Read Online Polly Pippin and The Tunnel of Death by Sarah Godwin Winter - Free Book Online Page A

was
astounded. Selim usually had his mind on other things.
    'I have ways of making things happen.'
    'Seriously, how did you do it?' Sreip
asked.
    'I sent a telegram,' Selim said, a grin all
over his silly face.
    All the girls sat around the table, Polly,
Alison, Lily, Lucy and Barbara.
    'Do you know what?' Polly said. 'I think we
it should be a themed party, and we should hold it in the cottage
in the garden.'
    'You have a cottage in the garden?' Barbara
said.
    'Yes, and it's so cute. I wanted to move in,
but misery guts Ali here said no.' Polly playfully pulled Ali's
ponytail.
    'I'd move in with you,' Lily said.
    'Really!' Polly said, and she poked her
tongue out at Alison, who spurted lemonade at her.
    'Can we get on with it, please? Let's vote.
Who wants to have the party in the cottage?' Barbara asked. All the
hands went up except Polly's.
    Harry the Hand was sitting in the tree
outside the front, spying and eating leaves. He was telling the
Liddles the story of his life, which he often did. He saw the four
girls put their hands in the air, and was suddenly very interested
in what they were saying.
    'So that's decided. The party will be in the
cottage,' Barbara said.
    ~
    Harry was excited as he hunted in his
sporran for his inter-universal communication unit to message Zack
and Knox to tell them what the girls had decided.
    'Harry's just sent us a message, the party's
in the cottage in the garden. That's great. Do we go through the
house to get to the garden, or is there a back entrance?' Zack
asked.
    'You can never tell with that house, it
changes shape as often as I clean my teeth. In any case, it doesn't
matter, we are inside the energy band.' Knox replied.
    'Well, we can always make an excuse to go
into the house. By the way, do you know where Brad Capriole
is?'
    'Nope, and I don't much care. He's outlived
his usefulness now, so when we do find him, we can de-pneuma him
and send him to Yrotagrup.'
    'So much for him being "King of the World".'
Zack looked at his time gauge. 'Anyway, we'd better get back, or
our pretend twins will wonder where we are.'
    'I hate to say it, but they're not bad for
Freeflyers. I quite like them,' Knox said.
    'Oh, come ON, Knox! Are you getting soft in
the head? They are the sons of Sreip and Selim - our bitter
enemies.'
    'I know that, but they're so… so nice.'
    'Zack, Knox,' a voice called out. We were
getting worried about you.' Piers and Miles rounded the corner on
their motorbikes, smiling and waving madly.
    'See what I mean?' said Knox.
    'Shut up, idiot,' Zack snapped back, and
when the boys pulled up, he said. 'Hi, we were just on our way
back.'
    'We've been looking for you,' Piers said.
'We want to take you to Brown Sugar for lunch. Then we will show
you over the film studio. Hop on Zack.'
    'No, you come with me Zack. I'm fed up with
Knox already. He thinks he can sing and keeps bursting into song.'
Miles patted the seat.
    'Oh, come ON!' Piers said, exaggerating the
"on". Zack's head shot up. How good was the Rebel's induction? Not
only was that exactly what he'd said five minutes ago, but how he'd
said it. He shook his head. The more time he spent with Piers, the
more he felt like his real twin. But he dismissed the thought - it
was probably how it was meant to be. He shrugged his shoulders. As
much as he hated to admit it, like Knox, he was actually starting
to quite like the boys.
    Surprise, surprise
    Brad opened his eyes. He was lying on his
back in a ditch in inches-deep mud and cold water. He rolled onto
his side. How the hell did he get here? 'What the…' But he stopped
a look of horror in his eyes. He didn't know who or what was in the
ditch with him, and he was petrified. Standing in front of him was
Harry the Hand, and that was all it was - a hand. On the end of
each finger was an eye. And a mouth of sorts, with thick luscious
lips, lay smack in the middle of the palm. Sometimes his tongue was
his proboscis, and Harry loved to roll it out and poke people as
hard as he