Worst Ever School Trip

by Hutchinson Barry

  Beside him Wayne slowly turned back to look at me. There was an expression of demented glee on his face. “Thanks, Miss,” he said. “I’m sure Dylan and I are going to have a lot of fun together.” Wayne winked at me. “We’re going to get on like a house on fire.”

  “Yes,” I whispered, swallowing nervously. “He’ll be the flames and I’ll be all the people running about screaming.”

  I slumped down in the seat and stared at the traffic whizzing past on the motorway.

  “It might not be that bad,” said Theo. “Maybe Wayne does just want to be friends.”

  I met Theo’s gaze and raised my eyebrows.

  “No, you’re right,” Theo said. “You’re a dead man.”

  “It’s not just Wayne,” I whispered. “Without you to cover for me, there’s no saying what sort of trouble my truth-telling is going to get me into!”

  “Loads, probably,” said Theo.

  “Exactly.”

  “I mean, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “That’s really not helping.” I looked around the coach. “You’re an expert on these things,” I said. “Does this coach have an escape pod?”

  Theo shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

  “No, didn’t think so,” I said glumly. I went back to staring at the passing traffic, part of me wishing I hadn’t managed to get that permission slip signed after all.

  To anyone over the age of eight, Learning Land isn’t so much a fun-packed theme park, as a misery-laden form of punishment. The beauty of theme parks – the whole point of theme parks – is the fast-paced rides that hurtle you around until you throw up.

  Learning Land’s rides don’t make many people throw up, but they’ve probably made a few people die of boredom. Imagine a theme park designed by a headteacher and you’d be pretty close. Only a really dull headteacher who hated theme parks. And fun. And children.

  Mum and Dad had taken Jodie and me there when I was about six and it had very nearly put me off theme parks for life.

  There was one roller coaster, which travelled at about four miles per hour and stopped every thirty seconds until someone on board shouted out the answer to a randomly generated sum.

  The log flume didn’t plunge riders into icy water, but gently glided them down into colourful bubbles. This apparently taught them something about science, but I have no idea what.

  Even the sideshow stalls were education-based. Throw a dart at the correct capital city! Hook the reigning British monarch of 1862! Knock down the incorrect letters in these commonly misspelled words! It was dire.

  Despite that, there was a massive queue at the gates when we finally arrived. Hundreds of primary school kids were lined up, all waiting to get inside. We towered above them like giants. Every few seconds one of the younger kids glanced nervously at us like we might jump on them and start eating them or something.

  “What’s the hold-up?” Theo wondered as we waited in line. We’d been queuing for twenty minutes and I’d stuck to Theo like glue. If I had to be partnered up with Wayne, I was going to delay it as long as I possibly could.

  I tucked my clipboard under my arm and peered over the heads of the kids in front – which wasn’t difficult, as they were all about four feet tall. At the gates, one of the park’s staff was interrogating a worried-looking boy.

  “It’s always slow,” I said to Theo. “The gate staff ask you a question before they let you in.”

  Theo frowned. “What sort of question?”

  “A maths question. Or geography. Or something. I can’t really remember,” I said. “It’s part of the whole learning theme.”

  “I hope I don’t get history,” Theo said.

  “It’s for primary school kids. It’s not going to be difficult,” I assured him, just as another gate opened up.

  Everyone from my bus made a run for the new gate, clipboards flapping as we rushed to be the first in line. I’ve got no idea why we were all in such a hurry, as none of us actually wanted to get inside. It isn’t easy to resist a new queue, though.

  Theo and I arrived two or three places behind the leaders, who cheered with triumph as the woman on the gate took their tickets.

  “Welcome to Learning Land,” the woman smiled. She glanced along the queue, clearly surprised by the size of us all. “Get ready to enter our wondrous world of wonder, but before you do … what’s eight plus six?”

  “Fourteen,” said the girl at the front. The staff member smiled, then stamped the girl’s hand and ushered her through the gate.

  “What’s the capital of England?” she asked the next kid in the queue.

  “London!” the boy replied. He got a stamp, and in he went.

  “See? It’s easy,” I said, as the person in front of us managed to spell ‘house’ correctly.

  The woman turned to me. “Which US president famously couldn’t tell a lie?” she asked.

  I blinked in surprise. The woman kept smiling at me expectantly. “Um, George Washington,” I said. I felt the stamp press down on my hand. The woman gave me a map of the park, then stepped aside to let me through.

  “Another history question,” she said, turning to Theo.

  “Oh. Yay,” Theo said.

  “Name the Prussian chancellor who united the disparate Germanic states in the mid-1800s.”

  Theo’s jaw dropped. He looked at me, but I could only shrug. “Um … I don’t know,” he said. The staff member smiled at him encouragingly.

  “Go on. Have a guess,” she said.

  Theo puffed out his cheeks. “Brian?” he said. “Brian something?”

  “BZZZZZZ!” cried the woman, making half the queue jump in fright. “Wrong! Let’s try a different one. Which sixteenth-century poet famously said—”

  “I need the toilet,” Theo announced, thrusting his hand out towards her.

  “No, he doesn’t,” I said, then quickly clamped my hand over my mouth.

  The woman looked Theo up and down. He hopped anxiously from foot to foot. “I’m desperate,” he said. “It’s going to come out.”

  She stepped back and hurriedly stamped his hand. Theo dashed through the gate and we walked over to join the rest of our class and wait for the others.

  “How come I got those questions?” Theo asked. “I got as far as ‘name the’ on the first one, then she lost me.”

  “Speaking of losing people,” I said. “Let’s sneak away before Wayne gets through.”

  “Could be risky,” Theo said.

  “Risky?” I yelped. “Not as risky as teaming up with that lunatic.”

  “What lunatic is that then?” growled a voice right behind me. I froze, too terrified to turn round.

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” I whispered. Theo nodded slowly. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I thought so.”

  I shuffled round in a half-circle to find Wayne grinning. I was sure he was going to lunge at me and mash me into a lumpy paste there and then, but then I saw Mrs Rose approaching and knew I was safe. For the moment, at least.

  “Wayne, Dylan, you’ve found each other. Good,” she said. “Theo, Duncan’s over there by the bench. Dancing, for some reason. Go and join him.”

  Theo shot me a concerned look. “Uh, I’ll see you at lunchtime,” he mumbled. He glanced at Wayne. “Hopefully.”

  Giving me an encouraging smile, Theo walked over to where Duncan was jigging about merrily on the spot.

  Mrs Rose nodded at my clipboard. “Don’t forget to write up your report about the trip as you go,” she said. “We’re not just here for fun, you know.”

  I glanced around at the tame rides and boring sideshows. “Just as well.”

  “And remember, Dylan – best behaviour,” the teacher said, jabbing a red-polished fingernail in my direction. “This is a great opportunity for you two to become friends. If I hear you’ve been bullying Wayne, I will not be happy. Understood?”

  “I’m not going to bully Wayne,” I said truthfully.

  “I’m sure he won’t, Miss,�
� said Wayne.

  Mrs Rose smiled warmly at him. “Oh, Wayne. Such a kind, sensitive boy.” Her face twisted into a snarl as she turned back to me. “You had better not upset him. Is that clear, Dylan?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good. That’s settled, then,” she said. She shot me a final warning look then turned to address the whole group.

  Mrs Rose was halfway through telling us how we were all ambassadors for the school when Wayne’s fingers wrapped round the back of my neck. “Come on, we’re getting out of here,” he said, his voice a scratchy whisper in my ear.

  “I think we should probably stay,” I protested, but Wayne half dragged, half shoved me away from the rest of the group and we were soon lost in a crowd of overexcited six-year-olds and their frazzled teachers.

  When we were safely out of sight of the others, Wayne steered me down an alleyway between two rows of sideshow stalls. “Where are you taking me?” I asked, suspecting it wasn’t going to be anywhere nice.

  “To explore the park, of course,” he said. “We’re going to have lots of fun together today, Beaky. We’re going to have a real laugh.” He leaned in so close I could smell his stale breath. “Or I am, anyway.”

  He released his grip, then thrust his clipboard at me. I yelped and held my hands up to shield myself, before realizing he wasn’t hitting me with it. “Take that,” he said. “You can write my report for me.”

  I looked down at the clipboard and the lined paper attached to it. “I can’t,” I said.

  Wayne growled. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  I gulped. “An old woman put me in a magic machine and now I can’t tell lies and an invisible force stops me writing stuff that isn’t true.”

  Wayne’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to question the story, but then shook his head. “Whatever,” he said. “Just get it done. And you can carry my jacket, too.”

  He tossed his scrunched-up jacket at me then spun round and clapped his hands. “Now, are there any decent rides in this place or what?”

  I was about to tell him there weren’t, when something caught my eye. It had been a few years since my one and only visit to Learning Land and since then it seemed they’d built a new ride. It rose high above the rest of the park, a teetering tower of metal and glass.

  “Gravity Drop,” I said, reading the sign mounted on the top of the tower. Right below the sign was a glass elevator. A dozen or so kids stood inside it, all gripping handrails. “I wonder what that one does,” I said, then jumped as the elevator dropped and everyone inside it began to scream.

  The lift hurtled downwards at breakneck speed, and I was convinced it was going to smash into the ground. Just before it did, though, there was a hiss of hydraulics and the elevator slowed to a gentle stop. The doors opened and the children raced out, laughing and whooping with delight.

  I glanced at Wayne. “That one looks pretty exciting,” I said. “Too exciting, if anything.”

  Wayne shifted uneasily. He licked his lips, which suddenly looked very dry. “What, that thing? Nah. That’s well tame. Besides, the queue’s probably massive.”

  I peered over at the ride entrance. “There’s no one there,” I said.

  Wayne rounded on me. “I said we’re not doing it, all right?” he growled. “That’s a baby’s ride. For babies. Do I look like a baby to you?”

  “No,” I said. “But didn’t your mum make you wear pull-ups for a fortnight after you wet yourself?”

  “Have you got a death wish or something?” Wayne snarled, suddenly right in my face again. As he drew back his fist there was a flurry of movement behind him, followed by a loud honk and a high-pitched laugh that made Wayne’s faceturn ash-grey.

  “Crack a smile, wipe away that frown, have some fun with this clued-up clown!” giggled a voice.

  Slowly Wayne lowered his fist and turned. A tall figure with curly orange hair and a shiny green outfit leered at us from behind a red nose. He jigged towards us, his massive shoes flapping noisily on the ground, his pom-pom buttons bouncing up and down.

  “I’m the hip, cool clown with the clued-up act,” Clumso sang, his mouth fixed in an impossibly wide grin. “Now pin back your ears and I’ll give you a fact!”

  Wayne tried to dodge past but Clumso blocked his path. The clown’s face was painted white, with rings of purple and green round his eyes. “Not so fast, young man!” Clumso said, still giggling. I had to admit, I could almost see why Wayne’s bladder control had failed him last time. Clumso was pretty creepy up close.

  “Learning Land’s not just for fun, so hear my fact before you run!” Clumso said. His rhymes were so rubbish, I was starting to wonder if my dad had written them.

  “I don’t care. Leave me alone, you big freak,” Wayne said, trying to get past again.

  Clumso blocked his path once more, a flicker of irritation passing behind his face paint. “Well, it’s in Clumso’s job description,” the clown said, the humour going out of his voice. “So just do me a favour and listen, all right?”

  His smile returned. “An animal fact, I think I’ll reveal!” he began, just as Wayne swung back a leg and kicked him on the shin.

  “Argh! You little…” Clumso began, hopping on one massive shoe. Wayne shoved the clown hard in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

  I glanced around, expecting to find teachers and park security all charging towards us, but no one seemed to have noticed Wayne roughing Clumso up.

  “Come on. Run!” Wayne cried, grabbing me by the sleeve. Clumso was struggling back to his feet, his smile now replaced by an angry scowl. Wayne powered forwards, dragging me along behind him.

  “Get back here, you little hooligans!” Clumso bellowed, but Wayne had no intention of stopping. We sprinted round a bend and were confronted by a sea of children half our size. Clumso’s shoes would slow him down, but we’d stick out like sore thumbs in this crowd.

  “We have to hide!” Wayne said, his eyes darting frantically around us. “We have to hide!”

  “I’m sure if we just apologize, he’ll understand,” I said. Wayne looked at me like I’d just suggested impaling a load of puppies on spikes.

  “Are you insane?” he gasped. He pointed back in the direction we’d come from. “He can’t be reasoned with. He can’t be bargained with. He doesn’t feel pity or remorse or fear and he absolutely will not stop. Ever.”

  I shot him a doubtful look. “I think you’re getting Clumso the Clown mixed up with the Terminator.”

  “Whatever,” Wayne scowled. He was starting to look frantic now. “We need to find somewhere to hide – fast.”

  “How about there?” I said, pointing to a little train ride a short distance away on the right. There were a few empty carriages sitting on the tracks, all designed to look like individual old-fashioned steam engines. “We could hide in one of them.”

  Wayne didn’t wait to be told twice. He tore off towards the train, shoving smaller kids out of his way. I ran behind him, apologizing to the six-year-olds that came flying past me.

  I caught up with Wayne at one of the empty carriages. He ducked inside, then let out a squeal of panic when he saw the face of Clumso grinning back at him.

  “It’s just a painting,” I said, but then we heard the real Clumso not too far away.

  “Where did you go, you little thugs?”

  At the sound of the clown’s voice, we both ducked out of sight. I had to admit, I was seeing Clumso in a whole new light, and even though I wasn’t quite at the peeing-my-pants stage, my heart was racing in panic.

  First I’d been partnered with Wayne and now I was being hunted down by an angry, learning-obsessed clown.

  “Seriously,” I whispered. “Could today get any worse?”

  Which, in hindsight, was a silly question.

  We kept low, holding our breath, listening for any sign that Clumso had found us. Other than the clatter of the rides and the excited chatter of the younger kids, though, it was hard to hear much o
f anything.

  “Has he gone?” Wayne whispered, after several long seconds had passed.

  “Dunno,” I said.

  “Well look, then,” Wayne growled.

  “You look,” I said, but then Wayne punched me hard on the arm.

  “Fine, I’ll look,” I grumbled. Cautiously I peeped over the top of the carriage.

  I could see Clumso in the distance. He was still hunting for us, but was walking in completely the wrong direction.

  “It’s OK. He’s gone,” I said. “You can relax.”

  “I was perfectly relaxed,” Wayne said. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Nothing, just—”

  “Just what?” Wayne demanded. “Are you saying I was scared?”

  “Yes!” I cried, despite my best efforts not to. “You were terrified. I thought you were going to wet yourself again.”

  “I wasn’t scared,” Wayne said, grabbing me by the front of my school jumper. “I’m not scared of nothing.”

  Our carriage gave a sudden lurch and Wayne almost jumped into my arms.

  “What’s happening? Is it Clumso?” he gasped. “It’s Clumso, isn’t it? We’re going to die!”

  “The ride’s starting, that’s all,” I said, pushing him off me.

  “What? No. I’m not going on a stupid kids’ ride,” Wayne said, as the carriage clattered slowly round a bend in the track. He moved to climb out, but a member of staff shouted at him from the platform.

  “Sit down! Arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times.”

  “Come on, sit down,” I said. “If we’re on here there’s less chance of Clumso finding us.”