Elizabella Breaks a Leg Page 2

  “Well, I’ve never heard of a lorikeet befriending a possum. Must have been quite a sight!”

  Toddberry rolled his eyes.

  “Okay, bye. Bye bu-b-b-u-bubye.”

  Martin hung up.

  “You know what Dad?” Toddberry began. “You have bad–” He was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing again.

  “One second . . . Toddberry, can you turn that down?”

  “It’s Todd,” Toddberry replied through gritted teeth.

  “Hello again! Yes, uh-huh, uh-huh! Well, that was worth calling back for! Did I tell you we got an extension on our worm farm? I did?”

  Toddberry pulled his hair in frustration and curled up on the couch in a ball.

  “Okay bye. Bye bye. Bye bye bye . . . Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I’d hung up already?”

  Toddberry had had enough. He walked over to his dad, took the phone out of his hand, pressed “end” and put it on a shelf.

  “Dad,” said Toddberry. “You have bad phone etiquette.”

  Martin laughed. “Excuse me, Toddberry?”

  “TODD!”

  “Sorry, excuse me, Todd, what exactly do you mean by that?”

  “If you need to talk loudly on the phone for ages then at the very least go into another room! Did you know that when they planted a flag on the moon it waved?”

  “No,” said Martin.

  “How did it wave, in zero gravity, Dad? How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, neither do I,” said Toddberry, “because you have bad phone etiquette.”

  “I think we should limit conspiracy theory docos,” said Martin. “They put weird ideas in your head.”

  “I think we should limit your phone time,” Toddberry snapped back. “You’re scared of the truth, Dad. And of science.”

  Larry, who had been sitting on the floor, suddenly remembered something. He scurried out of the room.

  “Well, at any rate if you are interested in family news . . .”

  Toddberry threw his head back in boredom.

  “I’m not.”

  “That was Aunty Anna. She has to go away for work so your cousin Isabeth is coming up from Melbourne to stay with us.”

  “Daaaad,” said Toddberry. “That’s like having two Elizabellas in the house.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is!” said Martin. “How wonderful.”

  “Yes . . .” said Toddberry, sarcastically. “How truly wonderful.”

  Just at that moment, Larry came back into the room, with a flyer in his mouth. He dropped it on the floor by Toddberry’s feet.

  “What are you trying to eat now, Larry?” Toddberry asked, picking it up. As he read the flyer, his eyes grew wide.

  “Cool!” he exclaimed. “A science shop is opening in Bilby Creek. Maybe they’ll sell stuff that will help me prove some of these conspiracies!”

  “Well, a science shop is good,” said Martin. “But really, we know men walked on the moon. That case is closed. Maybe you can buy something more educational there? Like sea monkeys that you rehydrate to make your own pets. Or a lava lamp?”

  “There are lots of conspiracy theories about it,” Larry croaked in Lizish/English, “like why you can’t see any stars in the pictures taken from the first moon landing mission.” He often participated in these conversations to amuse himself, even though no one could understand him.

  Toddberry looked at Larry. He wasn’t sure how or why, but somehow staring at this lizard had made something pop into his brain.

  “If people really did land on the moon, then how come there are no stars in the pictures they took?”

  Larry gasped. On and off he had been given reason to believe Toddberry could understand him and was pretending not to.

  “Toddberry?” Larry said. “Toddberry, can you hear me?”

  “It’s TODD!” Toddberry shouted. Larry was stunned. He can hear me!

  “I’m sorry?” said Martin. “I didn’t say your name.”

  “Yes, you did!” Toddberry said. “I heard my name!”

  Martin looked at him, concerned. “I think we’ve had enough TV for one night.”

  “Daaad!” Toddberry protested as Martin switched it off.

  “Look, I don’t know why you can’t see stars in the photos,” Martin said.

  “I do!” said Larry. “It’s because the bright light of the moon washes out the stars making them appear dim, and a camera can’t gather enough of their light to make them visible in a photo!”

  “Exactly!” said Toddberry. “No one can explain it.”

  Larry had a realisation. Toddberry has selective hearing! He can only hear what he wants to hear!

  “But,” said Martin, “I can tell you now that people who are much smarter than me do know why.”

  “Well, that makes just about everyone,” Toddberry moped.

  “That’s fair,” Martin laughed.

  Larry was infuriated. I wish Toddberry would stop spending so much time on other people’s conspiracies and figure out that he can hear a lizard talking! Now that’s a real scoop!

  The enormous red curtains unfurled and drew to a close across the stage as the audience began to clap.

  Elizabella’s mind was spinning, processing what she had just witnessed. Pantomime horses and an old ruinous castle that somehow rose out of the stage and disappeared above the pelmet of the curtain. Princes and ogresses, peasants and ghouls and gorillas. A rocket ship racing across the galaxy and a long march of ants in the undergrowth. There was laughter and tears and fear and jealousy and falling in love. Yes, the play had been based around the story of Rapunzel, but it was so much more than that. Elizabella felt like she had opened up a box and the whole universe had spilled out of it.

  The actors ran on stage from the wings, held hands, and took a big, purposeful bow. As they did, the audience erupted in cheers. Then the actors all stood straight and held up a right arm to the back of the theatre. Elizabella spun around and saw that they were pointing at two people dressed in all black in a big raised box. Elizabella recognised them from the photo wall in the foyer. It was the lighting and sound technicians. They clapped back at the performers. Elizabella turned her gaze to the stage once more in time to see the actors bow again. Then, still holding hands, they ran off stage.

  That was extremely cool, Elizabella thought, EXTREMELY extremely cool.

  The foyer was abuzz with chatter from the students and other audience members alike. Elizabella was silent as she walked into the throng of people nattering away.

  “How cool was it when the prince abseiled up Rapunzel’s hair?” Huck exclaimed, to no response. “Elizabella?”

  “Hmm?” she replied. A truly great play can take you to another world, and Elizabella hadn’t quite returned to this one yet.

  “My favourite bit was when Rapunzel flew over the city using her hair as wings!” said Evie.

  “Same!” said Ava.

  “Same!” said Daphne, who was running through the foyer waving her pigtails up and down as though she was about to take off. It was very unlike Daphne to break the No Running rule which applied just about everywhere that school was concerned except for the athletics carnival.

  “Gather round, children, gather round!” Mr Gobblefrump boomed into his megaphone, sending his post-show joy ringing through the foyer. Much like Elizabella and everyone else, he had been thoroughly transported by the production.

  Miss Carrol was shepherding the students into a gaggle as best she could, but they were about as difficult to physically contain as their excitement was.

  “All right, children!” Mr Gobblefrump said. “I trust you all enjoyed this magical night at the theatre as much as I did! To think of the adventures we were able to share together, the land and time and emotions we were able to traverse without leaving our chairs! Oh, what a night!” Mr Gobblefrump looked towards the big theatre doors where the parents were gathered.

  “Your parents and guardians are here to pick you up, and I wish you all the most spl
endid evening full of robust conversation and followed by vivid theatre-inspired dreams!”

  Miss Carrol began trying to match up students with parents. She pointed Huck and Elizabella in the direction of Leanne who was waving by the door.

  “Mum!” Huck cried. “You won’t believe what we saw! Goblins and ghosts and a family of mice living in Rapunzel’s hair!”

  “Whoa, that sounds amazing!” Leanne said, but Huck barely heard her as he skipped out of the theatre towards the car, his mum and a dazed Elizabella trying to keep up.

  “Elizabella, wait!” Minnie cried out through the theatre doors after them. She still hadn’t told Elizabella her news. But it was too late. She let out a big sigh as she went back inside.

  Mr Gobblefrump breathed in the crisp evening air as he cycled through the streets of Bilby Creek winding his way home, his sparkly tie and special-occasion toupee flapping in the breeze. Of course, unlike many of the children who had made their debut visit to the theatre that evening, Mr Gobblefrump was no stranger to the performing arts. But he knew too well that there are plays and there are plays. As much as he loved the theatre, he accepted that some productions were a bit ho-hum, bad even. He had once fallen asleep during a particularly underwhelming production of Cats, the musical. But when a show got it right the experience was like nothing on earth. Mr Gobblefrump was so pleased that this had been the case this evening.

  It would have been ever so disappointing for the children’s first excursion to the theatre to be a dud, he thought as he rode up the path to his house. Now how can I capitalise on their enthusiasm?

  He parked his bike, walked up the steps to his front door, and as the automatic porch light came on, an idea popped into his head. He threw open the door.

  “Pemberley, I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. The cat took a moment’s break from clawing a satin cushion and looked up at him.

  “We shall have a mufti day, but everyone must come to school dressed as William Shakespeare!”

  The cat didn’t look so impressed.

  “Or how about a recess where everyone has to speak in rhyme or they get detention?”

  Pemberley yawned.

  “Too difficult?” he asked. “Let’s try it out, Pemberley. I think I might eat an orange . . .” He looked expectantly at the cat who remained silent. “It’s okay – I’ll do your rhyme. I think I might eat an orange then I might . . . um . . . Actually I can’t think of anything that rhymes with orange. Let me try again.” He cleared his throat.

  “Look at my new hat, it’s purple,” he paused, “hmm . . . nothing rhymes with purple, either! This is much too difficult.” He sighed. “We’ll have to keep puzzling it out, Pemberley.”

  The cat seemed unmoved by this idea as she turned back to her cushion and resumed clawing at the cover.

  “Ew, look!” Huck nudged Elizabella and pointed to the couch, where Leanne had kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on Martin’s lap.

  Elizabella, Huck and Toddberry were on the floor on the other side of the lounge room. They were playing a new board game called Kangaroos and Staircases.

  Elizabella took a big slurp of hot chocolate and shuddered. It hadn’t taken much to twist Leanne’s arm into coming in for that coffee they’d discussed earlier. Martin and Leanne were becoming more and more relaxed about being all lovey-dovey in front of everyone, which was slightly sickening to Elizabella and Huck.

  “You guys are so immature,” said Toddberry, swishing the hair curtains away from his face as he sent a kangaroo bounding down a staircase.

  “Sorry, TODD,” Elizabella said. “We can’t all be fourteen and so adult we forget half our name.”

  “So they’re in love. Who cares?”

  “They’re not in love!” Huck spluttered, horrified.

  Toddberry shrugged. “They might be,” he said.

  “Since when do you know so much about love?” asked Elizabella. “Have you got a girlfriend or something now?”

  “NO!” Toddberry exclaimed. “As if!” He stormed out of the room before finishing his turn.

  Elizabella and Huck giggled.

  “Do you think maybe he actually does have a girlfriend?” Huck asked, moving his kangaroo a few squares across the board.

  “He’s certainly acting very strangely,” Elizabella replied. “But honestly, who would go out with Toddberry? He’s such a grump!”

  “Well, I guess there’s someone out there for everyone!” said Huck, trying not to think about how he secretly thought Elizabella could become that someone out there for him one day.

  “You think he’s found a girl with a long, thick fringe that covers her face who is mean and obsessed with video games she’s not very good at just like him?”

  “Maybe!” Huck replied, laughing.

  Toddberry came back in with a carton of milk. He opened it and took a sip.

  “Ah, Toddberry . . . err, Todd, sorry . . . please don’t drink straight from the carton, mate,” Martin said from the couch.

  “Surprised you noticed, Dad, thought you were too busy pashing.” Toddberry took a sip.

  “Don’t be smart, please.”

  “Relax, Dad.” Toddberry took a giant swig then tipped it upside down.

  “There was literally the exact amount of milk I needed in there. I, like, saved water by not using a glass that would need to be washed. What have you done for the environment today?”

  “Given all of your school lunch and dinner leftovers to the worms and taken out the recycling – both of which were your jobs, I may remind you,” Martin replied.

  Toddberry sat back down with Huck and Elizabella. “This is a stupid game.”

  “No, it isn’t!” said Huck, leaping to the defence of Elizabella’s new board game.

  “It’s just a rip-off of Snakes and Ladders. About as original as a production of Rapunzel.”

  “It was a very original production!” said Elizabella. “I’m sorry you can’t appreciate theatre.”

  Toddberry continued his move, sending his kangaroo sailing over the END square on the board.

  “And I’m sorry you’re both really bad at fake Snakes and Ladders.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Elizabella said, taking a slurp of orange juice. She’d been telling her dad and Toddberry about the play all through breakfast.

  “How did they make the castle disappear into the ceiling? How did the actor who played the prince also play the ogre?”

  “Theatre is a bit like magic,” Martin replied. “If it’s really good and you get completely absorbed in it, you can miss the trick.”

  “Are we still talking about the dumb play?” said Toddberry, yawning.

  “It wasn’t dumb!”

  “All plays are dumb.”

  “Plays are cool.” Elizabella pointed her fork at her brother. A little bit of wobbly scrambled egg plopped off the prongs and onto the dining table.

  “Nah.” Toddberry swished his hair curtains in disagreement.

  Martin rubbed his temples.

  “They’re like movies–” Elizabella continued, but Toddberry jumped in.

  “They’re like movies except they’re bad. And you can’t fast-forward through the boring bits or walk out if they’re awful, which they always are.”

  “You’re just mad because you got the part of Non-Speaking Alley Cat Number Three in your school play,” said Elizabella, shovelling more egg in her mouth.

  “Actually, I got out of loads of classes for rehearsals and didn’t have to do anything.” He smiled smugly under his hair curtains. “I nailed it.”

  “Maybe if you went to classes more you’d be smart enough to understand a play and you would realise they’re cool!”

  “I’m not taking ‘cool’ lessons from someone with a face literally covered in egg.”

  Elizabella ran her tongue around the perimeter of her mouth. It did seem to be coated in egg and toast crumbs. She was suddenly aware of a warmth on her chest. She looked down. Her T-shirt was too. It was hard to win an argu
ment and eat daintily at the same time. She wiped off the egg as best she could and continued.

  “Well–”

  “Enough,” Martin cut through. “Elizabella, Toddberry, that’s enough.”

  “For the millionth time it’s TODD!!!”

  Martin and Elizabella shot each other a look.

  “What? I’ve told you! Just call me Todd now.”

  “Why?” asked Martin.

  “Because!”

  “You’re wrong about plays,” Elizabella said. Then she had an idea. “In fact . . . I’m going to prove it to you. I’m going to ask Mr Gobblefrump if we can put one on!”

  “That’s a great idea!” Martin said. “Just, you know, don’t, ummm, get into an enormous amount of trouble in the process, if you can avoid it?”

  “Dad,” said Elizabella, rolling her eyes, “I never get into an enormous amount of trouble if I can avoid it.”

  Martin closed his eyes and took a big breath. A classic Elizabella answer.

  “Pfff! What a stupid idea,” said Toddberry. “You’ll spend all your lunch breaks and afternoons working on it and when you eventually put it on it will be boring and stupid and everyone will boo.”

  Elizabella smiled at him. “The worse you think an idea is, the better I know it is, Todd.”

  “Well, I hope you make some money from it. You owe me a tube of Cool Dude Hair Slick.”

  “Well–” Elizabella was searching for a comeback, but, in this rare instance, failing to think of a decent one, she scrunched up her face, put on her best annoying voice and said, “Waah waah waah, I love my Cool Dude Hair Slick ’cause I’m a giant baby!”

  “Hope you aren’t planning to perform in the play,” said Toddberry. “You’re the worst actor I’ve ever seen.”

  When Huck and Elizabella arrived at school they found Minnie waiting at the gates.

  “Elizabella,” she said, “I need to talk to you.”

  But Elizabella had spotted the acting principal patrolling the playground. “Minnie, just give me one second. I have to ask Mr Gobblefrump something.”