Smash!

CHAPTER 1

Bertie and his friends were playing football in the back garden. As usual, Bertie was providing the commentary. “And it’s Bertie on the ball,” he yelled. “He goes past Darren – this is brilliant – he cuts inside … he must score!”

THUMP!

The ball whizzed over Eugene and the fence…

SMASH!

Bertie held his head.

“You nutter!” groaned Darren. “What did you do that for?”

They went to the fence and peeped through a crack. At the end of the lawn stood the Nicelys’ greenhouse. One of the windows had a gaping hole.

“Yikes! Now look what you’ve done!” said Eugene.

“Why didn’t you stop it?” moaned Bertie.

“It was a mile over the bar – I’m not Superman!” said Eugene.

“Anyway, it wasn’t a goal,” said Darren.
“It’s still 2–1 to me.”

“Never mind that!” said Bertie. “What are we going to DO? Mrs Nicely will go raving mad when she sees that window.”

Eugene shook his head. “I
told
you we should have gone to the park.”

Bertie didn’t think his friends grasped the seriousness of the situation. It wasn’t any old window they’d broken. The greenhouse was practically new and it was Mrs Nicely’s pride and joy. She was always in there planting or potting or whatever people did in greenhouses.

And to make matters worse, Bertie wasn’t exactly in Mrs Nicely’s good
books. Only last week Whiffer had left a smelly present on next-door’s lawn. Bertie didn’t like to think what would happen when she saw the broken window. Her scream would be heard halfway to Timbuktu. She would be round in no time to see his parents. Football in the garden would be banned, and he’d probably be paying for the damage for the next six years.

He glanced at the house. No one seemed to have heard the crash.
No one can actually prove it was me,
thought Bertie. Then he remembered – the football. The moment Mrs Nicely saw it she’d
know
who was responsible. The only other neighbour was grumpy Mr Monk, and Bertie was pretty sure he’d never kicked a ball in his life!

“We’re dead!” groaned Bertie.

“
You’re
dead you mean,” said Darren.

“What’s the difference?” said Bertie. “Our only hope’s to get the ball back.”

“Good idea,” said Eugene. “Off you go then.”

“ME?” said Bertie.

“
You
kicked it over!” said Eugene.

“Yes, but we were all playing,” argued Bertie. “It could have been any of us.”

“It wasn’t, it was you,” said Darren.

Bertie didn’t see why
he
should be the one to risk his life. Mrs Nicely knew where he lived. If anything, it made far more sense for Darren or Eugene to go.

“I know, why don’t we toss a coin?” he suggested.

“No way! I’m not going,” said Darren.
“I’ve heard Mrs Nicely when she shouts.”

“Don’t look at
me
,” said Eugene. “I wanted to play in the park.”

Bertie sighed. He thought friends were meant to help each other out. But it seemed that as soon as you smashed a window with a football, you were on your own.

He peeped through the fence at next-door’s garden. Mr Nicely didn’t come home till late, but that still left Angela and her mum. To reach the greenhouse Bertie would have to cross the lawn – and he knew for a fact that the Nicelys had a burglar alarm. What if it went off as soon as he set foot on the grass?