Chapter 11

Tuesday– Hulk still missing Hulk has been missing for three days. He is so fragile and delicate that I am wondering if he's been whisked off by one of those mini tornados you sometimes get. He could well be on a very nice beach somewhere in Devon right now... or stuck up a pylon. Dev has perked up since Sunday. I knew, because he was wearing his beret at school break time. He only puts it on when he is in a

good mood. He had an idea for his performance for the variety show. He didn't tell me what it was though; it is top secret. He and other members of the drama club have been to Miss Gabb's cramped town centre flat to rehearse. Apparently, her neighbours complained about over-extravagantly dressed people flouncing in and out, and awful show tunes blasting from her window. They don't like excitement much. Mrs Sharma came round to tell us about an open evening at the care home she works at. It's tomorrow. She is asking people to donate homemade cakes. I have never made one in my life but I have eaten an impressive amount. (Including the time I accidentally took a bite out of a 'cake' of soap, thinking it

was cheese). So far, my cooking skills include: 1. Frying an omelette which stuck to Dad's wok like a barnacle. He couldn't save it so he turned it into a tadpole pond (the wok, not the omelette). 2. Baking a jacket potato in the microwave so long it became fossilised. I took it to school and convinced Ged that it was a

dinosaur egg. He stole it off me and showed it to Mr Claypot the geography teacher who gave him detention for wasting his time. Ged's had it in for me ever since. 3. Cooking a pizza in the oven but forgetting to take off the plastic wrapper. It set off the smoke alarm and Mam had to take it out of the oven with a shovel and frisbee it outside. It landed in Mr Pike's garden and he

came out and stared at the sky in a confused manner for ages. But I've never made a cake. I could be BRILLIANT, for all I know! Even better than I am at magic. Although until Hulk turns up, I can't do my act, so technically I am still without a talent. Mam was pleased I offered to bake because it meant she didn't have to

do it and could finish grouting the bathroom tiles instead. Dev helped me make the cake. We couldn't agree what type to make so we wrote down all the cakes known to humankind, cut the paper into strips, folded them and put them in a bowl. It was the most dedicated piece of homework I have done since drawing a diagram of the life cycle of a fruit fly last term. We got Oli to pick out a slip and read it. 'Chocolate meringue Mont Blanc cake,' he announced, getting the French bit all wrong. I went and looked in the cupboard. 'We don't have any chocolate,' I said.