morning.”
Pete’s shoulders slumped. It was worth a try.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll do it, though.”
“You won’t?”
Miss Green gave a secretive little smile. It made Pete uneasy right down to the seat of his pants. “Not if I don’t have to.” Then she changed the subject: “Tell me about your skateboard.”
Pete shrugged. “You know everything anyway.” He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, and when she said nothing, he continued, “I have this sort of brain link with it, and it can fly …”
She leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear more. “And?”
“Well … It can go uphill.”
“That’s all?”
Her disappointment further unsettled Pete. “There should be more?”
Miss Green sighed. “Old Humperdinck often did sloppy work.”
Pete felt a familiar little knot in his stomach. Someone saying bad things about his friend made him angry. “He did?”
“Can your skateboard telepenetrate?” she asked, and when she saw the confusion on Pete’s face, she elaborated, “Can it go from one place to another in a nanosecond, like that?” She snapped her fingers.
Pete shook his head.
“Does it speak, or grant wishes?”
“No, but …”
“See? Typical of the old man. Real third-rate job.”
Pete was stunned.
“Look, these are all standard features of an entry-level magic skateboard. I, for one, always include them when I make one.”
“You make magic skateboards?”
She smiled again. “You mean, would I make you a magic skateboard? It depends …”
The water was boiling. Her silver bangles tinkled as she busied herself with making the coffee.
“It’s an expensive business, making a magic skateboard.”
Mr Humperdinck had made his for free. He said nothing.
She changed the subject again. “Have you heard about the manuscript?”
Pete shook his head.
“It’s all over the Weave!” She switched on the computer on her desk. “You do know what the Fairyweave is, don’t you?”
“Nope.”
“Fairies can make magic,” she explained, “that extends their consciousness like threads into space. When two threads touch each other, there is exchange of knowledge. Millions of threads weave together and form the Fairyweave. It spans the globe.”
Pete was impressed. “Sounds like the internet!”
“Exactly!” said Miss Green. “For thousands of years, humans have tied into the Weave with various interfaces: crystal balls, bones, teacups, palm reading and so forth. Nowadays it’s much easier. I have a WaDI on my computer. A Weave Digital Interface.”
She started a programme, and the splash screen said SuperWaDI ©BrickWare. A moment later a bewildering stream of images exploded on the screen. Miss Green placed her hand on a crimson gem next to the keyboard and immediately the images slowed down and became more well behaved. There were views of Fairy, the world that few mortals have ever seen: sublime beings and nightmarish monsters, unearthly landscapes and weird gadgets. There was also an endless chattering of fairies about their neighbours, shopping, sport, body odour and almost everything else under the sun.
This gave Pete an idea. “Can you see the future with it?” he asked, thinking of the next week’s History test.
Miss Green shook her head. “No one can see the future. Why do you think casinos make money and fortune tellers are poor?”
A moment later an image of Mr Humperdinck appeared on the screen, and she hit the space bar. The screen froze, and then she scrolled through images and text that seemed to move randomly in all directions across the screen. “You see this? Old Humperdinck was on the verge of discovering a manuscript of great value and power just before he died. All the clues should be among his documents.”
Pete tried to read text that drifted diagonally across the screen, but it made him dizzy. “What’s this manuscript about?”
“We can only speculate, but everyone seems to be certain about the author. It was written by the great Hammurabi of Mesopotamia.” Miss Green turned to Pete and grabbed him by the arm, startling him with her sudden intensity. “We have to find this manuscript, you and I, Pete! It’s worth millions! All our dreams can come true!”
There was a greedy glint in her eyes that scared Pete and ignited his flight instinct. He pulled his arm away. “Mr Humperdinck left all his documents to the Snowman. I don’t think …”
“No, Pete, do think! Think about that magic skateboard! We’ll split everything fifty-fifty.”
Pete got up. “I have to go. If my dad finds out that I’m not in bed, there’ll be trouble.”
“Your father,” she said softly. “Think of your father. Think how you could help him if you suddenly made a fortune …” She smiled.
“My dad’s okay! He’s starting a new job and he’s going to earn loads of money.”
She smiled again, barely moving the edges of her mouth. Her eyes remained hard and cold. “Ask your dad tomorrow how much he’ll be earning, and then think about my offer, Patchwork Pete.” She steered him towards the door.
Mannie Mouton had been calling him “Patchwork Pete” since the day he came to school with a patch on the seat of his pants. He had always ignored it, but the way Miss Green said it, was like a blow to the guts. He ran down the corridor and was out of the building in a flash.
“Psst … Pete!” Freddy’s loud whisper caught his attention. His friend was in the deep shadows of the alley where they planned to meet if things went wrong.
“Did you get my skateboard?”
“No, I think it was locked in one of the cupboards. When Rose nabbed you, I escaped through the window and slid down the gutter. What happened?”
The disappointment was overwhelming. “Dammit, Freddy, couldn’t you have tried a bit harder? You were right there!”
“Don’t shout, okay! I said it was locked away. Tell me, did she call the police? Did she torture you?”
Pete didn’t feel like talking. He was angry and suddenly bone-tired. He wanted to be in bed. “Nothing happened. I got away.”
He left Freddy in the alley and walked home alone.
Pete felt like chewing gum stretched between a shoe and a hot road. Miss Green had an aura of mystery and cold power. She was scary. At the same time she intrigued and attracted him. Somehow she had awakened a new emotion in him. Life had taught him not to want anything, because it usually ended in disappointment. He had always been okay with what he had, and happy when he received something unexpected. But a skateboard that could telepenetrate and grant wishes …
He wanted it.
And he didn’t want to be “Patchwork Pete” anymore.
The sun was rising when he finally climbed through the window of their flat. He made sure that his dad was still asleep, and quietly slipped into bed. He was asleep in an instant. When Peter Smith came back from church later that morning, he tried to wake Pete. Pete mumbled something about a headache, turned over and slept again.
On Monday morning, Pete woke with a ton of bricks in his stomach. If he could have avoided going to school he would have, but he couldn’t find an excuse. And he