How to Get Famous by Pete Johnson Page B

blew in. Normally I go into
town with her and Dad on Saturday morning,
but I asked to be excused this weekly
torture today.
    Mum was about to screech, 'Absolutely
not,' and throw me out of bed. But something
about my appearance must have
made her stop. She actually placed a hand
on my forehead. A concerned look flickered
across her face.
    Then I had the bizarre experience of my
mum being nice to me as she fussed
around, bringing me a hot drink and a
piece of toast.
    'The best thing you can do is keep
warm,' she said. 'And don't get too excited.'
    Well, absolutely no chance of that
happening here.
    I heard her murmuring to Dad that
she thought I was sickening for one of
those bugs that are going round.
Then they told me to stay in bed and not
answer the door – while they left for town.
    'We won't be long,' said Mum.
    'Oh, don't hurry,' I replied, with total
sincerity.
    About two minutes after they'd gone,
the doorbell rang. I thought, I shan't
answer that. But then it rang twice more,
as if it was something urgent. So I hastily
threw some clothes over my rather grim
pyjamas and tore downstairs as fast as my
shaky legs would take me.
    I opened the door to see the guy I'd been
talking to last night – the one with the
very alert eyes – and a woman. He introduced
himself as Fred from the local
paper. 'So you're a reporter? I never
suspected that.'
    'Oh sorry, I thought I'd mentioned it to
you yesterday. Eunice' – he nodded at the
lady with him – 'and me were wondering if
we could have another little chat with
you.'
    Well, the little chat lasted nearly an
hour. They didn't just ask about the
robbery either, they wanted to know all
about me. I even told them how I'd
auditioned to be in The Secret Garden .
They were dead interested in that.
    They both kept laughing but in a good
way, as if they were having a really great
time. And that's what I love to do more
than anything else: entertain people.
    Then Eunice wanted to take a photo of
me. I shot upstairs to do my hair – funny
how much better I suddenly felt – and to
put on a smart shirt.
    'So I'll actually be in the local paper?'
    'Yeah, look out for yourself on
Wednesday,' said Fred.
    'Hey, I'm sorry,' I said suddenly, 'but I
never offered you a tea or coffee or a
packet of chocolate biscuits . . . have something
now.'
    'No time, I'm afraid,' said Fred. 'But
we've enjoyed your company . . . and well
done on what you did last night. Your
prompt action saved the day.'
    Normally I love receiving compliments.
Bring them on is what I say. But this one
time I actually felt embarrassed. I have
many amazing talents but being brave
definitely isn't one of them. I've never been
in a fight in my life, for instance. So what
happened yesterday didn't seem to belong
to me really.
    Still, it'll be good to see my
distinguished features leaping out of the
local rag. And although I can't see this as
the start of a career doing brave things
(I'm shivering at the very idea), a bit of
publicity never hurt anyone.
    After my encounter with the press, I
toddled up to bed and promptly fell asleep.
    SUNDAY APRIL 18TH
    Guess what! I really have got a bug. In
fact, I've just been doing all sorts of
disgusting things in the bathroom. Yes, I
know – too much information.
    MONDAY APRIL 19TH
    I'm missing a day of school. Well, that's
some consolation for still feeling so groggy.
    TUESDAY APRIL 20TH
    Georgia finished performing The Secret
Garden yesterday and said she's really
missing it now. Still, she's now joined a
drama club they recommended and is
going there every Sunday, and tonight
she's having a meal with Alicia Kay and a
producer from children's television. I
thought I might have been invited along
too. I even said jokingly to Georgia that
maybe she could smuggle me in as her
lucky mascot. 'I wish I could,' she said.
    I still haven't mentioned to Georgia
about my little bit of crime-busting action
on Friday. There just never seemed the
right moment. But she'll see it in the local
paper