"What's wrong with Zac?" asked Larry. "He seems so serious all of a sudden."
They were all in the triplet's room. Fatty had invited the others to spend the afternoon at his place. It was hot outside, and everyone felt that it was just too warm to do anything.
Fatty answered his question. "Well, he's going to college next year, see? He has to take an important exam to go to a good college so he is studying really hard for it. Zac's aiming for top, he is, not just A grades, top. You know him; Zac and Frans always have very high expectations of their studies. The exact opposite of Frank, always near bottom of form. He never cares. Wants to enjoy life, he says. Don't you, old fellow?" Fatty turned to Frank.
"Well, I don't see any good of studying to get a job. " Frank replied. "I'm good at art and sports and I love them. My future job would have to revolve around those aspects. I don't see what good doing sums will do to help with my talents. It's just a waste of time." And Frank put on a very petulant expression.
Fatty sighed. "Sports would not get you anywhere in life, Frank."
His brother snorted. "Rubbish! Just look at those sports champs! They get paid millions of pounds to compete. You know that. And anyway, I'd rather do art." The others stared at Frank in surprise.
"Can you draw? I mean really well? May we see some of your work, please?" asked Bets excitedly. Frank looked at Fatty. Fatty, as we all know, could draw very well too. He did not look too pleased; Frank was stealing away all his glory! Oh well, he thought, he ought to be proud of his brother, not get angry with him just because he was multi-talented.
"Of course you can!" cut in Frans. "Go and show it to them Frank! You ought to be proud of your work." Frank nodded.
"Alright. I'll get it," said Frank cheerfully. "Hold on a minute. It's in my drawer." He got up and took out a few pieces of paper in a file. Taking them out, he passed the art around.
"Dad bought me good quality paper," he told the others. He supports my love for art. That is why he doesn't say much about my results. I already told him I wanted to be an artist when I grow up."
"That's not the reason, Frank, and you know it," interrupted Frans. Dad would never do that. It is only because he knows you are smart. Smart enough to memorize anything told to you even once. Smart enough to answer any question the teacher asks you, even when you are not paying attention. Smart enough to get what you want all the time. Smart enough to…" Frans stopped in the middle of his 'lecture' abruptly when Frank gave him a sharp jab in the ribs.
"Shut up!" muttered Frank, going red in the ears. The others suddenly stared at him in awe. It seemed that Frank did not share Fatty's love for boasting.
"These pictures are certainly very good, Frank!" praised Daisy. "You've done lots of details on this one. And look! This sunset is beautiful! It looks so real."
"And look at this sea picture! You ought to sell it to Banshee Towers Art Gallery! It's so realistic!" admired Bets. The others laughed.
"Well, I love painting pictures of natural scenery. I've always liked the way colours blend together seamlessly to form a lovely picture. Sunsets and sunrises are great examples. And look, here you see…" Frank began to get so absorbed in his picture description. He went on to describe the kind of brushes he used, the specific size and brand, and all the steps he took to paint a sunset. All but Fatty understood what he was saying.
In the middle of his passionate speech, Frank suddenly stopped.
"I'm saying a bit too much, aren't I?" he asked. The boy chuckled.
Mrs. Trotteville came in. "I need some help from you, boys. I'm quite busy at the moment and Zac's having a bad migraine. Could one of you please fetch some water and a cool towel for him? I made Zac rest in bed, but he won't be parted from his beloved books for too long, even though he's groaning away like anything. I'm dreadfully late for a committee meeting and I've got to rush." Fatty sprang up.
"Is Zac alright mother? Is he in bad shape?" he asked.
"Quite," answered his mother vaguely. "I really have to go or I'll be late. I won't be back till evening. And one more thing, make sure the poor boy doesn't go and force himself to study again. He's very stressed out."
With that, the woman left hastily. The children were standing in the room. "I hope poor Zac's alright," said Frank worriedly.
"I'll get the water and towel," offered Daisy.
"I'll go too," added Bets. Fatty nodded. He went over to Zac's bedroom and pushed the door open. Everyone peered in. The room was dark as the curtains had been drawn shut and it was very quiet. Zac was lying in bed massaging his temples. He looked very pale but stopped when he noticed the little company. He struggled to sit up but Frans pushed him back down.
"Lie down Zac," the oldest triplet ordered. "How're you feeling?"
"You look ill," observed Pip. Zac snorted. "Good observation," he muttered dryly.
Just then, Bets and Daisy came in holding a glass of water and a towel with ice.
"Cook gave us this, she said it was good for headaches and fevers," she declared. "We could get more ice if Zac needs it. Here's the water."
"How are you feeling Zac?" asked Daisy with concern. Zac smiled faintly and sat up, drinking the contents in one gulp. Dropping the cup, he bent double and clutched his head, moaning in agony. Fumbling for some painkillers on his dresser, he downed two in a gulp. Pip looked impressed. He'd never managed to swallow even one before! It always had to be broken.
"Golly! Is it that bad? You'd better get some sleep. It always works." Frans helped Zac lie down again and Daisy gently placed the towel on his forehead. It numbed Zac's forehead and the pain soon receded. Zac slowly fell into a fitful sleep.
"You don't think Zac's ill do you?" asked Bets.
"Don't think so," answered Frank. "Mother said it was stress. Zac often gets headaches. Only this one seems to be worse than normal. We had better not disturb him. Let's go for walk around the neighbourhood. I'm bored. We'll take Buster along. He needs the exercise, anyway. I hope we meet Mr. Goon."
Bets looked at the boy in surprise. "Well, I hope we don't." She shivered. Bets was frightened of the big, burly policeman. "Let's take our bicycles," put in Fatty.
To Frank's joy, they really did meet Mr. Goon. The triplets had a hurried conference and quickly went their separate ways. Unfortunately, it did not quite work out the way they had planned! Fatty was just cycling to his designated spot when he bumped into someone oncoming and fell off his bicycle.
"So sorry, Mr. Goon," said Fatty politely, realising that the person he had cannoned into was none other than the fat, panting policeman on his bicycle. That had not been part of their plan! The boy quickly recovered and improvised.
"I'm afraid I didn't see you. Besides, you were on the wrong side of the road, you see, and---"
Mr. Goon did not see. He was not hurt, because he had stopped himself from falling off his bicycle with a mighty effort, but he had no time just then to argue with that 'Toad of a Boy'. "Clear orf", he bellowed, mopping his red face with a loud handkerchief, and pedaled off.
But who could describe his surprise when, after turning the next corner still going the wrong way, he again saw someone almost on top of him! The policeman swerved violently, but --- crash! Down he came with an almighty bump.
Goon looked up in a fury and to his amazement, the same cheeky face that had humbly apologized to him hardly a minute ago again looked him into the eye!
"Now look 'ere," said Mr. Goon faintly, his rage turning to puzzlement. "What's all this? Didn't I just tell you to clear orf?"
"Not me," Frank cheerfully said. He turned his face into one of concern. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Mr. Goon? It might explain why you were cycling on the wrong side of the road." He smartly skipped out of the way, because he saw Mr. Goon's face turn into a familiar purple color. Whistling cheerfully as if he hadn't a care in the world, the triplet picked up his bicycle from where it had fallen and cycled off, leaving a bewildered Mr. Goon sitting on the ground.
He met the others not far away and they all exploded into fits of laughter when he told them his story.
"Oh, I've got a stitch on my side. That was so funny!" squealed Pip and collapsed with laughter again.
"Alright!" Fatty yelled. "Let's have tea to celebrate. Cheers to us for succeeding in confusing and humiliating poor old Clear-Orf thoroughly! Come here Buster! The fun's over!" The boy grinned and pulled the others up. The children soon recovered and walked into a nearby teashop, leaving the triplets' bicycles leaning on the wall outside.