My Babysitter is a Robot Read online

  For Rachel Boden, whose idea it was to have a robot for a babysitter! - DC

  For Will - CE

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1 - LIKE GRANDMA (WITH A BEARD)

  CHAPTER 2 - FAKES, SKATES AND DROOL

  CHAPTER 3 - A RULE-OBSESSED FUN SPONGE

  CHAPTER 4 - FOUL PLAY

  CHAPTER 5 - RUBBING SALT IN THE WOUND

  CHAPTER 6 - UNEXPECTED OBJECT IN THE WATER

  CHAPTER 7 - THE SECOND WAVE

  CHAPTER 8 - FROM BAD TO WORSE

  CHAPTER 9 - FRACTIONS OF A WHOLE

  CHAPTER 10 - OPERATION RESCUE ROBIN PART 1: BANGING OUR HEADS AGAINST A WALL

  CHAPTER 11 - OPERATION RESCUE ROBIN PART 2: TWO LOSERS AND A DOG SING ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’

  CHAPTER 12 - OPERATION RESCUE ROBIN PART 3: BAD ROBOT

  CHAPTER 13 - LESS ROBOT, MORE HUMAN!

  READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT THE NEXT STORY IN THE SERIES

  IS MY TEACHER A ROBOT? EXTRACT

  CHAPTER 1 - ON THE LAST DAY OF CHRISTMAS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  “A ROBOT!”

  I grinned. “Cool, huh?”

  “I can’t believe you’ve got a ROBOT for a babysitter!” Ali shook his head. “That is so not fair! I have to go home with my auntie and look after my little cousins while you get to hang out with A ROBOT!”

  “Ask if you can come round to mine then.”

  My best friend pulled a face. “No fun until all your homework is done!” he said in his auntie voice. Ali’s great at voices – he cracks me up every time. “Hey, what do you think it’ll look like?” he said, reaching for his coat. “Maybe your robot will be all gold like C-3PO from Star Wars. Or a Transformer like Optimus Prime – or Bumblebee! How cool would THAT be?”

  “Grandma said she was making a robot that looked like a human, so people wouldn’t be able to tell what it was.”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot your grandma made it.” Ali looked worried. He was probably thinking about the AUTOMATIC PORRIDGE MACHINE. I still had nightmares about that, and Ali hadn’t been allowed to sleep over at mine since.

  I should probably explain. My grandma is an inventor. She makes all kinds of gadgets and machines. Some of them even work … sort of.

  “Hey,” said Ali, lowering his voice. “Do you think if Brett knows you’ve got a killer robot, he might leave us alone?” We glanced across the cloakroom to where Brett Burton was emptying the contents of someone’s bag on to the floor.

  “I dunno. I think Grandma probably programmed it to be a babysitter, not a killing machine.”

  For a moment Ali looked disappointed, then his face lit up. “Hi, Ivana!”

  I didn’t get why Ali thought Ivana was so great. She was best friends with my twin sister for a start, which showed a severe lack of judgement if you ask me!

  “Hi, Jess,” said Ali, with less enthusiasm.

  My sister didn’t answer, just steered Ivana towards the door as though we didn’t exist.

  Ali was so busy smiling at Ivana that he didn’t see Brett coming. The shove sent us both flying. I tripped over my bag and Ali landed on top of me.

  “Watch where you’re going!” said Brett, snorting as he lurched off in search of his next victim.

  “I don’t care what your grandma designed that robot for,” said Ali, helping me up. “I’m still going to ask it if it can sort Brett out!”

  When I saw my sister waiting at the edge of the playground, I knew straight away that something was wrong.

  Jess is my twin, which means we’ve been stuck with each other our entire lives. I can’t even have a birthday without her getting in the way! Of course Jess behaves like it’s all MY fault, as if I got born deliberately just to spoil her fun. When we’re at school, we try to have as little to do with each other as possible, which can be difficult when you’re stuck in the same class. So I can promise you that my sister does NOT wait to walk home with me.

  “Don’t go out there!” Jess dragged me and Ali back against the wall. “It’s at the gate!” she said. “WAITING FOR US!”

  It took me a few seconds to work out that she was talking about the robot. Jess was less excited by the idea than me.

  I peeked round the corner and spotted our new babysitter straight away. I’d like to say it was because our dog Digby was standing beside it, but that would be a lie. The robot was simply impossible to miss.

  “Oh!” said Ali.

  I wasn’t sure Oh! quite covered it…

  The thing is, as well as being an inventor, Grandma is a great believer in RECYCLING. She has three sheds, a garage and two bedrooms in her house full of stuff that “only needs a –––” (fill in the blank). Like the bicycle that “only needs a wheel”, and the giant grandfather clock that “only needs an hour hand”. It tells perfect time and chimes obediently every hour, except you can never be sure which hour.

  The list goes on, but I won’t. You get the idea.

  Grandma hates waste, so the things she invents are always made from bits of other things that weren’t meant to go together. Which probably explained why our new babysitter was wearing Grandma’s old coat – the red one with the pink flowers and the furry collar.

  “It looks like Father Christmas!” Jess groaned. “Look at that BEARD!”

  “Grandma says that the beard hides the joins so you can’t see it’s not a real person!” I told her.

  “Well, duh!” She frowned. “Hey! Are those my old Barbie skates?”

  “And Dad’s football hat.”

  “Um, I should get going,” said Ali. “Auntie’s waiting.” He was embarrassed for me. We’d been expecting a cool robot like Bumblebee … but the thing waiting at the gates looked more like Grandma with a beard!

  I watched my friend run across the playground to where his aunt and a gaggle of little cousins were waiting. I was beginning to think that he was the lucky one.

  Grandma must have programmed the robot to recognize us because as soon as we emerged from our hiding place it started waving.

  “Miss Jess,” said the robot. “Master Jake! How lovely to meet you.” It sounded like Grandma putting on a deep voice, which is exactly what it was.

  Grandma recorded the voices for all her inventions herself. If the robot was male, like this one, she used the computer to make her voice deeper, but it still sounded like Grandma doing a funny voice.

  “My name’s Jake,” I told him. “JUST Jake!”

  “My apologies, Master Just Jake,” said the robot.

  “NO! I didn’t mean—”

  Jess snorted. “So what’s your name?”

  “My name is Robin,” said the robot. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Where’s the car?” I asked, anxious to get away from school before too many people saw us with this bearded, roller-skating excuse for a robot.

  “There are lots of cars. Which one would you like me to locate, Master Just Jake?”

  “OUR car! The one we need to go home in!”

  The robot tilted his head to one side and stroked his beard. Grandma must have programmed him to do that while he was processing information – a bit like the spinning wheel you get on the computer when you’re waiting for files to open.

  Finally he spoke. “Today’s method of transportation to … HOME … will be … WALKING.”

  “WHAT? You’re joking! Do you know how FAR that is?”

  “Zero point four six miles,” said the robot. “At average walking speed we should reach our destination in seven point three minutes.”

  I groaned with frustration. “Why didn’t you
bring the car? Please tell me Grandma programmed you to drive.”

  “As you wish.” The robot paused and cleared his throat. “Master Just Jake, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that your grandma programmed me with the ability to drive.”

  Jess collapsed into a fit of giggles.

  “I can also ride a bicycle, fly a plane and operate the missile-launch facility on a nuclear submarine.”

  My sister stopped laughing and gaped at the robot.

  “If you can do all those things, why are we WALKING?” I was so angry, my voice came out in an embarrassing squeak.

  “Walking is an ideal form of daily exercise,” said the robot, sounding like he was reading from a website (which he probably was).

  I noticed that when Robin needed to say certain words – ones Grandma hadn’t expected – he used the same electronic voice as the computer at home. So you’d have the deep grandma voice, then a word or two in an electro voice. It all just added to the strangeness.

  “A relaxed stroll strengthens bones and muscles,” said the robot. “It reduces the risk of heart disease and helps you lose weight. Walking also increases the supply of oxygen to the brain which can make you more intelligent!”

  “Pity it’s only zero point four six miles,” said Jess. “Maybe you should walk round the block a few times, Jake.”

  “Ha ha! You’re not…” I stopped.

  Jess turned to see what I was looking at and groaned.

  Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any worse…

  It was too late to cross the road. From the grin on Brett’s face I knew he’d seen us. Most of the time THE BANE OF MY LIFE lurches around like a zombie, but when he senses an opportunity to ruin someone’s day Brett’s face lights up like a pumpkin at Halloween.

  Jess was more worried about the girl he was with. While Brett was into simple, physical acts of torture – dead legs and flicking bogeys into your hair – stuff that didn’t use up too much of his limited brainpower, his cousin Olivia was pure EVIL. She looked totally harmless, friendly even. Olivia was always the first to put up her hand in class, but it was all an act. If Olivia decided she didn’t like you, she and her gang of Little Olivia Clones would make your life hell.

  Jess and Olivia had actually been friends when they were younger (and didn’t know any better!). Then in Year Three an argument over a copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory turned into a full-on brawl. They’ve been sworn enemies ever since.

  Dribbling along behind them was Olivia’s little brother Drool (real name Dayton). Unlike his immaculate sister, Drool usually looks like he’s just climbed out of a dustbin. He also suffers from a severe case of leakage (hence the nickname). Drool is bad for Olivia’s image, so being with him always puts her in a worse mood than usual. Lucky us.

  They stopped and fanned out across the pavement, blocking our escape.

  Olivia’s eyes swept across us and settled on the robot. “Nice skates,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said Robin, totally missing the fact that she was being sarcastic.

  “They go really well with your coat,” said Olivia, making Brett snigger. “You must tell me where you got that. I simply have to get one!”

  “Here! Have mine,” said Robin, reaching for the buttons.

  “NO!” Jess pulled his hands away.

  I guessed she was thinking the same as me: whatever the robot had on under that coat, we did not want it displayed in public! Knowing Grandma and her weird sense of humour, she’d probably given Robin some kind of underwear – quite possibly her own! THAT did not bear thinking about.

  “She doesn’t really want your coat,” I told Robin. “She’s just taking the mickey.”

  The robot did his strokey-beard-thinking-thing again. “Oh! I didn’t know I had a mickey to give her.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Was that supposed to be a joke?” She peered at Robin. “Who IS this anyway? Your grandad?”

  “Oh, no, I’m not their grandfather! I’m—”

  “He’s a friend of our grandma!” said Jess quickly. “Just visiting.”

  Olivia scowled.

  “I like your footwear also,” said Robin, pointing to her trainers.

  Grandma must have programmed the robot to be polite, but without realizing it Robin had made a clever move. The one thing Olivia likes more than being horrible to people is talking about how great she is.

  “I know,” she said, her face breaking into a smile. “I can’t even TELL you how much they cost! My dad got them from America. You can’t buy them over here.” She lifted a foot to give us a better view of the trainers. “Designed by Carly-G herself. That’s her ACTUAL signature on the side there.”

  “Mmm,” said Robin, peering at the trainer. “That’s actually a printed reproduction.”

  “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Olivia’s foot slammed back on to the pavement.

  “The signature on the side of your sports shoe,” said Robin, smiling. “It’s printed. If you look closely, you can see it’s made up of tiny dots of ink.”

  I held my breath, waiting for Olivia to ask how Robin could possibly see a detail like that – oh, unless he was a robot with mega-zoom eyesight of course!

  But Olivia was too shocked to speak.

  “Carly-G only signed a hundred special-edition pairs herself,” said Robin. “The ones you are wearing are reproduction copies made in China.”

  Olivia’s face had a gone a strange colour. Her mouth was moving, but no words were coming out.

  “You mean they’re FAKES!” said Brett, finally catching up with what was happening.

  “NO!” squeaked Olivia, finding her voice again. “These are REAL! Special! Limited edition! They were signed PERSONALLY by Carly-G!” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as us.

  For a few seconds it almost felt like a victory! I should have known better.

  Olivia turned to Robin. “How would YOU know anything about it anyway? I bet you don’t even know who Carly-G is!”

  “Carly-G is a singer and actress,” said the robot, in his reading-from-the-internet voice. “Her first acting job was on the Disney Channel, aged seven. She is best known—”

  “Robin’s a big fan!” said Jess, giving a nervous laugh. “He and Grandma are always playing Carly-G and dancing round the kitchen. Sooo embarrassing!”

  For a moment Olivia looked totally confused, then she leaned in close and hissed into my sister’s face. “You tell anyone about this and you’re DEAD!”

  Just then a large black car pulled in to the kerb, and suddenly Olivia was all smiles.

  “Here’s Grandad!” she said, dragging Drool out from under the hedge.

  The three of them piled into the back seat as the driver’s window slid down. A large pointy nose emerged and seemed to sniff the air, while a pair of black eyes gazed suspiciously at us.

  “Hello, Mr Burton,” said Jess.

  As well as being Olivia, Brett and Drool’s grandad, Mr Burton was our next-door neighbour.

  The old man smiled without showing his teeth. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, peering at our new babysitter.

  “My name’s Robin.” The robot held out his hand. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Mr Burton reluctantly reached out to shake hands, but the moment he touched Robin’s glove, our neighbour’s face changed. His eyes widened, then filled with a hungry excitement that sent a chill right through me.

  “How interesting,” he said. Then the window slid back up and the car drove away.

  “What did you do that for?” said Jess, glaring at the robot.

  “I believe it is the custom to shake hands on first meeting someone.”

  “Not THAT! Why did you tell Olivia that her trainers were fakes?”

  “Because they are.” Robin sounded puzzled.

  “That’s not the point! You don’t tell OLIVIA that her clothes are rubbish!”

  The robot clutched at his beard, clearly confused. “I didn’t m
ean to cause offence. I was trying to be helpful.”

  “You’ve just made things A HUNDRED TIMES WORSE!” Jess was really shouting now. “If Brett tells anyone at school that Olivia’s trainers are fakes – which he will – she’ll blame it on me!” My sister turned and stormed off down the road. I could tell she was trying not to cry.

  “How did you know anyway?” I asked the robot. “About the trainers?”

  “I looked them up on the internet,” he said. “I have constant online access from within my central processing unit.”

  “You mean your brain’s got built-in Wi-Fi? Wow!” Maybe this robot wasn’t so lame after all. “The look on Olivia’s face when you said her trainers were fake… That was classic!”

  “The girl said she liked my coat,” the robot explained. “I was making polite conversation – sometimes known as ‘chit-chat’ or ‘having a natter’.”

  “She was being sarcastic,” I told him. “It’s when someone says something that sounds like they’re being nice, but actually they’re making fun of you.”

  “How confusing.”

  “It’s a human thing,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The robot nodded. “Thank you, Master Just Jake. I will add that information to my database.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t help wondering what other important knowledge might be missing from Robin’s brain.

  Mr Burton was in his front garden with a leaf-blower when we got home. This struck me as odd because there weren’t any leaves on the ground. His eyes followed us all the way to the front door.

  The moment we got inside, I dumped my bag and headed for the stairs. I’d arranged to meet up online with Ali later, to play Revenge of the Robots. We’d been trying to get through the last level of the game for over a week, but the boss robot was too powerful and we kept getting killed. I wanted to get some practice in.

  “One moment, Master Just Jake,” said Robin. “My instructions state that all homework must be completed before recreational activities are allowed.”