Authors: Alan MacDonald
Miss Boot took her seat and the next round began.
RATTLE-RATTLE-PLOP! Another ball whizzed down the chute.
“Sixty-two! Tickety boo!” cried Miss Boot.
“YES!” said Bertie, crossing off the number. He glanced over at Nick, who was taking another sweet from his grandma’s bag. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention.
“Eighty-five – staying alive!” boomed Miss Boot.
Result!
thought Bertie – two out of two. At this rate he’d soon cross off every number. Wouldn’t Nick turn green when he walked off with the scooter? Mind control – as if! For a moment there Nick had almost had him fooled!
The balls spun round and dropped down the chute. Miss Boot called out
one number after another. Bertie was so excited he was bouncing up and down in his seat. Just two more numbers and he would win!
Nine or forty-one,
he prayed, fixing his eyes on Miss Boot.
PLOP! The next coloured ball shot down the chute. Miss Boot held it up.
“Twenty-two – two little ducks!” she shouted.
“BINGO!” yelled a voice.
Bertie sunk his head onto the table. No! Please! Anyone but Know-All Nick!
Nick stood up and patted him on the back. “Like I said, Bertie, mind control!” he grinned.
Bertie could hardly bear to watch. Miss Boot checked the winning card and led Nick over to the table to choose his prize. Nick made a big deal of taking his time, enjoying Bertie’s torture. He looked at the toaster and picked up the hairdryer. At last he chose his prize – the stunt scooter.
“It’s so unfair!” groaned Bertie.
Gran shook her head. “I know!” she said. “What are the chances of them
both
winning?”
Bertie sat up. It was a good question. It was almost as if Nick
knew
which numbers would come up. But that wasn’t possible … was it? Bertie noticed Nick had left something on his chair – his grandma’s handbag. She had seen it too and tried to grab it. But Bertie got there first.
“Hey, give that back!” she cried.
Wait a minute, what was this?
Bertie found sheets of sticky-backed numbers hidden among the sweets! He leaped to his feet.
“HE CHEATED!” he yelled.
“BERTIE!” snapped Miss Boot. “SIT DOWN!”
“But he did, Miss!” said Bertie. “He’s been sticking numbers on his card.”
“I haven’t!” whined Nick, turning pink.
Nick’s grandma stood up.
“Really! Some people are such bad losers.”
“If you don’t believe me, look in the bag!” said Bertie, holding it up.
Miss Boot was losing patience. “Let me see that,” she said.
Bertie went over to the stage and gave her the bag. Miss Boot looked at the sheets of sticky numbers, then at Nick’s winning card. On a closer look, she found many of the numbers could be peeled off. She screwed up the piece of paper.
“NICHOLAS!” she thundered.
Nick let out a wail. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“Then whose fault was it?” asked Miss Boot.
“My grandma’s,” bleated Nick. “It was her idea!”
People gasped and turned their heads.
“Don’t tell lies!” said Julia.
“I’m not!” squawked Nick. “You said that no one would find out.”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” barked Miss Boot. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves! Give back your prizes right now.”
Nick and his grandma did as they were told. As they left the stage they found rows of angry faces staring at them.
“BOO! CHEATS!” cried someone. Others joined in.
Nick and his grandma didn’t wait to hear more. They grabbed their things and fled from the hall, banging the door behind them.
Miss Boot shook her head. “Well,
Bertie,” she said. “For once I must thank you for interrupting.”
“That’s okay,” said Bertie. “But what about their prizes?”
Miss Boot thought for a moment. She could return them to the table, but
there was only half an hour left and they’d have prizes left over. It seemed a terrible waste. “I guess
someone
should have them,” she said. “I don’t suppose you like scooters?”
“LIKE THEM?” gasped Bertie.
He could hardly believe his luck – and to think he almost hadn’t come! He couldn’t wait to zoom into school on his new stunt scooter on Monday morning. It turned out Gran had been right all along – bingo was the greatest game ever!