Pencil of Doom! (13 page)

‘Giddy-up, Ponyboy,' said Gina. ‘Giddy-up.'

It was a sad sight. The pencil had reduced Jack to a beast of burden. And to think, he'd been the only one trying to save it!

Newton and Gretel's idea was dangerous, sure, but it was all we had.

‘Let's do it,' I said, taking the pencil out of my pocket.

This is what I drew.

 

Frame 1:
   The pencil lying at the bottom of a cliff.

Frame 2:
   A fifty million billion tonne boulder at the top of the cliff.

Frame 3:
   A butterfly flies past the boulder.

Frame 4:
   The air from the butterfly's wings dislodges the boulder.

Frame 5:
   The boulder rolls off the edge of the cliff.

Frame 6:
   The boulder falls.

Frame 7:
   And falls.

Frame 8:
   And falls.

Frame 9:
   The pencil looks up.

Frame 10:
The boulder smashes down on top of the pencil.

Frame 11:
The boulder rolls away and all that is left of the pencil is a little pile of dust.

Frame 12:
The butterfly flies past. The wind from its wings makes the pencil dust fly up into the air and disappear.

‘That is
so
good, Henry!' said Jenny.

‘It is,' said Gretel. ‘Really good!'

‘I'm scared,' said Newton, backing away from the table.

‘But it was your idea!' I said.

‘I know,' Newton admitted. ‘But I'm still scared. What if the pencil finds out?'

‘It won't,' I promised him. ‘And even if it does, it's doomed!'

‘It's an excellent drawing, Henry,' said a voice behind us. ‘Better than the one that Jack drew, that's for sure.'

We all turned around.

Clive Durkin was behind us, leaning on his crutches.

‘What do you want, Clive?' I said.

‘Just admiring your drawing,' he said. ‘There's no law against that, is there?'

‘No,' said Gretel, ‘but there
is
a law against snooping.'

‘I'm not snooping!' said Clive.

‘How long have you been there?' I asked.

‘Long enough,' said Clive, a slight smile playing around his lips.

‘What's that supposed to mean?' Gretel snarled.

‘Nothing,' said Clive, hoisting himself back onto his crutches and making his way towards his desk. ‘See ya!'

‘Well?' said Jenny, as we watched him go. ‘What happens now?'

‘We wait,' I told her.

‘For how long?'

‘As long as it takes,' I said.

Which, as it turned out, wasn't very long at all, thanks to Clive.

Halfway through the morning we had a sport lesson with Mr Grunt.

I put the pencil in my locker, took out my sports bag and went and got changed.

It was one of Mr Grunt's ‘demonstration' lessons. The annual Northwest track and field competition was coming up and Mr Grunt wanted us to be thoroughly familiar with all the events.

For one hour we watched Mr Grunt demonstrate how to start a running race from the crouch position, how to shot-put, how to throw a javelin, how to throw a discus, how to high jump, how to triple jump, how to long jump and how to stand on a winner's podium without falling off.

Then he told us all to go and get changed back into our school uniforms and that he'd demonstrate some more stuff for us in the next lesson.

It was definitely something to look forward to.

‘I'm scared,' said Newton, as we walked back down the corridor towards our lockers.

‘What are you scared about?' I asked.

‘What if the pencil finds out that turning its power against itself was my idea?'

‘Don't worry about it,' I said. ‘It doesn't matter what that pencil thinks anymore. It's doomed!'

Newton didn't look convinced. ‘I'm still scared,' he said.

‘You can be if you want,' I said, putting my arm around his shoulder. ‘But there's absolutely nothing to be scared about!'

That's when I noticed my locker door.

It was completely smashed in, covered in dents—the sort of dents that might have been made with, oh, let's see . . . the end of a crutch!

I didn't have to look inside the locker to know what that meant.

Our plan to turn the pencil's power against itself had been a good plan, but what we'd forgotten was that, like the monkey's paw wishes, the pencil's drawings had a habit of coming true in unexpected ways.

We'd been tricked again. The pencil had disappeared all right . . . but not quite in the way we'd intended. It had been stolen!

And there were no prizes for guessing who was responsible.

Although I'd just assured Newton that there was absolutely nothing to be scared about, I knew that the exact opposite was now true.

With the pencil of doom in Clive's hands there was
everything
to be scared about.

‘I'm scared,' Newton said again, looking at the wreckage of my locker.

‘Me too,' I told him.

I stared at my locker.

I took a few deep breaths as I tried to figure out what to do.

Clive was not exactly the sharpest pencil in the pencil case. He had no idea of the true power of the pencil he'd stolen. With a few careless strokes he could wreak havoc and destruction on an enormous scale. The fate of the school—and possibly the entire world—was at stake!

Just then, Jenny, Jack and Gretel came along the corridor.

Jenny gasped when she saw my locker. ‘How could anyone
do
such a thing?' she said.

‘Easy,' I said. ‘They just get their crutch and pound it against the door over and over until the door caves in.'

‘No, I don't mean that,' said Jenny. ‘I mean, how could anyone be so mean to a locker door?'

‘You'd better ask Clive Durkin,' I said.

‘You think Clive did it?' said Jack. ‘He seems like a nice guy to me.'

‘He's
not
nice,' I said. ‘I told you in assembly, remember?'

Jack looked at me blankly. ‘No,' he said.

Poor Jack. His memory loss was worse than I thought.

‘I
know
he did it,' I assured everyone.

Gretel frowned. ‘He can't have,' she said.

‘Why not?' I asked.

‘He was with us!'

‘No, he wasn't,' I told her. ‘He got out of sport because of his broken leg. Mr Brainfright told him to go to the library instead.'

‘Henry's right,' said Jenny. ‘I saw him as we walked past.'

‘When?' I said.

‘Just then!'

‘What was he doing?'

‘I didn't really take that much notice.' Jenny thought about it for a moment. ‘He looked like he was working on something.'

Her words chilled me to the core.

We were really in trouble.

Clive never
worked
in the library. He spent all his time annoying everybody else. If he was actually working it could mean only one thing: he
was using the pencil to draw a cartoon. And I had no doubt that it would feature all of us!

‘There's no time to waste!' I said. ‘We've got to stop him!'

‘Count me in,' said Gretel. ‘I've still got one good arm.'

‘I'll come with you,' Jack volunteered. ‘I promised those nice horsy girls I'd meet them in the library.'

‘I'm coming too,' said Newton. ‘I'm too scared to stay here all on my own!'

‘You're not going to do anything nasty to Clive are you?' Jenny asked.

‘Not if I can avoid it,' I replied. ‘But I'm going to have to do whatever it takes. And I'm pretty sure he's getting ready to do something nasty to us.'

‘I don't care,' said Jenny. ‘Two wrongs don't make a right. I'm going to come along and make sure you all play nice.'

‘We're not playing!' I said. ‘Don't you get it yet? This is for real!'

The bell signalling the start of lunch rang.

‘Show time!' I said.

We all regrouped outside the library.

All of us, that is, except Jack, who went in to find Gina and Penny. Poor Jack. Not only had he lost his memory, but apparently his mind as well.

Through the window, we could see Clive sitting at one of the group study tables, bent over, using the pencil.

‘All right,' I said. ‘We have to be smart about this. We can't just all walk in there at the same time.'

‘Why not?' said Gretel.

‘Because he might panic and do something stupid,' I said. ‘I mean,
draw
something stupid.'

‘Good point,' said Gretel.

I studied the layout of the library carefully.

The study tables were up one end. Behind these there were eight shelves of books in a line and then some spinners and computers.

‘We have to infiltrate the library quietly,' I said. ‘One at a time. We'll meet behind the first shelf in the row, the one next to Clive's table, so we can see exactly what he's drawing. I'll go first. Give me thirty seconds to get into position and then the next person come in after that. Right?'