Chameleon Chaos (7 page)

Suddenly he realized he didn't need to climb across. Josh lost no time—he opened his jaws and flung out an incredibly long, squishy, sticky tongue. It hurtled across into the light shade and stuck itself onto the marble—but as he snagged it back toward him, the marble caught on a bit of electrical wire that wound into the shade. It pinged away across the shallow glass box and, to his enormous frustration, just out of reach. He tried again, hurling his tongue as far as it would go—but he couldn't reach. His amazingly long tongue was about half of his body length—but not long enough.

Josh couldn't bear to leave the marble up here. He was so close! He wrapped the end of his tail around the very edge of the frame and then tightly grasped the right-angled post with his back legs, while reaching out with his front legs (or arms). His strong hands gripped the edge of the shade, and it didn't swing—it was held firmly by the metal strut. Using his tail to push his body across, Josh got himself safely onto the light shade. The marble lay in the far corner in a drift of dried-up insect body parts.

A second later, with a heavy clunk, the glass sphere was in his mouth, stuck to his tongue. A couple of dried-up bluebottle heads were in there too. Josh wasn't worried. For a chameleon, dried-up bluebottle heads were like dry roast peanuts. If he'd been in boy form, that would probably have freaked him out, though.

A moment later, Josh was in boy form.

And he was very freaked out.

Petty Potts stood in her lab, holding one small black and white mouse in her palm and staring at it crossly.

“Come on, Hector! Look lively!” she chided. Hector stared back at her through beady black eyes. His whiskers twitched. He began to wash.

“You're supposed to be a chameleon by now!” Petty complained. “The S.W.I.T.C.H. formula is correct. You S.W.I.T.C.H.ed yesterday! Although … now that I come to think about it, I did get called away to answer the phone when I first sprayed you … so I actually didn't see precisely when you S.W.I.T.C.H.ed.” She pursed her lips and calculated. “It could have been anything up to twenty minutes by the time I got
off the phone and came back to look … Hector! Pay attention!” Hector stopped washing and looked at Petty, his furry head on one side. He seemed unimpressed.

“How long did it take you to S.W.I.T.C.H.?” queried Petty, talking so close to the mouse that her breath made its poppy petal ears flicker. “Of course—you're tiny and your heart beats around five hundred times a minute, compared to a human heart of around seventy beats per minute … so if it
did
take you twenty minutes to S.W.I.T.C.H., how long would it take Josh and Danny?”

Petty put Hector on her shoulder and grabbed a pencil and paper. It was time for some calculation. Hector burrowed happily into Petty's hair at the back of her neck while she did her working out. “Don't poo down my collar!” she requested, scribbling at top speed. “Now—height and weight plus metabolic rate … Hmmm,” she concluded. “If my calculations are correct—and being as I'm a genius, they must be—then Josh and Danny may be having quite an interesting time at school today.
Oh dear.”Hector ambled slowly out onto Petty's other shoulder. He was bright green and not as surprised-looking as he might have been. He was getting used to this S.W.I.T.C.H.ing lark.

“Ah—good—you S.W.I.T.C.H.ed!” Petty said, scooping the small chameleon into her hands.

“Erm … not
so
good,” added Petty a minute later. Something very peculiar had just happened. Something very peculiar indeed …

Danny liked his head teacher. Mr. Hurford was a friendly man with a good sense of humor, often ready for a joke while passing in the corridor. He was also a strict man, and nobody ever messed around when he was running assembly or stepping into their class for a while. Kids respected him. Danny respected him. And liked him.

Although possibly not enough to throw himself bodily around Mr Hurford's neck and cling on to him.

Which is why it was really quite embarrassing when this happened at 11:05 a.m. that day, just outside the head teacher's office.

The trouble was, Danny had just gotten a little too relaxed. After failing to gore Billy Sutter and Jason Bilk with his nose horn, Danny thought
about chasing after them as they walked away up the corridor. Then he thought better of it. There really was no way he was traveling anywhere faster than a dawdling snail right now. And even if he did catch up, Billy would have to stand patiently, waiting for him to expertly scale his leg, stomach, and chest before Danny could attempt to very slowly gore his face.

Danny sighed and climbed back up the fig tree. As he made his careful way from branch to branch, snacking on a couple of small flies his tongue had found along the way, the bell went off again. It made his head buzz, but at least he knew what it was this time, and he was ready for the hubbub of all the kids coming back in from play and getting off to lessons. Within five minutes he was back on his favorite perch just above the radiator and as the heated air rose from it, gently warming his cold reptilian blood, Danny relaxed. He became perfectly still. Stiller than he had ever been. Even his heartbeat seemed to slow down. Before long, Danny nodded off.

The next thing he knew, someone was standing very close by and making hurrumphing noises. It took a moment, as his eyes rotated and focused on the sandy-haired head just below his branch, to work out who it was. Then Danny heard the hurrumpher say, “Who the devil has been playing around with the thermostat? Hurrumph! My poor
Ficus benjamina
will drop all its leaves in this heat!”

It was the head teacher! What if he looked up and saw him? Danny felt his scales pulse again and noticed darker flashes rolling across his camouflage.

He couldn't imagine what he would do if Mr. Hurford discovered him.

Three seconds later, Danny had no need to imagine. Mr. Hurford discovered him. Not by peering up into the tree and gasping in amazement at the sight of a rather beautiful Meller's chameleon—but with a sudden DOOF! as Danny abruptly S.W.I.T.C.H.ed back to boy shape and fell onto his head.

“Gah—da—gah—wha? Wha? Gah? Wha?”
queried Mr. Hurford as a healthy eight-year-old suddenly arrived out of thin air, whacked into his skull and slid down his back.

Danny was making similar noises of surprise and instinctively grabbing at the head teacher's neck to stop himself from falling.

“What the blazes are you DOING?” squawked Mr. Hurford as a Year Four boy finally tumbled onto the carpet. “Danny? Is that you? Or … Josh? No … it has to be Danny!”

Danny had to think fast. What possible explanation could he offer for this situation? There wasn't an obvious bluff for this.
Falling onto a Head Teacher (A Guide)
was one self-help paperback he'd never seen at the local bookstore.

“I—I'm sorry. I—I was the one who turned up the heating,” spluttered Danny. “I just wanted to confess … to throw myself … on your mercy,” he added.

The head teacher was straightening his tie and looking rather pink in the face. “Danny—have you been watching
High School Musical
again? The entire box set, by any chance?” he queried.