Trixie and the Dream Pony of Doom

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Dinah and Chloe and me looked at each other. Griselda’s lot so rarely say anything honest that somehow it sounds different when they do. “What do you mean, prove it?” I asked, doubtfully.

“Look at her hand, sucker,” Sniffling Sophie said.

Griselda held up her right hand. There was a huge plaster binding up her first two fingers. “Got bitten,” she said triumphantly. “I was trying to tie a Halloween mask on Sally Campbell’s cat to frighten her, and it bit me. Poisoned and all. I can’t even write at the moment, let alone draw.”

Big Barbara and Sniffling Sophie started to close in on us. We’d blown it. There was nothing for it but to beat a retreat.

Disaster! Granny Clump abandoned to her fate! I knew I just had to get to that TV studio, even if I was expelled.

“I’ll have to break out of school, there’s no other way,” I said. “Just tell Warty-Beak I fell in a cement mixer or something.”

I headed for the gates, but just as the bell rang Warty-Beak loomed from nowhere to shoo us all inside. I thought for a second of diving through his legs, but I could see Ms Dove was already locking the gates.

I doubled back, desperate, to a dismayed Chloe and a mischievously grinning Dinah.

“I know a way,” she whispered, grabbing my hand.

“Where are you going? Is it a new game? Can I join in?” said Martha Marchant, who appeared from nowhere like the Ghost of Gloom.

“Distract her, Chloe,” Dinah hissed in Chloe’s ear.

Chloe can be a bit slow at this sort of thing, but she did her best. She started off by standing up like a lamppost, putting both arms straight up above her head and sticking her hands up in a point.

“What am I being?” she asked Martha Marchant, who just shook her head and then looked at us for a clue. Phew. Some distraction this was turning out to be.

“A carrot,” Chloe said in the end, looking disappointed.

But Martha clapped her hands and giggled. “Be another one,” she said.