The Great Brain Robbery Read Online Free PDF Page B

papers! He must have put my name at the top! I didn’t do it, I
promise!’
    ‘That’s a lie!’ cried Timmy triumphantly. ‘Look!’ Timmy grabbed Frankie’s pencil case and showed Mrs Pinkerton and the class the offending green pencil as if
he were a lawyer presenting evidence to the jury.
    ‘Well that settles it!’ squawked Mrs Pinkerton. ‘I’ve had quite enough of your naughtiness, Frankie! You obviously can’t behave yourself so I have no choice but to
exclude you from our school trip to Marvella’s.’
    The class gasped in horror. Never before had such a ghastly punishment been dished out to a pupil of Cramley Primary.
    ‘In fact,’ flushed Mrs Pinkerton, ‘you can collect your things and go home right now. I’ve had enough of you for one day.’ Frankie opened and closed his mouth like
the class goldfish. He was so shocked he could not think of a word to say, not even to that sneaky, cheating, double-bluffing trickster, Timothy Snotgrass.
    ‘But that’s not fair, Mrs Pinkerton!’ said Neet, getting out of her chair.
    ‘Sit down right away, young lady!’ squawked Mrs Pinkerton. ‘Or I’ll exclude you too.’
    ‘It’s all right, Neet,’ said Frankie, collecting his things together as fast as he could. ‘You go. I’ll see you on Friday.’ He could feel the tears beginning
to burn behind his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for the whole class to see him cry. Frankie gulped back a sob, grabbed his protractor and ran out of the classroom, disappointment crushing his
chest like a python.

 

    The next morning Frankie woke up with a soupy feeling in his belly. As he lay on his bed, it seemed to be swaying slightly, as if it were adrift on the sea. Frankie opened one
heavy eyelid and peered blearily around him. The objects in his bedroom slowly settled into their usual places and his bed seemed to steady. But Frankie still had a strong sense that something was
not right. Something strange had happened. Something in the night. Something that he couldn’t quite remember. Frankie stayed motionless under his blankets. He had the impression that if he
moved, even slightly, he would break the delicate threads that connected the new day to the world of sleep. But if he could follow those threads back into the labyrinth of the night maybe, just
maybe, he would remember what had happened. Frankie’s eye alighted on his cupboard door. It stood slightly ajar. Did he leave it like that? He felt the trickle of a memory filter into his
imagination. Then it all came flooding back . . .
    In the dead of night Frankie had awoken (or so he thought) to see Gadget the Rabbit hopping through his bedroom door. Frankie rubbed his eyes to check he wasn’t seeing things, but no,
there was Gadget, hopping on to the landing as if it had a life of its own. Frankie shuddered. He didn’t know what his rabbit was up to but a chill in his bones told him it was up to no good.
No good at all. He slipped out of bed as quietly as a moth, slid his feet into his slippers and followed. Peering around the door frame, Frankie saw his toy rabbit bouncing down the stairs, a faint
crackling issuing from its long mechanical ears. He followed on quickly and quietly, making as little noise as possible, as the mechanical toy hopped down to the kitchen, skipped smartly across the
tiles, then leapt through the catflap and headed towards the end of the garden.

    Frankie’s heart was thumping like a drum as he stepped quietly into the damp night. He dropped to his hands and knees to avoid being seen and crawled quickly behind the nearest shrub. From
where he was hiding, Frankie saw the rabbit leap up on to the roof of the garden shed, stand on its hind legs and point its ears skywards. Then it began to swivel them around as if trying to pick
up a signal – left, right, left, right – it seemed to be seeking something far off in the distance.
What on earth is it doing?
Frankie wondered.
Who or what is Gadget
trying to