There's a Hamster in my Pocket by Franzeska G. Ewart, Helen Bate Page B

tunnels.
    Then we’d painted the whole thing bright pink and added sparkly detail with glitter pens and red love-heart stickers. It looked quite magical.

    Kylie was trying to get a cardboard flag to stick straight up from the battlements, and she was getting more and more frustrated because it kept keeling over. Suddenly she said, “My mum’s forty next week. Which is old, Yosser, really old.”
    I held the flag while she fixed it with more Sellotape. “That’s great, Kylie,” I said. “Your mum loves parties – and there’s sure to be a
humungous
one.”
    Kylie nodded. “We’re having a surprise fancy-dress party for her the night before, ‘cause her birthday’s on Sunday,” she said. “It’s in the Masons’ Arms and Dad says no expense has been spared.”
    She stuck the last bit of Sellotape on, and sat back. The flag was still wonky. She looked over at me, and for a moment I thought she was going to cry. When she spoke again, the words came out in a rush.
    â€œI’m worried Sniper’s going to ruin it all,” she said. “He’s been in loads of trouble this summer, him and his mates. He won’t do anything Mum and Dad say, and the other week the police came round and they had a long talk. Then they issued him with a warning.”
    She took a deep breath. Her bottom lip was trembling.
    â€œHe’s said some terrible things to Mum and Dad, Yosser,” she went on, very quietly. “He’s been like a different person these past few months.”
    I was horrified. Everyone knew that Dean ‘Sniper’ Teasdale was a bit wild, but I thought he was cool. In fact, Sniper was another thing I envied Kylie.
I’d
have liked a big brother with Heavy Metal T-shirts and a ring in his nose. I’d have swopped Sniper for Bilal any day.
    â€œMum’s beside herself with worry,” Kylie went on. “You can tell, because she’s spending hours and hours in her vegetable patch. She can’t think beyond her potatoes and her carrots and her purple-leafed broccoli. . .”
    Kylie sighed. “It’s not healthy, Yosser,” she said. “It’s like she’s in denial.”
    I stuck a big bit of Blu-tack on the flag so that it didn’t dare go wonky again, and then I crawled over to Kylie and put my arm round her.
    â€œI’m sure Sniper wouldn’t do anything to spoil your mum’s special birthday,” I said. “He’s just going through a difficult phase.”
    Then, hoping to cheer her up, I asked, “What are you going to get her?”
    It had the opposite effect. Kylie sighed again.
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “I can’t seem to get my head round the present. I think it’s because I’m so worried about everything else.”
    I gave her another squeeze. Then I went over to the hamster cage and lifted Toffee ‘n’ Caramel out.
    â€œCome on, Your Majesties,” I said, in as jolly a voiceas I could muster. “Allow me to transport you to your royal residence.”
    I put them down outside the portcullis (which we’d drawn on in silver pen), pulled on a piece of string to raise it, and pushed their bottoms till they slid inside. Then I lowered the portcullis and left them to settle in.
    â€œI’ll help you find the perfect present for your mum,” I told Kylie. “Something really pretty.”
    Kylie looked a bit better then, and when one of the royal hamsters popped its head up and peered over the pink battlements, she cheered right up.
    â€œI was thinking of a jewellery box,” she said. “One lined with red velvet that plays music and has a ballerina going round. Only I’m kind of strapped for cash.”
    Then her voice changed. “I was wondering. . .” she said, and then she bit her lip.
    I thought she was going to ask me for a loan, because she sounded like I do when I’m