Poppy Pym and the Beastly Blizzard Read online

  Also by Laura Wood:

  Poppy Pym and the Pharaoh’s Curse

  Poppy Pym and the Double Jinx

  Poppy Pym and the Smuggler’s Secret

  To all you lovely readers who have followed

  Poppy’s adventures. You made my dreams

  come true.

  Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Back Ads

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  I watched the circus truck drive away with a merry toot toot! of its horn. Heads turned as it passed by in all its red-and-white stripy glory, with music blasting from the speakers on the roof. My family didn’t exactly do subtle goodbyes.

  “GOODBYE, TOMATO!” a voice squawked over the sound system. “HAVE A GOOD TIME AT THE SCHOOLS. EVEN THOUGH SCHOOLS IS SO BORING.” I noticed several of my fellow students giggling here. There was a loud scuffling sound and some screeching feedback, and then the same voice floated towards me again. It sounded sulky this time, as if there had just been a good telling off. “BAH! SORRY, CHILDREN. I DIDN’T MEAN THAT. SCHOOLS IS EXCELLENT REALLY AND YOU CAN FILL YOUR RABBIT BRAIN WITH BRAIN CARROTS. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, PYM? I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THERE IS EVEN PROBLEM…” The voice faded away as the truck melted into the distance.

  Perhaps I should quickly tell you that my name isn’t Tomato. Just in case you are reading this and thinking, Oh, I see, this story is about someone called Tomato, and for some reason her family are in a circus truck leaving her behind at school. Some of that is true, but let me clear up a few things. My name is Poppy Pym and when I was a baby I was left at a circus with a mysterious note from someone called “E”. Technically my middle name is Tomato, but I don’t really like to spread that around too much. (It’s kind of a long story, and I put it in one of my other books if you’re interested.)

  The voice coming through the speaker belonged to Fanella, the glamorous Italian fire-eater who calls me Tomato as a sort of nickname. The person who was probably telling her off for calling school boring while driving past the school gates was Pym, or Madame Petronella Pym, to give her her full name – ringleader, daring trapeze artist and fortune teller extraordinaire. If you were to look closely at her face, you would notice that one of her eyes scrunches up a bit, and that’s because that particular eye can see the future. (It sounds funny but it’s true, and Pym’s brief visions of the future have actually saved me from disaster quite a few times.) She’s also my adopted mother and she keeps the whole circus running smoothly and makes sure we don’t make ourselves too sick on jellybeans.

  So, that is where this story begins – with me standing among hordes of chattering students, holding my battered suitcase at the school gates after a glorious summer holiday of candyfloss and white ponies and balloon animals and triple somersaults on the flying trapeze. After such an amazing summer, it might seem a bit strange to hear that I was full to the brim with flutterings of excitement at the prospect of a new term at school. I know what you’re thinking: How can it be so exciting to go back to boring school, especially if you live in a circus? Well, a year ago I would have said the exact same thing, but now I know better. You see, the enormous school gates in question were made of wrought iron with a large crest gleaming in the middle – an S surrounded by four birds – and these very serious-looking gates led to my school, Saint Smithen’s. Let’s just say that after several mysteries, a few life-and-death experiences and some seriously spooky goings-on, my time at Saint Smithen’s so far had been far from boring, and I had a feeling in my bones that my second year was going to be no different.

  I took another moment just to gaze around and take in all the hustle and bustle. There were a lot of people here – some I recognized and some I didn’t. With this being the start of the new school year there were lots of brand-new students buzzing about like eager little bees, and it was funny to think that this time last year I had been one of them – full of nerves and uncertainty.

  I was just reaching down for my suitcase when something really strange happened. Have you ever felt as if someone was watching you? As if their eyes were sending out little beams that were sort of tickling the back of your neck? So even though you can’t see them you know that they are there? Well, it was like that. All of a sudden I just knew that someone was watching me, but as I looked around I couldn’t see who it was – no one seemed to be paying much attention at all to me, but still the red-hot feeling of being watched wouldn’t go away.

  And it wasn’t the first time I’d had this feeling, either. I swivelled my head from side to side like an impatient owl as the prickly, tickly feeling continued. Over the summer I had felt it a few times, as though I could almost see someone out of the corner of my eye, someone keeping an eye on me, someone who seemed to vanish into thin air as soon as I realized they were there. But who would do something like that? And why? I gave myself a shake. I was probably imagining it. After all, you don’t get to be a top writer and detective without an extra-big dollop of imagination.

  “Oof. Sorry!” A very small girl with long, shiny black hair panted as she bashed me with the hockey stick strapped to her back. She was clutching a large book in her hands. Just like that, the feeling was gone and I felt a little silly. Of course I was imagining things.

  “Do you happen to know the way to the library?” the girl asked rather desperately, her big eyes darting about to take in the enormousness and general swankitude of Saint Smithen’s.

  “You just go down the long drive and then follow the path round to the left, past the girls’ dorm,” I said helpfully in the reassuring voice I use on skittish show ponies. “Don’t worry, you can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” the girl gasped, turning and darting back into the crowd.

  I felt a smug sense of belonging rush through me. It seemed like it had been a long, long time since I had turned up for my first day of school and been so overwhelmed by the impressive hugeness of it all. An awful lot had happened in the past year, and it felt good to know my way around, to be comforting new kids who felt how I did only a year ago. I wasn’t new any more! I was … old? That didn’t seem right. Well, whatever I was, I was very happy about it.

  “All these first years are TINY!” a delighted voice boomed at my elbow, and I squeaked with happiness at the appearance of one of my very best pals, Kip Kapur. I flung my ar
ms around him and he submitted to my hug without too much of a fuss. I’m sure Kip was pleased to see me too, but he was even happier about the diminutive new students – you see, Kip is (as he puts it) a little bit vertically challenged, but let me tell you that what he lacks in height he more than makes up for in general loudness.

  “Excuse me,” a voice piped up, and the small dark-haired girl reappeared by my side. “I’m really sorry, but I’ve already forgotten what you said.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m a bit nervous, and I can’t seem to keep anything straight in my mind. It’s my first day, you see.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” Kip asked, puffing his chest out and peering into the middle distance like a superhero surveying the troubled city he was sworn to protect. The only thing missing was the cape blowing in the wind.

  “Oh,” the girl breathed, her eyes widening as she looked up at Kip. (This was very disconcerting – I’m not sure anyone had looked up at Kip before.) “I – I’m trying to find the library,” she stuttered.

  “Ahh.” A smooth smile tugged at Kip’s mouth as he tried to play the knowledgeable older student. “Well, it’s…” He looked down at the girl and clocked her worshipful gaze. His own eyes glazed over with fear, suddenly awkward, and he tripped over his own feet despite the fact he had been standing completely still. “Gnaaaaaarrrrrrrrrr,” he said, choking a little and backing away slightly with his hands held out in front of him. The girl swayed towards him like a flower turning its face to the sun.

  “It’s down the drive and round to the left, past the girls’ dorm,” I said again, trying hard not to laugh.

  “Oh, thanks,” the girl said dreamily, barely even looking in my direction.

  “Maybe we should just show you,” I offered, feeling pretty certain that the girl had still not really taken my directions on board.

  Kip turned his furious gaze on me, but the girl was in raptures. “Oh, yes, please,” she said. “I’ll just grab my other bag.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Kip huffed as the small girl dashed out of sight. “Did you see the way she was looking at me?”

  “Like you were a triple-chocolate brownie sundae with extra rainbow sprinkles?” I raised my eyebrows.

  Kip seemed to drift away for a moment as he contemplated this most excellent of desserts, but then he shook his head and returned to the matter at hand. “Why was she looking at me like that?” Kip asked, perplexed.

  “Maybe she likes you,” I said slyly.

  Kip’s horrified look returned. “You don’t really think so, do you? Why would she like me? We’ve only just met. I mean, what am I supposed to do?” His voice was increasingly panicky. “Girls are so weird,” he muttered, finally.

  “Hi!” the girl in question chirped as she returned, dragging another enormous bag with her. “I’m Mei Zhang, by the way.”

  “I’m Poppy,” I said, “and that’s Kip.” I pointed to Kip, who was busy maintaining a stony and uninterested silence.

  “Thanks for taking me.” Mei smiled shyly at me. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remember my way around this place.”

  “I thought that at first,” I said, feeling very old and wise, “but you’ll soon get the hang of things.”

  “There seem to be a lot of rules,” Mei said with a sigh, still clutching what I now saw was the Saint Smithen’s handbook.

  “Oh, yes.” I nodded eagerly, walking alongside her while Kip trailed behind. “And there’s loads they don’t even put in there.” I leaned in closer, happy to share my rather in-depth knowledge in this area. “Don’t swing in the tree branches, don’t tightrope-walk on the drainpipes, don’t scale burning buildings, even if a cat is in real peril.” I ticked these senseless regulations off on my fingers. Mei looked a little startled, but I knew from experience that it was good to have these things laid out very clearly from the beginning. You could get in trouble for the strangest things.

  “My friend Ingrid says I should draw up my own revised list of school rules,” I said, “but it seems like they add new ones every day. Who has the time to keep track, you know?”

  Mei made a sort of murmuring noise that I interpreted as complete agreement.

  As we made our way down the tree-lined gravel driveway, the long, low main building appeared in front of us, its honey-coloured stone walls warmed by the late September sunshine. A matching sunny, warm feeling spread through my body. It really was good to be back. Someone called my name and I raised my arm in greeting, feeling that glow of belonging spread through me again. After a short walk we dropped Mei off at the library, and I just about resisted the urge to run in and start going through the new books that the librarian, Mr Fipps, would have acquired over the summer. Mei thanked us profusely and waved cheerfully over her shoulder at us before disappearing inside.

  “Well, now that’s over,” Kip huffed, as we made our way back up the path towards the main school building, “why don’t we go and find something to eat?” He lifted his nose like a dog, sniffing the air. “I think they might have cake in the dining hall and the spread is always extra excellent when the parents are milling about.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  I was about to agree with Kip when several important things happened at once: Kip gasped, a look of horror flickering across his face; there was an ominous scrunching, rumbling sound; and a shriek of warning filled the air.

  CHAPTER TWO

  My head snapped up to look in the direction of Kip’s horrified gaze. What I saw was an empty van hurtling straight towards us. There was no one driving it and the thought flashed across my mind that it had been possessed by an evil undead spirit (you might be surprised), before I reached the more obvious conclusion that someone had forgotten to put the brakes on. Several people were running behind, shouting at us to get out of the way, but the van was gaining momentum. Kip grabbed my hand. “Poppy!” he cried, tugging me out of its path, and I felt the van whizz past, missing me by a couple of teeny tiny millimetres. I turned back and my heart hammered, drowning out all the other noise, as I saw that, even with everyone out of the way, the van was going to crash into the library. And it wasn’t just the people in the library who might get hurt… Who was going to protect all the precious books?! All of this happened in only a fraction of a second and, without really thinking about it, I realized that I was already running after the van, much closer than those trailing behind, with a plan forming in my mind as I moved. Really, I told myself, it wasn’t that different to catching a runaway horse, and I’d done that plenty of times before at the circus.

  I could see that the window on the driver’s side was wound down, and a wave of gratitude for this lovely weather rushed over me. If I could only get inside I was certain I could stop the van before it hit the building and caused a terrible accident. I ran alongside the van, as fast as I could, while my mind busily calculated the height and distance I needed to jump. My mind was also telling me that leaping on to a runaway vehicle careering towards certain danger was probably not the best plan I’d ever made, but as the van picked up speed I knew that it was now or never. Ignoring that unhelpful voice, I screwed up my courage and jumped before I could think about the dangerous bits too much. With a thump, I landed, clinging to the edge of the roof just above the open window. I used all the strength that I could muster to pull myself up on to the top of the van. It was really moving faster now and the air rushed past me as I lay on my stomach, my right hand gripping the top of the open window. I swung my left hand alongside my right and dragged myself so that I was lying horizontally across the roof. Stay calm, I told myself. Just an easy forward roll. Keep it nice and tidy, knees tucked in. I took a deep, calming breath before swinging myself forward over the edge of the van, and the worryingly close gravel driveway seemed to rise up to meet me. I thought I heard someone scream, but my grip on the window was firm and, twisting neatly, I fell through the open window in an untidy heap.

  In a bit of a daze I fumbled to get into the driver’s seat. Clinging to the
steering wheel, I pressed my foot down on the brake pedal as hard as I could, but nothing happened. With a sickening lurch of my stomach I realized I was now only seconds away from crashing into the library and the world seemed to wobble around me. More people were shouting and running behind the van now, but it was moving much too quickly for anyone to catch up.

  “The handbrake!” I heard a voice cry, and it seemed for a moment as though there was someone next to the window. I turned my head but all I saw was a blur, and then the figure had disappeared.

  Letting go of the steering wheel, I used both hands to tug up on the handbrake as hard as I could. It was at that moment that our friend Riley emerged from the library, and I realized with a surge of horror that he was right in the path of the runaway vehicle. The world went into slow motion as Riley’s mouth opened in a small, surprised O and he lifted his hands towards his face as though somehow he was going to protect himself from the impact of the van. The brakes squealed as they creaked into action and the van began to slow down. I pulled sharply at the steering wheel, trying to change the vehicle’s disastrous path, but I knew then that even with my best efforts I hadn’t done enough. I couldn’t look away, and I saw, with a cold feeling of dread spreading through me, that the unthinkable was about to happen.

  But it didn’t. At the last possible moment the same shadowy figure darted in front of the van, grabbing hold of Riley and pushing him to the ground while rolling away from the oncoming vehicle. The van came to a screeching halt only centimetres from the library wall. I exhaled slowly, my bones feeling like they were made of extra wobbly jelly.

  But I had no time to relax as the van door was yanked open and a sharp, frilly voice filled my ears.

  “Poppy Pym, what on earrrrrrth do you think you are doing?”

  I spilled out of the van into the waiting arms of my teacher/nemesis/aunt Miss Susan, who was glaring down at me. It looked as though I was going to have to add no jumping on to a runaway vehicle as it hurtles towards destruction to my list of school rules.