Barry Loser and the Curse of Terry Claus. Jim Smith
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need to talk, Barry,’ sighed my mum.
‘I’m all ears!’ I grinned, imagining what it’d be like if I was made out of all ears.
‘I heard you talking to Bunky about your Future Ratboy costume . . .’ she said, stroking my cheek with her hand.
‘Can you believe Bunky’s getting one too?’ I said, like we were two mums having a chinwag. ‘I mean, he’s a sweet kid and everything, but he’s no Future Ratboy!’
My mum crept her arm round my shoulder, turning her cheek-stroke into a hug.
‘I don’t want you getting your hopes up too much about that costume, Barry,’ she warbled, and I wriggled out of the hug.
‘Excuse me?’ I said, even though I was all ears. I couldn’t see how this was me getting my hopes up. I didn’t HOPE I was getting a Future Ratboy costume, I KNEW I was.
‘It’s just that they’ve been very popular this year . . .’ said my mum, and I felt the mince pie I’d been chomping on earlier turn into a butterfly inside my belly.
‘B-but you did get me one, didn’t you?’ I stuttered. ‘Y-you bought one from Feeko’s Supermarket and wrapped it up in Future Ratboy wrapping paper like you said you would?’
My mum leaned towards me with her arms stretched out. ‘Oh, Barry Warry, I’m afraid they’d already sold out,’ she said, cuddling me into her jumper.
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