The Revenge of Dr Von Burpinburger (5 page)

The headmaster's words echoed in Eric's head as he walked along the school corridor.

Miss Graymouth will be delighted to see you.

That's exactly what Eric feared. He almost preferred how it used to be, when Miss Graymouth was always angry at him. When he was plain ordinary Eric who didn't do his homework, he only got into trouble. Now that she thought he was a genius she wouldn't leave him alone.

‘Are you ready?' he asked Einstein as they reached the classroom. ‘She'll have heaps of questions, you know.'

Einstein shrugged. ‘Bring it on, buddy.'

Eric knocked at the door, and entered.

‘At last,' Miss Graymouth exclaimed. ‘Now we'll have some decent answers.' She glared at all the other students, and before Eric could even sit down she began asking questions.

‘What's the capital of India? What's 624 plus 749? Where's the Innoko River?' She hardly drew breath between the questions. ‘What's the formula for sulfuric acid?'

Eric waited while Einstein's head whirred and buzzed. A moment later the mouse sent him the answers. Eric gave them to Miss Graymouth one after the other.

‘New Delhi. One thousand three hundred and seventy-three. Western Alaska. H
₂
SO
₄
.'

‘Wonderful!' Miss Graymouth clapped her hands, and for one very scary moment Eric thought she was going to kiss him. ‘Simply wonderful!'

She was so close that he could see her filthy false teeth, and smell her rotten breath. So could Einstein.

Yuck!
he moaned.
Now I really will be sick
.

Then Miss Graymouth stood back and scowled at the other students. ‘Take notice, you lot. And learn!'

Eric wished she wouldn't do that. He didn't want the other students to think he was a teacher's pet.
He could already see Nathan Sharp and his mates whispering and sneering together at the back of the class.

Miss Graymouth also noticed them. ‘That means you, too, Nathan Sharp. In fact, it means you
especially
.'

‘
Oh no
,' Eric groaned inside. Nathan would be really angry now. He'd never liked Eric and was always picking on him. Lately he'd left Eric alone, but that wouldn't last. Not now.

Eric edged past Miss Graymouth and went to his desk, keeping his head down. He could feel Nathan's eyes burning into him.

Eric didn't really need to worry about being called a teacher's pet. Most of the students at Templeton Grammar loved how he could answer pretty well anything. Every day at morning tea and lunchtime they'd gather around, throwing one question after another at him. He was kind of the school hero in a funny way.

But Eric still couldn't get used to all the attention. ‘Why don't we just stay in the library over lunchtime?' he said to Einstein. ‘I don't really want to answer a whole heap of questions from everyone.'

‘Why not?' the mouse asked.

‘I don't know. It feels like I'm cheating,
pretending I'm some kind of amazing whiz kid when I'm nothing of the sort.

‘Don't be silly,' Einstein told him. ‘They love it. You're just a kid like them, but you know heaps more than any adult. That's great. Plus, you've made the school famous, and not by kicking a ball or running fast, but by using your brain. How cool is that?'

‘You mean, by using
your
brain.'

‘My brain, your brain. Who cares? Just enjoy it, pal, buddy, mate. Lap it up! Live it up!' He winked at Eric. ‘And don't worry. I'll help.'

He did help, which made things much easier for Eric. A couple of times Einstein nodded in agreement with Eric's answer. But then he shook his head and frowned as if he thought Eric had made a mistake. That got a load of laughs, and took some of the attention off Eric.

But the best bit was when Einstein pretended to give Eric the answer. He scrambled from the boy's top pocket onto his shoulder and made out that he was whispering in his ear. Of course, he really
was
whispering in Eric's ear. But no one knew that. Eric explained that Einstein was much smarter than him, and that there were some questions only he could answer – the really difficult ones. Everyone thought that was a great joke.

‘See,' the mouse said through the cheering and laughing. ‘What did I tell you? They love it.'

Not everyone loved it, though. Some people hated it – like Nathan Sharp. Every day he grew more and more jealous. ‘I'll get you, Wimpleby,' he often muttered as he watched from a dark corner of the playground. ‘Just you wait.'

Little did Nathan know how soon his chance would come.

The balloon incident was on the news that night.

‘Look at this,' Eric's father shouted after dinner. Eric was helping his mother in the kitchen. Einstein was in the bedroom, exhausted by all the questions at school that day.

The screen was filled with a shot of Brique's enormous backside and his spotty underpants.

‘People on their way to work this morning were greeted by an unusual sight at the busy end of Carlon Street,' said a reporter, ‘when two men crashed their balloon right in the middle of peak-hour traffic.'

‘What a strange looking pair,' Mr Wimpleby said.

The reporter continued: ‘We spoke to Constable Jones about the matter.' A policeman stood before the camera. Behind him, Dr von Burpinburger and Tikazza Brique were being loaded into a police van.

‘We'll have to lock up these jokers for a couple of days,' Constable Jones explained. ‘People shouldn't have to worry about backsides, er, sorry,
balloons
falling on them.'

Lock them up!
Eric liked the sound of that.

‘You must have just missed that on your way to school,' Mr Wimpleby said.

‘Yeah, must have. Wish I'd seen it.' Eric yawned and gave each of his parents a kiss. ‘Think I'll go to bed.'

‘Busy day?' his mother smiled.

‘Sort of,' Eric replied. He wasn't tired at all; he was excited. He couldn't wait to tell Einstein the good news.

He barged into the bedroom. ‘Guess what? Those two thugs are going to be locked up!'

Eric had expected Einstein to be on the bed. But he wasn't. ‘Where are you?'

‘Up here.'

Einstein was standing on top of the wardrobe.

‘What are you doing?' Eric asked.

‘What does it look like I'm doing?'

‘It looks like you're about to jump.'

‘Exactly. Precisely. Indubitably,' the mouse declared. ‘I'm testing my new parachute.'

He held up one of Mr Wimpleby's handkerchiefs, to which he'd attached four strings, one at each corner. The strings were in turn tied around his waist.

‘Strictly a test model, you understand – merely a
prototype
. But I have great hopes for it.'

Then he took several steps back, steadied himself, and ran as fast as he could to the edge of the wardrobe, throwing himself into the air and shouting: ‘Geronimo!'

The parachute didn't work very well. In fact, it didn't work at all. It failed to open, and Einstein
fell like a mouse-shaped stone, missing the bed and hitting the floor with a mouse-like thud.

‘Ouch!'

He did manage to roll as he landed, the way proper parachutists do. But it still hurt. He gathered the handkerchief together, talking to himself. ‘Back to the drawing board, I think.'

Then he glanced up at Eric. ‘Did you say someone is going to be locked up?'