Me and Mister P. Read online

  Copyright © 2017 by Maria Farrer

  Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Daniel Rieley

  Published by arrangement with Oxford University Press.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

  Me and Mister P. was originally published in the United Kingdom in 2017.

  This hardcover edition published by Sky Pony Press, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the author’s imagination, and used fictitiously.

  Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or [email protected].

  Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.

  Visit our website at www.skyponypress.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  Cover design by Kate Gartner

  Cover illustration by Daniel Rieley

  Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-2860-8

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-2861-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  For Philip and Chiecco —M. F.

  For Florence —D. R.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 SLAM!

  Chapter 2 SHHHHHHHHH!

  Chapter 3 Brrrrmmmmmm!

  Chapter 4 HISSSSSS!

  Chapter 5 SLURP!

  Chapter 6 TRICKS

  Chapter 7 KNOTS

  Chapter 8 SNAPS

  Chapter 9 COUNTDOWN

  Chapter 10 SNIFF

  Chapter 11 HOORAY!

  About the author

  About the illustrator

  Amazing Polar Bears

  Chapter 1

  SLAM!

  Sent to my room AGAIN.

  Today was supposed to be a good day, but it’s turned into a bad day, so I’m stuck up here until my brother calms down. As usual, Liam is the one having a meltdown, and, as usual, I’m the one sent upstairs. In my opinion, this is one hundred percent NOT FAIR. Some days, I spend so much time upstairs that I think Mom and Dad forget I even exist.

  Just for once, I would like an ordinary day with an ordinary family and an ordinary brother.

  Arthur stabbed the page a few times with his pencil, then checked the time. Ten minutes to go . . .

  I need Liam to calm down RIGHT NOW, otherwise I will miss the City soccer game on TV, and if I miss even one second of the semi-final then I am done with this family FOREVER.

  Arthur underlined the word “forever” three times and then closed his journal. It had been given to him this week by the lady who came to visit the house to help with Liam things. She said Arthur could write anything in it, and she promised no one would ever look at it. Arthur hoped this was true. He wouldn’t like anyone to know what he really thought inside his head.

  Arthur watched the seconds tick by. Five minutes to go until the semifinal started . . .

  Four minutes . . .

  Three minutes . . .

  Arthur tried to imagine his favorite team coming out onto the field. Just two minutes now until the whistle blew for the start of the game.

  “Arthur,” Mom called from the bottom of the stairs, “you can come down now. The soccer game is about to start.”

  “Is Liam going to watch?”

  “Of course Liam is going to watch.”

  Arthur groaned. He hid his journal in his very secret hiding place, then ran down the stairs, taking the last five steps in one big leap. Liam was already sitting in front of the TV, so close that his nose was almost touching it. And he was humming. When Liam got excited, he liked to hum—which was sometimes OK, but usually not.

  “Hey, Liam!” Arthur moved his chair to try to see past Liam’s head. “Can’t you move over a little? I can’t see a thing.”

  Liam ignored Arthur and started to hum more loudly. Arthur checked that Mom was still in the kitchen and then turned the volume up. Slowly, the room filled with the sound of the crowd

  The atmosphere at the game was fantastic.

  “Just six days left to enter our Silliest Soccer Photo Competition,” said the announcer. “Three tickets to the cup final for the lucky winner.”

  Arthur sighed. He’d give anything to win those tickets. One day, he dreamed of going to watch his team play in the cup final, but his parents would never let him—it wouldn’t be fair to Liam. Of course, Arthur would love to have a brother he could go to games with—that would be the best thing in the world—but that brother was never going be Liam. Because even though Liam loved soccer, he hated strange places and crowds and noise. Arthur was fed up!

  Arthur turned up the volume a little more. There was a

  HUGE roar

  and thunderous applause

  as the teams ran out onto the field. Liam put his hands over his ears, rocked back and forth, and moaned loudly, trying to drown out the sound. In seconds, Mom was in the room and grabbing the remote control.

  “What are you doing, Arthur?” she whispered, pointing the remote at the TV until the sound had died to nothing. “You don’t want to upset your brother again, do you?”

  “But I don’t want to watch the soccer with no sound. We always have to watch TV with no sound, and it’s no fun.”

  “Of course it’s fun. It’s no different, really. You can still see what’s going on.”

  “I would be able to see what was going on,” whined Arthur, “if Liam wasn’t sitting right in front of the screen. And anyway, I want to hear what’s going on. I don’t want to listen to Liam humming the whole time. I need to listen to the commentary.”

  Mom crouched down in front of Arthur and took his hands. “Come on, Arthur. You have to try to understand what it’s like from Liam’s point of view.”

  “I always have to understand Liam’s point of view. What about MY point of view?” Arthur tried to grab the remote back from Mom.

  “Stop it!” shouted Mom. “That’s enough.”

  Liam started to cry, and Mom looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

  “OK, that’s it. No one is going to watch the soccer game this afternoon.”

  Mom turned off the TV and walked out of the room and into the backyard.

  Arthur couldn’t believe it. “This is all your fault,” he snapped at Liam. “You can tell Mom and Dad I’ve had enough and I’m leaving this house and I’m not coming back.”

  Liam covered his ears with his hands and cried even louder.

  Arthur rushed up to his room, searched under his bed for his survival kit, and stuffed his lucky crystal into his coat pocket. Then he crashed down the stairs and flung open the front door. He barged past the polar bear who was standing on the doorstep and hurtled off down the street, running as fast as he could.

  He wanted to get as far away from his house, his brother, and his stupid parents as possible. He wasn’t going to let a polar bear or anything else stop him.

  WAIT

  ONE

  SECOND!

  HANG ON!

  STO-O-O-OP!

  Arthur slammed on the brakes so hard his sneakers left scorch marks on the sidewalk. A polar bear? On his doorstep? Was he imagining things? Arthur stamped on his own foot to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. OUCH!

  There was a polar bear—he was sure of it! Right
outside his door! No way! Wow!

  Now Arthur was in a dilemma. He wanted to run away, but he also wanted to check out the bear. Was it dangerous? Was it attacking his family at this very moment? Did he care? Arthur thought for a moment and decided that maybe he did. However annoying his family could be, he really didn’t want them to be munched by a polar bear. Perhaps he could run away later? Right now it seemed more important to get back home. He spun around and . . .

  “Waaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

  “Grrrrrrrr!”

  The polar bear was so close that Arthur could feel its icy breath on his face. He was so close that he could see its shiny nose, its night-black eyes, its enormous claws. The bear took a step toward him.

  “Waaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

  Arthur yelled again, waving his arms in the air.

  The bear stood up on its hind legs and waved its huge hairy paws back at Arthur.

  This was bad. Very bad. This was double, triple, quadruple times worse than anything else that had ever happened.

  Arthur pressed his lips together so another scream couldn’t escape. He wondered if there was anything useful in his survival kit. His fishhook and line? His earplugs? His fire-lighting kit? He was pretty certain a fire might scare away a polar bear, but how could he light a fire if he had no twigs or grass or anything?

  Arthur stood like a statue.

  The bear stood like a statue.

  Inside Arthur’s very still body, his was thumping, and inside his very still head, his mind was racing. He thought it best to seem friendly so he nodded and smiled at the polar bear. The bear nodded at Arthur and bared its long, sharp teeth.

  Arthur was terrified. He tried to think of a plan, but he wasn’t very good at plans and he’d never had to make one involving a polar bear before. He decided he needed to catch the bear unawares, dart past him, and run for home. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best he could come up with. The trouble was, he wasn’t exactly sure what made a bear unaware.

  Arthur looked at the ground and the bear looked at the ground.

  He looked at the sky and the bear looked at the sky.

  Hmm, thought Arthur. He covered his eyes with his hands and, when he opened his fingers just enough to peek through, he saw the polar bear had covered its eyes with its paws—and Arthur was pretty certain that you couldn’t peek through a paw.

  This was Arthur’s chance.

  He’d run for it while the bear wasn’t looking.

  He tiptoed past the bear and then sprinted at top speed. He didn’t stop to look over his shoulder. He didn’t dare listen for the sound of huge paws

  behind him.

  He ran all the way home as fast as his legs would carry him, let himself into his house, slammed the door, and turned the lock closed. He leaned against the door, breathing hard.

  “Arthur, is that you?” Dad asked, poking his head around the living room door. “Where have you been?”

  “I ran away,” gasped Arthur, still out of breath. “ForEVER. Not that anyone noticed.”

  Dad frowned and nodded. “Well, I’m very glad you’ve decided to come back.” He gave a deep sigh. “I know it’s been a bad day—I do understand—but running away is not the answer. It really isn’t. Apart from anything else, it isn’t safe.”

  “You’re right, it’s not,” said Arthur. “There’s a polar bear hanging around out there.”

  Dad chuckled. “Nice one, Arthur! Did he float here on an iceberg? Look, I’m sorry about the soccer game. Maybe we can watch the highlights later. A polar bear, huh?” Dad shook his head and disappeared back into the living room. “No one can accuse you of not having a good imagination.”

  Arthur didn’t care about the soccer game anymore. He had BIGGER things to worry about—and it wasn’t in his imagination. What if the bear came back to his doorstep? Now it had picked up Arthur’s scent, who knew what it might do? He felt in his pocket for his lucky crystal, but the crystal wasn’t there. He patted his other pocket—his survival kit was gone too. Oh no! They must have fallen out when he ran away, and now his two most treasured possessions were lying somewhere out there in the street—with a bear. Could today get any worse?

  The doorbell rang, once and then twice. Arthur froze.

  “Could you see who’s there?” called Mom.

  “But what if it’s the bear?”

  “Don’t be silly, Arthur. There aren’t any bears around here.”

  Arthur heard Mom and Dad laughing, and that made him even grumpier.

  He stared at the door, trying to make up his mind what to do. “Who is it?” he called.

  There was no answer.

  He carefully lifted the flap of the mail slot so he could peer out. He put his eyes to the opening and jerked back. Stuck right in the opening—right there in front of his eyes—was a

  long

  furry

  nose.

  Arthur opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. He tried to move, but his feet were stuck to the floor.

  After a few seconds, the nose disappeared. Everything was quiet apart from the sound of Arthur’s heart beating. Arthur decided to risk another look. He bent down, peeked through the mail slot, and blinked in disbelief. The polar bear was lying on the ground just outside, gazing at the door with its big black eyes. One paw was resting on Arthur’s survival kit, and in the other paw was an old brown suitcase with a name written on it in frosty white writing:

  Arthur frowned. Mister P.? Was that the bear’s name? And what was it doing with Arthur’s survival kit? Arthur took a step back and tried to think. He heard movement outside the door.

  Arthur tried to gulp away his fear.

  “Who is it now?” called Dad from the sitting room.

  “Um . . .” Arthur could hardly say it was the polar bear. Dad hadn’t believed him earlier and he wouldn’t believe him now.

  Louder this time.

  Arthur didn’t know what to do. He watched in horror as two long black claws slid through the mail slot, and then horror turned to amazement as his lucky crystal rolled down the claws and dropped, like a peace offering, onto the doormat. The claws disappeared and the mail slot closed with a clink. Arthur picked up his crystal and turned it over in his hand. He couldn’t help thinking that perhaps the bear was trying to tell him something—or at least trying to be friends. Maybe if Arthur opened the door, just a little, the bear would give him back his survival kit too.

  Arthur trembled as he unlocked the door and turned the handle. Immediately, the door swung open and Arthur was flattened against the wall. The bear must have been leaning against the door! And now half a ton of enormous polar bear had fallen into the hallway and thudded onto the hall floor, sending the suitcase and Arthur’s survival kit spilling across the floor.

  The bear clambered to its feet, gave a loud yelp, and started to whimper. It was holding its paw off the ground and looked as though it had been hurt.

  “What is going on out there?” shouted Mom.

  Arthur wriggled out from where he was squished behind the door. He needed to keep Mom out of this situation. He kept his eyes on the bear as he replied. “I—er—stubbed my toe and then I dropped my stuff and now I’m just clearing it up.”

  Arthur edged closer to the bear and crouched down to examine its foot. He could see his fishhook sticking out of one of the bear’s black paw pads. Arthur scratched his head. He couldn’t send the bear away with a fishhook in its paw. That would be cruel. He was going to have to do something.

  The bear whimpered again and pushed at the hook with his nose.

  “It’s OK,” Arthur whispered. “I’ll get that out for you.”

  The bear blinked and stretched his head forward until the tip of his cold black nose touched the end of Arthur’s nose. Arthur tried to stay calm. He didn’t exactly feel afraid, but it was the first time ever that he’d been nose to nose with a polar bear.

  Chapter 2

  SHHHHHHHHH!

  “You need to be quiet,” whispered
Arthur. “If my family discovers a bear in the house, they’ll go crazy.”

  The bear’s black eyes twinkled.

  “What on earth are you doing out there?” called Dad from the living room. “Who’s at the door?”

  “Nothing . . . no one.” Arthur crossed his fingers behind his back. He didn’t like lying, but what else could he do? Whichever way he looked at it, a polar bear in the house was 100% going to cause trouble. Liam was already having a bad day, and throwing a bear into the mix definitely wouldn’t help.

  If Arthur was going to help the bear, he decided the best thing was to sneak it up to his room, get the hook out of its paw, then get it back out of the house without anyone noticing. But doing that wasn’t going to be easy—or quiet.

  Arthur motioned to the bear to stay still, then walked into the living room. Mom and Dad were watching Liam construct some monster spaceship out of Lego. All Arthur needed was a noisy way to distract them while he got the polar bear up the stairs. He thought of kicking Liam’s spaceship, but that seemed a little too cruel.

  “No more bears?” said Dad, smiling.

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Actually, there are hundreds of them,” he said, in his most menacing voice. “And they’re all coming to eat you.” He made his hands into a claw shapes and roared at the top of his voice.

  Liam screeched in terror and leapt to his feet, knocking the wing off his spaceship in the process. Now there was no shortage of noise.

  “What did you do that for?” said Mom. “Liam was finally playing happily.”

  “Go to your room right now,” said Dad, “and do not come down until you are ready to apologize.”

  Arthur was out of the room as quick as a flash, slamming the door behind him. For once in his life, he didn’t mind being scolded. He grabbed the bear’s suitcase and pointed up the stairs, putting his finger to his lips and beckoning to the bear to follow. For a moment, Arthur wondered if the bear would even fit between the wall and the bannister—or if the stairs might collapse under its weight.