Jake’s teacher called him a walking encyclopedia. Jake knew everything there was to know about dragons and dinosaurs, volcanoes and venomous snakes, even constellations and computers.

“Ask Jake!” his classmates chorused whenever anyone needed the answer to a question.

But Jake had a problem.

He could add and subtract numbers faster than anyone else in his class, but he struggled to write them. You see, Jake had a stubborn pencil. No matter how hard he tried Jake couldn’t write numbers the right way round. He tried, he really did. But his pencil had a mind of its own. That stubborn pencil refused to co-operate.

“Jake, it’s happened again!” Mr Jones exclaimed one morning. “Your 3’s are all back to front. Yesterday it was your 5’s. What are we going to do?”

Jake gazed out the window at the grey cloudy sky and sighed.

“I do try,” he said, “but every time my pencil touches the page it refuses to co-operate.”

Mr Jones shook his head.

“You’re dealing with a very stubborn pencil, Jake,” he said. “You need some help to outwit that pencil. But you can do it Jake, I know you can.”

That night Jake wriggled under his duvet cover and stared into his darkened room, thinking about his stubborn pencil. The night breeze tugged gently at the curtains, looking for someone to play with.

“It’s not fair!” Jake told any night creatures who cared to listen. “Why can’t I write my numbers the right way round? Why does it have to be me with a stubborn pencil?”

Hundreds of numbers, all sizes and colours, danced and tumbled inside Jake’s head – whirling, swirling, twirling – somersaulting, leaping, never stopping still. Jake imagined his pencil laughing unkindly as it danced with the runaway 3’s. Go away! Go away! He started pulling the duvet over his head, when …

ZIP! ZAP! FLASH!

The breeze stopped tugging at the curtains. Lightness and brightness filled the room. A tinkling, twinkling chuckle tickled Jake’s ears. Jake’s eyes widened. He lay very still, not moving a muscle, not daring to breathe. Who had crept into his room?

All the numbers rushed out of Jake’s head, spiralling down to the end of the bed. They tumbled and turned through the brightness, weaving together into a luminous cloud. Jake stared in disbelief as the number cloud raced out the open window to join the stars in the sky.

“Hullo Jake, don’t be afraid.”

Jake rubbed his eyes. There on the end of the bed, exactly where the numbers had been, perched a peculiar little man.

“Who are you?” Jake asked.

The little man’s eyes twinkled and he bowed a deep bow.

“Let me introduce myself,” he said, and his musical voice tickled Jake’s ears again.

“I’m Numero Uno, the guardian angel of all the numbers in the world. You can just call me Numero. I’m an expert at conquering stubborn pencils that refuse to write numbers correctly.”

“Wow!” Jake grinned. “I’ve never heard of a guardian angel for numbers.”

He imagined rows of numbers, all the right way round, lining up in wonderful orderly rows, listening obediently to his new friend Numero.

“But where did you come from? And how did you know I have a stubborn pencil?”

Had Mr Jones told everyone about his problem?

“It’s my job to know,” Numero said. “Every night I search the world for clever mathematicians who are victims of stubborn pencils. Tonight my path led to you.”

Jake bounced up and down on his bed.

“Oh, wow! I’m so pleased you found me,” he said. “My pencil is the most stubborn pencil in the whole world. Can you really help me write my numbers the right way round?”

The Number Minder smiled.

Tell me, tell me! How will you conquer my stubborn pencil?”

“Not me, you!” the little man said. “You’ll be conquering your own pencil.  At Maths time tomorrow I’ll be sitting on your shoulder. You won’t see me or feel me but I’ll be there. Every time you write a number in your Maths book, think of me. Say to yourself, ‘I can do it. Numero will help me’.”

With that the little man double-flipped off the bed, whizzed once around Jake’s head and darted out the window towards the shining stars in the sky. The room seemed very still. Jake sat alone in his bed.

Jake half skipped, half ran to school next day. Did Numero really visit him last night?  He rushed into his classroom looking for signs of Numero. But everything looked exactly the same – the Maths books were there in neat piles waiting to be given out, the pencils leaned against each other in the jar.

At Maths time Jake crossed his fingers and waited. Would Numero keep his word? He touched his shoulders several times, but nothing was there. He took a deep breath and picked up his pencil.

Jake started to write a 4. The stubborn pencil tried writing it the wrong way. But Jake remembered Numero.

I can do it, Jake thought. Numero will help me. He concentrated with all his might. Today he would show his pencil he was in charge.

Jake stared at the clean white page. He had written a perfect 4.He quickly wrote another 4 and another. He tried some 3’s and some 5’s. They were all the right way round! He filled his page with perfect numbers.

Mr Jones looked on in amazement.

“Wow! Look at that! I knew you could do it, Jake. What’s your secret?”

Jake smiled at his teacher. He wasn’t going to share his secret with anyone. He had shown his pencil who was boss.

“Thank you Numero,” he whispered.

What has happened to Numero now that he doesn’t need to sit on Jake’s shoulder any more? He still roams the world every night, searching for another mathematician to help.

Are you the victim of a stubborn pencil? Maybe tonight Numero will find you.