The Evil Hairdo Read Free

sneaked down the stairs. I sighed and walked after him.
    Dad kept the motorbike in the garage, and there was a door that went through to the garage from the kitchen. He kept the garage key in the fuse box over the door. It was much higher than Wayne or I could reach, and we were never, ever, eversupposed to go near the fuse box, because we might get electrocuted, which Dad said would really hurt. And then it would kill us.
    That was a good enough reason for me, but nothing was going to stop Wayne. He grabbed a chair and carried it over to the door.
    ‘Hold the chair steady,’ he whispered and climbed up onto the seat.
    That was easy for him to say. While he tried to clamber up onto the back of the chair, I leaned all my weight on it to hold it still. I thought I should remind him about the dangers of messing with electricity.
    ‘If you get electrocuted,’ I asked him, ‘can I have your CD player?’
    ‘No,’ he retorted.
    Wayne was able to hoist himself just high enough to open up the fuse box, but he couldn’t reach inside. Holding onto the door ledge with one hand, he lifted himself up like a monkey, so that his feet were dangling above the chair. I had to admit, when my little brother wanted something, he really went for it. I wished I could be more like that.

    Reaching in with his other hand, he fumbled around for the key. I watched, amazed, as he held on just long enough to grab the key before he dropped back onto the seat and fell off, tumbling against the pots’ cupboard with a crash. We both froze, listening for any sound upstairs … but only the mewing of whales and the warbling of panpipe music drifted down. Mum did not come out. Wayne picked himself off the floor and I moved the chair away from the door. He unlocked the door and opened it. There, standing in the middle of the garage, was the motorbike.
    Wayne looked at me with a big silly smile on his face.
    Seizing the bike keys from the drawer in the workbench, he rushed across to it, and climbed onto the saddle. It was up on its stand, leaning on its back wheel, but when he jumped on it, it tilted forwards onto the front wheel. Wayne wanted to start it up and watch the back wheel spin round. This was just the most exciting thing ever for him.You can see why he’s such an embarrassment. And we go to the same school .

    ‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m switching it on. I want you to kick-start it.’
    ‘No way,’ I retorted. ‘That thing’ll take my leg off.’
    ‘Don’t be stupid!’ he hissed. ‘And you promised, remember?’
    He couldn’t kick-start it himself, because he was only eight, and he was short even for an eight-year-old. So his stunted little legs could notreach the foot-rests. He had to stay up on the saddle to keep the bike leaning forward, so the back wheel stayed off the ground.
    ‘The sooner you get proper-sized legs, the better,’ I muttered.
    Even with fantastic-looking hair there was only so much I could take of Wayne bossing me around. I leaned against the saddle, lifted my foot and stamped down on the kick-start pedal. It gave a grunt and I jumped away in fright.
    ‘Harder!’ he snapped. ‘Give it some welly!’
    I was going to answer him back, but I just put all my anger into my foot instead, and whacked it down on the kick-starter. The engine boomed into life, sounding really loud in our small garage. Wayne gave a whoop, and I winced, hoping Mum wouldn’t hear all the noise. He twisted the handle, revving the engine, looking out the window of the door to the back garden, pretending he was out on the road. Smoke poured out of the exhaust, and I had to go and open the wide back door to let some air in. I walked back to watch the rear wheel whizz around.Wayne actually made engine sounds himself, while the real one roared beneath him. He’s that stupid.
    After about ten seconds of this, I was bored. The adventure was over, and I wanted to go and hang out with Kelly. Over the noise of the engine, I thought I heard