The Revenge of Dr Von Burpinburger (7 page)

Later that day Mr Growlworthy brought the movie men to Eric's class. Everyone was excited, especially Miss Graymouth. She'd put on far too much make-up: her lips were fire-engine red, and she'd drenched herself in perfume. She had all the students sitting as straight as statues, with their very best work displayed.

‘Excellent,' Mr Growlworthy said. ‘Miss Graymouth is one of our best teachers,' he explained to the movie director, and then turned to the class. ‘Carry on with your work, class. Mr Spoolburg and his cameraman will move among you, filming as they go. But pretend they aren't even there. Treat this as a normal lesson. Work quietly and diligently, as I know you always do.'

That was pretty well impossible, of course. The pupils twitched and fidgeted, whispered and
giggled, constantly peeping up to see if the camera was on them.

Eric ignored the visitors, but Einstein couldn't. He tried to sit quietly in Eric's top pocket, but it was too much for him. Eventually he scrambled onto Eric's shoulder, where he wriggled and squirmed, trying to catch the cameraman's attention.

‘Sit still,' Eric whispered, ‘or I'll lock you in my pencil case.'

‘You wouldn't dare,' Einstein hissed back.

‘Just sit still, then. What's your problem?'

‘They might miss us.'

‘I hope they do.' Eric put his head down. ‘Anyway, they're going to do a special interview with us tomorrow. You can show off as much as you like then.'

‘I'm not showing off. Anyway,
sssshhhh
.' Einstein stood up as straight as he could. ‘They're coming.'

‘Well, well, well.' The film director stopped at Eric's desk. ‘We have an interesting student here. One of your best, am I right?'

The headmaster grinned. ‘Absolutely, Mr Spoolburg. They stand out, don't they? Our
very
best, in fact. Wimpleby is quite the young genius. A fine example of what we strive for at Templeton.' The headmaster proudly boomed out his new motto: ‘We turn ordinary kids into whiz kids!'

Eric looked up. His face felt as red as Miss Graymouth's lips.

‘Students like Eric make our work worthwhile,' those lips added.

‘And what's this?' The director was shaking with excitement now. ‘A m – m –
mouse
! Oh dear. How wonderful. I
do
like mice. They make such marvellous movie stars.'

Mr Growlworthy patted Eric on the head. ‘The lad likes to have his little mascot with him all the time. We sometimes even wonder if the mouse might be the real genius.' The headmaster roared with laughter.

Miss Graymouth laughed, too. So did the whole class. But the movie men didn't. The director reached towards Einstein.

‘Oh yes. This little fellow has potential. Film star potential.' His voice trembled and his hand shook. ‘Might I be allowed hold him?'

‘I don't know,' Eric replied. ‘He usually only lets me hold him.'

The movie director ignored Eric. He kept reaching towards Einstein. The mouse stood still, watching carefully. When the man was almost touching him, he suddenly turned and scurried into Eric's pocket.

The man seemed disappointed, even annoyed. ‘What a pity. I so would have liked to hold him.'

‘There's always tomorrow,' Mr Growlworthy said. ‘You'll be filming Eric in your own special private session.'

Eric felt Einstein give a little shudder when the headmaster said that.

‘Of course. I forgot.' The director grinned at Eric. ‘Be sure to bring your little mascot along, won't you.' It sounded more like an order than a request. ‘I
must
have him. In my movie, that is.'

‘You changed your mind quickly.'

Eric was walking out the gates of Templeton Grammar. Einstein was still hiding deep down in Eric's top pocket. He hadn't said a word since the movie man tried to hold him.

‘One minute you were bursting to be a movie star,' continued Eric, ‘now you won't even show your face.'

‘Are we safe?' Einstein whispered up at him.

‘What do you mean?'

‘Those two men aren't following us, are they?'

‘No. Of course they're not following us.' Eric glanced around just in case. ‘What's wrong?'

Einstein stuck his head out of the pocket. ‘I don't like them. They're up to no good.' He was clearly upset.

‘They're peculiar, yes. Fruitcakes, sure. But that's all. Nothing to be scared about.' Eric could feel Einstein trembling. ‘Or is there?'

‘I think that film director might be Dr von Burpinburger in disguise.'

‘What?!'

‘I can't be certain, but everything fits. Two men – one big, one small. Two heads – one small, one big. And I'm almost sure he nearly burped when he reached out to me.'

‘It can't be. They're supposed to be in jail.'

‘Maybe they got out. And then again, maybe I'm wrong. I don't know, but I don't want them near me. They're creepy.'

‘But it's a golden opportunity,' Eric's mother pleaded with him that night at the dinner table.

‘You'd be crazy not to do it,' his father argued.

Mr and Mrs Wimpleby had already given the school their permission for Eric to do a special session with the Spoolburg Film Company. They hadn't bothered to ask Eric. It had never occurred to them that he'd be against it.

‘What's the problem?' Mrs Wimpleby wanted to know.

‘I just don't want to be in it, OK?' Eric pushed back his chair and stood. ‘Do I have to have a reason?'

‘It would help us to understand,' Mr Wimpleby replied.

All right, Eric decided. He may as well tell them the truth. ‘Einstein doesn't want to.'

‘Excuse me?' Mr Wimpleby asked. ‘Can you say that again?'

‘Einstein doesn't want to be in it.'

‘That's what I thought you said.' Eric's father shook his head.

‘He's scared of those men.'

‘He's a mouse, Eric. They're scared of everything.'

‘They really freak him out, Dad. Because they're bad, and because they —' Eric paused, not sure whether to go on. ‘They want to steal him.'

‘Steal him? Why would anyone want to steal Einstein?'

Because he's a mega-brain,
Eric almost said, but then decided not to. They wouldn't believe him. ‘Because he's film star material.'

‘What?! Are you joking?'

‘That's what Mr Spoolburg said as soon as he saw Einstein. And he asked if he could hold him. And we – I – didn't like the way he looked at Einstein. Like he wanted to steal him right there and then.'

Eric's parents stared at him for a moment. Then Mr Wimpleby shook his head. ‘That's ridiculous.'

‘But it's true.'

‘You're imagining things.'

‘No I'm not. I saw it with –'

‘That's enough, Eric!' Mr Wimpleby raised his voice. ‘Your mother and I have been worried about you lately. Ever since that mouse arrived, you've changed. You're getting things out of perspective. He's a mouse, Eric. Nothing more. He's just a mouse.'

‘That's where you're wrong. I don't expect you to understand. But he isn't just a mouse. He's heaps more. More than you can ever know.'

Eric stamped off to his bedroom, fuming to himself. Why did grown-ups have to be so difficult? Why didn't they ever understand anything?