My Babysitter is a Robot Page 2

  “That’s OK, I don’t have any homework tonight,” I lied.

  But the robot was already stroking his beard. “Accessing homework online,” he said in his computer voice. “Class Z: Design a poster for the school fair. Due in tomorrow.” Robin came out of his trance and his beard twitched into a smile. “I’ll get the felt tips out, shall I?”

  I stomped back down the stairs. Maybe a babysitter with instant online access wasn’t so cool after all.

  Robin made me and Jess sit at the table – TOGETHER – to do our homework. It took us hours to make posters that he was happy with. Every time one of us told the robot we’d finished, he’d spot some important piece of information we’d forgotten, or point out that we’d spelled something wrong. Then he made us colour them in, standing over us like a prison guard. It was dark outside by the time he let me go upstairs.

  It felt like barely five minutes later when Robin knocked on my bedroom door. “Your thirty minutes of game time are almost up, Master Just Jake!” he said, walking in.

  “What? It can’t be!”

  “You have exactly fifty-three seconds left,” said the robot.

  “Yeah, OK! I just need to get to the end of this level.” I didn’t dare take my eyes off the screen. Me and Ali were being pinned down by a swarm of seriously scary, giant robotic insects. It was the furthest we’d got through the level.

  “Ten seconds, Master Just Jake,” said Robin.

  “Yeah, I just need to finish this.”

  “Five seconds.”

  I was low on health and ammo.

  “Four.”

  I had to make the last few attacks count.

  “Three.”

  “Do you have to count?”

  “Two.”

  “You’re really not helping!”

  “One.”

  The screen went black.

  “WHAT? NO!” I shook the controller, staring at the dead console in disbelief.

  “Your thirty minutes are up, Master Just Jake.”

  I looked at the robot. “YOU SWITCHED IT OFF?”

  “Your mother’s instructions were very clear,” he said. “Thirty minutes’ game time only.”

  “You don’t just pull the plug IN THE MIDDLE OF A GAME! Mum would’ve let me finish the level! When she says thirty minutes, she doesn’t mean EXACTLY – to the SECOND!”

  Jess appeared in the doorway to see what all the shouting was about.

  “HE PULLED THE PLUG ON ME!” I still couldn’t quite believe it.

  Just then the doorbell rang and Robin went downstairs to answer it.

  “At least you got to play,” said Jess. “He just made me practise the recorder – for FIFTEEN WHOLE MINUTES!”

  “I wondered what that noise was,” I said. “I thought it was the screams of dying robots in my game.”

  Jess stuck out her tongue. “It’s NOT FUNNY!”

  For once I had to agree with her. “I thought a robot babysitter would be so cool – but no! Grandma has to invent some rule-obsessed fun sponge who looks like Father Christmas gone wrong!”

  I could hear Robin downstairs talking to Mr Burton. It must have been him at the door. I wondered what he wanted.

  “We need to do something,” said Jess, “before this gets out of hand.”

  “Have you got a plan?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  There was a look in my sister’s eyes as she said it that almost made me feel sorry for the robot.

  But Jess didn’t come up with anything.

  And things just got worse.

  “Your sister reeeeally doesn’t like that number seven,” said Ali.

  The referee showed Jess a yellow card, then helped the opposing striker back to his feet.

  It was Friday after school. An icy wind cut across the field as me, Ali and Ivana shivered on the touchline. Our Year Six football team was playing a school from across town. The game was barely ten minutes old, but Jess had already delivered three bone-crunching tackles. Pretty impressive when you consider she plays in goal!

  “Go and get warmed up, Ali,” said Mrs Badoe, waddling down the touchline towards us. “We’ll have to take Jess off if she carries on like this.”

  “But I’m rubbish in goal!” said Ali, doing a few half-hearted stretches.

  “At least you won’t get yourself sent off.” Our teacher frowned and rubbed the bump protruding from her coat.

  “How’s the baby, miss?” said Ivana.

  “She’s kicking just like Jess today!” said Mrs Badoe, chuckling as she walked back down the touchline.

  “Jess is in a bad mood because of that robot,” said Ivana, pointing across the pitch to where Robin and Digby were watching the game with Mr Burton.

  I nodded. By breaktime the day after THE INCIDENT, word had spread that the Carly-G trainers Olivia had been bragging about were fake. Olivia probably knew it was Brett who had spilled her secret, but she still took it out on Jess.

  “Why’s your robot standing with Brett’s grandad?” said Ali.

  “I don’t know.” I’d been wondering why Mr Burton was even here – neither Brett nor Olivia played football.

  The old man had been sniffing around Robin ever since that first day after school. Just that morning I’d caught him spying on us through binoculars from an upstairs window. I wondered if he’d realized that Robin was actually a robot.

  As I watched, Robin waved his wooden rattle and shouted words of encouragement to the team.

  Of course, rather than yelling “good pass” or “nice shot” – like a normal person – the robot was urging Northfield Park Year Sixes on with phrases such as, “Play up, chaps! Their backs are wilting!”

  It was like he’d looked up a list of ‘Things to shout at a football match’ – from the 1900s!

  “Is he like this all the time?” Ivana asked.

  I nodded. “We had to go for a haircut after school on Wednesday, and he tried to get Mr Rossini to give Digby a shave! I swear he thinks that dog is our REALLY HAIRY little brother!”

  “I thought robots were supposed to be clever,” said Ali.

  “Yeah! Trust us to get the world’s first stupid one!” I shook my head. “I reckon Grandma programmed him in a hurry and forgot to include some important bits of information – like the small fact that Digby IS A DOG!”

  Ivana giggled.

  “I wish I could see the funny side,” I said. “We almost got done for shoplifting last night!”

  Ali stopped his warm-up and stared at me. “What happened?”

  “You know that sign above the baskets in the corner shop? Where it says PLEASE TAKE ONE?”

  Ali nodded.

  “Well, he did! Our dopey robot thought it was a free basket to carry your shopping home in! The guy in the shop chased us down the road IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!”

  “I suppose that is what it means literally,” said Ali.

  “The trouble is he takes EVERYTHING literally! He’s got no common sense!”

  “That’s robots for you,” said Ali.

  “Yeah, and I’ve had enough. Films make robots look really cool, but in real life they’re just a pain!”

  “You should tell your parents,” said Ivana.

  I snorted. “Dad’s always away driving his lorry. I tried talking to Mum, but she just went on about how if she didn’t have to do three jobs we wouldn’t need a babysitter. But she does, so we do, and we can’t really afford to pay anyone. That’s why Grandma offered to make us a robot babysitter.”

  “If you think about it,” said Ali slowly, “a robot’s just a computer on legs.”

  “So?”

  “So … computers are always going wrong, aren’t they? My brother’s laptop stopped working when he spilled a can of Coke on it.”

  I looked at him. “So you think that if we spilled some Coke on Robin – accidentally on purpose – he might stop working?”

  Ali nodded. “He’ll be all like…” My friend started making choking sounds, twitching his s
houlders and waving his arms around.

  “STOP IT!” said Ivana. “That’s horrible!”

  Ali stopped.

  Ivana was right. I didn’t want to actually harm the robot, just make Mum send him back to Grandma. Before I could think any more about it, there was an audible crunch from the pitch, followed by a howl and the sound of the referee’s whistle.

  “Uh-oh!” said Ali. “Looks like I might be going in goal after all!”

  “Mrs Badoe said I’m not allowed to play for the next two matches!” Jess flung her football boots across the kitchen. Digby ran after them, thinking it was a game.

  “AND she might choose Liesha for the penalty shoot-out stall at the fair now!”

  “Just because you got sent off?”

  Jess nodded. “It’s all HIS fault.” She scowled at Robin, who was trying to wrestle her boots back from the dog.

  “I’ll put these by the back door, Miss Jess,” said the robot, dragging Digby across the floor, still attached to the boots. “You can clean them when we’ve finished making the cakes.”

  “Cakes?” I said. “What cakes?”

  “To take to Olivia’s party,” growled Jess.

  “That’s TOMORROW?!”

  Olivia was having a pool party and picnic at the local sports centre. She’d invited the whole class.

  “Do we have to go?” The thought of being anywhere near deep water when Brett was around seemed like a really bad idea. “Olivia only invited everyone so she can show off and get more presents!”

  “You think I haven’t begged Mum not to make us go?” said Jess. “You know what she’s like. Just cos she’s friends with Olivia’s mum, she thinks me and Olivia must still be friends too!”

  “But why do we have to make cakes?”

  “Because we could only afford a small present, Mum thinks it’d be nice to take cakes for everyone.” Jess shook her head. “I told her there was NO WAY I’m making cakes for HER, with HIM!”

  “What did she say?”

  My sister’s brow scrunched into a concertina of rage. “She wasn’t even listening! She just told me we might need the new packet of sugar in the cupboard…”

  Jess stopped suddenly, and the frown fell from her face.

  “Oh!” she said. “Now there’s an idea…”

  “What?”

  “I think I might have found a way to get rid of that robot!” she said.

  “You’re putting SALT in the SUGAR jar! THAT’S your great plan?”

  Jess sighed and rolled her eyes. “Think about it. We get the robot to help us make some cakes for Olivia’s party, except he uses salt instead of sugar. They’ll be DISGUSTING! One of Olivia’s princessy friends might even be SICK!”

  It was the happiest I’d seen my sister all week.

  “There’ll definitely be complaints. We just need to make sure Mum knows it was Robin who made the cakes. If it looks like he nearly poisoned half the class, she’ll send him back to Grandma for sure!”

  I felt a smile spread slowly across my lips. “This isn’t easy for me to admit,” I told her, “but sometimes, sis … you’re a genius! In a scary, really evil, taking-over-the-world kind of way.”

  Robin put on Dad’s apron to bake the cakes. He was still wearing Grandma’s coat underneath, skating round the kitchen like Father Christmas on ice! I noticed he was making a strange noise while he worked.

  “Is that … singing?”

  “My database informs me that people often sing while completing a task that makes them happy,” said Robin. “I am enjoying baking with you, so I thought it would be appropriate to express my happiness through the medium of song.”

  “Please don’t,” said Jess. “It’s really annoying.”

  The robot apologized, and I felt a bit sorry for him.

  Making the cakes wasn’t actually as bad as I expected. Robin had the recipe in his head, so me and Jess just weighed out ingredients while the robot stirred them all together in a big bowl. Before he started, Robin unscrewed one of his hands and replaced it with an attachment like you get on a food mixer. Watching him remove his own hand was kind of gross but also strangely cool. The best part was we didn’t have to get arm ache trying to stir the mixture. The robot just put his new mixer hand in the bowl and whirrrrrrrrrr! – off it went! It was kind of impressive.

  I realized I was actually quite enjoying myself – not that I was about to start singing or anything outrageous like that, but it was a good laugh baking with Robin. When he offered to let us taste the mixture, I almost said yes, until I remembered we’d used SALT instead of SUGAR. It was kind of disappointing because I reckon if we’d used the right ingredients, Robin’s cakes would have been amazing.

  Mum came home just as we were taking the cakes out of the oven.

  “I popped in to change before I start my shift at the pub,” she said, dumping her bag on the kitchen table. “Those cakes smell amazing!”

  “It was ALL Robin,” said Jess. “He did ALL the work so he should take ALL the credit!”

  “Oh, that’s very kind of you, Miss Jess, but I’d say it was a team effort.” The robot slid the freshly baked muffins on to a cooling rack. “Would you like to try one, ma’am?”

  “I shouldn’t really,” said Mum, drooling already. “They’re for Olivia’s party. But they do smell delicious. Maybe I should sample one – just to make sure they’re OK?”

  An evil gleam flickered in my sister’s eyes.

  “Anyone else?” said Mum, reaching for a muffin.

  “Maybe later,” said Jess.

  “I’m not really in a cake mood,” I lied.

  Mum took a bite. I stepped back out of range. If Jess was right, that mouthful would come flying back out at any moment.

  I watched Mum’s face, waiting for a cough, a cry of horror, as she tasted salt where there should have been sugar.

  “Mmmmm!” said Mum, closing her eyes. “This is AMAZING! Robin, you’re a genius!”

  Me and Jess exchanged a puzzled look.

  “I’m very glad you like it,” said Robin. “However, I was wondering – would you like me to do an inventory of your ingredients?”

  Mum frowned.

  “While we were baking, I noticed the jar marked SUGAR actually contained SALT!” said Robin. “My sensors detected the mistake before any damage was done, but I’d be happy to run a diagnostic check on all your food-storage units.” He smiled but his eyes swung round towards me and Jess as he said it – like he knew what we’d tried to do!

  “That must have been me!” said Mum. “I’ve been so tired lately. Thank goodness you were here to spot it, Robin!”

  Yeah, lucky us!

  “That went well,” I muttered as Mum headed for the door. “Now Mum thinks she’s found her very own Bake Off champion, it’s going to be even harder to get rid of him.”

  “Oh, shut up!” said Jess and stomped off upstairs.

  The words filled the screen in large red letters then crumbled into flickering pixels.

  I threw down the controller in disgust. It was pointless – this robot was impossible to defeat.

  “Dead again, huh?”

  I gave an involuntary yelp of surprise, then turned to glare at my sister. “You’re supposed to KNOCK! Not just barge into my room!”

  “I did knock. Twice. You couldn’t hear because you were too busy shouting at Ali and squealing like a baby.”

  “I don’t squeal!”

  Jess raised an eyebrow.

  “What do you WANT anyway?”

  “It’s time for Olivia’s party.”

  “I can’t go, I’m ill!”

  “No, you’re not. Anyway I already tried that. Turns out Grandma’s annoying robot can do full medical diagnostic scans.” My sister waved a sheet of paper at me. “This says I’m low on iron and need to eat more greens.”

  “That’s it then,” I said. “We’re doomed!”

  At least we didn’t have to walk to the swimming pool. No, this time we took the bus! Luckily
there was nobody onboard we knew. I still kept my hood up all the way though, just in case.

  It was weird. Usually I try to have as little to do with my sister as possible, but since Robin’s arrival our on-going feud had been put on hold. We both realized that the only chance we had of getting rid of the robot was to join forces and work together.

  Which was why I found myself sitting at the back of the bus next to my sister, while the robot and Digby shared a seat near the front. Digby was perched on the robot’s lap, happily watching as Robin pointed out things through the window and chatted to him, as though the dog could actually understand what he was saying.

  “Maybe we could lose him at the swimming pool…” said Jess. “Maybe Robin could accidentally fall in? I bet water wouldn’t be good for his circuits.”

  I pictured Ali doing his jerky dance. “Isn’t that a bit mean?”

  Jess came closer to give me the full benefit of her glare. “That thing is ruining our lives! We need to get rid of it!”

  I still felt bad about hurting the robot, but things were getting desperate. I imagined Robin picking us up every day from school; more embarrassing trips to the barber’s and the shops; the fact that he would always know what homework we had and if we were faking an illness; not to mention the trouble he’d got us into with Olivia…

  Much as I hated to admit it, I knew my sister was right.

  It was Saturday so the sports centre was busy. I kept my head down and my hood up as we followed the robot inside. He had Digby tucked under his arm as he led the way into the changing rooms, his skates skidding and sliding on the tiled floor.

  I dived into the nearest cubicle, thinking if I could get changed and into the pool quickly, nobody would need to know that Robin was anything to do with me. Then I realized I didn’t have the bag with my trunks in.