Revenge of the Spaghetti Hoops

by Mark Lowery

  What on earth was in that sauce? Petrol? Gunpowder? I mean, I know I’m a wuss when it comes to spicy food but wow! They could use that stuff to burn a hole in concrete.

  Even after my eyesight had come back, I still felt a bit shaky. I had to sit on the Sicky Chair outside the office and wait to be collected by my mum. There are several terrible things about the Sicky Chair:

  – as you probably guessed from the name, it’s the chair where you sit if you’re sick. Kevin Vomasaurus Retch Harrison spends about three quarters of his life in it. There are all these crusty stains dried into the cushions and it stinks like a mixture of stale yoghurt and rotten vegetables.

  – it’s right in the corridor, so people are constantly walking past you. Mostly, they just stared and pointed at my massive purple head. But, unfortunately, some of them stopped to chat to me.

  The first person was Gamble. ‘Oh, wow!’ he said. ‘I wish my face would swell up like that.’

  ‘It’s horrible,’ I said, my lips stinging with every word. ‘I thought I was going blind.’

  ‘Huh!’ he said. ‘Some people have all the luck.’

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t feel very lucky.

  ‘Can I do summat to help you?’ he asked.

  ‘Help me?’

  ‘Yeah. I need to be helpful and kind, and then that Mr Gibbons will let me go to proper good-boy school with you next year, innit.’

  ‘You could steal me a new head.’

  Gamble sniffed. ‘All right. I’ll see what I can do.’

  The worst thing was, I don’t think he was joking.

  Gamble was still there when the next person came along. It was Jason Grooves. He’d removed the chef’s outfit. Behind him, Trevor was standing alongside the camerawoman and sound technician. ‘Yo, man. Sorry about your head.’

  I shrugged.

  ‘We’re definitely going to change the recipe. Can you just read this piece of paper for the camera?’

  I did as I was told. My eyes were half-closed and a bit watery, so I had to read it one word at a time. Unfortunately, this meant that I didn’t quite understand the meaning of it until I’d finished reading the whole thing.

  ‘I promise,’ I read, ‘not to sue Jason Grooves or anyone else for what just happened. It is my own fault that I rubbed the special hot and spicy sauce into my eyes and that my face swelled up to this grotesque size.’

  ‘Well done,’ beamed Trevor. ‘We got that on camera.’

  Jason drabbed me. ‘To make it up to you, I’m gonna give you a private gig right now.’

  ‘There really is no need,’ I said.

  It was too late. Someone handed him a guitar and he sang me this hideous song called ‘I Miss Your Massive Cheeks’. It was awful. And, because I was being filmed and I didn’t want to look like the total villain in episode two, I had to sit there smiling and clapping throughout the whole thing. The words were weird – all about empty cages and half-drunk water bottles and wheels that didn’t turn any more.

  It was only when he finished that I realised what the song was about.

  ‘What d’you think, man?’

  I tried to frown but my head hurt too much. ‘Was that song all about a … dead hamster?’

  Jason sucked his teeth. ‘For real, yeah. My pet hamster, Jason Junior. Makes me sad just thinking about him.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that he’s dead,’ I said, glancing at the camera and trying to look concerned, despite the pain.

  ‘He’s not really dead,’ said Jason. ‘But I’m imagining how sad I’d be if he was.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. A memorial song for a hamster that’s still alive. Nothing odd about that.

  Trevor leaned in. ‘We’re trying to show everyone that Jason is a really great guy and he loves animals. You know, after what happened with the sheep in the BRT final.’

  ‘Don’t mention that stupid woolly freak in front of me, man,’ said Jason tetchily.

  There was a long pause. ‘So …’ I said eventually, ‘why exactly did you sing a dead hamster song at me?’

  Jason shrugged. ‘I think it fits your situation perfectly.’

  ‘But I’m still alive. And also … well … I’m not a hamster.’

  ‘Sure,’ sniffed Jason, starting to look a little bit cross. ‘But you have got fat cheeks like a hamster. And you could’ve died.’

  I tried to fake a smile for the camera. ‘You’re right. It fits perfectly.’

  Jason didn’t seem to notice my sarcasm. He turned straight to the camera. ‘That tune was called “I Miss Your Massive Cheeks”. Available now online and from all good music stores. Check it out.’

  Then, without saying anything else, they were gone and I was alone again.

  A Visitor

  Back at home, Mum made me lie on the sofa then force-fed me tomato soup all afternoon. She said I needed to get my strength up so I was ready for the prom tomorrow night. I didn’t bother to tell her that, now Vanya hated my guts, I wasn’t planning on going any more.

  By the way, I can’t stand tomato soup. It’s meant to be good for you but how can it be good for you when it’s made out of tomatoes? Tomatoes are a fruit, for heaven’s sake. Who eats flipping fruit to make them feel better? Seriously, I’d rather eat a barrel of liquidised donkey nipples than a tin of that gunge. Every time she went out of the room, I tipped a spoonful into the plant pot next to the sofa.

  I felt so rubbish that not even a sausage, beans and cheese doughnut the size of Jupiter would’ve made me feel better.

  My eyes were still stinging. The good half of my friends had left me for Jason Grooves, who had just tried to burn me alive. Very soon I was going to be made to look like an awful person on national TV. And to cap it all off, the one and only school meal I’d ever wanted to eat had been snatched away from me at the last minute.

  I was seriously depressed.

  I’d been sitting there feeling sorry for myself for about four hours when the doorbell rang. Mum answered it then came into the lounge. ‘Visitor. This’ll cheer you up.’

  She was wrong about that. Standing in the doorway was none other than Rosie Taylor, the worst person who’s ever existed. Oh, great. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse …

  Mum left us to it. Looking around the room in disgust, Rosie reached into her handbag, pulled out a pair of those blue shoe-protectors you get at the swimming pool and put them on.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked her.

  ‘These shoes are worth seven hundred pounds,’ she said. ‘I am not putting them anywhere near the disgusting carpets in this shabby little dump. I’d rather walk barefoot through a pool of cows’ brains.’

  ‘Charming,’ I said.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  I raised an eyebrow. Rosie never cares how I feel. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Never mind. Still – I think Spaghetti Grooves are AMAZING. I even got my dad to buy two hundred tins to sell at his shopping centre.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ I sighed.

  Rosie pursed her little slug’s bum mouth. ‘Because, you brainless pig fart, I am warning you one last time. If you don’t get your friend Vanya away from my future husband, I am going to hold you responsible.’

  ‘What?’ I spluttered.

  At that moment, my mum walked back through the room. She was wearing her scruffy gardening clothes.

  Rosie instantly put on a big fake smile. ‘Oh, by the way, Mrs Garstang. I love your outfit. It’s gorgealumptious.’

  ‘Such a sweet girl,’ said Mum as she disappeared upstairs.

  As soon as she’d gone, Rosie’s face dropped. ‘Urgh. If you ever see me wearing minging rags like that, feel free to shoot me.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ I said.

  ‘So anyway,’ said Rosie, shaking back her hair. ‘This TV show is my big chance of fame. I need to go to that prom with Jason Grooves. And if I don’t, it’ll all be your fault. You’ll have ruined my life and I will not be responsible for what happens next. Got it?’
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  ‘Why would it be my fault?’

  Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Because, you spectacular dimwit, you are best friends with that hideous melon-head Vanya Goyal. So you should be taking her to the prom. Jason wants me to go with him.’

  ‘Then why hasn’t he asked you already?’

  ‘A lot of boys are frightened of my beauty,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s probably worried that I’ll say no because I’m too good looking for him. But I’ve already told him. If he invites me, I’ll make myself five per cent less beautiful on the night, so I don’t make him look bad.’

  I really tried not to laugh here but it was impossible. I laughed so hard I thought the skin on my face would split open. Rosie is convinced she’s gorgeous. In actual fact, she’s got a face like an octopus’s buttocks.

  Rosie stared daggers at me and I stopped laughing immediately. ‘Why don’t you just ask him yourself?’ I said.

  ‘Wow. You are literally the stupidest person on the planet,’ she said. ‘I have honestly met bags of dog dirt hanging from trees with more brains than you.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’

  ‘I’m a princess. And princesses do not do the asking.’

  ‘I always thought boys and girls were equal.’

  ‘Well, you’re even thicker than you look.’

  She came right over and grabbed my sensitive face with her sharp fake nails. The pain was excruciating – like that time Gamble poured ants down my undercrackers. ‘I’m serious,’ she growled. ‘Don’t let Vanya go to the prom with Jason, or you’ll pay.’

  Then she swept out of the room and was gone.

  This was ridiculous. How on earth was I supposed to go to the prom with Vanya? She hated my guts. I wiggled my cheeks, poured the rest of my tomato soup into the plant pot and slumped back on to the sofa.

  What a day.

  Of course, for me, tomorrow can always be worse.

  Gamble Is Helpful and I Show Off My Skills at Rounders

  Unfortunately, my face was back to normal on Thursday morning and I had to go back to school. Vanya turned away as soon as I walked into the classroom. I huffed out my cheeks and slumped into the chair next to Gamble’s empty space. He was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Done a runner, I’ll bet,’ said Miss Clegg to Mr Gibbons. ‘He knows he can’t trust himself in the leavers’ assembly. Last year we did a class assembly about germs and he threw a handful of verrucas into the audience.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Mr Gibbons, jotting something down.

  I gulped. Today was Gamble’s last chance to prove he was a good kid for Mr Gibbons. He really should’ve got here on time.

  It was only after the register, when Mrs McDonald was explaining to us about the leavers’ assembly, that he finally strode in. Weirdly enough, he was with Trevor the TV man. When they came through the door, Trevor patted him on the back and Gamble came over and sat down next to me.

  ‘What was all that about?’ I asked Gamble.

  ‘Trevor’s gonna help me today,’ he whispered back.

  ‘Really?’ Trevor didn’t seem to be the kind of person who helped anyone apart from himself.

  ‘Yeah. I’m gonna be a good, helpful boy for him, then he’s gonna give Mr Gibbons a proper good report about me and then I’ll go to good-boy school with you, innit.’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘What do you mean – a good, helpful boy for him?’

  Gamble tapped his nose with a filthy finger. ‘Can’t tell anyone, innit. It’s a surprise to make the TV show more exciting.’

  I didn’t like this. ‘What’s he asked you to do?’

  Gamble grinned. ‘Well. I’ve said I’ll do one thing for him, right, but then I’ve also done this other thing that he doesn’t know about cos I thought two things are better than one and …’

  Before he could finish, he was interrupted by Mrs McDonald. ‘Good morning. As you know, we haven’t had any time to prepare our leavers’ assembly …’ She pursed her lips and glanced at Trevor. ‘So when it’s your turn to speak in there, just stand up and say what your favourite memory of the school has been. It’ll have to do.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs McDumbledore,’ said Trevor, ‘we’ve got a plan to make it more exciting. Ain’t that right, Jason?’

  Jason cleared his throat and looked around him. It was the first time I’d ever seen him looking unconfident. ‘T-Bone,’ he said to Trevor, ‘I’ve been thinking and maybe we ain’t doing the right thing …’

  Trevor spoke through gritted teeth, without moving his lips. ‘Jason. Not here, in front of everybody. We’ve been through this a million times. You want this show to make it on to TV, don’t you? You want to be famous?’

  Jason looked around. Everyone was staring at him and wondering what was going on. ‘It’s just … that one’s OK but …’

  ‘Stick to the plan,’ snapped Trevor, who really seemed to be getting cross now. ‘Rules three, four, five and eight, remember?’

  Jason took a deep breath. ‘OK.’

  ‘Are you OK, Jason?’ asked Rosie Taylor. ‘I mean, if you need me to kiss anything better, you only have to ask. And by the way there are only a few hours till the prom and you haven’t got a date yet so I can always …’

  Jason looked at the floor.

  ‘It’s all under control,’ Trevor said to Rosie.

  Rosie pursed her slug’s bum mouth and strutted back to her seat. ‘He’d better not ask Vanya or you’re dead,’ she hissed at me.

  Me? I thought. Geez. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Vanya wasn’t even talking to me, so I didn’t know how I was supposed to take her to the prom.

  Actually, I wasn’t fussed about what Rosie had said – she threatens to kill me at least six times a day. No, I was more interested in two other things:

  – What exactly was Gamble going to do to help Trevor? He said he’d agreed to do one thing to help him, and he’d come up with another favour as a surprise. This wasn’t good. Gamble’s surprises normally involve something painful or disgusting or both. Like that time when he brought all his old baby teeth into school and hid them in my cheese butty.

  – What was Trevor on about to Jason? Rules three, four, five and eight? Now what were they? Hmm … have a love interest … you’ve got to like the main character … err … rivalry and competition.

  And the last one was … oh no. My skin turned cold.

  Rule eight: you need a good villain.

  I already knew that the villain was me. But what were they going to do to me?

  I suddenly felt very worried about the leavers’ assembly.

  Leavers’ Assembly

  Normally, the leavers’ assembly is a big show-stopping thing with songs, speeches, funny sketches and cute photos from when the Year Sixes were little. Because the TV show had taken up the whole week and given us hardly any time to prepare, this one was a lot less exciting.

  Well, until the end anyway.

  The whole school was crammed into the hall, with all the parents on chairs at the back. My mum was in the front row of the chairs, loudly crying her eyes out and wailing that her little baby boy was all grown up, which was totally embarrassing. Gamble’s mum and dad hadn’t turned up. Apparently, his big brother Spud was in hospital after eating a tablet last night.

  ‘Oh no!’ I said to him as we sat down. ‘That’s really bad. You shouldn’t eat medicine if it’s not meant for you.

  ‘Medicine?’ Gamble asked, looking at me funny. ‘No! Not that kind of tablet! I mean, he bit a chunk out of his iPad cos it wouldn’t work after it fell down the bog.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. The entire family is nuts.

  Anyway, the assembly was pretty lame. We were on benches at the front, and we all had to stand up and take turns to speak into a microphone. My favourite memory was when I almost got to eat a double doughnut (I didn’t mention that it was shortly followed by my least favourite memory). Gamble’s was the day he set fire to Miss Clegg while she napped in class (you can imagine how fast Mr Gibbons was writing on his clip
board when he said this). Rosie had two favourite moments – the day Jason returned to school and that time when I fell down the stairs in Year Two. Kevin Vomasaurus Retch Harrison said his best memory was when he got out of cross country by drinking three litres of banana milkshake and spewing into his PE bag.

  Then it was Jason’s turn. For some reason I didn’t like or understand, Trevor had insisted on Jason sitting next to me. Of course, Jason didn’t use the same microphone as everybody else. He had one of those special, professional ones with a little earpiece and a tiny straw thing that sticks to the side of your cheek. He always used one on BRT so he could dance and sing at the same time.

  Still looking nervous, he stood up. It was really weird – it wasn’t like him to lack confidence at all. The camerawoman was filming him from the side. He cleared his throat and looked over at Trevor.

  ‘I ain’t sure …’ he croaked.

  There were a few mutters in the audience. Some of the mums went aaaaawwwww.

  In front of everybody, Trevor strode over and spoke to him in a low voice. Even right next to them, I could only hear the odd word: ‘… just follow the plan … do as you’re told … want to be famous, don’t you?’

  It was clear that Trevor was losing patience with him.

  What was going on?

  ‘OK,’ said Jason, taking a deep breath. He slapped himself in the face and wiggled his massive hair. It seemed to give him new belief in himself. ‘Yo yo yo!’ he said, drabbing the audience.

  They all drabbed back.

  He swallowed. ‘Turns out my best moment ain’t happened yet.’

  Everyone went oooohh. The camerawoman stepped closer.

  ‘Now y’all know I ain’t chosen my date for tonight. I wanted to leave it till the last minute.’

  Ooooh, said everyone again.

  He looked over at Trevor, who gave him the thumbs up and mouthed: perfect.

  I didn’t like this at all.

  Jason swallowed hard. ‘So I got a tough choice to make between two beautiful girls. Stand up, Vanya and Rosie.’

  There were two things wrong with what he’d just said. First of all I didn’t want him going to the prom with Vanya, even if she hated me. And secondly, Rosie? Beautiful? ? It’s not nice to say it, but she looks like a terrified emu.