Many Worlds of Albie Bright (3 page)

“Quiet! QUIET!
QUIET!
”

Snatching up Mr Sniffles before he launches himself through an open window, Miss Benjamin turns to face us. Her face is a volcanic shade of red and her left eye is twitching into overdrive.

“Class 6, this behaviour is completely unacceptable! I will not allow such chaos in my classroom! If you can’t work on your Science Fair experiments without disturbing the rest of the school, then you’ll have to do a science test in silence instead.”

Everybody groans.

“Quiet!” Miss Benjamin shouts again. Striding to the back of the classroom, she puts Mr Sniffles safely back into his cage.

“I didn’t mean to let him out, miss.” Wesley MacNamara holds up a plastic tray filled with tiny green leaves. “I just thought he might like a nibble of my cress.”

Miss Benjamin ignores Wesley, her left eye still
twitching out an SOS.

“Now, everyone, pack away your experiments and get your pens and pencils out instead. Quiet! I don’t want to hear another sound out of any of you until the bell rings for break time.”

Brilliant. My first day back at school and I’ve got to sit a science test. And unless all the questions are about quantum physics, this isn’t going to help me find my mum.

Then I remember that Miss Benjamin has already given me the excuse I need to get out of this test. While the rest of the class grumble as they pack their experiments away, I put my hand up.

“Miss, can I take some time out, please? I’d like to go to the library.”

“You’re looking for a book about what?”

Mrs Forest peers at me over her glasses, her library stamp hovering over a pile of
Horrible Histories
.

“Quantum physics, miss. It’s for my science project.”

Mrs Forest doesn’t like to call herself a librarian. She says she’s a book doctor who can prescribe the right book to anybody. The last book she gave me was called
Danny the Champion of the World
and it was all about this boy called Danny who lives in a caravan with his dad. His dad spends most of his time
inventing all kinds of cool things like kites, go-karts and fire balloons to make up for the fact that Danny’s mum is dead. To be honest, I stopped reading it after a few chapters because it just reminded me how rubbish my own dad is. Everyone thinks it’s really cool to have a TV-star dad who knows how the universe works, but I’d swap him any day for an ordinary dad who knew how to fly a kite.

In our last library lesson Mrs Forest told Class 6 she had books that could take us anywhere. Brandnew countries, unforgettable places, fantastic lands. That’s when Wesley MacNamara put his hand up to tell her that she was getting books mixed up with Ryanair. Everyone else laughed, but right now I just hope she can find me a book that will take me to a parallel universe.

Mrs Forest puts her book-stamper down and leads me to the non-fiction section, hidden away round the corner. Peering at the middle shelf, she frowns as she flicks through a row of books with blue stickers on their spines.

“All the science books are here, Albie, but I don’t think you’ll find any books about quantum physics. It’s not on the key stage 2 curriculum, you see. Couldn’t you ask your dad instead? He probably
knows more about science than all the authors I’ve got here put together.”

“He’s too busy with his work,” I quickly reply. “I just want a book to help me with the basics.”

“Aha.” Mrs Forest pulls a book out from the middle of the shelf. “It looks like your dad might be able to help after all.”

As she hands me the book, I look down to see my dad’s face staring back at me from the cover.
Ben Bright’s Guide to the Universe: From Asteroids to X-ray Stars and Everything in Between
. After his TV series was such a big hit, Dad had been asked to write this tie-in book for kids, and he locked himself away in his office to get it finished. The last summer we’d had together as a family before everything went wrong and he’d just wasted it.

At the time Mum had tried to make me feel better.

“He wants you to be proud of him, Albie. He’s writing this book for you.”

I didn’t believe her then, but now I hope she was right.

Sitting down in the reading corner, I turn straight away to the index. Asteroids, atoms, the Big Bang, black holes, cone radiation, dark matter, Einstein
and loads more words that I don’t even understand. But halfway down the page I find the entry that I’m looking for.

Quantum physics 108–109

I flick back to page 108 and this is the first thing I read:

If you think you understand quantum physics then you don’t understand quantum physics.

Great way to start an explanation, Dad.

Quantum physics is seriously weird science. It tries to explain the strange ways that atoms and particles behave. You see, inside the teeny-tiny quantum world, an atom or particle can be in more than one place at the same time and even be in two different states at once! According to quantum physics, everything is possible until you take a look.

I scratch my head. Dad has lost me already. How can something be in two different places or even be two different things at exactly the same time? It doesn’t make any sense.

To give my brain a break, I take a look instead at the cartoon in the middle of the page. This shows what looks like a zombie cat trapped inside a box with a hammer hanging above a bottle of poison, a Geiger counter and a glowing radioactive lump.
The text underneath starts to explain this creepy cartoon.

To show the strange effects of quantum physics, a scientist called Erwin Schrödinger invented an experiment. A cat is put inside a box with a lump of radioactive uranium that has a 50% chance of decaying. This means that at any moment there is a 50% chance of a radioactive particle being emitted. If the Geiger counter detects a radioactive particle it will trigger the hammer and smash open the bottle of poison. This will kill the cat. However, quantum physics says that until the box is opened and we take a look, the particle will be in both possible states – decayed and undecayed – simultaneously. This means the cat inside the box is dead and alive at the same time!

I shake my head as I try to make sense of this crazy experiment by the Worst Pet Owner Ever. How can a cat be dead and alive at exactly the same time? But before I can read the rest of the explanation, Wesley MacNamara whips the book out of my hands, crash-landing next to me on the sofa.

“All right, Lame Brain.” He looks down at the cartoon in Dad’s book. “Is this what you want to do for your science project? There’s no way Miss Benjamin will let you create a radioactive zombie cat. She wouldn’t even let me dissect a duck-billed platypus.” Wesley’s left eye starts to twitch in an exaggerated wink as he does his best Miss Benjamin impression. “‘
They’re a protected species, Wesley, and I will not have you cutting up cuddly Australian creatures in my classroom
.’”

Wesley growls, “They’re furry freaks is what they are. Flippers like an otter, tail like a beaver and an electricity-detecting beak like a mutant duck. I reckon they’re actually weird-looking aliens who have come to invade our planet. That’s why she doesn’t want me chopping one up in case I find out the truth.”

This isn’t actually the craziest thing I’ve ever heard Wesley say. When I started at Clackthorpe
Primary he’d told me that all the teachers there were actually shape-shifting extraterrestrial reptiles who drank the blood of pupils to stay alive. When Miss Benjamin overheard this she told Wesley that if she was a shape-shifting extraterrestrial reptile she definitely wouldn’t be working as an NQT. Then she said that if she heard him say that again he’d be spending the rest of the week in detention. Wesley kept pretty quiet about blood-sucking alien teachers after that.

“What are you doing for your science project then?” I ask him, trying to change the subject.

Wesley scowls. “She’s got me growing cress in a cupboard – again. It’s the same project I’ve done since Year 1. But this time I’ve got a plan.” He leans forward with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “When we go on our science trip tomorrow I’m going to find out the truth about the duck-billed platypus and you’re going to help me.”

I don’t like the sound of this. Tomorrow Miss Benjamin is taking Class 6 on a school trip to the Clackthorpe Museum of Natural History and Mechanical Wonders. According to Kiran, this is the same school trip that the class has been on for the past five years. He says it’s called a museum but
that it’s really just a big house filled with loads of old junk. It used to belong to a Victorian explorer called Montague Wilkes, who left Clackthorpe to explore the world and sent everything he found back home again before he carked it in the middle of Australia. I’ve had a look on the museum’s website and most of the things he found seem to be stuffed animals. I’d even spotted what looked like a duck-billed platypus stuck in a glass jar and I now had the horrible feeling that this was part of Wesley’s plan.

“Er, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to the museum tomorrow. It was my mum’s funeral yesterday—”

Nearly as fast as an atom whizzing round the Large Hadron Collider, Wesley’s fist shoots out to give me a dead arm.

“Ow!”

“You’d better help me tomorrow,” Wesley warns me, “or else. And don’t think you can use your mum as an excuse. Loads of people haven’t got a mum, but you won’t catch me crying about it.”

Wesley lives with his nan and grandad. Kiran told me that Wesley’s mum went on holiday to the Costa del Sol when Wesley was in Year 3 and never came
back, but at least he gets to see her in the summer holidays.

Mrs Forest suddenly appears like a Library Ninja from behind the Geography and History bookshelves.

“What’s going on here?” she says, a look of suspicion on her face. “Wesley, what are you doing out of class?”

“Miss Benjamin just sent me to check that Albie was OK, miss.” Wesley drops my dad’s book back into my lap as he gets up from the sofa. “You know, because of his mum and everything.”

“And are you OK, Albie?” Mrs Forest asks, looking down at the open book in my hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

As my dead arm aches, I look down again at the cartoon cat – the zombie pet still half alive and half dead. I don’t have a clue how Schrödinger’s crazy experiment could help me find my mum again. Quantum physics is seriously confusing. I need time to think, but there’s no chance of that happening in school. Especially not with Wesley MacNamara dead-arming me to take part in his latest crazy scheme. I can feel my brain shutting down to take the pain away, leaving me empty inside. I’ve got to
get out of here.

“I’m not sure, miss,” I sniff, wiping a bit of wetness from the corner of my eye. “I just want to go home.”

As Mrs Forest bustles me off to the school office to phone Grandad Joe, Wesley calls out after me.

“See you tomorrow.” I look back to see Wesley clench his fingers into a fist. “Or else,” he mouths.

After Grandad Joe brings me home from school, he sits me down in the kitchen to eat some lunch.

“You need to keep your strength up, Albie lad.” Grandad scrapes what looks like a fried insole off the bottom of the saucepan and slides it on to my plate. “This will soon have you feeling right as rain.”

I stare down at the plate in front of me. It looks like a CSI crime scene in a burnt-out butcher’s shop. I’d watched Grandad Joe get sausages, streaky bacon and black pudding out of the fridge, but apart from a greasy lake of baked beans,
everything else on my plate has been burnt beyond recognition. I give what looks like a roasted finger an experimental poke with my fork. Its prongs bounce straight back, unable to pierce the banger’s jet-black skin – now more non-stick saucepan than sausage.

Burnt food is carcinogenic. This means it can cause cancer. If I eat this sausage then one cell in my body might mutate and then another and another and I wouldn’t know that I had cancer until it was too late. Just like my mum.

I push the plate away. It isn’t worth the risk.

“Come on, Albie. Eat up, lad.”

I can hear the worry in Grandad’s voice but this doesn’t stop me from shaking my head.

“Mum usually makes me a sandwich,” I tell him.

Grandad Joe sighs as he sinks down in the kitchen chair next to mine.

“Flaming hip,” he mutters, wincing as he tries to bend his leg under the table. “I’m sorry, Albie. I can make you a sandwich if you want; just give me a minute.”

Now he’s got me feeling guilty, so I quickly shake my head.

“It’s OK, Grandad. I’ll just eat my baked beans.
It’ll make a nice change.”

Grandad Joe sighs again.

“There’s been too much change round here lately and none of it for the better.”

After Mum died, the vicar came round to our house to talk about the funeral. As usual, Dad and Grandad ended up arguing about everything – the flowers, the hymns, the music. Dad wanted “Across the Universe” by the Beatles, but Grandad said it wouldn’t be a proper funeral unless you had “All Things Bright and Beautiful”. In the end the vicar said that they would start the service with “All Things Bright and Beautiful” and then play “Across the Universe” at the end. I didn’t care – the only song that made me think of Mum was the one we used to dance together round the kitchen to, and I didn’t want to hear that at the funeral. It’d only remind me that she wasn’t here any more.

Before he left, the vicar tried to give me a little booklet with a sad-looking rabbit on the front called
When Bunny Lost Her Mummy
. I told him I was too old for picture books, so he gave me the leaflet for grown-ups instead. This was called
Coping with Grief
and was all about the feelings you have when someone close to you dies. The booklet said
that most people go through five stages of grief.

After taking a mouthful of beans I push my plate away with a grimace. Grandad might have scorched the sausages and bacon but he’s forgotten to heat up the baked beans.

“I’m not feeling very hungry at the moment.”

“Let me make you a sandwich instead.” Grandad Joe glances up at the clock on the kitchen wall. “There’s a good film starting on the telly in a bit –
Back to the Future
. That used to be one of your mum’s favourites. We could watch it together.”

Whenever Dad was away for the weekend filming for his TV show, me and Mum used to have movie
marathons on a Saturday night. We’d binge-watch all the
Star Wars
films,
Doctor Who
box sets,
Back to the Future
1
,
2
and
3
. Mum said that
Back to the Future
was the film that made her want to become a scientist, but she was a bit disappointed that she hadn’t managed to invent a time machine yet.

At the time I laughed, but now I remember what Grandad Joe said yesterday. Maybe if Mum hadn’t become a scientist then she’d still be here today.

“Do you really think it was Mum’s work that made her ill?”

Now it’s Grandad Joe’s turn to look guilty.

“I’m sorry, Albie,” he says, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.” He sighs again, the last of his energy seeming to sag out of him in a single breath. “No, I don’t think it made her ill. I was just looking for somebody to blame. I was as proud as punch of your mum when she told me she was going to be a scientist. The first in this family ever to go to university, and Cambridge University at that. Of course, I didn’t understand any of that par-tic-u-lar physics stuff she was studying – atoms, protons and all those thingamajigs – but after your Grandma Joyce died she tried to explain it to me. We had
the telescope out in the back garden, looking at the stars – just like we used to when your mum was a little girl. But this time she was telling me how everything we could see – all the thousands of stars in the sky – once fitted into a tiny bubble a thousand times smaller than the head of a pin. She said that the Big Bang had created all this and her experiments were exploring how the universe was made. It sounded incredible to me but, like I said to your mum, it needed someone to make the bang in the first place.”

“So do
you
think Mum’s in heaven, Grandad?”

“Of course she is,” he replies confidently, pushing his glasses back into place. “Your grandma will be sorting her out with her wings as we speak.” He gets up out of his chair with a wince. “So, shall I get the popcorn out?”

I shake my head. Watching
Back to the Future
again isn’t going to help me find Mum.

“I think I’ll skip the film, Grandad. I’ve got homework to do.”