stomped his foot on the ground. ‘My name isn’t Stripy!’ he cried, as Nancy pointed at my book.
‘Er, what are you doing with that?’ she said.
‘It’s my new Wolf Tizzler book,’ I said, holding it up so they could read the title. ‘I’ve just been reading it!’
‘You read a BOOK?’ said Bunky, screwing his face up like used wrapping paper.
‘Well, the first chapter . . .’ I said.
‘What in the keelnees did you do THAT for?’ said Bunky.
‘I know, it’s weird,’ I said. ‘And what’s even weirderer is I’m actukeely quite enjoying it!’
Nancy rolled her eyes like a two- wheeled sellotape dispenser. ‘Shock horror!’ she chuckled.
‘Bunky, Nancy, I’ve got some bad news,’ I said, comperleeterly out of the blue.
Nancy’s eyebrows tilted into their worried positions. ‘What is it, Barry? Are you OK?’
‘Sorry, did I say BAD news? I meant GOOD!’ I smiled. ‘I was just trying to get your attention - it’s one of Wolf Tizzler’s tricks!’
I held up the page in HOW TO BE A GENIUS LIKE ME where Wolf Tizzler talks about saying things like ‘I’ve got some bad news’ to make people’s ears prick up.
‘So what’s your news?’ asked Nancy.
‘I’m becoming an inventor!’ I said, pulling at the neck of my polo neck.
I don’t know if you’ve ever worn a polo neck before, but it really clings to your neck.
‘An inventor? What for?’ said Bunky, already beginning to look bored. That’s the thing with people like Bunky who’ve got tiny brains - they can’t concentrate on things for more than three sentences.
‘Let me fill you in while we take a stroll,’ I said, tucking my book under one arm and my bright pink piggy bank under the other.
‘Coo-wee, Bar-ry!’ cried my mum, running out of the house after us. ‘Don’t forget I’ve got your favourite dinner for tonight - fish fingers, chips and peas!’
I gave my mum a thumbs-up, not wanting to tell her that that hasn’t been my favourite for about three years. ‘Brillikeels!’ I shouted over my shoulder, just to keep her happy.
‘Nice piggy bank, Barry!’ laughed Bunky as we strolled up the street. ‘It goes with your girl’s phone!’
I pulled my phone, which is pink and used to be my mum’s, out of my pocket.
‘Why does everyone think pink is for girls?’ I said. ‘Some of the keelest things in the whole wide world are pink!’
‘Like what?’ said Bunky.
‘Erm . . . bubble gum, strawberry milkshakes . . . the insides of eyelids?’ I said, running out of keel pink things pret-ter-ly quick-er-ly.
‘Ooh, the insides of eyelids, they are SOOOO keel!’ laughed Bunky.
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