Hodgepodge Read online

  Inside the shop it’s worse. It looks like a TORNADO has ripped through. Whole bunches of flowers have been torn to shreds. There are petals and spilled water and stalks EVERYWHERE.

  ‘Mum?’ calls Willow.

  But Helen is nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Goodness gracious,’ says a voice behind us. ‘What happened here?’

  The voice belongs to an old man in a fancy coat.

  ‘Stray cat!’ says Willow, at the same time as I say, ‘Escaped monster!’

  The man looks at us, his eyes narrowed. He glances down at the chewed flowers, and the half-sock I have GRIPPED in my fist.

  ‘I see.’ He turns and walks out.

  There isn’t time to analyse how weird that was.

  ‘Hodgepodge?’ I call.

  I hear a farting noise from the back room.

  Hodgepodge, quite a bit fatter than when we last saw him, is crouched in front of a cupboard door, chewing on a daffodil.

  He looks very pleased with himself, and even though we’re probably going to get in heaps of trouble, I’m happy to see him.

  A banging noise is coming from inside the storeroom, and someone yells,

  Hodgepodge farts again, and I can smell a weird mix of old socks, cat food and roses.

  I wave the sock in the air. ‘HODGEPODGE!’

  I shrug off my backpack and unzip it. I put the sock right by the opening. ‘Come on, Hodgepodge,’ I say gently.

  Hodgepodge hesitates, then takes a few steps forward

  Then another few steps.

  He reaches out for the sock...

  I SCOOP him into my backpack and zip it up.

  Willow opens the storeroom door, and there is her mum, looking flustered.

  ‘What on earth are you two doing here?’ she asks.

  ‘We just came to say hi,’ says Willow. ‘You know, a friendly visit?’

  Willow’s mum looks at us both, FROWNING. Then she smiles. ‘It’s nice to see you two getting along,’ she says. ‘I’m just so sorry you had to see the shop like this! I don’t know what happened. A creature...’ She shakes her head.

  ‘A stray cat?’ Willow offers helpfully.

  Helen nods, frowning. ‘Yes...A stray cat. That must have been it. It got in and caused such a RUCKUS. I went into the storeroom to find a box to catch it in, and the door swung shut behind me.’

  My backpack makes a farting noise. I COUGH LOUDLY.

  ‘I’d better call your dad to come and pick you up,’ says Helen. ‘It’s starting to rain again.’

  We help Helen tidy up the shop while we wait for David Cole to arrive. I go outside to pick up the overturned buckets on the footpath.

  ‘Hello there, my young friend.’ It’s the man in the fancy coat.

  ‘Hello.’

  My backpack farts again, and the man’s eyes light up.

  ‘Can I see it?’ he asks.

  ‘See what?’

  He smiles a knowing smile. ‘The CREATURE you have in your backpack.’

  I have no idea what to say, so I don’t say anything. How does he know about Hodgepodge?

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ says the man. ‘My name is Wesle Crankshaw ’

  He pulls a card from his pocket and hands it to me.

  ‘I run a sanctuary for...UNUSUAL CREATURES,’ he says. ‘I’d be happy to give your little pet a safe home. With other unwanted beasts like him.’

  ‘You want to take Hodgepodge?’ I say.

  The man’s eyes SPARKLE. ‘I just want him to be safe. And I know that’s what you want as well.’

  Before I can think of a reply, David Cole pulls up in his car and leaps out.

  I have never felt so pleased to see him before.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ asks David Cole.

  ‘This is—’ I turn around, but Wesley Crankshaw is nowhere to be seen. David Cole looks at the flowers and broken pots, sneezes six times and goes inside THE LONE HYDRANGEA. I follow him, tucking Wesley Crankshaw’s card into my backpack.

  Hodgepodge is sitting between my feet, looking smug. How did he get out of my backpack? He points at Willow’s mum and dad, and then bows to Willow. He looks different, somehow. For the first time since Willow whispered her task to him he is standing still

  I scoop him up and stuff him back in my bag before anyone notices.

  Willow looks from her mum to her dad, her eyes WIDE and HOPEFUL. My backpack makes a gentle farting sound. Helen is explaining about the stray cat. David Cole sneezes again. His eyes are watering.

  ‘You’d better get out of here before your allergies make you explode,’ Helen says with a laugh, shepherding us out the door.

  David Cole nods, and bundles me and Willow into the car.

  ‘Next time you want to go visit your mum,’ he says to Willow. ‘Just let me know first, okay?’

  Willow nods. She seems very quiet, which is unusual.

  ‘It's nice to see Helen so happy though.’ David Cole says cheerfully. He turns to me. ‘She always wanted to be a florist, but my allergies got in the way.’

  Willow is staring out the car window at The Lone Hydrangea, looking thoughtful and a little bit SAD.

  It’s stopped raining when we get home, so we take Hodgepodge down to the bottom of the garden behind the fig tree, where Mum and David Cole won’t spot us.

  I want to take some notes. This is an excellent opportunity to do Science and Observation.

  But Willow is not maintaining proper distance with the subject. She is playing with Hodgepodge.

  ‘Hodgepodge, sit! Roll over! Stay!’

  ‘He's not a dog, Willow.’ I say, trying to measure Hodgepodge.

  ‘Come on, Artie!’ says Willow, chasing after Hodgepodge.

  ‘I’m busy,’ I tell her. I HATE soccer.

  Hodgepodge runs up to me, the ball in his little paws.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Just for a little bit so I can observe his athletic performance.’

  Willow rolls her eyes at me, which I am getting used to. And, even though I hate soccer, Hodgepodge makes it fun.

  Until he EATS THE BALL, and Willow gets angry.

  Hodgepodge burps. Then he scurries up the trunk of the fig tree, returning a few minutes later with his cheeks bulging and his fists full. He bounds over to us and offers us the figs.

  ‘EW,’ says Willow. ‘I hate figs.’

  ‘I quite like them,’ I say. ‘Thank you, Hodgepodge.’

  Hodgepodge wags his tail happily.

  ‘Maybe he’s hungry?’ I suggest.

  I put Hodgepodge down on the kitchen counter. I open the fridge and pull out several containers of David Cole’s leftovers. (There are always lots of leftovers.) I offer them to Hodgepodge one by one.

  Watching Hodgepodge try new foods is really fun. Even Willow thinks it’s an excellent Experiment.

  She breaks off a piece of her banana and hands it to Hodgepodge. He sniffs it, takes a small bite and then SQUISHES the rest between his paws. I add bananas to the list of things Hodgepodge doesn’t like. I also add them to a second list of things Hodgepodge and I agree on.

  Hodgepodge tries some chocolate fudge ripple ice-cream. He eats it really fast and groans. I don’t think he likes getting BRAIN FREEZE. Willow and I finish off the rest, while Hodgepodge demolishes a jar of David Cole’s Extra Smoky Barbeque Sauce.

  ‘WHAT’S ALL THIS MESS?’ says David Cole, coming into the kitchen.

  I shove Hodgepodge into the breadbin just in time.

  ‘Er,’ says Willow. ‘I was...trying some new things. You always say it’s good to try new foods.’

  David Cole looks astonished. Willow NEVER wants to try new food.

  The breadbin makes a farty noise, but David Cole doesn't seem to hear it.

  ‘Well, that’s excellent, Willow!’ he says. ‘Just make sure you clean up afterwards.’

  The breadbin smells very strongly of kimchi and smoky barbeque sauce. I suddenly have an idea for an Experiment.

  ‘Let’s go to your room,’ I tell Willow
, after we’ve finished cleaning up. ‘I want to try something.’

  ‘I think Hodgepodge has a superpower,’

  I say, when we are safe upstairs

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Hodgepodge, can you make a STINKY SOCK SMELL?’

  Hodgepodge farts, and Willow’s room suddenly smells like stinky socks.

  ‘What about a FLOWER SMELL?’ Another fart, and all we can smell is roses.

  ‘No way!’ says Willow. ‘Hodgepodge, can you make a CINNAMON SMELL?’

  Hodgepodge frowns and gives a little shrug.

  ‘I think he can only make the smell of something he’s eaten,’ I say. ‘HOW ABOUT FISH?’

  Hodgepodge nods happily, and does an anchovy fart.

  ‘GROSS,’ Willow says, opening her bedroom window.

  Hodgepodge does another flowery fart, then shuffles over to Willow’s guitar. He reaches out and flicks one of the strings.

  ‘Here, I’ll show you how to play it,’ Willow says.

  She plugs the guitar into her amp, and starts to play.

  Hodgepodge SHRIEKS, and jumps into my arms, burrowing his face into my chest. There is a vinegary smell in the air.

  Hodgepodge and I also agree about Willow’s guitar-playing.

  ‘Do you want to have a go?’ Willow says, when she’s finished.

  Hodgepodge creeps forward again, and plucks a string. But he pulls too hard, and the string snaps with a TWANG.

  ‘HEY!’ Willow says. ‘Be careful!’

  Willow can be scary when she’s angry.

  Hodgepodge scuttles back to me. ‘It’s not his fault,’ I say. ‘He doesn’t know about guitars.’

  Willow looks at him, frowning. ‘Maybe it’s time we did the banishing spell.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘THE BIGGE BOKE OF FETCHING MONSTERS said that when your monster has finished its task, you should recite THE BANISHING SPELL so it can go back to where it came from. And well... Hodgepodge has finished his task. So he can go home now.’

  OH.

  ‘Do you want to go home, Hodgepodge?’ Willow asks.

  Hodgepodge looks confused.

  ‘Do you like your home?’ I ask.

  He nods, and I feel a bit ashamed. Of course Hodgepodge has a home. He probably has a family, too. He must have been missing them.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Let’s send you home, Hodgepodge.’

  Hodgepodge smiles happily, and I think I’ll miss him, just a little bit.

  Willow sits crosslegged on her bed with THE BIGGE BOKE OF FETCHING MONSTERS spread out in front of her.

  ‘Okay, here we go,’ she says.

  ‘Goodbye, Hodgepodge,’ I say, and there is a lump in my throat.

  Hodgepodge looks at me, then looks at Willow. He farts a banana-ish smell, then makes a face.

  Willow takes a deep breath and says:

  There’s a BANG, A FLASH, and a very strong smell of stinky socks.

  I feel...a little bit relieved, because Hodgepodge was a lot of work. And a little bit sad, because Hodgepodge was a lot of fun.

  I look at Willow, wondering if she feels the same way, but she pushes me off the bed. ‘Get out of my room!’ she growls.

  I go back to my room, but I can hear a thumping noise coming from the laundry.

  So I head down to the basement.

  The washing machine is on, and there’s something thumping around and around inside. Something very furry.

  I pause the wash and yank open the door. Soapy water floods out, along with a very BEDRAGGLED monster.

  Hodgepodge shakes like a dog, and water splatters all over the walls.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asks David Cole.

  ‘Er,’ I say, throwing a soggy towel over Hodgepodge. ‘Something was in the washing machine.’

  I am very bad at lying.

  ‘What is it with you kids today?’ David Cole sighs, walking out.

  ‘Let’s clean up this mess,’ I say to Hodgepodge.

  He picks up a soaking wet sock and chews on it thoughtfully. I laugh and try not to think about how I’d quite like Hodgepodge to stay.

  We go upstairs and I tell Willow that we still have a pet monster.

  ‘What?!’ she says. ‘The banishing spell

  didn’t work. You try reading it, Artie.’

  I try to use my best Scientist voice.

  Once again, Hodgepodge vanishes with a BANG and a fART. But it’s only seconds before we hear a loud yowling, scuffling noise coming from beneath us.

  ‘He’s downstairs,’ says Willow. We run towards the sound.

  There are tufts of grey and ginger fur all over the drawing room.

  Murphy is crouched in front of the fire place, his tail thrashing from side to side, growling softly.

  ‘What’s going on?’ says Mum. ‘You kids know you’re not allowed in here. And what’s all this mess?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Murphy and Hodge—’

  ‘Murphy got stuck in the fireplace!’ Willow interrupts, scooping Murphy up and throwing me a look.

  A farting noise comes from the chimney, and the room smells like STINKY CHEESE.

  ‘Clean up all this fluff, and keep him out of here, okay?’ says Mum. ‘This is a building site, NOT a playroom. And whatever you do, don’t go into the library. I’ve just stained the floorboards.’

  Hodgepodge tries to help us clean up, but he’s covered in soot from the chimney, so he just makes everything worse.

  We take him up to the attic and try the spell again.

  ‘Maybe it worked?’ says Willow.

  No more Hodgepodge.

  I guess it’s for the best.

  ‘Oh no,’ says Willow.

  We find Hodgepodge in the library, standing in the middle of Mum’s freshly stained floor with his tail between his legs.

  He looks very sorry for himself, but not nearly as sorry as we are when Mum finds us.

  She gives us extra dishwashing duties for a month, and then we are sent to our rooms.

  ‘I don’t understand why the spell doesn’t work,’ Willow says.

  I look over at Hodgepodge, who is happily eating another jar of David Cole’s Extra Smoky Barbeque Sauce.

  ‘I think I do,’ I say. ‘The spell is to send monsters home, but what if Hodgepodge IS home? I think when you substituted all those ingredients, we didn’t fetch a monster from somewhere else. We made a new one, from nothing.’

  Hodgepodge burps.

  Willow turns to Hodgepodge and asks, ‘What do you think? Is this your home?’

  Hodgepodge nods, and climbs up onto my lap. He smells like laundry detergent and barbeque sauce and is covered in soot and cat fur and paint and wood stain. But his fur is soft as I pat him.

  Willow sighs, and glances over at the broken string on her guitar.

  ‘Having a pet monster isn’t quite as fun as I thought it would be,’ she says.

  I scratch Hodgepodge behind his ears, and he starts to SNORE.

  ‘Artie,’ Willow says, looking uncomfortable. ‘Do you still have Wesley Crankshaw’s card?’

  ‘You still want to get rid of him?’ I ask quietly.

  ‘Not get rid of him,’ says Willow. ‘I just think we should consider our options.’

  I move sleeping Hodgepodge into Willow’s dirty-clothes basket, and go to look for the card.

  IT’S NOT IN MY BAG.

  It’s not in my dirty-clothes basket.

  It’s not in my rock collection.

  It’s not in Murphy’s bed.

  It’s not in the rosebushes.

  It’s not among Mum’s teapot collection

  It’s not in David Cole’s spice rack.

  But eventually we find it, underneath a stack of Junior Scientist magazines.

  ‘Are you SURE this is the right thing to do?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know,’ says Willow.

  Hodgepodge makes a growling noise, and suddenly the room smells very strongly of smoky barbeque sauce and old socks.

  �
��Maybe we could keep him for a few more days, and see how he goes?’ I suggest.

  ‘He’ll get us into MORE TROUBLE,’ says Willow.

  ‘We’ll watch him carefully.’

  ‘What about when we go to school?’

  ‘Let’s make a list,’ I suggest.

  ‘What if he gets sick, Artie?’ Willow says. ‘We don’t know the first thing about looking after a monster, and it’s not like we can take him to the vet.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I love him too,’ says Willow. ‘But Hodgepodge can’t stay here. We should take him to the rare animal sanctuary, where he will be happy. And we can always visit him.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Good.’ But it doesn’t FEEL good.

  Hodgepodge climbs onto my bed just as I’m falling asleep. He snuggles into my doona, and fARTS gently.

  Wesley Crankshaw’s ANIMAL SANCTUARY is kind of like a palace, with amazing lush gardens and a big fountain and a huge tall gate.

  Through a large window next to the front door, I can see a living room full of fancy gold furniture and fat velvet cushions and huge paintings of animals. Lounging on one of the five sofas is a creature with golden fur and a black face.

  It looks over at us, but doesn’t seem frightened.

  ‘Look at that monkey!’ Willow hisses.

  ‘Monkeys have tails,’ I tell her. ‘That is an APE. A HAINAN GIBBON, to be exact. They’re critically endangered; there’s only twenty-five of them left in the whole world.’

  ‘You’re quite right, my young friend,’ says Wesley Crankshaw, opening the door. He is wearing a quilted velvet jacket and smiling down at us. ‘Say hello, Gilda.’

  The gibbon climbs up onto Wesley Crankshaw’s shoulder and stares at us with beady eyes. She’s wearing a golden key on a chain around her neck.