“‘Up! Up! Up!’ He jabbed at Olive’s cheeks with a red crayon, more times than was truly necessary, for he had noticed that it left an interesting smattering of dots across her face. Olive opened her eyes, surprised to find herself sprawled out on the rug in her own bedroom. Num-Num was sitting up in bed, her head on the pillow, Olive’s cardigan around her shoulders. Olive rubbed her forehead, then scratched her nose. ‘What am I doing here? Didn’t I go to bed in the infirmary?’ ‘Yes,’ explained B...limp, ‘but when Chester, Wordsworth and I checked on you at one o’clock in the morning, you were having a nightmare. You were dreaming that Tommy was stuffing grapes up your nostrils, that Num-Num was whacking you on the head with the bedpan and that the hermit crabs were talking about tunnelling through your brain from your left ear to your right.’ ‘That wasn’t a nightmare,’ said Wordsworth. ‘It was really happening! That’s why we brought Olive back here . . . where we could keep an eye on her.’ ‘You carried me all this way on your own?’ asked Olive.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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