100% Hero (9 page)

'No!' a deep, throaty voice growled. 'Leave this
place!'

And that was all Freddy heard, for he clamped
his hands over his ears, and closed his eyes. This was
far worse than Coldfax: at least then he had Batty to
comfort him. How much braver he felt when she was
with him.

Chester arose early the next morning, for he had a
journey to make and a man to visit. His goodbyes
with his daughter were to the point.

'He must not leave here, so watch him like a hawk.
If he tries any funny business, call me. I'll know what
to do.'

'But, Papa, how long must I stay in this dump?'
Priscilla sulked, looking around. It was the height of
summer, and yet the house was freezing.

'Until I have pulled that castle apart – at least a
week, princess. Now, be Papa's brave girl.'

Priscilla smiled. Of course she could be brave, if
jewels were involved.

Freddy stood up defiantly as his door was unlocked
the next morning. He glared at Madam Tarot, his hair
sticking up wildly and his collar half tucked into his
jumper. He was wearing camouflage trousers and
heavy black boots, ready for adventure.

'You vill vear zis.' With a scowl, the little lady threw
some clothes at him.

'No way!' Freddy said.

'Danze rehearzal in five minutes, in ze ztudio,' she
snapped, banging her stick on the floor.

'But what about breakfast? I'm starving. I never
had any supper.'

She shrugged. 'No danze, no food.'

Freddy scowled at the tights and little jacket she
had given him.

'No way am I wearing these.' He threw them back
outside. 'I'm not a girlie fluff bunny.'

'No tights, no danze. No danze, no food.' Madam
Tarot threw the tights back again. They landed on
Freddy's head. She swung the door closed.

'No, wait!' Freddy cried. His stomach was howling.

'I'll return after lunch and zee if you have changed
your mind,' Madam Tarot called as she limped toward
the shadows.

'Great bubbling farts!' Freddy groaned. What a
nightmare. He hurled the tights to the floor in a fury.
No way was he going to give in – a werewolf could
not be broken that easily! He flung himself facedown
onto the mattress. Wearing tights was as bad as being
pink. No-one was
ever
going to make him look that
ridiculous again.

Breakfast-time passed. It began to rain, in grey, endless
sheets. Freddy stared forlornly from the window. He
tried to open it, but it was nailed down. As the morning
dragged on, and on, and on, Freddy's stomach bubbled
for mercy. Lunchtime came and went, and still no-one
rescued him.

By three o'clock, he was a broken wolf. He had
to eat.

'Okay, I give in,' he wailed weakly at the door.

He heard the shuffle and tap of the headmistress
approaching, and waited for the door to swing open.

He thrust out his chest as Madam Tarot looked
him up and down. He was wearing the clothes she
had given him: pink tights, ballet slippers and a
purple silk Prince Charming jacket. He had been
coiffured in a poodle parlour – he could get through
this.

'If you could now kindly show me to the sausages,
Ma'am,' he said pompously and bowed. Then,
with dignity that only a werewolf is capable of, he
walked on his tiptoes from the room, his little bum
wiggling.

He followed Madam down the corridor into a dining
room filled with two long tables and wooden benches.

'First you eat, zen we danze,' the headmistress
snapped.

A plate of food lay waiting.

'Ha-ha-hardy-ha!' Freddy laughed and sank onto
the seat thankfully.

Then he looked in shocked dismay at his plate.
He prodded the food with his fork. He lifted it up,
sniffed it, and then dropped it in disgust.

'Green vegetables?'

It was indeed vegetables, of the greenest, most
putrid variety: peas, cabbage, broccoli and, horror of
horrors,
spinach
!

'Of course!' Madam shrugged.

'But I only eat meat and sweets,' Freddy pushed
the dish away in disgust.

'A danzer does not eat meat,' she corrected him
with a laugh. 'We are all vegetarians here, boy.'

He looked at her skeleton face – no wonder she
was so thin.

'I'm not a vegetarian! I'm a wolf!' he cried. 'And I
need proper food or I'll, or I'll . . .'

'Or he'll
cry-hie
!' came a sly voice, followed by a
familiar revolting squeal of laughter.

Freddy turned around, his mouth falling open
in surprise. There they stood, his cousins Hideous
Harriet and Two-Chins Chariot, the Putrid Pair, the
Pukesome Twosome, the Disgusting Duo, still as pink
and plump as ever.

'What, how, why, when?' Freddy demanded in
confusion. They were supposed to be at a strict boarding
school for horrible, spoilt brats while their father
remained imprisoned at Dundaggard.

'Ah, ze liddle cherubs!' Madam Tarot's expression
softened at last. 'And so zis is your couzin? I hope he
vill be as good as you.'

'I'm afraid that he's a naughty boy, Madam,' said
Harriet. 'And he steals, and cheats, and spits.'

'Zen I was right to keep ze creature away from my
girls.' The lady shuddered.

'And he farts,' Chariot added, taking a bite from
something hidden behind his back.

'He's got a sausage!' Freddy pointed, unable to focus
on anything but his hunger. 'He's not a vegetarian.'

'But he is not a danzer, he iz a muzician.' Madam
Tarot frowned.

'Violin,' Chariot dribbled.

'Well, I'm not a dancer either, and I'm starving.'

Freddy made a lunge and Chariot jumped back in
fear. Madam Tarot's stick whacked down onto Freddy's
fingers. He gasped in pain.

'And he's a boy. You said there were no boys,' he
murmured stubbornly.

'Oh, but I don't count him, he's zo zweet,' the lady
said dismissively. 'Now, my cherubs, leave zis 'orrid
boy alone. You –' she prodded Freddy – 'vill join us
for claz in ten minutes, or you vill be zorry.'

After poking out their tongues and goggling their
eyes at Freddy, the twins gave a burble of laughter and
left with the headmistress.

'I won't eat it, it's not normal!' Freddy insisted as
their footsteps faded. But in the end there was no-one
left but him and a plate of cold vegetables. With a groan
of defeat, he drew it towards him and, despite being
concerned that he would throw up at any moment, he
began to eat the healthy food.

Unlike Freddy, Harriet and Chariot were rather
enjoying their summer camp at Madam Tarot's Ballet
School. It made a welcome break from the school they
had been attending for the past four months, where
there was a lot of emphasis on sport, good behaviour
and teamwork. Thanks to Chester Puceley, Madam
Tarot's name had been passed around the Moonlight
Gathering. Lady McDaggard, whose husband was Sir
Hotspur's jailer, had sent the twins to Drumbogie for
the summer for a change of scenery and so they could
be near their father, as Dundaggard Castle was only a
few miles away.

The chubby twins had become Madam Tarot's
favourites. They knew how to make grown-ups like
them, even though every girl in the school hated
them for their sneaky, snidey ways. And although
unpleasant and pink, the twins did have a remarkable
talent – with Harriet on piano and Chariot on violin,
they could play music so beautiful it made Madam
Tarot weep. So they played, and ate sausages, while
the poor girls in class picked at their spinach, danced,
and dreamt of home.

Freddy's cheeks were as purple as his silk jacket
as he sidled into the studio. What an appalling fate
for Sir Rathbone's heir – no way were his fans ever
going to hear about this. He held his hands in front of
his most private places, like a soccer player in a 'wall'
waiting for a Beckham free-kick. The room was full of
girls of all sizes in white tights and tutus, stretching on
their tiptoes. One by one they saw him, and dropped
onto their heels in surprise. The most beautiful girl
of all – taller than the rest, her golden hair in a tight
bun – performed a perfect pirouette and dropped into
a graceful curtsy. As she did, her hand moved to her
forehead in the shape of an L.

Loser
, Priscilla mouthed, and then smiled.

A little girl close to Freddy sneezed.

'Ginger, control yourself,' Madam said severely.
'Zcitter-zcatter!'

'Sorry, Madam.' Ginger curtsied and sneezed again.
'I can't help it, I'm allergic to dogs.'

'But zere are no dogs here, girl.'

The twins and Priscilla looked at Freddy with a
smirk.

'I'm not a dog!' he roared, stamping his balletslippered
feet. He wasn't sure who he disliked the
most.

Every girl in the room looked at him as if he were
a nutcase, and giggled.

'Zilence!' Madam Tarot slammed her stick on the
floor. The hairs on her mole twitched. 'Zis boy is called
Frederick Ponzenby Lupinz.'

The girls giggled again. Freddy humphed.

'I have it on good auzority zat zis boy is a cheat.'
The girls gasped. 'A liar!' They blinked. 'And a zneak!'
The girls groaned.

'I am not. I'm a hero, just ask anyone who knows
me!' Freddy roared in outrage.

'Okay,' Madam agreed. 'Iz he a hero, or does he
cheat?' she asked Chariot.

'Cheats all the time,' the piggy boy cried. 'He once
cut a corner off a jigsaw piece to make it fit.'

'It wasn't me. It'd been made wrong!' Freddy's ears
wiggled.

'Does he lie?' Madam asked Priscilla.

'Oh yes,' the lovely girl replied, smiling wickedly,
'and when he does, his ears wiggle.'

'They do not,' Freddy roared, as his ears wiggled
again.

'And does he zneak?' she asked Harriet.

'Like a total traitor.' She narrowed her eyes at him.
'And he'll pay for it.'

'Never!' Freddy at least could deny this charge
from his old enemy.

'And he definitely farts,' Ginger piped up. 'He's let
three off already.'

The girls stepped back in disgust.

'Who asked you, butt-brain?' Freddy turned to her.

'So girls, ze boy is here to danze, but ozerwize, keep
away from him. He iz not good. Now, practise . . .'

The girls quickly shuffled into line and, with a last
piggy pout at their cousin, the Putrid Pair walked to
their instruments. Madam nodded at them, and the
music began.