The Unimaginary Friend Read online

  “Well then, there’s something he has in common with your dad,” replied Ben’s mum with a wink. Ben rubbed his eyes.

  “Mum, the Gorblimey isn’t dangerous,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  “If I thought he was, he wouldn’t be staying under my roof,” said his mum. “And don’t worry about your dad, he’s just … cautious. Your grandma used to say he was never the same after their house fell down when he was a boy. They never did find out how it happened…” Ben’s mum looked lost in thought for a moment, before putting on her serious face. “Right, you – dressed and out of the house in twenty minutes. I’m at the surgery ’til five and your dad’s closing up the crazy golf, so don’t forget your front door key. Help yourself to a snack when you get in. No more cake.”

  “OK,” said Ben as his mum disappeared back down the ladder. He looked up at the snoring Gorblimey. There was no way he was leaving him in the house. What if Skeleton Keys came back to send him to Oblivion? Then again, he couldn’t very well take the Gorblimey to school.

  Could he?

  “Seeyoulaterbye!” Ben blurted as he rushed downstairs. Ben’s mum and dad barely had time to look up from the breakfast table before the door slammed shut.

  “Are you all right in there?” said Ben as he hurried down the cobbled street through a haze of drizzle to school. He opened his jacket and peeked inside. There was the Gorblimey, shrunken and nestled in his pocket, looking altogether uneasy and emitting trembling toots. “Don’t worry, it’ll be OK,” Ben assured him. “No one will ever know…”

  “No one will ever know what?” said a voice. Ben turned to see a skeleton in a tailored suit and three-peaked hat walking briskly alongside him. Ben shrieked loudly and pulled his jacket tightly around him. “Actually, would you mind not howling with fright?” Skeleton Keys asked. “I would rather not draw attention to myself – and I am a tad too skeletal to pass for a passer-by,” he added, pulling his hat low. “Now, where is the unimaginary? This twitch o’ mine is giving my skull a gut ache. I am still as determined as I am dapper that the beast is dangerous…”

  “The Gorblimey’s not done anything,” said Ben, nervously zipping up his jacket. “I … I haven’t even seen him this morning…”

  “Gone into hiding, eh? No doubt planning something fiendishly foul,” exclaimed Skeleton Keys. “On a scale of one to off-the-scale, how mischievous, spiteful, hurtful, barbarous, vile, wicked, or wickedly vile has the unimaginary been towards you or your—?”

  “He’s none of those! He’s my friend!” Ben interrupted. He spied the school. Beyond the gates, he could see children milling about, waiting for the morning bell.

  Ben picked up the pace.

  “Don’t be foolboozled, Benjamin, my twitch is never wrong – the monster will make his move soon enough,” said Skeleton Keys, keeping up with long strides of his bone legs. “And when he does, whoosh! Off to Oblivion! Perhaps not with a ‘whoosh’ … maybe a ‘swoof’ or a ‘swiiish’ or a— School!” Skeleton Keys all but skidded to a halt as he spotted the gates. “Why, I have not been to one of these in an age! Schools are a positive haven for IFs!”

  “I should go in,” said Ben, desperate to get away.

  “Cheese ’n’ biscuits! There are imaginings everywhere, look!” declared Skeleton Keys. “But of course, you cannot! Here, let me fix that…”

  The skeleton held up the third finger on his left hand and pointed it between Ben’s eyes. He turned it, and Ben heard the CLICK-CLUNK of a key turning in a lock – but not in his ears … in his mind. Ben felt his actual thoughts shiver and shake.

  “What was that…?” Ben asked, his eyes wide and wild.

  “I call it the Key to Second Sight,” Skeleton Keys replied. “It allows you to gaze, if only for a few moments, beyond the real to the imagined. Here, take a gaddly good gander at your classfellows…”

  Ben peered again at the children gathering for the school day. They were all there – Cliff Pitchfork, Hattie Blanket, Ichabod Twist and the rest – everyone Ben’s mum and dad had invited to his party … everyone Ben hoped might be his friend, if only they had a reason to notice him. But then Ben spotted something.

  Hattie Blanket had a full-grown crocodile walking by her side.

  A crocodile!

  “What…?” Ben muttered. The next moment, he saw Cliff Pitchfork wandering around the playground flanked by a boy and a girl. They held up placards that read I AM BOY and I AM GIRL. It took Ben a moment to notice that neither of them had faces.

  Ichabod Twist’s companion was a dog at one end and a cat at the other. The dog end of the creature wore a large, conical anti-scratch collar around its neck, while the cat end meowed judgmentally at its other half.

  “What … what are they?” asked Ben. He felt the Gorblimey fidget in his pocket.

  “They are IFs – your classfellows’ imaginary friends,” replied Skeleton Keys. “I am sure you have considered yourself quite different, Benjamin – but believe you me, everyone is different in their own way. Difference is what makes life gladdening. Perhaps your imaginings are a tad wilder than others’ … but a wild imagination can change the world.”

  “I never knew…” Ben said, gazing wide-eyed at the myriad imaginary friends accompanying his classmates.

  “Of course, your wild imagination has almost certainly unleashed a foulsome beast upon the world,” clarified Skeleton Keys, examining the Key to Oblivion at the end of his finger. “But do not worry, Ol’ Mr Keys is on the case! You can rely on me to—Benjamin?”

  Skeleton Keys looked round to see Ben racing through the gates and into school.

  “Nice to see a child who appreciates the value of education,” said Skeleton Keys. “Now, where is that unimaginary…”

  Ben sat through registration, gazing in awe at his classmates’ imaginary friends. The IFs came and went like ghosts, whenever the children imagined them. If only they knew, Ben thought as the shrunken Gorblimey squirmed in his jacket.

  By the time the effects of his second sight had started to fade (and his classmates’ IFs with it), Ben had fixed upon an idea that he was sure would change everything: he was going to introduce everyone to the Gorblimey. Since Ben’s classmates had IFs too, they would surely climb over each other to get to know Ben and his unimaginary friend. Ben would have more friends than he knew what to do with! And once everyone was friends, Skeleton Keys would realize his mistake and leave them well alone.

  Ben followed the rest of his class to the hall for assembly. He gazed around at the children sitting in silent rows. The whole school was there – it was the perfect place for his big reveal.

  “When I say ‘now’, you bounce out and grow,” Ben whispered into his pocket as he followed the other children into the hall. The tiny monster fidgeted anxiously. “Don’t worry, you’ll be great,” Ben reassured him. “Just try not to tread on anyone when you jump out…”

  Ben waited for two agonizing minutes as the head teacher, Ms Mercy, droned on about punctuality. The second she paused for breath, Ben seized his moment. He stood up and nervously cleared his throat. The whole school turned and stared.

  “I … I have something to show you,” he said. He held open the right side of his jacket and whispered, “OK … now.”

  There was a pause.

  A long pause.

  “Go … I mean, grow,” whispered Ben, giving his jacket a shake.

  Another pause, even longer.

  Someone at the back of the hall coughed.

  “Gorblimey…?” Ben muttered, peering inside the pocket. There, illuminated by a tiny blue candle flame, was the monster, shaking his head and trying to retreat further into Ben’s pocket. “It’s OK!” Ben whispered. “You can do it…”

  “Benjamin…?” said Ms Mercy.

  “Please, Gorblimey…” whispered Ben, but by now the Gorlimey was so small that Ben could barely make out the faint glow of his candle flame.

  “Weirdo,” said Cliff Pitchfork behind him.

  A peel
of sniggers rang out across the hall. Ben felt his face turning hot, beetroot-red.

  “Do you have something to say, Benjamin?” Ms Mercy asked.

  “I…I…” he muttered, letting go of his jacket. Whispers of “weirdo” echoed around the hall, and the sniggering grew louder as Ben stood there, turning redder by the second, and shook his head.

  “Then go and wait outside my office, please,” said Ms Mercy impatiently.

  The whole hall stared as Ben made his way awkwardly through the sea of children. All he could think about was how Skeleton Keys had described Oblivion – a prison of nothingness, where you’re doomed to be forgotten. In that moment, Ben wished he himself could disappear … vanish … even from the faintest memory.

  Ten minutes later, Ben was in the middle of a long corridor, sitting on the popularly nicknamed Chair of Doom outside the head teacher’s office. Hattie Blanket came out of the girls’ toilet opposite.

  “Weirdo,” she mouthed, shooting him a withering look as she passed. As far as Ben knew, it was the first time she’d ever noticed him, but he’d really rather she hadn’t. He sighed and waited until she was out of earshot.

  “Gorblimey…?” Ben whispered, opening his jacket. He heard a long, apologetic coo and saw the shrunken Gorblimey’s head poking out of his pocket. “No, I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you into it. I know how scared you get. I just thought if everyone met you then…”

  Ben trailed off as the lights in the corridor flickered. He glanced to his left. At the end of the long corridor, he saw a lone figure standing as still as a statue. It was a girl. She was even shorter than Ben, with pigtails and a striped dress and polished shoes over wrinkled socks. Her skin, hair and clothing were grey, as if she had stepped out of a black and white photograph.

  And her head was on backwards.

  Ben’s jaw fell open.

  “Can’t be…” he blurted. “Daisy?”

  Pardon the interruption, dallywanglers! I do hope you are enjoying the tale of Ben’s unimaginary friend. I do not know about you but I find the character of the heroic, key-fingered skeleton especially compelling…

  Anyway, we are about halfway through Ben’s uncanny adventure, and things are about to take a turn for the twisted, so I thought now might be a good time to make yourself a nice cup of tea and pop to the loo for necessary doings. I shall wait…

  …Ah, you are back – fabulush! I hope everything went according to plan. Now then, where were we? If I remember rightly, which a storyteller always must, Ben had just had an important revelation and with it, he spoke a single word – Daisy.

  As you have already learned, the Gorblimey was not Ben Bunsen’s first imaginary friend. His first IF went by the name of Daisy. Ben first imagined the girl with the backwards head on his sixth birthday. He was swinging a shiny, spanking-new toy sword around his bedroom and imagining himself to be quite the swashbuckler. The plastic cutlass swung this-a-way and that, that-a-way and this… Suddenly, Ben’s mother and father heard the most ear-worrying echo around the house. They rushed upstairs to find Ben, sword in hand, standing over a shattered bedside lamp lying on the floor.

  Ben was quick to insist that Daisy was to blame. Naturally, Ben’s father asked who “Daisy” was, and Ben explained that she was a girl with a backwards head … a girl who could turn invisible … a girl who liked to break things. Ben’s parents quickly realized what had happened – Ben had imagined his first IF.

  Ben blamed all of his bad behaviour upon Daisy. He claimed she was a rude-brained rumbleshover who took pleasure in making mess and mischief. Breakages occurred on an almost daily basis. “Don’t tell me, Daisy did it,” Ben’s mother and father would sigh. Behind closed doors, they even started to call him “Bad Ben”…

  But oddly enough, Daisy was not even kind to Ben, despite being a figment of his imaginings. Ben would claim she had torn up his drawings or hidden his asthma inhaler or tripped him over. Once, she set fire to all of his shoes. In the end, even Ben was not sure he wanted Daisy around, but she was in his head and not going anywhere.

  That is, until the Bunsens moved house. Ben was seven years old when his father insisted on relocating the family yet again. Ben’s father also suggested it was a chance for Ben to put his bad behaviour behind him – and perhaps even make some real friends.

  Ben decided that his imaginary friend did not want to leave. So, when the Bunsens packed a removals van and drove away, Daisy stayed behind. In the weeks and months that followed, Ben thought of his friend often but he did not imagine her in the way he once had. He had to admit, it was a relief not to be constantly getting into trouble all the time. In time, Ben imagined a new IF, the Gorblimey, who was kind, gentle and just a little nervous, and Ben turned over a new leaf – although he was no better at making real friends.

  So then! Since you are now an expert on the girl with the backwards head, let us reunite with Ben Bunsen where we left him, all those words ago. Can it really be that he has just seen Daisy in the school corridor, as plain as crisps? Ben’s mind is racing faster than a dog chasing another dog chasing a cat. He has not the faintest idea what might happen next. For, as I think I might have mentioned, strange things can happen when imaginations run wild…

  Ben stared, unblinking, at the girl with the backwards head. The lights in the corridor suddenly flickered again.

  Daisy was gone.

  Vanished, as if she was never there.

  Ben rubbed his eyes. It couldn’t have been Daisy! It had to be the effect of the Key to Second Sight – a strange echo of his own imagination making him see things. Without thinking, Ben found himself walking down the now empty corridor. He spotted something on the floor where Daisy had been standing. Ben reached down and picked it up.

  It was a box of matches – the same brand that his dad used to build his ship. Ben inspected the box. On the back were three words written in pencil crayon:

  Ben gasped. The Gorblimey let out a confused chirp from inside his jacket pocket.

  “It’s really her … she’s really real,” he muttered, staring at the matchbox. “Gorblimey, it’s Daisy! She’s here. She’s unimaginary!” The Gorblimey let out a series of jittery squeaks, like a baby crocodile. “I know, that’s why I’m worried. Daisy is danger—”

  Before the word fully escaped his lips, a terrifying possibility struck Ben so hard it took his breath away. What if Skeleton Keys was right? His uncanny twitch was convinced that Ben’s unimaginary friend was dangerous – but what if he was after the wrong unimaginary friend?

  “I didn’t unimagine her … did I?” Ben muttered with a shiver of dread. He hadn’t thought about Daisy in years – how could she be here? How could she be real?

  Ben inspected the matchbox.

  “She must have been home,” he said. “We have to find her. She’s bound to be planning someth—”

  “Benjamin Bunsen,” said a voice. Ben spun round to see Ms Mercy looming over him, her arms folded. “I thought I told you to wait outside my office…”

  Five minutes later, Ben was standing inside the head teacher’s office. As Ms Mercy lectured him about the importance of respect, he stared at the matchbox in his hand. Daisy was planning something – something terrible – he just knew it. He had to get out of there and quickly. But how?

  “The last person who interrupted me in an assembly disappeared without a trace,” said Ms Mercy, tapping long fingernails on her desk. “Would you care to tell me what that little display was all ab—”

  “I need to go!” blurted Ben. The head glowered at him in genuine shock. “I-I mean, please, miss, I’ve really got to go, it’s important…”

  “Despite what you might read on toilet walls, I am not a monster, Benjamin,” said Ms Mercy. “But that’s the second time you’ve interrupted me today. Give me one good reason why I should release you from my clutches?”

  “I-I…” Ben began, but then he felt the Gorblimey move in his pocket. No, not move – grow. Before Ben knew what
was happening, the Gorblimey had grown so large and so quickly that Ben’s jacket had split open. The monster tumbled on to Ms Mercy’s desk and stood up, rising to his full height. He loomed over the head teacher, glowering at her through piercing eyes, his candle flame glowing intensely. Ms Mercy shrunk back into her chair, her eyes wide with horror.

  “Y-you’re dismissed,” she whimpered.

  Thirty seconds later, Ben and the Gorblimey were flying through the air.

  “Did you see Ms Mercy’s face? That was – you were – great!” cried Ben as they soared over Grundy Island, propelled by the monster’s bounces. The Gorblimey made a guttural, hippo-like grunt. “Of course I think you’re brave!” Ben replied. Then he thought but did not say, We’ll both need to be brave if we find Daisy.

  In moments, Ben’s house was in sight. The Gorblimey plummeted towards the ground and landed by the front door. Ben checked his watch – his mum and dad would be at work by now. He fumbled in his trouser pocket for his key, shoved it into the lock and pushed open the door.

  The first things Ben noticed were the hundred or so matchboxes scattered all over the table and floor.

  He looked up and spotted his dad’s pirate ship on the table. It was surrounded by fireworks – the ones his parents had bought for his birthday party. There were dozens of brightly coloured tubes, piled up around the ship like waves crashing against its hull, or jammed in between the masts. The ship was rigged for destruction.

  “Hello, crybaby,” said a disembodied voice. A moment later Daisy appeared out of thin air in front of the table. While her body faced the mountain of fireworks, Daisy’s backwards head peered straight at Ben. He saw that lopsided grin spread across her ashen face and realized she was holding a box of matches.