by Mark Lowery
As he said that, he gave me the tiniest, nastiest, cruellest little wink. The kind of wink a wasp might give you just after flying out of your jam butty, and just before stinging you in the eyeball.
I stumbled back to my chair, feeling like I’d been kicked in the guts.
Gamble Returns
We spent the rest of the morning colouring in beach pictures, which is typical end-of-term time-wasting stuff. It was raining outside, so we worked right through breaktime and up to lunch. There was one good thing and one bad thing that happened during the session.
Good thing: Vanya cheered up quite quickly. She stopped crying and soon looked happy again.
Bad thing: it was Jason who cheered her up. At first he sang at her. Then he made her laugh. Before long, they were sharing a colouring sheet and whispering to each other, their heads leaning close together. I pressed down so hard that my felt tip broke through my paper. Then I realised that the camerawoman was filming me looking angry. Perfect. They’d make me look terrible in episode two as well.
I was feeling completely down. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of double doughnut for lunch. And even then I was struggling to get excited. There was a horrible taste in my mouth from the TV show and my argument with Vanya.
I can’t believe I’m about to write this, but I was actually happy to see Gamble walking into the classroom about half an hour before lunch. He was looking really pleased with himself and he had a great big smile on his face.
Oh, and he wasn’t wearing any trousers.
‘Hello, Darren,’ said Mrs McDonald. ‘How was your visit to the Sunshine Unit?’
Gamble grinned. ‘It was well good, miss. Mr Gibbons said he hasn’t decided if I’m gonna go there yet and he’s coming into school again tomorrow, miss, so I’m gonna be a good boy, innit, and I’m gonna be really helpful, so I can go to the good-boy school and be with my best mate Roman forever.’
I actually found myself smiling at this. I mean, obviously he’s completely mental but he’s still my friend. And I didn’t have many of them left.
‘Very good,’ said Mrs McDonald, ‘but – ahem – where are your trousers, Darren?’
Gamble twanged the elastic of his filthy underpants (which I’m pretty sure were the same ones he’d worn for swimming on Monday, not that I keep a record of Darren’s pants). ‘Well, miss, see, I’ve already started being a good, helpful boy, innit.’
At that moment, Miss Clegg waddled into the classroom, looking flustered and fed up. ‘Yeah,’ she said flatly, ‘really helpful.’
‘Ah, shut up, you old kangaroo’s willy,’ said Gamble. ‘I fixed your car, didn’t I?’
Miss Clegg scowled at him.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Mrs McDonald, confused.
Miss Clegg huffed out her cheeks. ‘Everything was going fine. The Sunshine Unit was brilliant – a really miserable place where Darren could be treated cruelly for the next five years.’
Mrs McDonald frowned at her but Miss Clegg continued. ‘Darren had already set off a fire extinguisher and had three fights – including one against himself. So it all looked great. He was doomed. Then we were about to come back but my car wouldn’t start. So I went back inside to see if Mr Gibbons could call a garage for me …’
‘And by the time she got back, I’d fixed it. Fan belt was broken, see,’ said Gamble. ‘I tied up my trousers and used ’em in the engine. Car runs as good as new, innit.’
Mrs McDonald squinted at him. ‘Oh, Darren. I didn’t know that you could mend cars.’
‘Neither did I,’ said Miss Clegg icily. She seemed really annoyed for someone who’d just had her car fixed for free.
Gamble grinned. ‘Cars are well easy. My uncle Terry taught me how to break into ’em and start ’em without a key. I figured the rest out myself.’
‘You could be a mechanic when you’re older, Darren,’ smiled Mrs McDonald proudly.
‘Or a car thief,’ grunted Miss Clegg.
‘Miss Clegg, please,’ said Mrs McDonald.
Gamble shrugged. ‘Mneh. She’s probably right.’
‘So what happened next?’ asked Mrs McDonald, trying to ignore that bit.
Miss Clegg huffed out her cheeks. ‘Well, Mr Gibbons came out and found that Darren had mended my car …’
‘And,’ said Gamble, interrupting her, ‘he said that it was a proper helpful, clever thing I’d done and if I carry on like that, I definitely won’t be going to the naughty-boy school next year.’
‘Oh, good for you!’ said Mrs McDonald.
‘Yeah. Really good,’ said Miss Clegg, flopping down on to the seat.
For the rest of the morning, Gamble continued to be really helpful. Well, helpful in a Darren Gamble kind of way. For instance, he sharpened all the colouring pencils in the classroom. But then he ruined this by using them to make a model of a hand-held torpedo launcher he’d seen on the top-secret army website.
I have to say it was pretty impressive. Using some Lego, a couple of elastic bands and a spring, he’d created something that could shoot deadly pencils right the way across the room from behind the bookshelf in the corner. The downside was that I spent the next half an hour ducking them.
The only good thing about this was that it kept my mind off Jason and Vanya. Until five minutes before lunchtime, that is, when Jason suddenly stood up on his table and drabbed the class.
Apart from me, everyone drabbed him back.
He ran his fingers through his enormous hair. ‘Yo-o yo-o yooooo’, he sang, his voice going up to a note so high that only bats would’ve heard it. ‘I told you yesterday I got an announcement to make. And it is B to the I to the G, my brethren.’
‘Gruuuuuunk,’ said everyone. Loudest of all was Vanya. I felt myself grinding my teeth together.
‘So,’ he continued, ‘see you lunchtime. I gotta go get ready. Ai-eeee!’
With that, he did a handstand on his desk then flipped off it on to the floor and disappeared.
Unfortunately, I was concentrating on him so much that I didn’t have time to see the pencil missile that Gamble had fired at me.
‘YOW!’ I cried, putting my hand up to my head. The pencil had broken the skin and was sticking out sideways.
‘Soz, Roman!’ grinned Gamble, poking his head up from behind the bookcase. ‘You shoulda ducked, innit!’
I pulled the pencil out again with a little pop. When I dabbed my finger against my head I felt a tiny drip of blood.
From Miss Clegg’s reaction, though, you’d have thought I’d had my head chopped off. Within seconds, she’d bundled over and was poking my cut with her big clumsy banana fingers. ‘Oh – oh. Looks nasty.’
I didn’t like the way she looked hopeful when she said this. ‘I think it’s all right,’ I said. ‘Just a little scratch.’
‘Oh, you say that,’ she sniffed, ‘but your brain could fall out. You’ll be dead within minutes. Let’s call an ambulance.’
An ambulance? Was she crazy? It wasn’t that bad. And anyway, I was having the worst day ever and I wasn’t going to miss out on double doughnuts now.
Then I realised something. ‘Hang on,’ I said, ‘are you trying to get me to go to hospital, so Darren gets in more trouble?’
‘How dare you?’ said Miss Clegg, looking shocked. ‘I’m doing what’s right for you. And if Darren ends up getting arrested for murder, well, that’s his own fault and, hey! Where are you going?’
I turned round at the door. ‘Lunch,’ I said, before storming straight off to the hall.
I wouldn’t normally act like this towards a member of staff, but I’d had enough. First Vanya, and now this. Well, there was no way I wasn’t going to eat my double doughnut after the morning I’d just had. I marched straight to the lunch hall to collect what was mine.
Double Doughnut
I should’ve known something was wrong the moment I got inside the dining room. I didn’t though. Perhaps I was just trying to kid myself. All I had left in the world was t
he double doughnut. I didn’t want to imagine that that could let me down as well.
All of the tables had expensive-looking tablecloths and little vases of flowers on them, and the knives and forks were laid out for us. None of the normal dinner ladies were there either. They’d been replaced by posh waiters and waitresses in black shirts. Over in the corner, a snooty woman was playing a violin. It was more like a smart restaurant than our school hall.
The only thing that looked out of place was a big shiny silver cannon in the middle of the room. What on earth was that doing there?
Gamble came up behind me and burped wetly in my ear. ‘This is well smart, innit!’
Normally we queue up, collect our food from the counter, then go and sit down. But today, a waiter led us to a table.
Almost as soon as I sat, a waitress placed a plate in front of me. On it were three delicious, gorgeous, succulent doughnuts. They were perfect. The cheese was just slightly brown and crispy on top of the sticky jam. The dough had that deep brown crunchy look to it. A tiny trickle of bean juice oozed out of the hole at the side.
My stomach growled. I opened my mouth and plunged my head towards the plate.
‘NO!’ snapped the waitress. ‘Wait till you’re told.’
‘Eh? Why?’ I said, the drool dripping out of my mouth.
‘Special menu today,’ she replied.
Of course!
They were making an effort because today was the day of the double doughnut! It all made perfect sense. To me, anyway.
Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself that nothing was wrong.
‘BOOM!’ yelled a voice from the middle of the room.
We all looked up. ‘Oh, great,’ I said.
Jason Grooves was standing by the silver cannon thing, dressed in a chef’s hat and an apron. Trust him to take over the greatest moment in the history of the world. ‘Yo,’ he said, ‘I told you I had a big announcement to make today.’
There was a long pause, during which I was hoping he was going to tell us he was leaving the school forever. Instead, all he said was, ‘Enjoy your meal. Peace out.’
And that was it.
‘Huh,’ I said to Gamble, picking up my knife and fork and slicing into the delicious doughnut. ‘That wasn’t much of announcement. Of course I’m going to enjoy my m–’
But then I stopped in my tracks.
How can I describe what happened next? It was like going to the cinema to watch Car Chase Action Spy 3 and finding yourself locked inside a screen showing Sparkly Rainbow Unicorns and the Glittery Sandals of Happiness.
I’d cut open my doughnut. And instead of the oozing loveliness of sausages and baked beans, something else dribbled out. Something so disgusting that my head almost fell off with horror.
My doughnut was stuffed with thousands and thousands of spaghetti shapes in a red sauce.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. I picked one of the shapes up with my fork and stared at it.
It was shaped exactly like Jason Grooves’s head.
‘What the slapped bottom is this?’ I asked. I’d rather have eaten doughnuts that had been stuffed with angry wasps and dipped in dog dirt than this.
‘Those, my friend,’ said Jason behind me, ‘are Spaghetti Grooves.’
Spaghetti Grooves
Before I could reply, there was a massively loud bang. Everyone gasped as millions and millions of shiny pieces of paper erupted into the air from the cannon in the middle of the room and fluttered down to the ground.
What was happening?
Everyone was dancing about, trying to grab the bits of paper as they floated towards them.
‘You like the glitter cannon!’ exclaimed Jason, leaping up on to my table. ‘We borrowed it for the prom, but we thought we should get some use out of it.’
A glitter cannon? But why?
Jason drabbed at the school. ‘Today, my brethren, is the worldwide launch of my new food – tinned Spaghetti Grooves.’
‘Spaghetti what?!’ I asked.
But Jason didn’t answer. Instead he started singing a (thankfully) short rap about Spaghetti Grooves.
It went:
‘If you’re desperate for your life to improve,
Then grab yourself a Spaghetti Groove.
If you wanna sing like me and learn my moves,
Then stuff your face with Spaghetti Grooves.
It don’t matter if you’re fat or if you’re thin,
You can eat my face straight out of a tin.
They come in a sauce,
You can feed ’em to a horse,
They’re … uh uh … Spaghetti Grooves. Ai-eeee!’
Then he lowered his voice.
‘Available in all supermarkets from Monday.’
Everyone went utterly insane. Seriously. The dinner hall hadn’t been this excited since that time Gamble poured his favourite energy drink – Electric Muscle Spasm – into the beef stew. People were dancing and leaping around. Gamble smashed his face into his doughnuts and the sauce was splattered all over him like blood round the mouth of a lion. Kevin Vomasaurus Retch Harrison was spewing into the glitter cannon with excitement.
What was the fuss about?
Jason had ruined – completely ruined – the greatest meal of all time. People shouldn’t have been celebrating. They should’ve been crying. It should have been like a funeral in there.
I pushed some Spaghetti Grooves across my plate. The sauce was all gloopy and had formed a rubbery skin on the top. How could this happen? One minute I was expecting the greatest meal of all time. And now I was faced with hundreds of miniature Jasons staring back at me.
Was there any way that things could get worse?
Well. I’d soon find out. This is my life after all.
‘Yo yo yo!’ said Jason, silencing the room. ‘So I’ve got one person to thank for all this. And that’s Roman Garstang.’
Eh?! I looked up sharply.
The camerawoman was right on the other side of the table from me, her camera pointing at my face.
Jason continued, ‘If he hadn’t sneezed spaghetti hoops on me the other day, I never would’ve had this idea. So he should be the one to have the first bite.’
A few people cheered. Some even started chanting my name: ‘Ro-man. Ro-man. Ro-man.’
‘Take a nice big forkful and tell us what you think,’ grinned Trevor from behind the camerawoman.
I pushed my plate away. ‘I’m not really hun–’
Trevor came closer and whispered in my ear. ‘It won’t look good on TV if you don’t eat them.’
His voice was threatening and cold. Like a sharp icicle hanging from the ceiling above my head.
I gulped. ‘But I don’t want to …’
‘You know rule eight of a good TV show?’ he said, quietly enough that nobody else could hear. ‘You need a villain. You saw in episode one that you are that villain, my friend. Now eat the Grooves or you’re gonna seriously regret it when we put together episode two.’
I gulped. Trevor patted me on the shoulder, then backed away. The camerawoman moved closer.
I didn’t have a choice. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and scooped some up. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, if I couldn’t see Jason’s face, maybe they wouldn’t taste quite so awful.
Very slowly, I lifted the fork to my mouth and eased it inside.
And that’s when things really took a turn for the worst.
Hot Sauce
At first I didn’t notice anything strange. I chewed once. Twice. Three times.
In the background, Jason was talking. ‘I even chose all the ingredients myself …’
Then the flavour started to build up. It was weird. I was expecting a tomato sauce but it wasn’t. It was … hot.
The heat built slowly in my mouth. Gently at first, but then warmer and warmer. My lips began to tingle. My tongue began to burn.
Trevor grinned his super-fake fixed grin. ‘How do you like Jason’s special hot ’n’ s
picy sauce?’
‘Hot and spicy?’ I said. ‘You are kidding me.’
I HATE hot food. I’m a total wimp when it comes to eating it. It makes my whole head feel like it’s about to explode. And this stuff was absolutely scorching.
I was in agony. My throat felt like the inside of a volcano. I grabbed the jug of water from the centre of the table and chugged the whole lot back.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Gamble, concerned. ‘Your face is turning red.’
I looked at my reflection in the back of my spoon. Darren was right. I could literally see my face changing colour, and my lips were throbbing and swollen.
‘It’s the sauce,’ I gasped. ‘It’s way too hot.’
‘Hmm,’ said Trevor, ‘maybe we got the recipe wrong.’
Do you think so, genius? It felt like I’d swallowed a blowtorch.
‘Can you breathe?’ asked Gamble. ‘Do you need me to cut a hole in your throat and put a straw down your windpipe?’
‘No,’ I croaked, rattling the empty jug and wheezing like a straining dog. ‘Water. More water.’
Gamble pulled the jug out of my hand and jumped up on the table. ‘I’ll save you, Roman! I’m proper helpful, me.’
He took a run-up and dived off the table. Unfortunately, as he did so, he stamped on the edge of my plate with his massive boot. This caused it to flip up, catapulting the Spaghetti Grooves right into my face.
At this point I learned a very important lesson: if something tastes hot and spicy, you probably don’t want it to go in your eyes.
I screamed. The heat was tremendous. Fireworks burst in my eyeballs. I couldn’t see and it felt like my face was going to peel off.
‘Oops,’ said Gamble.
‘Someone get me a first aider!’ I heard Trevor cry. ‘If this kid dies we’ll never sell a single tin of Spaghetti Grooves.’
Thanks for your concern.
The Sicky Chair
It took about five minutes of washing out my eyes before I could see again. Even then, everything was a bit blurry and my eyes felt like glowing coals. My face was puffy and swollen, and had turned a funny shade of purple.