was holding were obviously several sizes too big. The pants were the same. Reluctantly, he picked up Bob Snarby’s clothes and put them back on. At least they fit, and washed and groomed, he felt a bit more like an ordinary boy, less like a street urchin. Even so he was nervous. What if his parents refused to listen to him? What if they simply threw him back out on the street?
He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Tad thought for a moment, then went over to a drawer beside the bed, opened it and pulled out a checkbook. It was his own checkbook, and he was certain that he would still be able to sign Tad Spencer’s signature. There was over ten thousand dollars in his current account; his pocket money for the past six months. Whatever happened, that money was now his.
He had just shoved the checkbook into his pocket when the door to the bedroom opened. Tad stared. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t this.
A short, fat, dark-haired boy in a ginger-and-brown-checked suit had just walked in and was staring at Tad with the same shocked expression with which Tad was staring at him. Tad tried to speak. He felt the bed pressing against the back of his legs and he sat down. The other boy smiled.
And that was when Tad knew. He had thought at first that he was looking at himself, and in a way, of course, he was. It was his own body that had just walked into the room, but there was somebody else inside it. And the suddenly narrowed eyes—the cruel smile—told him who that somebody was.
“Bob Snarby!” he whispered.
“Tad Spencer!” the other boy replied. “I been expecting you.”
FACE-TO-FACE
Bob Snarby closed the door and moved into the room. Tad watched him with a sense of wonderment. His first thought was how fat this boy was, how arrogant he looked with his puffed-out cheeks and slicked-back hair. But then he remembered that he was actually looking at himself! Bob was wearing one of his own favorite suits. The Rolex watch that his mother had bought him was on the other boy’s wrist. Tad realized that he was jealous, that he disliked Bob Snarby on sight.
But it wasn’t Bob Snarby. It was him! Tad rested against a chair, thoroughly confused.
For a long minute the two boys stared at each other; Bob Snarby in Tad’s body and Tad Spencer in Bob’s body. At last Tad spoke.
“Do I call you Bob or Tad?” he asked.
The fat boy smiled. “I suppose you can call me Bob,” he said. “You know that’s who I am.”
“What happened?” Tad demanded. “How did you turn yourself into me?”
“I didn’t,” Bob replied. “I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”
“You’re lying!”
Bob moved farther into the room. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said. “But you’d better not get nasty with me. Spurling’s downstairs and one shout from me and you’ll be out on your ear. Know what I mean?”
Tad nodded.
“All right.” Bob sat down on the bed. “I’d had an ’orrible day at the carnival. Up in Crouch End. Moving in is always the worst part and I was dog tired . . . only if I was a dog they’d ’ave put me out of my misery. Mum and Dad were out at the pub. I went to bed.”
“What time?”
“It must have been about ten-thirty. Anyway, I fell asleep and woke up in your place. That’s all there was to it. One minute I was in the van, the next . . .” Bob shook his head. “It gave me a nasty shock, I can tell you. Waking up in that bed! It was so big it took me a while just to find my way out.”
“So what did you do?” Tad asked.
“I couldn’t believe it at first. There I was, surrounded by all this gear—CDs and computer games and the rest of it. You know what my first thought was?”
“I can guess,” Tad said.
“Bob, my boy, I thought, you’ve got to steal as much of this stuff as you can carry. You can ask questions later. But right now you’ve got to get out of here before someone comes and throws you out.” Bob
He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Tad thought for a moment, then went over to a drawer beside the bed, opened it and pulled out a checkbook. It was his own checkbook, and he was certain that he would still be able to sign Tad Spencer’s signature. There was over ten thousand dollars in his current account; his pocket money for the past six months. Whatever happened, that money was now his.
He had just shoved the checkbook into his pocket when the door to the bedroom opened. Tad stared. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t this.
A short, fat, dark-haired boy in a ginger-and-brown-checked suit had just walked in and was staring at Tad with the same shocked expression with which Tad was staring at him. Tad tried to speak. He felt the bed pressing against the back of his legs and he sat down. The other boy smiled.
And that was when Tad knew. He had thought at first that he was looking at himself, and in a way, of course, he was. It was his own body that had just walked into the room, but there was somebody else inside it. And the suddenly narrowed eyes—the cruel smile—told him who that somebody was.
“Bob Snarby!” he whispered.
“Tad Spencer!” the other boy replied. “I been expecting you.”
FACE-TO-FACE
Bob Snarby closed the door and moved into the room. Tad watched him with a sense of wonderment. His first thought was how fat this boy was, how arrogant he looked with his puffed-out cheeks and slicked-back hair. But then he remembered that he was actually looking at himself! Bob was wearing one of his own favorite suits. The Rolex watch that his mother had bought him was on the other boy’s wrist. Tad realized that he was jealous, that he disliked Bob Snarby on sight.
But it wasn’t Bob Snarby. It was him! Tad rested against a chair, thoroughly confused.
For a long minute the two boys stared at each other; Bob Snarby in Tad’s body and Tad Spencer in Bob’s body. At last Tad spoke.
“Do I call you Bob or Tad?” he asked.
The fat boy smiled. “I suppose you can call me Bob,” he said. “You know that’s who I am.”
“What happened?” Tad demanded. “How did you turn yourself into me?”
“I didn’t,” Bob replied. “I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”
“You’re lying!”
Bob moved farther into the room. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said. “But you’d better not get nasty with me. Spurling’s downstairs and one shout from me and you’ll be out on your ear. Know what I mean?”
Tad nodded.
“All right.” Bob sat down on the bed. “I’d had an ’orrible day at the carnival. Up in Crouch End. Moving in is always the worst part and I was dog tired . . . only if I was a dog they’d ’ave put me out of my misery. Mum and Dad were out at the pub. I went to bed.”
“What time?”
“It must have been about ten-thirty. Anyway, I fell asleep and woke up in your place. That’s all there was to it. One minute I was in the van, the next . . .” Bob shook his head. “It gave me a nasty shock, I can tell you. Waking up in that bed! It was so big it took me a while just to find my way out.”
“So what did you do?” Tad asked.
“I couldn’t believe it at first. There I was, surrounded by all this gear—CDs and computer games and the rest of it. You know what my first thought was?”
“I can guess,” Tad said.
“Bob, my boy, I thought, you’ve got to steal as much of this stuff as you can carry. You can ask questions later. But right now you’ve got to get out of here before someone comes and throws you out.” Bob
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