Oliver Fibbs and the Clash of the Mega Robots Read online

At break, Peaches and I headed for the library to carry on the monster job of getting the books in order again. Zoot followed us in.

  ‘Hey, Oliver, I liked your crazy story this morning,’ he said. ‘I just don’t get what it had to do with . Bobby says you do it all the time.’

  I could feel my face getting hot. ‘I never have anything interesting to ,’ I mumbled. ‘If I was like the rest of my family it’d be OK, but I’m not, so I tell . . . I mean stories. Miss Wilkins used to give me playtime detentions and take away my points, but as long as I write them down she doesn’t seem to mind as much any more.’

  Peaches smiled at Zoot. ‘I liked yours,’ she said. ‘I’ve never met anyone who’s been in a film before.’

  Zoot shoved his hands deep in his pockets and stared at his feet. ‘For the rest of my life I’ll be known as the kid who played the duck in that Zipparolli movie.’

  ‘You might get a bigger part next time, as a secret agent, or a time-travelling treasure hunter, or something,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t want to be a film star,’ Zoot replied quietly. ‘I just want . . .’

  He did a cool, ‘it’s no big deal’ shrug of his shoulders, and headed for the chair in the corner to read his big book about Australia.

  The bell rang for the end of break. As I rushed round the end of a row of shelves heading for the door, I collided into Zoot just as he was on his way out. The massive book on Australia tumbled from his hands and clattered to the floor.

  I began to apologize, but stopped as I bent down to pick up the book. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A comic hidden inside the pages had fallen out too. It was a copy of .

  Zoot’s face flushed as red as the bloodthirsty mutant carrot in the story. He grabbed the comic and shoved it back among the pages of the book.

  ‘I . . . I don’t know what that’s doing in there,’ he stammered. ‘I, er . . . I found it when I opened the book.’

  ‘ is one of my favourites,’ I said. ‘I love the bit when is pushed off the top of a cliff by the killer carrot, and uses his hair as a parachute to stop him going splat on the bottom.’

  Zoot’s eyebrows shot upwards, and his mouth dropped open like a letter O. ‘You like reading comics?’

  , I thought. . ‘Nobody reads those stupid comics any more. Bobby was right about you: you’re .’

  But he didn’t say that. Zoot glanced around to see if anyone was listening, then whispered, ‘I love ! He’s soooooo cool! My favourite part is in , when he has to walk the plank over man-eating fish-infested waters, but he escapes by bouncing off the end and . . .’

  ‘. . . his special-agent raincoat turns into a hang-glider,’ I said, ‘propellers shoot out from the buttons and he flies away across the sea!’ I suddenly realized why he’d been spending so much time in the library. ‘You’ve not been reading about Australia: you’ve been hiding your comics in a big book, like I do!’

  ‘I’ve never met anyone else who likes comics,’ said Zoot.

  ‘Well, you have now!’ laughed Peaches. ‘Ollie’s got hundreds of them.’

  ‘Why don’t you come round to my house after school?’ I suggested. ‘We can read some of them, and you can stay for dinner. Our nanny Constanza’s making Italian meatballs.’

  ‘Fantastico!’ he cried. ‘I’ll phone my dad and tell him.’

  Constanza was fifteen minutes late picking us up at the end of school, so Zoot and I went to help Peaches finish organizing all the books into alphabetical order.

  ‘I’ve nearly done it,’ she said. ‘This is the V pile, and that’s the W pile, and there are no authors with names beginning with X, so that lonely one’s the Z pile.’ She pointed to a single book lying on the floor nearby. ‘It’s by Zelda Zipparolli.’ Peaches gasped. ‘Oh! That’s your name!’

  ‘That’s my mom,’ he explained. ‘She writes children’s books.’

  I went to pick it up, but Peaches stopped me, and began shoving me and Zoot into the corridor.

  ‘I can manage on my own now. See you tomorrow,’ she said, closing the door.

  ‘She’s ,’ said Zoot. ‘Is she always so . . .’

  ‘Bossy?’

  ‘Sensible.’

  ‘Always.’

  Constanza hurried into school. ‘So sorry, Oliver!’ she said. ‘I take the twins to the doctor. They have an itchy all over! It’s a mystero!’

  Zoot and I flicked through the pages of the comic while she and Miss Wilkins gossiped for a while. As usual, I caught the odd word: ‘’, ‘celebrity’, ‘cute’ and farm’.

  When they were finished, I introduced Zoot to Constanza, and he spoke to her in Italian. (Honestly, he was so cool he could grow icicles.)

  We climbed into the back seat of the car next to Algy, who had a Dr Devious grin on his face again.

  ‘Did you hear about the twins?’ he said with a wink. ‘What could have given them the itchy-snitchies?’

  ‘Maybe it was something they ate,’ I suggested.

  ‘Or maybe the Zybot went into their room and put itching powder in their leotards,’ he whispered with a dastardly grin.

  I told Zoot that Algy was a chess champion, and it turned out that Zoot had won the California Junior Chess League two years before. ‘Maybe we can have a game sometime?’ he suggested.

  ‘Yes, please!’ beamed my little brother. ‘It’ll make a change from playing on my computer.’

  Zoot gasped when we got into my room at home and he saw the collection of comics. ‘You’ve even got the first issue: ! I’ve never seen that one!’

  ‘If I ever find a copy of , I’ll have the full set,’ I replied. ‘But it’s incredibly rare.’

  ‘I’ve got one at home in the States!’ said Zoot.

  My mouth dropped open. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeaky choking sound.

  Zoot laughed. ‘Hey, why don’t I get my dad’s secretary to fly my copy over so you can read it?’

  I made spitty, coughing noises this time, but then managed to say, ‘That’d be spectacular.’

  There was a knock on my door and the twins swept into the room, beaming sweet, sickly smiles.

  ‘Hi, Ollie-kins,’ said Emma, her voice oozing like sticky syrup.

  ‘Can we come in, Ollie-pops?’ trilled Gemma, sounding like a canary.

  ‘I smell a rat,’ I whispered to Zoot. ‘Just like in , when is offered a truce by his arch-rival Z.’

  ‘Would you and your new friend like to join us for refreshments in the sitting room?’ suggested Emma, talking as though she had a mouthful of plums.

  ‘Tea? Cupcakes? Macaroons?’ asked Gemma, sounding like a princess, but scratching her sides like a monkey. (Algy’s itching powder had really done the trick.)

  ‘I remember what happens’ said Zoot. ‘Z hands a bag containing half a million dollars in exchange for his sunglasses . . .’

  ‘And when opens the bag . . .’

  ‘We just wanted to make your new friend feel welcome in our home,’ said Emma and Gemma together.

  ‘No thanks,’ I said, pushing them back towards the door. ‘We’re going to read comics until dinnertime.’

  ‘Ollie-kins said you know George Looney,’ continued Emma, scratching her tummy and batting her eyes at Zoot.

  ‘Is it true what everyone’s saying?’ asked Gemma. ‘Is he going out with Ritzy Savoy?’

  I gave them another shove to get them out into the hallway. As I closed the door, the twins continued to smile, scratch and wave.

  ‘Catch you later, Zoot!’

  ‘Ciao!’

  A shudder rattled through my body. ‘Creepy. I prefer them when they’re threatening to chop me into pieces and feed me to chickens.’

  Zoot sighed. ‘It always happens,’ he said quietly, tracing his finger along the top of my desk. ‘As soon as people find out who my dad is, they’re incredibly nice to me. But they’re not interested in me, only whose autograph I can get for them . . .’

  He pulled a comic from the shelf. ‘Hey, do you wanna come over to m
y house for dinner sometime?’ He dropped his voice. ‘George Looney and Ritzy Savoy are there most nights.’

  ‘Ritzy Savoy? You never said she was in the film.’

  ‘Shh! Keep your voice down!’ whispered Zoot. ‘She’s not in the film, but she is George’s girlfriend. It’s top secret. They don’t want the gossip magazines to find out for sure, or they’ll be pestered by photographers and it’ll spoil the filming. So, do you wanna come round?’

  ‘That’d be great,’ I answered. ‘But don’t tell the twins, or they’ll flatten me flatter than was flattened by Moola the Crazy Cash Cow.’

  ‘Yeah,’ laughed Zoot, ‘and you’ve not got ’s secret-agent re-inflation device inserted in your belly button!’

  The next morning, Zoot strolled into the classroom and sat down next to me and Peaches.

  ‘I asked Miss Wilkins if I could sit with you in class from now on,’ he explained. ‘Is that OK with you guys?’

  ‘Yeah, course it is,’ I replied, glancing at Bobby. It was a good thing he didn’t have laser eyes like Algy’s Zybot, or the three of us would have been frazzled on the spot.

  ‘You know that if you always sit with us, you’re officially ?’ Peaches warned him.

  Zoot smiled and gave a cool, ‘do I look like I care?’ kind of shrug.

  I opened my bag and showed him the huge book that my mum and dad had bought me: The Age of the Machine – Robots and Artificial Intelligence for Beginners.

  ‘There’s a copy of hidden inside,’ I whispered. ‘We can start reading it in the library at break.’

  ‘As long as you both keep out of my way,’ said Peaches. ‘I’ve finished sorting out the fiction books, and I’ve started the non-fiction.’

  Bobby’s laser eyes were fixed on Zoot all morning, but Zoot took no notice. When the bell rang for breaktime, Zoot and I hurried to the library to read my comic. As we settled into the bean-bags in Peaches’ new Bookworm Corner, I glanced up and noticed Bobby frowning at us through the window.

  ‘He’s giving you evils again,’ I muttered. Zoot just shook his head, and carried on reading.

  We were totally engrossed as had discovered the hideout of Sangster the Gangster and the High B-flats, her troupe of bank-robbing opera singers. The villainous vocalist crept up on our hero . . .

  ‘Caught you red-handed!’ said a voice behind us, which was spooky, as that’s exactly what Sangster the Gangster said to .

  Bobby Bragg reached over and snatched the comic, holding it as though it was laced with poison. ‘I warned you, Zoot,’ he said. ‘Anyone who hangs around Fibbs too long catches his Boring Bug – looks like it’s already got you.’

  ‘Ollie’s cool,’ replied Zoot.

  I was as shocked as Bobby. ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ said Peaches, who had hurried over to see what was going on.

  Zoot took the comic from Bobby and handed it to me. ‘Ollie’s not boring – he’s funny, and friendly, and he likes stories. You know, cuz, just because you win medals, or swim fast, or score lots of soccer goals, doesn’t make you better than everyone else.’

  Bobby’s face twisted and scrunched in a mixture of anger and disbelief. ‘But . . . but . . . you’re supposed to be on my side,’ he stammered.

  ‘I’m on no one’s side,’ answered Zoot. ‘Ollie’s my pal, so I’m going to hang out with him and read comics.’

  ‘Be a loser then,’ said Bobby, leaning close to Zoot. ‘Traitor,’ he growled, and stormed out of the library.

  ‘Uh-oh, looks like you’re banned from the table at lunchtime,’ I said.

  Zoot shrugged. ‘So, are you guys gonna to come to my house tomorrow night?’ He glanced around the library. ‘George and Ritzy are gonna be there,’ he whispered.

  Peaches frowned. ‘Well, I was going to stay behind after school and adjust the settings on the new copier in the library. It says in the instructions that if you’re careful you can make perfect copies . . .’

  My jaw dropped.

  ‘Duh!’ she laughed. ‘I’d love to come.’

  At home, I tried to be cool about the invitation, but my parents were thrilled: at lost I was doing something interesting.

  ‘Tell Mr Zipparolli that you got a Bronze Star in your Grade Two Speaking Poetry Aloud exam,’ suggested Dad. ‘He might cast you in his next film.’

  ‘All those acting lessons we paid for last year might pay off yet,’ added Mum.

  I decided not to mention that I’d be meeting George Looney and Ritzy Savoy. I didn’t know if my family would be able to cope with the , and I didn’t know if I could cope with the twins pestering me to get autographs or film-star gossip. But just as I was getting out of the car to go into school the next morning I couldn’t resist dropping my celebrity-bomb on the twins. They were in mid-ballet-babble.

  ‘Madame Picamole says my allongé is far more elegant than Crystal Fortesque-Smyth’s,’ said Emma.

  ‘I’m not surprised. Crystal’s ballon is as bouncy as a burst balloon,’ added Gemma.

  ‘And as for Tanya Kaminsky . . .’

  ‘I’ll say “hi” to George Looney for you, shall I?’ I said casually as I slid from the car.

  ‘What?’ they replied together.

  ‘I’m meeting him tonight at Zoot’s house. Didn’t I tell you?’

  The twins couldn’t have been more shocked than if I’d slapped them both in the face with a wet kipper.

  ‘Ciao!’ I called cheerily, slamming the car door and setting off down the path to school.

  I turned to give them a wave, and couldn’t help grinning at the look of fury on their faces. Their mouths opened and closed comically as they screamed and wailed at me from inside the car. Algy laughed and covered his ears. Gemma’s window rolled down as Constanza drove away from school, and the words ‘worm’, ‘slimeball’ and ‘toad’ fizzed through the air like bullets.

  Peaches skipped over to me. As usual, she had her ‘sensible satchel’ slung over one shoulder, with all the things she might need to get her through the day. This morning, she had so much packed inside that the bag was bulging to bursting point.

  ‘What’ve you got in there?’ I asked.

  ‘Nosy crows will lose their nose,’ she replied. ‘Wait and see.’

  Our good mood didn’t last long.

  ‘Hey, guys,’ said Zoot as we went into the classroom together. ‘I thought I’d better tell you that Bobby’s gonna be at my house tonight too. My dad’s invited the whole family over and Bobby is my cousin, after all.’

  My heart dropped like the broken lift in .

  Bobby ignored Zoot all day. At lunchtime,I saw him point at the three of us and say something to Toby and Hattie. They laughed, and Bobby’s lip curled into a sneer. It was going to be a fun evening.

  At the end of the day, Mr Zipparolli’s gleaming white stretch limo purred to a halt outside school. Kids and parents crowded round, peering through the black-tinted windows, and taking photos with their phones.

  ‘Where’s Pea?’ I wondered, searching among the people swarming about on the pavement.

  ‘There,’ answered Zoot, pointing to a girl walking towards us.

  I didn’t recognize my best friend. She had brushed her hair out of the two bunches she normally wore, and changed into her best blue dress, with silver pumps on her feet, and a small, shiny silver bag hung over one shoulder. Long, glittery butterfly earrings fluttered from her ears, to match the butterfly necklace round her neck.

  ‘Pea?’

  Peaches smiled. ‘I’m meeting film stars,’ she said. ‘I need to sparkle. These shoes aren’t very sensible though – I’m going to have blisters the size of boiled eggs tomorrow.’

  ‘You look . . . neat,’ said Zoot, his face going red.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Peaches, blushing too. ‘I’ve brought your mum’s book,’ she continued quickly. ‘Do you think she’d sign it for the school?’

  ‘Mum’d sign a bus ticket,’ joked Zoot.

  The driver opened the back do
or of the limo, and we stepped into a glittering magical cave. A white leather sofa ran down one side of the car, and curved round the back. On the opposite side were gleaming cabinets. The roof was lit up with swirling waves of blue neon lights, while the floor was made of thick, clear plastic and had tropical fish swimming under our feet!

  ‘It’s playtime, guys,’ said Zoot. ‘Watch this.’ He picked up a remote control and pressed a button. A TV screen swung down from the ceiling. ‘It’s got satellite-TV, Game-World Seven, all my dad’s movies . . .’

  A green light flashed on the wall nearby, and mode a peep-peep sound.

  Zoot pushed it, and said, ‘Hi, James.’

  The driver’s voice came from a speaker in the roof of the car. ‘Please fasten your seatbelts,’ he said. ‘As you can see from the satellite navigation screen at the front of your cabin, our estimated journey time today will be thirty-two minutes. The cabin temperature is set at twenty decrees. Please adjust for your own comfort, and enjoy the journey.’

  As the car set off, Zoot opened a fridge door. ‘We’ve got ice cream, cold drinks or I can microwave a fruit pie . . .’

  I flicked a switch on the table next to me, and the door of one of the cabinets slid back with a soft whirring sound. There was some kind of drinks dispenser inside.

  Zoot grinned at me. ‘And that is the coolest gadget of them all,’ he said. ‘It’s a machine that makes strawberry milkshakes.’

  I was speechless. This car was like something out of an comic.

  We spent the whole thirty-two minutes to Zoot’s house pressing buttons, drinking milkshakes and playing Draco the Droid Destroyer on the Game-World Seven.

  If Bobby didn’t spoil it, maybe it wasn’t going to be such a bad night after all!