Odin Blew Up My TV!

  To my mum and dad,

  for all the adventures they let me have.

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  1. AN UNEXPECTED FOREST

  2. DAVE THE LOBSTER

  3. BIRD OF PREY

  4. NOT IN KANSAS

  5. THE RUNAWAY MIST

  6. EVIL CAT

  7. FRIGHT AT THE MUSEUM

  8. EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL

  9. INTERIOR DECORATION

  10. AERIAL WARFARE

  11. THE IRONWOOD

  12. THE DRAGON BRIDGE

  13. THAT WAY AND THIS WAY

  14. A PIG IN THE MUD

  15. ISLAND OF LOST SOULS

  16. MATCH OF THE DAY

  17. GHOSTBASHERS

  18. DEEPER AND DOWN

  19. UP, UP AND AWAY!

  20. A LOBSTER’S TALE

  21. THE EYE OF THE STORM

  22. A HOLE IN THE SKY

  23. SLAP SHOT

  24. ODDITIES AND ENDINGS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  COPYRIGHT

  1. AN UNEXPECTED FOREST

  As the 95A bus pulled out of St Andrews bus station on its way to Dundee, teenagers Greg McBride and Susie Spinetti were having an argument.

  “You know your problem, Spinny?” Greg declared in disgust. “You’re unsophisticated.”

  “Sorry, Greg,” said Susie, handing back his iPod, “I just can’t get into this stuff. What did you say his name was again? Rod Kestrel?”

  “Rawkestra,” Greg corrected her sharply. “They’re only the most awesome metal band on the planet, and their album Running from the Jaguar is a total beast.”

  “It’s a total something,” Susie agreed. “Have you not got any good bands, like Black and White Rainbow or Arguments with the satnav?”

  “Oh right, like I’d listen to that rubbish.” Greg bit a chunk off his chocolate bar like that put an end to the conversation.

  “You know, if we could find music we both enjoyed,” Susie sighed, “it would be good for our relationship.”

  “Relationship!” Greg nearly choked on his chocolate. “Spinny, we do not have a relationship. We’re pals, okay?”

  Susie shrugged. “If you say so, Greg.”

  There were over a dozen passengers on the bus and Greg and Susie were seated near the back, on their way to the Olympia swimming pool in Dundee. As the bus moved down City Road, Greg stifled a yawn and flicked through the tracks on his iPod. He finally selected ‘Red Fire on a Blue, Blue Night’, which had an epic solo by the band’s Hungarian bassist Giorgio Pips.

  “You’ve been yawning ever since we got on the bus,” said Susie. “Good thing we’re going for a splash in the pool. That’ll wake you up.”

  “Could you not have let me sleep a bit longer before you came banging on the door at the crack of dawn?” Greg complained.

  “Half past nine isn’t the crack of dawn,” Susie pointed out. “I’ve been up since seven.”

  “That’s because you’re clinically overactive. When you’re not playing hockey, you’re swimming. When you’re not swimming, you’re playing football. When you’re not playing football—”

  “I’m goofing around with you,” Susie laughed, giving him a playful thump on the shoulder. “Where are you getting all these big words from anyway? Did you have dictionary-on-toast for breakfast?”

  Greg pulled a second-hand paperback out of his pocket. “I’m getting them from this.”

  “You, a book?” said Susie sceptically. “Has it got a lot of pictures in it?”

  “Only a few,” said Greg, “by way of illustration.”

  Susie took the book and read the cover. “THE VERBAL NINJA: How to Make People Do What You Want by Using the Right Words.”

  “It will help me in my future careers,” said Greg. “I’ve decided it’s time to start thinking about my future.”

  “And what careers would those be?” Susie asked, flipping through the pages. “Zookeeper? Gameshow host?”

  Greg counted off on his fingers in what he thought was a businesslike manner. “First fighter pilot, then advertising executive, then,” he concluded grandly, “president.”

  “President?” said Susie. “This is Scotland. We don’t have a president.”

  “Not yet,” said Greg with a grin. “I’ll be the first.”

  “Does Lewis know you’re reading a book?” asked Susie. “I’m surprised it’s not in all the papers.”

  Greg’s younger brother Lewis was very serious-minded and rarely had his nose out of a book.

  “He wouldn’t notice if I’d taken up fire-eating,” Greg scoffed. “For weeks he’s been daft on fish. He’s bought himself a pair of goldfish and today he’s off to the harbour to catch a piranha.”

  “He’s not going to catch a piranha in St Andrews,” Susie chuckled.

  “Well, he’s off to catch something,” said Greg. “I wasn’t really listening.”

  Susie returned the book and Greg stuffed it back in his pocket.

  “So are you going to use your new Jedi mind powers to make me do what you want?” she asked impishly.

  “There’s an easier way to do that,” said Greg. He pulled out a chocolate and raisin cereal bar and passed it to her.

  “Hey, cool!” said Susie, stripping off the wrapper and taking a big bite. “Thanks!” she said through a mouthful of chocolate and raisins.

  Greg wriggled down in his seat and closed his eyes. “Now pipe down and let me sleep.”

  It was a bright October day and the morning sun flashed off the wide windows of the university science buildings to their left. Off to the right, beyond the playing fields and the golf course, the waters of St Andrews Bay lapped against the West Sands.

  The bus was just passing the entrance to Baldrovie Farm when there was a sudden lurch as the driver slammed on the brakes.

  “Oh great!” Greg groused as he was jolted forward. “Can’t a guy get any peace?” He kept his eyes firmly closed and squirmed back into a comfortable sleeping position.

  Susie stood up and peered ahead through the driver’s windscreen. “Greg, you need to see this,” she gasped.

  “It’s not a sheep in the road again, is it?” said Greg, reluctantly opening his eyes.

  There was a buzz among the passengers and they were all peering out the windows.

  “Here, have you taken a wrong turn?” one woman demanded of the driver.

  “Aye, it looks like we’re in the middle of Tentsmuir Forest,” said another.

  “We’ve not gone that far,” said Susie. “If you look back you can still see the Old Course Hotel.”

  “That lassie’s right,” somebody agreed. “What on earth is going on?”

  Greg could see what the fuss was about. They were only a short distance out of town and the Dundee road should have been stretching in front of them. Instead a line of tall, dark trees was spread right across the road. In fact, a dense, wild-looking forest sprawled as far as the eye could see, all the way down to the coast.

  A few other cars pulled up behind the bus. Faced with the obstacle ahead, the drivers, one by one, turned around and headed back to town.

  “I’ll bet it’s got something to do with they GM crops,” an old man declared darkly.

  “Come on, Spinny, we need to get a look at this,” said Greg.

  “You’re right,” Susie agreed as they made their way down the aisle to the front of the bus.

  The driver was on his radio trying to contact the bus station, and getting only static in reply. “Back in your seats, please,” he said when he saw them coming.

  “We need to get outside,” said Greg.

  “Out?” echoed the driver. “No, you don’t. There’s something right queer
going on and I’m taking no chances. We’re headed straight back to the station.”

  “Look, Susie here swears she saw her granny out there wandering through the trees,” Greg explained, placing a sympathetic hand on Susie’s shoulder.

  “Her granny?” The driver frowned. “What would her granny be doing out there in the trees?”

  “Grannies are always getting lost in the woods,” said Greg, sounding like an expert on the subject of lost grannies. “Did you never hear about Red Riding Hood’s granny?”

  Susie gave the driver a wide-eyed look, like a worried kitten. “Please, mister. My granny’s not well. I’m scared something’ll happen to her if we don’t fetch her inside.”

  “Okay,” said the driver unhappily, twisting the lever to open the door. “Mind you’re only a minute, though, then we’re heading back.”

  Greg and Susie hopped down and walked towards the tree line.

  “Red Riding Hood’s granny didn’t get lost in the woods,” said Susie. “She got eaten by a wolf.”

  “Fine, you’re such an expert, you go back and tell him that,” said Greg, jerking a thumb back at the bus.

  They halted a short distance from the forest and stared. The trees were as high as a five-storey building with leaves of such a dark green they looked almost black. Now and again they glimpsed a shadowy form slipping through the mysterious woodland and they could hear rustles, snorts and crackles.

  “This is totally… I don’t know… it’s totally something,” said Greg.

  “I’ll bet there’s a word for it in that book of yours,” said Susie. “Do you think it’s got anything to do with… you know… Loki?”

  “It’s his style alright,” said Greg. He shook his head. “You’d think he’d be fed up of messing about with St Andrews by now.”

  Once before, Loki, the Viking god of magic and mischief, had turned St Andrews into a mad fantasy world of ogres and goblins. Then another time he buried the town under a torrent of snow right in the middle of summer.

  “But did Odin not say he tossed him into some dark hole way beyond the edge of time and space?” said Susie, recalling how their last adventure with the Norse gods had ended.

  “It did sound pretty foolproof,” Greg agreed, rubbing a hand through his unruly thatch of brown hair. “I suppose there could be something else going on.”

  “Maybe it’s aliens who want to use the Earth to supply them with timber,” Susie suggested. “They might have developed a strain of fast-growing trees.”

  Greg suddenly raised his right hand. “Spinny, is your finger tingling?”

  “It is!” Susie exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

  They both stared at the rings they were wearing. Forged from Asgardian gold and marked with a bolt of lightning, Odin had given the rings to Greg, Susie and Greg’s younger brother Lewis, to thank them for their help defeating Loki. Now the rings were vibrating and a tingling sensation ran down their fingers and right up their arms.

  All of a sudden it stopped.

  As Greg and Susie stared at each other in surprise, the driver’s voice sounded out behind them, “Come on, you kids! Get back on board!”

  “What’s his hurry?” Greg grumbled. “It’s not like it’s a long way back to the bus station.”

  “I think he’s right, Greg,” Susie breathed. “Look!”

  An immense animal was emerging from the dark shadow of the trees. She could see it was covered in thick, black bristles and its small, hostile eyes glared at them down the length of two vicious tusks.

  “It’s some kind of pig,” said Greg, taking a step back, “except three times the size.”

  “More like a wild boar,” said Susie. “And I think it’s looking for a fight.”

  With a wicked gleam in its piggy eyes the boar advanced on them. When Susie and Greg backed off it scraped the tarmac with its front trotters and let out an angry squeal. It was about to charge when the bus driver sounded a loud blast on his horn that stopped it in its tracks.

  “Back to the bus, Spinny!” Greg urged.

  He grabbed Susie by the shoulder to turn her around and they both pelted full speed for the bus. They heard an angry snort and a clatter of hooves as the boar lumbered after them.

  The doors opened with a hiss and they leapt inside. As the doors closed behind them, the boar scored a huge gash in the bus’ paintwork with one of its tusks, prompting cries of alarm from the passengers.

  “I hope your granny’s not really out there,” the driver said as Susie and Greg flopped into the seat behind him.

  “If she was, she’d turn that thing into a pile of bacon rolls,” said Susie. “She used to work on a farm.”

  Muttering some nasty words under his breath, the driver threw the bus into reverse. The boar wheeled around and charged, this time colliding head-on with the radiator grille and bouncing back.

  “Clear off, you mad beast!” the driver yelled. He had one eye on the boar and another on the rear-view mirror as he continued to reverse at top speed.

  The animal stopped and glowered at the bus as it reversed up a small farm road then turned back towards St Andrews. After the vehicle roared off, the boar let out a squeal of triumph, clearly deciding it had won this fight by a knockout.

  Everybody on the bus chattered excitedly, totally baffled as to what was going on.

  “If Loki’s surrounded the town with that dark forest…” said Susie.

  “We’re trapped,” Greg said with a grim nod.

  2. DAVE THE LOBSTER

  Greg’s younger brother Lewis didn’t know anything about the scary forest that had just appeared on the edge of town. He was down at St Andrews harbour, carefully lowering an empty glass jar on the end of a length of string into the water. His tongue was sticking out of the right side of his mouth, like it often did when he was concentrating.

  He ignored the noise of the fishermen unloading their catch, the cawing of the gulls hovering about in search of scraps, and the chatter of some students who were taking a stroll down the pier in their bright red gowns. Here and there people were walking their dogs or just taking in the sea air.

  “Hey there, mate, what’s that you’re up to?” a voice hailed him. “You’ll never catch a lobster in that jam jar. It’s way too small.”

  Startled, Lewis looked up and saw Dave the Lobster walking towards him.

  Dave the Lobster was not actually a lobster. He just knew a lot about them. He was doing research in marine biology at St Andrews University and he had come to the high school a couple of weeks ago to give a talk – about lobsters, of course.

  Their teacher had introduced him to Lewis’ class as Mr David Eccles from the Gatty Marine Laboratory, but by the time he’d spent an hour talking about lobsters, everyone was referring to him as Dave the Lobster.

  As he ambled towards Lewis with his hands in his pockets, Dave the Lobster’s spiky hair was pointing straight up at the sky, the way hair does in cartoons when people get a fright. He was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a lobster playing the guitar and the words ‘Rock Lobster’.

  “Oh, hello, Mr Eccles,” said Lewis.

  “Never mind that Mr Eccles lark,” said Dave the Lobster with a grin. “Just call me Dave. Hey, I remember you from the school. You were the one that asked all those questions about plankton and stuff.”

  “That’s right, I’m…”

  “No, don’t tell me,” Dave interrupted. “I never forget a face or a name. Well, I might forget one, but I never forget both. It starts with an ‘L’, right? It’s… Elvis?”

  “It’s Lewis actually.”

  “Close enough, eh? So what are you up to, Elvis?”

  Lewis didn’t bother correcting him again. “I’m taking a water sample so I can examine it for marine life,” he explained.

  Dave the Lobster’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa! Been bitten by the marine science bug, have you? I know what that’s like. When I was three I caught a tadpole in the pond behind my house. I was so excited I fell in. Too
k my mum ages to dry me off and she had to give me a jammy biscuit to stop me wailing. Didn’t put me off science, though.”

  Lewis looked down to where the jar was floating in the harbour. He had to tug on the string to tilt it so that it would fill with water and sink. After a couple of tugs it plopped down out of sight.

  “I can tell you what you’re going to find,” said Dave the Lobster. “Crab larvae, diatoms, some copepods and, oh yeah, loads of fish eggs. There are fish eggs floating about all over the sea, millions of them. Of course, you’ll need a microscope to see them. Got one?”

  “A fish egg?”

  “No, a microscope.”

  “Yes, I got one for my birthday,” said Lewis as he hauled the jar back up. Holding it in his hand, he peered at it and a puzzled frown appeared on his face.

  “Hang on,” said Dave the Lobster, leaning in for a look, “that’s a bit weird.”

  Instead of being green and muddy, the water in the jar was a clear, light blue. It sparkled in the sunlight.

  “Are you practising some kind of magic trick?” asked Dave the Lobster. “If you are, it’s a good one.”

  “No,” said Lewis, shaking his head. “This is straight out of the harbour.”

  Dave the Lobster’s jaw worked from side to side as if he were chewing on the problem. “Maybe there’s been some kind of chemical spill.”

  Lewis peered out across the bay and saw a white mist drifting in from the sea. “Could that cause mist as well?” he asked.

  Dave followed Lewis’ gaze and his jaw worked even harder. “Tell you what,” he suggested, “empty out the jar and take a fresh sample. Maybe that first one was just a fluke.”

  They both stared down and saw that the water directly below them was the same as in the jar – a bright, clear blue.

  “I don’t think it will make any difference,” said Lewis.

  At that moment the students who were standing out on the very end of the pier yelled excitedly. They were pointing out to sea, where a dragon’s head with huge red eyes had just poked out of the mist.

  Their squeals turned to laughter and relief when they saw that the dragon’s head and neck were both made of wood. It was the prow of a ship that now surged fully into view.