by Mark Lowery
Finally, Trevor stopped and gave me one of his mega-fake grins. ‘Right. Done. I can get rid of you now.’
I didn’t like the way he said this. It was kind of friendly but also a little bit nasty: the sort of thing a super-villain might say in a film, just after getting a secret code off you but before feeding you to a robotic laser-gerbil.
When I got back to class, though, this would be the least of my worries.
Computer Treat
I walked into the classroom and stopped so suddenly that Trevor bumped into the back of me.
Jason Grooves was sitting next to Vanya.
In my seat!
They were laughing their heads off about something, while the camera crew filmed them. ‘What’s going on?’ I croaked, still light-headed from the interview.
‘Oh, hi, Roman,’ said Vanya. ‘Jason was just telling me about one of the contestants on BRT.’
‘Was it the juggling sheep?’ I said coldly.
‘I told you, bruv!’ said Jason, suddenly angry. ‘Don’t mention that sheep. I swear, if I ever see that nasty ball of wool again, I’ll …’
‘Jason. What have I said?’ said Trevor.
Jason folded his arms and stuck out his bottom lip.
Vanya looked crossly at me. ‘You shouldn’t have mentioned the sheep, Roman.’
‘But …’ I spluttered, ‘he stole my seat.’
Then he stole my friend.
‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist,’ said Trevor, ruffling my hair. ‘It’s all for the TV show. Now. I need another person.’
‘Me me me!’ cried out everyone in the class.
‘Don’t interview these talentless peasants,’ exclaimed Rosie Taylor, striding over to Trevor. ‘You need someone with star quality. Like me.’
I guess Rosie does have star quality – in the sense that she’s bright orange and I’d prefer it if she was millions of light years away in the middle of space.
‘Yeah, man,’ said Jason, ‘Rosie’s broof.’
‘Broof?’ I said.
Ignoring everyone, Trevor checked down a list of names on his iPad. ‘Er … how about … hmmm … Vanya Goyal.’
He made it sound like he’d just plucked her name out of thin air, but something told me he’d planned it all along. I gulped. What was he going to ask her?
‘Broof,’ Vanya said.
Now she was saying it too!
‘What does broof mean?’ I asked. I’d never heard it before in my life.
‘It means cool,’ she said, before following Trevor out.
They were speaking a new language together! This was definitely NOT broof.
Meanwhile, Rosie’s eyes were burning a hole into the back of Vanya’s head. I hadn’t seen her this angry since that time Kevin Ali Blargh Blargh Harrison threw up into her brand new zebra-skin gloves.
Gamble shouted out: ‘Oi, Roman. Come on the computer with me!’
I didn’t really want to sit with him but, with Vanya out of the room, there were only two other free seats. One was next to Jason (who was singing some crummy song about ‘the girl with skin like an angel’s wings’ – yuck), and the other was next to Rosie. She’d drawn a picture of Vanya and was now shredding it into tiny pieces.
At least if I was with Gamble, it might take my mind off Vanya. Plus I could help him look good in front of Mr Gibbons.
Miss Clegg sat right behind us with Mr Gibbons, talking to him in her boring, yawny voice. I only caught the odd phrase because she didn’t want Darren to hear her:
‘… make sure you write about the time he stole my lipstick and ate it …’ she moaned, ‘… and when he poured wet cement into that Year One kid’s underpants … no idea how he caught the mole in the first place, let alone how he managed to staple it to the skateboard …’
The whole time, Mr Gibbons scribbled notes on his clipboard.
At this point I decided to say nice things about Gamble. Maybe I could make Mr Gibbons give him a decent report and let him go to the normal school. ‘Hey – Darren,’ I said loudly, ‘remember when you rescued that squirrel with a broken leg from that tree?’
‘Really?’ Mr Gibbons said, leaning forward. ‘What a lovely thing to do.’
It was working.
‘Oh yeah, the squirrel,’ said Gamble. ‘I took it home then chucked it on the barbecue. Drop of chilli sauce. Nyam. Nyam. Deeeee-licious.’
I slapped my hand across my face.
Mr Gibbons cleared his throat. ‘Well, Darren. Maybe you can show us what you’re looking at on the computer.’
Darren turned the screen around. Things quickly went from bad to worse.
No Unauthorised Access!
The web page was basically a full screen of hundreds of thumbnail photos. All of them were of futuristic-looking weapons or military vehicles: flying armoured cars with rocket launchers on them, giant drones, close-ups of actual wasps with mini spy-cameras on their backs, soldiers wearing robotic suits with laser guns on the sleeves.
At first I thought they were pictures from films. Then I noticed something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Across the top of the screen, above the photos, it read:
ARMY WEAPON DEVELOPMENT.
TOP SECRET!
NO UNAUTHORISED ACCESS!
I began to feel seriously uneasy. ‘What does “no unauthorised access” mean?’
‘It means,’ said Miss Clegg, ‘that this little ratbag shouldn’t be on this website.’
‘As if I care, you rotten trouser-coconut,’ snorted Gamble. ‘This site’s amazing. It shows all the new weapons the army are inventing. Look – this one’s a bomber plane that doesn’t need a pilot. It can wipe out a whole city. Here’s a sniper rifle that’s hidden inside a live chicken. If you click here, you can even find the plans, so you can make your own weapons and test ’em out.’
‘But you wouldn’t do that, right, Darren?’ I said, glancing round at Mr Gibbons and trying to smile. Maybe I could still help him. ‘You wouldn’t really create home-made weapons that could injure people or … you know … worse.’
Gamble snorted. ‘Course I would! Look at this! It’s a special receiver you put inside someone’s ear, then you can get ’em to do whatever you want. It’s well good! Like a remote control for a person!’
‘Oh, wow! I’d love one of those!’ said Trevor the TV man, who’d overheard as he came back into the room.
I bet you would, I thought. He wasn’t exactly helping the situation.
‘Proper easy to build,’ said Gamble. ‘Look – here’s the plan. All you need’s a hearing aid, a mobile phone and a few other bits.’
I held my head in my hands. Why could Gamble not act normally for ten minutes? He was supposed to be showing Mr Gibbons that he wasn’t too naughty for a normal school. And here he was learning how to build deadly weapons on a secret website.
‘How did you find the website, Darren?’ asked Mr Gibbons. He didn’t seem cross like Miss Clegg or terrified like me. It was more like he was interested to find out.
Gamble sniffed. ‘I just hacked into the army’s secret network.’
He tossed this out casually, as if he’d said, I just went on to YouTube to look at videos of cats falling over.
Mr Gibbons squinted at the screen. ‘Hmmm. How exactly did you do that?’
‘I’m well good at hacking into websites, innit. It’s one of my hobbies. Along with kicking people.’
At that moment, the bell for playtime rang and he sprinted outside before anyone could stop him.
Top-secret Weapons Testing
Outside, I couldn’t find Gamble anywhere. On the far side of the field, the camera crew were filming a group of people who were surrounding Jason Grooves. Now and again Jason would perform a little dance for them. As well as Rosie Taylor and Kevin, the group included Vanya.
I decided I should go over and make sure everything was OK. Not because I was jealous of Jason stealing my friend, you understand. Just because of … well …
some other important reason I hadn’t thought of yet.
I’d only gone two steps when a skipping rope suddenly looped over my stomach. It was pulled so tight I could hardly breathe. Before I knew it, I was being dragged backwards. ‘Let’s play Top-Secret Weapon Testing together,’ said Gamble into my ear.
He said ‘together’ but actually it was more like Gamble played against me. First, he tied me to the football posts with the skipping rope. Then he spent fifteen minutes pretending to attack me with different weapons that he’d seen on the army website, in a bid to find out ‘which one’s deadliest, innit’.
He punched me repeatedly in the arms (rapid-fire machine gun), then he climbed up on to the crossbar and jumped off on to my head (high-altitude heat-seeking bomb), before rubbing grit into my eyes (radar-disabling laser system).
The worst thing was that Mr Gibbons watched the entire thing, scribbling away on his clipboard but not doing anything to save me. I know he was there to observe Gamble’s behaviour, but come on! When exactly would he have stepped in to help? When I stopped breathing? Or would he have waited till I was actually fully dead?
I begged Gamble to stop so that he wouldn’t get a terrible report from Mr Gibbons (and also so he’d stop hurting me). But, as soon as I said this, he unleashed the most deadly weapon of all. This was the ‘total annihilation gas grenade’, which involved him pinning me down and farting into my mouth until I nearly fainted.
I think he’d made that one up.
I was ten minutes late back to class. By the time I hobbled in, my eyes were bright red and blurry, I had four ice packs strapped to my body, and I was pretty sure there was a hole burned into my lungs.
It’s quite amazing, then, that I actually managed to feel worse after I got back into the classroom.
Make Sure It Goes OFF!
I flopped into my normal seat next to Vanya. She looked me up and down. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Only when I breathe,’ I replied.
‘Sorry, Roman. I’d have wrestled him off you but …’
‘You were busy,’ I said.
Vanya looked hurt. ‘Don’t be like that.’
I sighed. ‘Losing your best friend isn’t broof.’
‘Yo, man,’ said Jason, moonwalking past me. ‘Just so you know, nobody says broof any more.’
‘But you were saying it twenty minutes ago,’ I said.
‘Things change fast,’ he replied. ‘Don’t want you to sound like a krungle. We say snife now.’
Vanya shrugged. ‘It’s true.’
Krungle? Snife? I give up.
A little smile was curling up at the corners of Jason’s mouth. He was making fun of me, I knew it.
Just then, Trevor came in and stood at the front, looking nervous. ‘Right, guys. I’ve just been talking to Simon Bowel. He isn’t happy with what I’ve told him about the TV show so far.’
‘What?’ cried Jason. ‘You mean we might not get it on the TV?’
Was it bad that I felt happy about this?
‘But then Jason won’t be famous!’ said Rosie. ‘And neither will I! And we’ll never get to have our celebrity wedding! Hashtag: the world is ruined.’
Trevor held up his palms. ‘Remember rule two. We’ve just got to keep the TV show exciting! So how can we spice this week up, guys? Give me ideas.’
Mrs McDonald seemed cross. ‘I think it’s exciting enough already. We’re having a rounders match on Wednesday. Not to mention the special menu this week. Then there’s a leavers’ assembly, and …’
‘An assembly?’ said Jason. ‘Great! I’ll sing!’
I’d rather you didn’t, I thought, but everyone else seemed really excited and started drabbing like itchy rabbits.
‘It’s more about sharing memories of our time at school,’ said Mrs McDonald.
Trevor shrugged. ‘Don’t care. What else might make the week special?’
Miss Clegg danced into the room. I hadn’t seen her move this quickly since she was barging Key Stage One kids out of the way to get to that cake sale last year.
‘It’s already special enough for me,’ announced Miss Clegg. ‘Mr Gibbons has just gone back to the high school. And that little criminal is going there to look round his new kiddy prison tomorrow!’
She pointed gleefully at Gamble, who made a rude sign at her with his fingers.
‘Rosie Taylor has an idea for the prom,’ announced Rosie. ‘Everyone has to go in couples.’
‘You mean, like boyfriend and girlfriend?’ I cried, in horror.
‘That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,’ said Jason Grooves, clicking his fingers and pointing at Rosie.
‘Great idea!’ said Trevor, putting his thumbs up. ‘The audience will love it! Rule three: love interest.’
‘The children are too young for that,’ protested Mrs McDonald, but Trevor pretended not to hear her.
The rest of the class seemed delighted and embarrassed at the same time. There was a whole new round of giggling, chatting and drabbing, and people gossiping about who their partners were going to be.
‘And the best couple can win a prize,’ continued Rosie.
‘Fantastic!’ said Trevor. ‘Rule five: rivalry and competition.’
Rosie gave a smile like a really smug turtle. ‘They can get crowns, and maybe win a prize and then they can kiss each other …’
Trevor rubbed his hands together. ‘Prizes. Kissing. Perfect! Rule six: the big finale! This’ll make great TV! Simon Bowel will love it! I’ll get on it straight away.’
Rosie Taylor licked her lips.
‘Mrs McDonald, you can be my date, miss, cos I love you, miss,’ called Gamble.
Mrs McDonald looked terrified.
At that moment, Kevin Ali Blargh Blargh Harrison stepped in front of my table. ‘Will you go to the prom with me, Vanya?’ he asked.
‘Oh. Er. Sorry, Kevin. I’ve not decided who to go with yet,’ she replied politely. I felt a little relieved about this, for some reason.
Kevin moved straight on to Rosie Taylor.
Rosie’s face dropped. ‘I’d rather go to the prom with your leaky sick bag than with you. Hashtag: no chance, Vomasaurus Retch.’
Vomasaurus Retch! Even though this was cruel, it did fit Kevin quite well.
Kevin immediately went to the next girl.
‘I’ve got my eye on someone much better,’ said Rosie after he’d gone, staring at Jason.
But Jason wasn’t looking back at her.
He was talking to Trevor and looking directly at Vanya, my best friend. I felt my blood run cold.
The Day of the Double Doughnut?
Amazingly, the day just got worse and worse from there.
First of all, there was lunchtime. I went into the hall hopeful and excited. Maybe today would be the Day of the Double Doughnut?
But it wasn’t.
Nope.
Unbelievably, it was spaghetti hoops again.
Apparently, a second person had put this down as their menu choice, and – would you believe it? – the cook had chosen it. Spaghetti flipping hoops two days in a row, swilling around my plate like a big glob of intestines.
At least they were only a side order today, along with a hot dog. And I managed to build a wall of chips so they didn’t make the bun soggy – a bit like when people pile up sandbags before a flood.
I was on a table with Vanya, Gamble and Jason (yuck). The camera crew came over and Trevor asked us to ‘do something fun’. Jason leapt up on his seat and sang Vanya a song all about his pet kitten with a wonky leg, which made her look like she was about to cry and made me want to throw up. Then Gamble picked up his plate of spaghetti hoops and tipped it over my head.
‘Thanks a bunch,’ I said, seething as the slimy spaghetti hoops slithered down my bright red face. The camera was pointing at me, and everyone in the hall was laughing.
‘Soz, Roman,’ he grinned. ‘Couldn’t help myself.’
And he wonders why he might be going to a school for naughty kids.
I was in the toilets for ages, washing sticky, gloopy sauce out of my hair. There were even lumps of spaghetti hoops in my ears. When I came out, Trevor was standing in the corridor, chatting on his mobile. ‘No, Simon,’ he said.
Simon Bowel! I thought. Wow!
‘Jason wanted the other one but I’ve persuaded him,’ he continued. ‘All under control. And he’s getting something out of it, so he’s happy now. Yes. All set for tomorrow lunchtime. Nope. Nobody knows. Top secret. I promise you – the show will be great.’
He turned around at that moment and I had to dart back into the toilet, so I wasn’t seen.
What was he on about? That was twice I’d overheard him mention ‘wanting the other one’. He and Jason had been saying that yesterday outside the classroom. And what did he mean: Jason was ‘getting something out of it’? Most importantly of all, what was all this about tomorrow lunchtime? I hope he didn’t expect us to do something. There was no way I was going anywhere. It might be Double Doughnut Day.
It took ages till he’d hung up and gone away. As a result, I was late back into class again.
And that’s when the day got even worse.
When I came in, I found Jason Grooves sitting next to Vanya, in my seat!
Again!
Trevor smiled at me. ‘We thought it’d be best if Jason sat here for the rest of the week. Make it a permanent switch.’
I looked at Vanya, my mouth hanging open.
‘It’s just for a few days,’ she said.
Yeah! The last few days of school ever.
‘It’s snife. I’ll take care of her, man,’ said Jason Grooves, cheerfully winking at me. He was loving it that I was angry.
I flopped into the chair next to Gamble.
‘Brilliant!’ he said, elbowing me in the ribs. ‘My best mate’s sitting next to me, innit! Guess what. I’m gonna build that brain controller this week. I can use it on that Mr Gibbons, see, then he’ll let me go to normal good-boy school with you next year.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Oh yeah. I’ve got the plans. The only thing I don’t have is a hearing aid, but I’ll easily nick one. You can be the first person I test it out on.’