Mr. B’s Busy-Bea Elastic Bee Bandzzz
Here are the opening few paragraphs of another Mr B’s Busy-Bea story:
“Right then...” Mr. B. uttered his famous early morning words telling all his seven and eight-year-old pupil’s to prepare themselves for some thorough learning throughout the day. The temperature outside was still bitter cold for the middle of February and there was a forecast in place for wintry storms over the coming week – the half term holidays. All of the children and Mr. B. were wrapped up in their winter jumpers, even though the boilers creating warmth for Alley-Wood Primary School ran at their maximum capacity.
Two girls from Mr. B’s class chatted at lunchtime: “Humira, Mr. B. will give out Busy-Bea today. I hope to get her for this month.” Molly said to her best friend. The two girls sat at their round dinner table in the dining hall with four other children from Mr. B’s class, all listening to what Molly had to say. “I have been really good this month – and helped the supervisors outside lots of times.”
Summer, a girl who also sat at the table butted in: “Yes, but Mr. B. gives merits for hard work in the classroom as well as good deeds.” There was a hint of smugness in her voice. She turned her head and smiled at her best friend, Naeve.
“He could just give out Busy-Bea for helping someone who might be struggling with something, like he did for Teddy.” Tom said, sitting opposite Molly, then continued… “Cameron from year one couldn’t join in with the obstacle course we built in the playground, because of his disability, just before Christmas – remember? And Teddy got to take Busy-Bea home over Christmas for helping Cameron to join in.”
“Yeah.” Will, Tom’s twin brother said. “And the adventure story with Busy-Bea Teddy wrote was fantastic. Wasn’t it called The Ritzzz Hotel?” Will half closed his eyes and scratched his head at the same time. He turned his head upwards and slightly to one side questioningly, trying to recall some of the details in Teddy’s story. Everybody around the table nodded. “And Cameron magically got better.” He finally added.
Humira sat quietly and listened. She wanted to win Busy-Bea just as much as everybody else and thought that if she did, she would definitely deserve it. She’d worked hard, helped in the playground and cloakrooms and had sat with Mia, a six-year-old student with severe learning difficulties a few days ago – up until Mia understood how to add together numbers up to twenty. Humira said nothing, she had a rather nice, confident feeling that February was going to be her lucky month.
Naeve scanned everyone around the table and said: “I wonder why Mr. B. calls Busy-Bea ‘a promise.’
“Well, every story so far has been full of adventure.” Will said.
Tom agreed and added: “Going all the way back to Elin Heath’s story in September called ‘Queen Cloud Bee.’
Summer joined in: “Yes, that was a great adventure as was Hallie Gilmore’s ‘Buzz Off’ – I loved that story.”
“Maybe that’s it then. Busy-Bea promises to take you on an adventure.” Naeve continued, recalling her friends Georgia-Rose, Florence and Mo and their adventure with Busy-Bea called ‘The Bee Bea Sea.’ All the children around the table went quiet thinking about everything that had been said.
“She can’t do that!” Molly finally uttered, closing one eye and turning her head in an arc to look at everyone in turn, then concluded: “Can she?”
A lunch-time supervisor shouted for the children to go outside. The children in the hall stood up very slowly. It was freezing outside, so nobody really wanted to go. “Come on, get going.” The lady supervisor said as she shooed them out of the door. “It might be cold, but it’s still dry. You’ll have to run around to warm up.”
Mr. B. cupped Busy-Bea, his magical light yellow and dark grey striped fluffy toy companion, in the palm of his right hand and lifted her slightly. “I remember when you used to be vivid yellow and pitch black.” He thought, as she opened her red eyelids. As usual, she dangled from a piece of string (which had seen better days), pinned to the class ceiling close to his teachers’ desk. Busy-Bea turned magically in his palm and looked at him through her shiny black eyes. Mr. B. nodded as if he was agreeing to something Busy-Bea thought. He tucked a tiny plastic bottle of liquid into a secret pocket under one of her wings and a small wrapped up package into another secret pocket under her other wing.
“I can see right now, one-two-three
Red and grey and grey and red
You’ll need this help, dear Busy-Bea
I’ve told you now, and so I’ve said.”
As Mr. B. and Busy-Bea had their little poetic conversation inside, Humira noticed a strange shuddering movement and rustling noise coming from somewhere amongst the dead leaves covering the undergrowth outside – just the other side of the green railings marking the limit of the school playground. The dancing leaves were close to a massive maple tree. Humira was alone and had been thinking of how much she wished to win Busy-Bea this month. Next to the moving leaves there was a pile of freshly dug black earth…