Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 'OK– so here's the plan,' Flora said to her three friends the next day. 'At break time, as soon as the bell goes, we make a diversion to get Dylan out of the room and make sure he forgets his bag. Then, Charlie, you try and turn into something small. If you turn into something like a mouse, hide in his bag, and poke your head out and see what Dylan's up to when he goes to his locker or the basement. If you turn into anything smaller, like a flea or something, you can just hop on to Dylan and spy from there.' 'OK, Captain!' Charlie said, smiling and giving a smart salute. 'Can I create the diversion?' asked Wogan, with his hand up. 'You sure can,' said Flora. 'It certainly sounds like an excellent plan, Flora,' said Mohsen. 'Completely foolproof.'

'That's right,' agreed Wogan. 'I can't see this going wrong at all. There's absolutely no way it will turn into a disaster and put Charlie in mortal danger.' The moment the bell went, the friends sprang into action. Flora and Mohsen went to guard the door as the class flocked out. Meanwhile, Wogan walked up to Dylan and poked him in the chest. 'Oi– Van der Gruyne,' he said. 'What?' Dylan sneered. Only at that moment did Wogan realize he hadn't yet thought how he was going to create the diversion he was supposed to be carrying out. 'I… err… I… errrrrr…' 'Come on!' snapped Dylan. 'I haven't got all day!' 'I… errrrrrrrrrrr… was… ermmmmm… wondering if you'd like to go to the school dance with me?' 'If I'd WHAT?' Dylan replied, a look of disbelief on his face.

'If you'd like to go to the school dance with me?' Wogan repeated, looking like he didn't quite believe the words coming out of his own mouth. 'No!' barked Dylan. 'I would not like to go to the school dance with you. In fact, I can't think of a single thing I'd less like to do.' 'Is it because you're a rubbish dancer?' asked Wogan gently. 'There's no need to be embarrassed if you are.' 'A what? How DARE you? No, I am NOT a rubbish dancer! I'm a better dancer than you! WHO told you I was rubbish?'

'Oh, you know, just people. But you don't have to prove anything to anyone.' 'I could prove it ANY time, you lanky wazzock!' 'Well, you could show me how good a dancer you are right now. In the playground. Unless you're too scared?' 'RIGHT! Come on!' shouted Dylan, standing up. 'Let's go! Right now! To the playground! DANCEOFF!' Dylan stormed out of the classroom and Wogan quickly followed, giving his friends two thumbs up behind Dylan's back. Once they had both gone and the room was empty, Flora said, 'OK, Charlie, now's your chance! Think SMALL!' Charlie sat on Dylan's desk so he wouldn't have far to travel if he did manage to turn small.

He closed his eyes and remembered the previous evening: his father forcing smiles and jokes while he packed his belongings in boxes and suitcases; Charlie trying not to cry in front of his dad and making it worse. That was when the realization had really hit Charlie– his dad was actually moving out. Nothing was ever going to be the same again, and none of his family was even asking if he was OK because everybody was too wrapped up in their own problems. As Charlie began to change, he had one word in his mind: tiny. Because that was how he felt when he

saw all the huge problems in his life– like a tiny worm. Charlie began shrinking fast, his legs and arms disappearing. And he kept shrinking. And he kept shrinking. More. And more. Until he was tinier than he had ever been. Smaller than a fly. Smaller than a flea. Charlie had changed, he realized, into a tiny, TINY worm.fn1 Two thoughts hit Charlie in quick succession. The first was a burst of delight– he was closer than ever to being able to choose what creature he changed into! Before, he had just tried picturing what the animal looked like but that hadn't worked– he needed to feel how that animal felt. If he wanted to change into a gazelle, he couldn't just think of a gazelle– he needed to imagine what it was like being a gazelle, running across the vast plains of the Serengeti, scanning the horizon for deadly lions. If he wanted to change into a bird, he couldn't just think of an eagle or a magpie– he needed to feel the wind beneath his wings, his feathers ruffling silently as he glided, cradled by a current of air. Charlie had finally cracked it, he was sure. The second thought that hit Charlie was that he was in BIG, trouble. Or, more accurately, tiny, tiny trouble. When he had changed, he had been sitting on Dylan's desk. But now he was so tiny, the