My Babysitter is a Robot Page 5

  Robin put Mr Burton’s underwear in the drier then the view changed to a pile of dirty dishes next to the sink. The yellow rubber gloves squirted some liquid into the washing-up bowl, then turned on the taps.

  “Right,” I muttered. “Let’s see what this baby can do!”

  I nudged the controller and Robin started walking towards the door.

  “What’s happening to me?” he said. “My legs – they’re moving on their own! Stop it! Naughty legs!”

  I felt bad for freaking him out, but we had no way to let Robin know what we were doing.

  I could see the front door at the end of the hallway, and so far there was no sign of Mr Burton. Maybe I could get Robin to simply open the door and walk home.

  But if we did that Mr Burton would just come round and demand him back. We needed Robin to trash the place and scare the life out of the old man – make him think Robin really was dangerous. Plus our neighbour deserved to be taught a lesson for treating Robin like a slave. It was time for this robot to take HIS revenge!

  “Hey!” said Jess, grabbing my arm. “Can you hear that?”

  There was music coming from the room on Robin’s left.

  “That’s from Beauty and the Beast!” said Jess.

  “I never had Mr Burton down as a Beauty and the Beast fan,” I said, guiding Robin through the doorway.

  But it wasn’t Mr Burton dancing round, singing ‘Tale as Old as Time’ in front of the giant TV mounted on the wall…

  Brett jumped, his race flushing red. “What do YOU want, robot?”

  Of course Brett couldn’t see us – he thought it was just Robin he was talking to.

  “Get me a drink,” he said, “and a muffin. No, make that two!” Brett looked down at the doll in the yellow dress he was clutching. “You want one, too, don’t you, Belle?”

  “No way!” I whispered. “Is he pretending to be Beast?”

  “If people at school knew about this,” said Jess, “he’d never be able to bully anyone ever again!”

  “Funny you should say that.” I pointed to the flashing red dot in the corner of the screen.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m recording all of this. I could upload to YouTube straight from here!”

  Her eyes widened. “We can’t! Can we?”

  “We could – and that’s all that matters! Once Brett knows we’ve got this…” I grinned.

  “What are you waiting for?” shouted Brett. “A Coke and two muffins. NOW!”

  “Very good, Master Brett,” said the robot.

  Robin had just walked back into the hall when a roar of anger erupted from the kitchen.

  “Looks like we’ve found Mr Burton,” I said.

  “And he’s found out Robin left the taps running,” said Jess. “Oops!”

  We watched Mr Burton splash across the kitchen to the sink, then turn to face Robin.

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, ROBOT?”

  “I’m terribly sorry, sir,” said Robin. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I think I might have a bug in my system.”

  Mr Burton’s ratty face filled the screen. “Wouldn’t surprise me,” he muttered. “Shoddy programming. I’ll have to open you up and investigate. But first you can clean up this mess. And when you’ve done that there are leaves all over the drive.” He pointed to the motorized leaf-blower lying on the table next to a plate of freshly baked muffins.

  Robin shook his head. Or rather I wobbled the joystick so his head swung from left to right, but to Mr Burton it looked like the robot was shaking his head.

  “WHAT?” Mr Burton’s eyes bulged. “Did you just shake your head at me, robot?”

  “NO, sir!” said Robin, nodding his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I seem to have lost control of my body. Maybe I should try a reboot.”

  Robin’s gloved hand loomed towards the screen.

  “Quick!” said Jess. “DO SOMETHING! Before he shuts himself down!”

  “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE CONTROLS ARE!”

  “Oh, give it to me!” My sister grabbed the controller and stabbed at the buttons. The robot started waving his arms around.

  “What on earth—?” Mr Burton took a step back.

  Jess pressed another button and Robin picked up a muffin from the plate on the table.

  “Now what are you doing?” said Mr Burton.

  “I appear to have picked up a muffin, sir. Ah, that’s right! Master Brett requested some refreshments.”

  “I wonder…” I said.

  “What?” Jess looked at me.

  “Try the FIRE button!”

  The muffin flew over Mr Burton’s head and exploded against the wall.

  “Like that?” said Jess.

  “Yeah, except you’re aiming at him, not the wall!”

  “GIVE ME A CHANCE!” Jess leaned forwards, her tongue poking out from the side of her mouth. “So circle to pick stuff up, then aim and…”

  If the old man hadn’t ducked, the second muffin would definitely have hit him.

  “Sir! I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s come over me,” said Robin. “BAD ROBOT!”

  “What’s going on?” said Brett’s voice. “Where’re my muffins?”

  “You want muffins?” said Jess, spinning Robin round. “I’ll give you muffins!”

  Brett was so shocked he didn’t move until the first cake hit him in the face.

  “Tell me we’re still recording!” said Jess as Brett turned and ran screaming back down the hall, chunks of double-choc muffin falling from his hair.

  We were having so much fun I’d almost forgotten about Mr Burton until I saw his hands appear and start fumbling for the reset button up the robot’s nose.

  “NO! DON’T LET HIM RESET OR WE’LL LOSE CONTROL!”

  “AGGHH!” said Jess, frantically pressing buttons. “I CAN’T GET HIM OFF!”

  I grabbed back the controller and spun Robin round. Mr Burton swore as the move shook him off on to the soggy floor. The old man got up, dripping wet and purple with rage.

  There were no more muffins left, just the leaf-blower on the table. I made Robin pick it up.

  “Oh, no!” said the robot.

  “Oh, yes!” said Jess.

  Rosalyn nearly dropped her phone when Robin came crashing through the front door, wielding a leaf-blower. Then she was off the sofa and out of the house before you could say, ‘I’m not getting paid enough for THIS!’

  My sister couldn’t stop grinning. “You’d have thought Robin had a chainsaw, not a leaf-blower the way he scared them off!” Brett and Mr Burton had also run screaming down the road.

  “Who knew they were so powerful?” I said. “I didn’t think it would make quite that much mess!”

  “Serves him right,” said Jess. “He shouldn’t have stolen our robot and used him as a slave.”

  “You think Robin will be all right?”

  The robot was sitting in his chair next to Digby’s bed. He’d arrived in such a state we had to shut him down. The dog was lying at Robin’s feet, licking muffin crumbs off the roller skates and thumping his tail against the kitchen lino.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Jess. “He’s home now. We did it!”

  We grinned and high-fived, then suddenly realized what we were doing and jumped apart.

  “Mum’s not going to be happy when she sees he’s back,” said Jess.

  I nodded. Why was it that just when you thought you’d solved one problem, there always seemed to be another waiting to jump out at you?

  The school fair started at noon. All morning the house had been filled with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked muffins.

  “Are we all ready?” said Mum for the tenth time. “You’ve got the cakes?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The muffins are secured and ready for transportation,” said Robin.

  “What’s left of them,” muttered Jess.

  Mum blushed. “I just wanted to make sure they were all right before we unleas
hed them on the public!”

  “You look very smart today, Robin,” said Dad, who had the weekend off for a change. “I like your suit. In fact I’ve got one just like it.”

  Me and Jess exchanged a look.

  “We didn’t think Grandma’s coat really suited him,” said Jess.

  “He looks like Batman’s butler now,” I said.

  “Except Alfred doesn’t have a beard … or curly hair!” Jess pointed out.

  As well as borrowing Dad’s suit, we’d found a wig in a charity shop. It didn’t quite fit the look I was going for, but it was better than a dog-chewed woolly hat. Jess had painted the Barbie skates black so they looked more like shoes too. It was quite a makeover, but it had all helped to persuade Mum and Dad to let Robin stay.

  It hadn’t been easy. Mum had actually screamed when she saw the robot had returned. Luckily Grandma was back from InventorCon and came round straight away when we phoned. She gave Robin what she called a “full medical and software update”.

  “He’s perfectly safe now,” she told Mum, giving us a wink. “I switched him off and on again!” she whispered. “If he has another funny turn, you know what to do…” Grandma raised a finger and jabbed it upwards.

  The robot was no longer linked to my console, but Grandma had reprogrammed remote access to activate from a special code we could send Robin via Wi-Fi, should we need to take control in future.

  Mr Burton had no idea we’d been involved in Robin’s ‘malfunction’, but he still came round to complain about the damage ‘our’ robot had done to his house.

  Grandma answered the door. We didn’t hear what she said to him, but the old man didn’t stay long. When I asked her how she knew Mr Burton’s name was Donald, Grandma looked strangely shifty and said it was, “A long story … for another time.” She refused to say more, no matter how much me and Jess begged.

  It took most of the week and multiple batches of muffins to convince Mum to give Robin another chance. The fact that Rosalyn phoned to say she was never coming back, no matter how much Mum paid her, probably helped too.

  The school hall was already busy when we arrived. There were tables set out along the walls and down the middle, selling everything from cakes and plastic beakers of warm, spicy apple punch to Halloween decorations and Christmas cards.

  Robin delivered his tins to the cake stall. Ten minutes later word had spread about the apple-and-cinnamon muffins and there was a queue stretching out of the door.

  We met up with Ivana and Ali, and at the end of the first row of stalls we bumped into Mrs Badoe.

  “Oh, I am sorry!” she said. “I forget there’s a lot more of me these days!”

  “When’s the baby due, miss?” Ivana asked.

  “Just after Christmas, so you’ll be getting a new teacher next term.”

  Ivana and Jess groaned, which made Mrs Badoe smile, but she was anxious to move on. “I heard about some amazing apple-and-cinnamon muffins,” she said. “I’m hoping they haven’t all gone!”

  “I wonder who our new teacher will be?” said Jess as Mrs Badoe hurried away. “Whoever it is won’t be as nice as her.”

  “Hey, why don’t we go and have a look over there?” said Ali, changing direction so suddenly I almost walked into him. Then I saw why.

  Olivia, Brett and Drool were gathered round a Halloween stall up ahead – we would have blundered straight into them.

  Brett saw us and nudged Olivia.

  “Uh-oh!” said Ivana.

  But then a strange thing happened. Rather than homing in on us, they turned and fled in the opposite direction. If you didn’t know better, you’d have thought THEY were scared of US!

  “What’s with them?” said Ali.

  “Maybe Brett’s decided he should stop being such a BEAST to everyone!” said Jess. We both burst out laughing until we realized Ali and Ivana were staring blankly at us. They knew nothing about the video we had of Brett. But he did and that was what mattered.

  We’d cornered Brett earlier in the week and shown him the clip. He’d looked so shocked and confused I’d felt sorry for him, until I remembered all the times he’d picked on Ali and everyone else. We’d promised not to tell anybody about his Beauty and the Beast moment if he stopped hassling people at school.

  So far it seemed to be working.

  It was time for Jess to go in goal on the penalty shoot-out stall (Mrs Badoe had let her and Liesha share goalkeeping duties), so we followed her outside.

  There was a row of games at the edge of the field, offering high-octane thrills like Guess the Number of Smarties in the Jar, and Bash the Rat! (The stallholder dropped a knitted grey rat down a piece of old drainpipe and you had to try to whack it with a plastic rounders bat when it fell out at the bottom.) They were the kind of games that got Dad all nostalgic. His absolute favourite was the Coconut Shy. It was also his nemesis. Every year Dad tried, and failed, to knock one of the coconuts off and win a prize.

  Unlike Dad, it turned out that Robin was really good at all the games – and I mean REALLY good. After he’d guessed the number of Smarties in the Jar EXACTLY and Bashed the Rat so hard it almost went into orbit, we had to tell him to take it easy in case people got suspicious.

  “You mean I should fail deliberately?” said Robin. “Like your father does?”

  “Just be a little less robot and a bit more human,” I told him.

  “Yeah – be rubbish like the rest of us!” said Ali, laughing.

  Dad was still trying his luck with the Coconut Shy and as usual failing miserably. On the rare occasion he actually hit one of the coconuts, it still didn’t fall off.

  Robin watched for a while, then when Dad’s turn was over asked if he could have a go.

  I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. Dad wouldn’t be happy if Robin knocked all the coconuts off with his first attempt! I didn’t want to give him and Mum any reason to change their minds about keeping the robot. But Robin was already lining up his first throw.

  “Remember – less robot, more human!” I whispered in his ear.

  “Very well, Master Just Jake,” said Robin and hurled the ball at the line of coconuts.

  It struck the target, but the fruit didn’t fall. I winced.

  “Nice shot!” said the stallholder.

  Robin threw again. This time he hit the coconut in the middle. Again the ball bounced off.

  “Unlucky!” said the man. “Just not quite enough power!”

  Dad frowned.

  “ROBIN!” I hissed, but the robot didn’t seem to hear.

  When his final throw cannoned into the last coconut in the line, the wooden ball actually split in two, but the coconut still didn’t budge.

  “I think you could say that one was hard enough!” said Mum.

  “There’s something going on here!” Dad strode up to the line of coconuts and tried to lift one off its stand. “Ha! Just as I suspected! They’re glued on!”

  The stallholder tried to move Dad away, but Robin clamped his shoulder with a robotic hand. “I think you owe this gentleman an apology,” he said. “And a prize!”

  “All these years,” said Dad, clutching an armful of coconuts. “I thought it was ME!” He shook his head. “You just can’t trust some people!”

  “You know robots are programmed to always tell the truth,” I said. “Robin, for example – he wouldn’t be allowed to lie even if he wanted to.”

  “Is that right?” said Dad. “I’m impressed the way he saw what that bloke was up to.”

  “Robin’s very good at spotting fakes,” said Jess, back from her shift in goal. “It’s been quite useful actually.”

  “I wish I had a robot for a babysitter,” said Ivana.

  “Yeah, you two are well lucky!” said Ali. “Robin’s AWESOME.”

  Me and Jess exchanged a look.

  We didn’t say anything, but I could tell my sister was thinking the same as me: Ali and Ivana were right – having a robot for a babysitter WAS kind of awesome.

&n
bsp; “Um, Jake?” Ali tugged my sleeve and pointed to where Robin was juggling coconuts for an admiring crowd of onlookers. “Those coconuts he’s juggling. They’re not ALL coconuts!”

  The dog was fine, though he did keep walking in circles for a while afterwards. But, to be fair to Robin, Digby is small, round and hairy – it was an easy mistake to make.

  The End (… for now!)

  “A ROBOT?” Dad snorted at the TV. “That’s just a vacuum cleaner with a face painted on it!”

  We were watching the Buy It or Bin It? Christmas special. People go on the show and present an invention to a panel of investors. The panel then decides if the idea is worth an investment and buy it, or reject it to the bin! Mum and Dad were hooked.

  “Fleur looks quite interested,” said Mum, as the camera zoomed in on one of the judges.

  “She used to live round here, you know?” said Dad.

  “You say that every time,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

  Dad shrugged. “She’s worth billions!”

  The woman on the telly was called Fleur Pickles. She was probably about the same age as Dad, but she looked … less worn, somehow. Being a billionaire probably helped. It was good to know that somebody from a nowhere town like ours could get rich and even end up on TV.

  “We should get Grandma to go on this,” said Dad. “The stuff she invents is way better!”

  Mum nearly spat out her chocolate. “Are you serious? Have you forgotten what happened when Digby got too close to that AUTOMATIC TURKEY STUFFER she made? The poor dog hasn’t been the same since!” She shuddered. “And as for that SNOW MACHINE … we’re lucky it was only our windows that got broken. Those hailstones were the size of golf balls!”

  “Yeah, but think of the money she’d make if she sold one of her ideas,” said Dad. “Where is Digby, anyway?”