Yes,” said Bertie. “It is for a normal teacher but it’s ’cos I’m more cleverer than normal.”

  “More cleverer?” repeated Miss Barker.

  “Yes,” said Bertie. “I used to get ten out of tens at school all the time. So in the end they said I just ought to get on and start teaching.”

  Miss Barker was about to reply but she was interrupted by a strange knock
ing sound.

  “What’s that noise?” she said.

  “What noise?” asked Bertie.

  “That banging noise.”

  “Oh that,” said Bertie. “That’s just Miss Todd, teaching next door. She gets a bit cross sometimes and she starts banging on the walls and things.”

  “Banging on the walls? Good heavens!” said Miss Barker.

  She made a note in her black file and turned back to Bertie. “Well,” she said, “if you really are Mr Weakly you better get on with the lesson.”

  “What?” said Bertie.

  “The lesson. The lesson you’re teaching.”

  “Oh yes, that,” said Bertie. He gulped and pushed his glasses back up his nose. Miss Barker’s face had gone all blurry. She seemed to be waiting for him to start. But what could he teach? He knew a lot about fleas – maybe he should draw some fleas on the board?

  The banging from the store room started up again. He had to do something to drown out the noise.

  “Maths!” he said, practically shouting. “We were just going to do a few sums.” The class stared at him blankly, all except Darren who was pulling faces at him from the back row.

  “Darren!” said Bertie.

  “Yes?”

  “Stand up,” said Bertie.

  Darren stood up.

  “What is two plus two?” asked Bertie.

  Darren thought a moment. “Four,” he said.

  “Very good, sit down,” said Bertie. “Eugene.”

  “Yes, Bertie … I mean yes, sir,” said Eugene, standing up.

  “What are three twos, Eugene?”

  “Six!” squeaked Eugene.

  “Very good,” said Bertie. “Nick.”

  Know-All Nick got to his feet. “Miss Barker—” he began, but Bertie cut him off.

  “Pay attention, Nick. What is 2,740 times 7 million?”

  Know-All Nick’s mouth dropped open.

  “Come on, come on,” said Bertie, enjoying himself. “I haven’t got all day!”

  “I … I … don’t know,” stammered Know-All Nick.

  Bertie peered over his glasses. “Tut tut, Nick! Extra homework for you tonight.”

  CHAPTER 4

  THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The banging from the store room was deafening.

  “Help!” cried Mr Weakly. “Can anyone hear me?”

  Miss Barker stood up. “There’s someone behind that door!” she said.

  “No um ah … I don’t think so,” mumbled Bertie.

  “Let me out! PLEASE!” begged Mr Weakly.

  “There is someone in there,” said Miss Barker. “I can hear them shouting!”

  Bertie’s heart sank. Miss Barker hurried over to the store room and spoke through the door.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello!” replied Mr Weakly. “Thank heavens! Who’s that?”

  “This is Miss Barker – the school inspector.”

  “Oh dear!” said Mr Weakly in a faint voice.

  “What are you doing in there?”

  “I’m locked in!” said Mr Weakly. “I came in to get a book and the door shut and now I’m locked in.”

  “Wait there!” said the inspector. “I’m going to fetch a teacher.”

  “I am a teacher,” said Mr Weakly. “I’m Mr Weakly.”

  Miss Barker looked puzzled. “But I thought … Mr Weakly is right here…”

  She turned back to the teacher’s desk. But there was no sign of the scruffy boy she had been talking to – only a pair of glasses and a crumpled jacket that lay on his chair. Bertie had seized his chance to escape… He’d had enough of teaching for today. As he slid into his place he felt something sharp in his pocket. He pulled it out and stared at the silver key in surprise.

  “Look!” he whispered to Darren. “It was in my other pocket all the time!”

  Know-All Nick had turned round in his seat. He raised his hand in the air.

  “Miss Barker! Miss Barker!” he said. “Bertie’s got something to show you!”

  The next day Miss Boot was back.

  “Let’s begin with Art,” she said, with a gleam in her eye. “We’ll need brushes and powder paints. Bertie, perhaps you’d like to fetch them from the store room?”

  Bertie turned pale. He suddenly didn’t feel well. “ME?” he said.

  CHAPTER 1

  BOOF! Bertie landed two-footed in the big pile of leaves, scattering them everywhere.

  “My go!” said Darren.

  “HEY, YOU TWO! OFF THERE!” roared an angry voice. A bald, red-faced man was striding across the playground towards them.

  “Uh-oh,” said Darren. It was Mr Grouch, the school caretaker.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” demanded Mr Grouch.

  “Um, jumping in leaves,” said Bertie.

  “Do you know how long it took me to sweep those up?” shouted Mr Grouch, waving his broom.

  Bertie picked up a leaf and put it back on the pile. “Sorry Mr Grouch, we were only playing.”

  “Well DON’T play! Not where I’m working.”

  “But this is a playground.”

  Mr Grouch narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “No, Mr Grouch,” replied Bertie.

  “Then don’t answer back. And keep out of my way!”

  Mr Grouch glared after Bertie and Darren as they trudged off. Mr Grouch didn’t like children and he didn’t like mess. Most of all he didn’t like Bertie. It was Bertie who left muddy footprints all over Mr Grouch’s newly washed floors. It was Bertie who drew faces on Mr Grouch’s spotless windows.

  And Mr Grouch was sure it was Bertie who had flooded the boys’ toilets by trying to flush away an entire toilet roll. In Mr Grouch’s view, Bertie was a menace. In Bertie’s view, Mr Grouch was a vampire with a broom.

  “What shall we do now?” asked Darren, as they watched the caretaker sweep the leaves back into a neat pile. Bertie wasn’t listening. He was staring at something coming along the road. A shiny red fire engine was slowing down and signalling left. Bertie watched with growing excitement as it turned in through the school gates.

  The fire engine halted in the car park in front of the school and a woman in a smart blue uniform climbed out. Bertie and Darren hurried over.

  “What’s happening? Is the school on fire?” asked Bertie, hopefully.

  “I’m afraid not,” laughed the woman. “I’m Val, what’s your name?”

  “Bertie. Are you a fireman?”

  “Well I’m a fire fighter. We’re here on a visit. Didn’t Miss Skinner tell you we were coming?”

  Mr Grouch came storming over with a face like thunder. He pointed at the fire engine. “You can’t leave that there! It’s in my way.”

  Val smiled. “Sorry, Miss Skinner said to park it there.”

  “Did she now? We’ll see about that!” said Mr Grouch, and he stormed off muttering to himself.

  “Oh, dear,” said Val, pulling a face. “Am I in trouble?”

  “That’s nothing,” said Bertie. “You should try jumping in a pile of leaves.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Bertie could hardly believe it – a real fire crew! His school hardly ever got visitors. The last one they had was the nurse who checked them for head lice. The fire crew stayed all morning and spoke to the whole school. Bertie learned how to dial 999 and what to do in case of a fire.

  Outside Bertie and his friends staggered around wearing helmets on their heads. They sat in the red engine and turned on the flashing blue light. Finally they helped the fire crew unroll a hose that stretched all the way across the playground.

  “Can we turn it on?” asked Bertie.

  “Sorry, Bertie, not allowed,” said Val. “Only if there’s a real fire.”

  Bertie wished he could help put out a real fire. He imagined the school crackling with flames and all the teachers at the windows crying for help. He would climb up the huge long ladder and carry them down one by one. (Miss Boot could wait till last. Come to think of it, Miss Boot could c
limb down by herself.)

  At lunchtime, Bertie and his friends gazed across at the fire engine longingly. “I wish we could play on it,” sighed Bertie.

  “Miss Boot said we’re not allowed,” said Eugene.

  “Well I think it’s cruelty,” said Bertie. “Leaving a fire engine right next to a playground and then telling us we’re not allowed to play on it. It’s cruelty to children.”

  Know-All Nick had sidled up to them unnoticed. “I bet none of you have ridden in a fire engine,” he said. “I have!”

  “When?” said Bertie.

  “Hundreds of times,” said Know-All Nick. “My uncle’s a fireman and he lets me go in it whenever I like.”

  “I bet he doesn’t,” said Bertie. “How come we’ve never seen you?”

  Know-All Nick shrugged. “Next time I’ll ask him to drive right past your house, Bertie.”

  Bertie snorted. Know-All Nick was always making things up. Once he told them that he’d seen the Queen queuing at the bus stop. Bertie didn’t believe that and he didn’t believe Nick’s uncle drove a fire engine. He probably drove a milk van.

  “Anyway,” said Bertie. “We don’t want to go in your smelly old fire engine. We’ve got our own.” He gripped an imaginary steering wheel and flicked an imaginary switch in front of him. “Come on!” he said.

  “WOO! WOO! WOO!” went Bertie’s siren as he drove off with Darren, Donna and Eugene hanging on behind him. Nick scowled, watching them go.

  They drove the fire engine four times round the playground, stopping to put out several fires on the way. When they’d had enough they flopped down on the grass to rest.