Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 After a meal full of forced laughter, Charlie trudged upstairs, the knot in his stomach twisting tighter. He flopped on to his bed, staring at the ceiling, hands by his side. What exactly had happened at his dad's work? Why was it so serious? If Charlie was completely honest, he wasn't even sure what his dad's work involved. Something to do with computers? Inventing stuff, maybe? Charlie had asked umpteen times before, but whenever his dad had started replying with 'Well, son, I mean, I have explained this to you a number of times before, but never mind, my job involves…' he just switched off. He couldn't help it. His ears stopped working. And now something was happening at his dad's work that could mean they might have to sell their house and move in with Aunt Brenda?! Charlie groaned. A feeling, and yet not a feeling– a memory of a feeling– rippled through his body unnoticed. Would he have to share a room with SmoothMove?

Charlie was so preoccupied with worrying, he didn't even notice his fingers beginning to crackle with static or his right eye twitching. I mean, SmoothMove smelled awful. He never changed his socks. Charlie couldn't possibly share a room with him– he'd have to wear one of those gas masks he'd seen in history lessons about the First World War. His left eye twitching. Both eyes twitching. And what happened if they couldn't stay with Aunt Brenda? What if they had to move areas? What if Charlie had to start a new school? Rumour had it that Huntsman's School for Boys– the only other school in town, which was located in a converted Victorian prison– made their students play full- contact rugby. In their underpants. In winter.

By the time Charlie recognized the electricity searing through his body, it was too late. I'm changing! Charlie thought in total panic. No! I've got it under control! He quickly started slowing his breathing down, trying to calm himself, but he could already feel the squeezing feeling, like he was being shot down a wire into a plug socket. Think happy thoughts! Think happy thoughts! Charlie tried telling himself, remembering that it was being happy that had stopped him from changing in front of the whole school during the school play. But the only thoughts his brain would allow him to think were of moving schools and SmoothMove's crusty socks. Charlie could feel fur springing out of his skin, millions of short hairs covering his arms, his face, his body. And now, he was shrinking. His teeth like tiny daggers. Fingernails into claws. A tail. It was too late. Charlie had changed.

Now, Charlie had a fair idea what he had turned into, but it was confirmed when Chairman Meow wandered into his bedroom. Chairman Meow was the family ginger cat and was usually pretty chill, apart from the time he had tried to eat Charlie when Charlie was a spider. But we all make mistakes. However, the moment Chairman Meow clapped eyes on Charlie this time, all hell broke loose. 'WHAT THE– WHO THE– WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!' Chairman Meow screeched.

Charlie could understand him– and that meant one thing: Charlie was a cat. 'A CAT! THERE'S A CAT IN HERE! I HATE CATS!' Chairman Meow screamed. He had puffed up to about ten times his normal size, his tail huge and fluffy. He was arching his back, standing on his tippy-claws, trying to make himself as big as possible.

'GET OUT OF HERE, UNKNOWN INTRUDER CAT, OR I WILL DESTROY YOU! I WILL SHRED YOU TO TINY PIECES! BUT FIRST, AS IS TRADITION BEFORE CAT-WAR, I MUST SING THE CAT-SONG OF DEATH!' And with that Chairman Meow began howling. 'Can you PLEASE stop screeching like that? Goodness me, what a racket,' Charlie meowed. Chairman Meow glared at Charlie. 'Answer me, unknown intruder cat. Who are you? Tell me your name before I resume the Cat-Song of Death.' 'I'm–' 'One moment! There is dirt on me!' Chairman Meow began licking one leg furiously. 'There. I am