Revenge of the Spaghetti Hoops

by Mark Lowery

  ‘Jason,’ growled Trevor through gritted teeth. ‘Rule four – we’ve got to like the hero.’

  Every time Jason mentioned the sheep, his eyes would flick to me and it made me feel really uncomfortable. ‘I don’t like the way he keeps looking at me,’ I whispered to Vanya.

  ‘You’re imagining it,’ she said. ‘He told you he’s forgiven you for what happened.’

  Hmmm …

  Maybe she was right. Maybe it was just the sheep. Maybe he wasn’t still angry at me.

  I wished I could believe her.

  Swimming

  Eventually, the helicopter landed on the school field and dropped off Jason’s swimming trunks. I have to say this was pretty amazing, although the moment was ruined when Gamble threw Miss Clegg’s coat into the spinning rotor blades and shredded it into a million pieces.

  After it flew off, we finally gathered our stuff together, headed over to the pool and got changed.

  Miss Clegg has to go into the water with Gamble during swimming lessons. This is ever since he climbed up on top of the changing sheds and did a wee down on to everyone below. She doesn’t like wearing a swimming cossie in front of us though, so she always wears a wetsuit. I don’t want to be horrible, but she’s got quite a large, lumpy body. Nobody looks good in a wetsuit, but Miss Clegg looks like a bin-bag full of coconuts.

  The pool is above the ground, so you have to go up a little ladder to get into it. While everyone else lined up, Miss Clegg climbed the steps.

  Gamble was behind her. He was wearing massive goggles, three pairs of armbands, a rubber ring, and – instead of trunks – an old pair of undies. They might’ve been white once but they were now a kind of yellowy-grey colour, like three-day-old snow at the side of the road. When Miss Clegg reached the top step, he shoved her in the back and she went sprawling into the pool.

  ‘You little brute,’ she spluttered at him.

  Gamble splashed water at her face. ‘Ah, stop busting my melon, mega-bum.’

  Miss Clegg ducked her head underwater. She does this a lot during swimming lessons. I think it’s so she can swear at Gamble without being heard.

  Jason was the last one out of the changing shed. His swimming shorts went all the way down to his ankles, and he was still wearing his shark’s-tooth necklace.

  ‘Yo man. I’m super-pumped about this,’ he said to the camera. ‘It’s awesome that we could get the helicopter out here.’

  Gamble called out: ‘Hey, look! I can do an impression of a helicopter. Do you think I’d get on Britain’s Really Talented?’

  Without thinking, the camerawoman turned to film him. She regretted this straight away. ‘Oh, that is horrible!’

  Mrs McDonald let out a scream. ‘Darren Gamble! Pull up your underpants right now and stop swinging your will–’

  Luckily, we were spared Gamble’s vile impression by a blood-curdling yell from inside the swimming pool.

  ‘YEEEEAAAAAARGHHHH!!’

  Everyone spun around.

  The pool was a frothing mass of bubbles, with Miss Clegg in the middle of it all. ‘HEEEEELLLLLLP!’ she cried, flailing her arms and struggling to stand up.

  Gamble pulled up his undies. ‘Forgot to say: don’t go in the pool, innit.’

  ‘She didn’t really have a choice,’ I said.

  ‘They’re eating me!’ howled Miss Clegg.

  ‘Who’s eating you?’ asked Mrs McDonald, panicking.

  Miss Clegg let out another yelp, then shot into the air, before crashing back into the water and soaking everybody around the side of the pool.

  What was going on?

  ‘Someone DO something!’ wailed Mrs McDonald, as Miss Clegg fought to keep her head above water. The pool is quite shallow but the bottom is really slippery.

  I leapt into action.

  Well, by ‘leapt into action’ I mean that I stood there and did nothing.

  I wish I had leapt into action though, because what happened next would lead to some very serious consequences.

  You’re SOOOOOO Brave

  ‘She could die here!’ said Trevor, who seemed surprisingly happy about this. ‘Excellent! This’ll look great on TV. Go for it, Jason!’

  Jason Grooves ran up to the side of the pool and vaulted cleanly into the water. He disappeared for a moment, then emerged holding Miss Clegg under both of her chins.

  With a few powerful arm pulls, he dragged her safely to the steps, then vaulted back out again.

  ‘You’re SOOOOOO brave!’ sighed Rosie. ‘Please marry me.’

  ‘Nice one, Jason,’ said Vanya, giving him a high five as he walked past.

  Jason shrugged. ‘JG loves saving lives.’

  ‘I was about to dive in too,’ I said, realising how pathetic I sounded.

  Meanwhile, Miss Clegg was lying on the patio area by the side of the pool, panting like a faulty Hoover. ‘AAARGH!’ she shrieked. ‘It’s still on my toe!’

  She flicked her foot. Something flew off the end of it, sailed through the air and smacked into the side of the swimming pool.

  Gamble scurried over and scooped it up. ‘There there, my pretty one. Don’t be scared,’ he said, plopping whatever it was back into the pool.

  ‘Darren. What is going on?’ demanded Mrs McDonald.

  Gamble scratched a spot on his bald head. ‘My fish tank’s got a leak, cos I headbutted it yesterday, so I had to put my pet fishies in the swimming pool.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I had to, miss. To keep ’em alive while I wait for my uncle to steal me a new aquarium.’

  I peered over the edge of the pool. There were three dark, broad shapes – each about as long as a ruler – swimming around the bottom.

  ‘What kind of fish are they, Darren?’ asked Mrs McDonald.

  ‘Just piranhas, miss,’ said Gamble.

  ‘Piranhas?!’ gasped Mrs McDonald. ‘Aren’t they deadly?’

  Gamble waved her away. ‘Nah. They’re sweet, miss. Like goldfish. But a bit more bitey.’

  ‘They could’ve eaten me alive!’ screamed Miss Clegg.

  ‘What do you expect?’ said Gamble. ‘They probably thought you were food.’

  In fairness to Gamble, Miss Clegg’s feet do look a lot like chubby pasties.

  Mrs McDonald rearranged her glasses. ‘But how did you get the fish into the pool?’

  ‘Well, miss,’ said Gamble, looking proud of himself. ‘I broke in last night, disconnected the CCTV cameras and the burglar alarm, picked the lock on the swimming-pool gate, drained half the pool out, changed the chemicals so it was safe for the fish, refilled the pool, then switched the alarm and the CCTV back on so nobody would know. Simple really.’

  Holy moly! Even though this was pretty naughty, you have to say it was quite impressive.

  Mrs McDonald’s mouth opened and closed a few times.

  ‘I’m gonna crush you for this,’ said Miss Clegg, holding a towel against her bleeding toe with one hand and pointing at Gamble with the other.

  She sounded like she meant business.

  Two Words

  Trevor got a bunch of people to carry Jason Grooves back to class on their shoulders, like he’d just scored the winning goal in the World Cup final.

  This was a bit much. All he’d done was save Miss Clegg. I don’t want to be mean but there’s a lot of Miss Clegg to go round. She wasn’t in any real danger – it would’ve taken those fish months to eat her.

  ‘Terrific!’ enthused Trevor, as Jason carefully stood up on top of some of the shoulders, then drabbed three times.

  In case you’ve been living under a rock, the drab is a dance move that the whole world’s been doing for the last year. You tilt your head to one side and put your hands underneath, like you’re pretending to sleep. Then you take them away and do it again. And again. And again.

  It was made famous by Jason, who used to do it on Britain’s Really Talented every time he got the golden buzzer.

  Apart from me, the whole class drabbed back at him. Then
Jason backflipped off and landed perfectly on the ground.

  ‘Maybe one of the girls could give him a kiss on the cheek,’ said Trevor.

  ‘I will! I’m his love interest!’ cried Rosie Taylor, pouncing on Jason and kissing him all over his face. In the end it took three people to pull her off and Jason was all dazed and confused, as if he’d just been beaten up.

  ‘Urgh!’ said Vanya. ‘Kissing is disgusting!’

  I smiled. For some reason, I was delighted that she hadn’t been the one to kiss Jason.

  ‘Well,’ said Mrs McDonald, once the class had calmed down. ‘So this is your last week at primary school. How do you want to spend it?’

  Ideas were shouted out from around the room: class parties, talent shows, art projects.

  I said nothing. All I cared about was the Year Six Random Menu Week. I sat there, licking my lips and dreaming of double doughnuts, as everybody else made their suggestions.

  ‘Rounders match!’ called Vanya.

  ‘Oooh! Good one!’ said Mrs McDonald, scribbling it down on the board.

  Trevor gave Vanya the thumbs up. ‘Rule five of a great show: rivalry and competition. Get the audience to cheer for their favourite.’

  ‘How about a lemonade-drinking competition on a bouncy castle?’ said Kevin Ali Blargh Blargh Harrison.

  ‘Maybe not …’ replied Mrs McDonald. Kevin only has to look at a bouncy castle and he starts throwing up.

  ‘Gladiators,’ shouted out Gamble.

  Mrs McDonald took off her glasses and squinted at him. ‘What exactly do you mean, Darren?’

  Gamble twitched excitedly. ‘Like we learned about in the Romans, miss. Get some hungry wild animals, then we’ll all fight each other to the death with daggers and nets and that.’

  The room fell silent.

  ‘Er … maybe it’s time for your computer treat, Darren?’ said Mrs McDonald uneasily.

  Gamble gets to go on the computer at the back of the classroom every day. It’s meant to be a treat for good behaviour but I think it’s just a chance for Mrs McDonald to have a rest from him. He seems to be allowed on it every day, no matter what he does. For Gamble, ‘good behaviour’ just means he hasn’t actually chewed off anyone’s leg that day.

  ‘Ace!’ he said, jumping from desk to desk to the computer. ‘I’m a proper good boy, me! I always get my treat.’

  Miss Clegg hauled her enormous frame out of her chair and limped after him. ‘I’d treat him to a punch in the throat,’ she muttered.

  ‘I heard that, you big sweaty camel’s nipple,’ he said over his shoulder.

  Miss Clegg growled at him. ‘You just wait till tomorrow.’

  That was the second time Miss Clegg had told him to wait for something. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound nice.

  Trevor clicked his fingers right in front of Mrs McDonald’s face. ‘Since Jason was such a hero this morning, maybe he should choose how the class is going to celebrate this week.’

  ‘Er. OK …’ said Mrs McDonald.

  Huh, I thought, he’ll probably want us to build a statue of him so we can all worship it.

  Trevor whispered something into Jason’s ear, then backed away. The camerawoman started filming.

  ‘You know what this class needs?’ Jason asked. He paused for about a minute, looking around the room to build up the excitement, just like when the judges announce the winner on Britain’s Really Talented. Then, as everybody else leaned in to hear him, he whispered two words that would unleash absolute mayhem: ‘A prom.’

  What’s a Prom?

  For the third time that morning, the class got extremely excited. Some of the girls were hugging each other. Rosie Taylor was telling everyone she was going to steal her dad’s credit card and fly to Italy for a new dress.

  ‘Pretty cool, eh?’ Vanya asked me.

  ‘I have no idea,’ I replied, confused. I seemed to be the only person who didn’t know what a prom was.

  ‘And cut!’ called out Trevor. ‘Great reaction, kids.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Mrs McDonald, ‘I don’t think we can just organise a prom like that.’

  Trevor took a deep breath and put on one of his super-fake smiles. ‘Look. I’ve told you, Mrs McDoodah …’

  ‘McDonald.’

  ‘Yeah, that. We’re making a TV programme. Rule six of making a great TV show: you need a big finale. The whole series can build up to it.’

  ‘But it’s the children’s last week of school. You can’t just come in and change everyth–’

  Trevor put his finger over Mrs McDonald’s lips. ‘Simon Bowel is giving the school a lot of money so we can make this show, remember? So do as I say. Now, I need you to ask Jason what a prom is. Do you think you can manage that?’

  He said this last bit like he was talking to a particularly thick two-year-old. He wasn’t being very nice at all.

  Grinding her teeth together, Mrs McDonald glared at the camera. ‘What’s a prom?’

  ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it?’ said Trevor.

  Jason fluffed up his hair as the camera swung round to him. ‘It’s a great big glamorous party, y’all. Music. Food. Entertainment. Red carpet. Limos. Everyone’s gotta get dressed up nice.’

  ‘And who’s going to organise it?’ asked Mrs McDonald, folding her arms. She didn’t seem quite so keen on the TV show any more.

  ‘JG and Trevor,’ said Jason.

  ‘And me,’ said Rosie, blowing a kiss at Jason. ‘I’ll help to make it a night to remember.’

  Jason put on his sunglasses and gave a hey – aren’t I good-looking? smile.

  Gross.

  I wasn’t excited at all about the prom. It sounded like a fancy school disco to me. The last time I went to a school disco, Rosie Taylor put superglue on my orangeade bottle and I had to go to hospital to have it removed from my lips.

  At least I had more important things to worry about. For now anyway. It was Random Menu Week. Was today the day of the double doughnut?

  The Menu Is Explosive, and Jason Does a Runner

  At twelve o’clock, I was already halfway off my seat, leaning towards the door. If there were double doughnuts on offer, then I was NOT going to miss out. The moment the bell rang, I burst forward like a turbo-charged ostrich.

  ‘Roman! Stop!’ shouted Mrs McDonald. ‘We wait till we’re told to leave. You can go last.’

  Ah, great. I stood there as the rest of the class poured out around me. I don’t think she was actually all that annoyed about me rushing out. She was still mad about the prom and I was just the first person she could tell off.

  When I finally made my way to the hall, I passed Jason Grooves and Trevor, huddled together in conversation. Jason seemed annoyed about something. Even though I was desperate to get to lunch, I lingered for a moment to hear what they were saying.

  ‘But I thought the TV show was all about me, man,’ whined Jason. ‘The other one’s OK, but why can’t I have that one?’

  The other what? I thought.

  ‘Look,’ said Trevor, ‘I’m telling you the audience will prefer the other one. And Simon Bowel said that if the TV show isn’t good, it won’t get shown and … Hey! You!’

  They both snapped round to look at me.

  ‘I-I-I didn’t hear anything,’ I stammered.

  Trevor and Jason glanced at each other, then they both burst into smiles.

  ‘Hey, Roman. We’re buddies now, remember?’ said Jason, coming over and clapping his hand on to my shoulder.

  ‘Yeah!’ said Trevor. ‘Jason’s forgotten all about what happened with your bum during the BRT final. Haven’t you, Jason?’

  For a moment, a little tiny muscle in Jason’s eye twitched. But then he playfully punched me in the arm. ‘Course I have, man. It’s all the sheep’s fault. Let’s go eat.’

  Is it …? Is it …?

  The lunch queue snaked all the way out of the hall and down the corridor. Typical. As soon as we joined the back of it, everyone crowded around Jason as if he was a magic doughnut
or something. The camerawoman was filming him.

  ‘Do a dance, Jason!’ someone called out.

  ‘Excellent!’ said Trevor. ‘Any chance to show off your skills.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly,’ Jason said. He was trying to sound modest, but he’d already kicked off his shoes and handed his hat to Kevin Ali Blargh Blargh Harrison. ‘Yo! Don’t puke in that, Kev!’

  ‘I can’t promise anything,’ replied Kevin sadly. This is true. He’s so used to throwing up into sick bowls that just seeing a bowl-shaped object can set him off.

  Jason began stretching his neck muscles and limbering up. Everyone else was excited but I couldn’t have cared less. Ahead of me, I could see the menu stuck to the hall door. I edged around Jason’s audience to get a closer look.

  Is the double doughnut on there? Is it … is it? Could this be the greatest day of my life …?

  Well, what do you think?

  This is me we’re talking about, after all.

  Two terrible things happened within the space of three seconds.

  Firstly, I got close enough to read the menu. My heart sank.

  Chicken in creamy sauce and spaghetti hoops. On the same plate.

  Gross. It must’ve been Kevin Ali Blargh Blargh Harrison’s choice. He always chooses foods that curdle together in his stomach and make him puke.

  I was so crushed by the menu that I didn’t even bother to read what the dessert was. But then, unbelievably, things got worse.

  ‘Go on. Ask her,’ I heard Trevor say behind me.

  I turned around. Jason was now standing in the middle of a circle. To my horror, he turned to Vanya. ‘You wanna show ’em what we can do, V?’

  I didn’t like this at all.

  Vanya blushed. ‘But it’s years since we did street dance together.’

  ‘If she doesn’t want to …’ said Jason.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Trevor, gently shoving her into the circle.

  Within moments, everyone was clapping their hands in rhythm, while Vanya and Jason spun round on their heads and body-popped and flipped around together, before finally finishing in an arms-crossed, back-to-back pose.