When we reached the picnic area, most of our group were already there, munching through their packed lunches. Mrs Rose rushed over to us almost immediately, looking us both up and down.
“How are things going with you two?” she asked, shooting me an accusing glare. “Is everything all…?” She stopped when the smell of vomit hit her. “What on earth happened?” she asked, covering her nose with a crinkled old piece of tissue.
“A little girl was sick on one of the rides,” I said.
“Yeah, because Dylan made her sick,” Wayne said.
“What? No, I didn’t!” I spluttered. “What did I do, stick my fingers down her throat?”
Wayne visibly flinched, as if terrified I was about to hit him. Man, he was good. He quickly shook his head. “N-no, but you kept telling her about how fast it went and how scary it was. The poor girl was terrified.”
I stared at him in disbelief, my mouth flapping open and closed like the animatronic Clumso’s. “No, but… That’s not… I mean…”
“Why am I not surprised?” Mrs Rose snapped. She took Wayne’s jacket from me, being careful not to get puke on her hands. “And I suppose you stole this off poor Wayne to protect yourself, did you?”
I began to protest but she silenced me with a wave of her hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Dylan. You have no idea how angry I am right now.” She handed Wayne his jacket. “Off you go to the toilet and get cleaned up, Wayne.” She shot me a final glare. “And I’ll deal with you later.”
As Mrs Rose stormed off to deal with some other pupils who were play-fighting on one of the benches, Wayne slammed his ruined jacket into the bin beside us. “Don’t go anywhere,” he warned me. “And get working on my report.”
He headed for the toilets, glancing back at me every few paces to make sure I hadn’t made a run for it. I slumped down on to a low wall and Theo sat next to me. Duncan perched himself at the far end and started tucking into his lunch.
“Fun day, then?” Theo said, as we both took a bite of our sandwiches.
“You have no idea,” I muttered. I glanced from side to side, then leaned in close. “But I think Madame Shirley’s in the park.”
Theo swallowed his bite of sandwich. “Wow. Really?” He took another bite and chewed slowly. “Who’s Madame Shirley again?”
“The shop! The magic box,” I whispered. “The woman who took away my ability to lie.”
“Got you. Her. Right,” Theo said. “What makes you think she’s in the park?”
“I saw a crisp bag,” I said.
Theo paused with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Is that the one you asked me about?”
I nodded. “Yep. Pickled onion.”
“Oh. Well that definitely proves it,” said Theo. “She’s here all right.”
“Keep an eye out for her,” I said, even though I could tell he was being sarcastic. “She looks like a scarecrow who’s recently had a surprise.”
“Will do.”
I was about to have another bite of my sandwich when Wayne appeared beside me. His face and hair were wet from where he’d obviously run his head under a tap and he’d made an effort to clean the vomit off his jumper and his trousers. It hadn’t really worked very well, though, and now he looked damp and puke-stained, as opposed to just puke-stained.
He caught me by the arm and yanked me to my feet, scattering my lunch everywhere.
“Hey, watch it,” I protested, bracing myself for a sneaky rabbit-punch to the stomach. When I saw Wayne’s face, though, I knew he wasn’t there to beat me up.
“He’s found us. I don’t know how, but he’s found us,” Wayne babbled.
He pointed across the plaza and there, thundering towards us with his curly orange hair blowing behind him, was Clumso the Clued-up Clown.
We ran.
Wayne, still dripping wet, powered ahead, dragging me behind him. He drove straight through crowds of younger kids like they were skittles, scattering them in all directions.
After a couple of minutes of frantic racing, Wayne slowed to a fast walk and released his grip on me.
“That was close,” he wheezed. “He almost got us.”
“What exactly do you think he’s going to do if he does catch up with us?” I wondered. At most, I thought he’d bring us to a teacher and tell them what we – well, Wayne – had done. As I was already being blamed for forcing an eight-year-old to vomit on someone, getting shouted at for assaulting a clown didn’t seem like that much of a big deal.
“Kill us and eat us, probably,” Wayne said.
I started to laugh, then realized he was being deadly serious. “Um, I’m not sure he will.”
Wayne nodded quickly. “That’s what he does. My big brother told me years ago,” he said.
“Ah. Right. I think maybe we’ve found the problem,” I said. “I think your big brother might have been winding you up.”
Wayne spun to face me, fists clenched, mouth snarling. “Are you calling my big brother a liar?”
I held up my hands, trying to calm him. “Yes. He’s absolutely a liar,” I said. “Or possibly insane.” I flinched. “Which sounds bad when I say it out loud, I admit.”
“My brother wouldn’t lie to me about something like that. He’s a good bloke and he told me that Clumso kills and eats people,” Wayne said.
“When did he say this?”I asked.
“When I was four,” Wayne told me. “Just before he went to jail.”
I shrugged. There was clearly no point trying to reason with him. “We’d best keep out of his way, then.”
“Ssh! Shut up! Don’t say anything!” Wayne hissed. His furious glare turned into a beaming smile as he waved at two girls from our class who were passing nearby. “Hi, Chloe!” he called. “Hi, uh, other one.”
Chloe Donovan was generally considered to be the most fanciable girl in our year. I didn’t see it myself – I mean, she was no Miss Gavistock the dinner lady – but her blond curls, blue eyes and button nose seemed to do it for lots of the other boys. Wayne included, by the looks of him.
“Hey. How’s it going? I didn’t see you at lunch,” Wayne said, bounding up to the girls like an excited puppy. He completely ignored Chloe’s friend, Evie, but then Evie wasn’t in to make-up and hair extensions and that kind of stuff and had probably grown used to being eclipsed by Chloe.
“Have lunch with those losers? I don’t think so,” Chloe said. She looked Wayne up and down. “And OMG, ew. What happened to you?”
“A kid threw up on him,” I said. “Three times.”
“Shut up, Beaky,” Wayne threw me a warning look.
“It went in his hair and everything. I think a bit went in his mouth,” I added, jumping back just in time to avoid getting a dead arm.
“Ew, that’s revolting,” Chloe said, practically sticking her nose in the air. “Come on, Evie,” she said. “Let’s go before they puke on us.”
“We didn’t puke on anyone!” I protested.
“I’d never puke on you, Chloe,” Wayne blurted. “You know, unless you wanted me to.” He looked shocked by the words coming out of his mouth, like they were projectile vomiting out of him and he couldn’t stop it. “Why would you want me to do that? I mean, you wouldn’t, would you? That would be mental. I wouldn’t do it even if you asked me to. No way. I’m not going to puke on you and that’s final.”
Chloe and Evie both stared at him, open-mouthed. Wayne cleared his throat and gave a brief wave. “See you later.”
“Smooth,” I said as we watched them hurry away.
Wayne spun round and grabbed my jumper. “Why’d you tell her that stuff? About me being puked on.”
“You stink of vomit,” I wheezed through my narrowed windpipe. “She’d n-noticed before I’d said anything. B-besides, it was better that than I t-told her you fancy her.”
“I do not!” Wayne growled, squeezing harder.
“Y-yes, you do,” I croaked.
I held Wayne’s gaze, and after a few more seconds of sna
rling he released his grip. I rubbed at my throat, gulping down lungfuls of air. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Pretty much everyone fancies her. She could have her pick of the boys in our year. Which means you probably don’t have any chance. Sorry.”
“You’d better not tell anyone,” Wayne said.
“I probably will,” I admitted. “I’ll probably tell everyone.”
Wayne started to lunge for me again, but then a crowd of old people rolled past on little motorized scooters. As the electric vehicles hummed quietly on their way, a couple of the grey-haired grannies gave us a wave.
“Check out the zombie invasion,” Wayne muttered.
“What are they doing here?” I wondered. “I’m pretty sure none of them are still in primary school.”
“And what, you think they remember anything they learned back then?” Wayne snorted. “Half of them probably don’t remember their own name.”
The scooters trundled across the park, headed for an area we hadn’t explored yet. As I watched, one of them banked off to the left, leaving the rest of the group behind.
Slowly I stepped forwards, staring at the woman riding that scooter. I could only see the back of her head, but there was something very familiar about her startled-scarecrow hairstyle.
Could it be…?
The scooter stopped near It’s a Funny Old World – a pedalo boat ride through an artificial cave, designed to teach kids about geography or nature or something. The woman sprang from her seat like she was twenty years old, then hurried for the entrance. It’s a Funny Old World was the dullest ride in the park (which was really saying something), so the woman didn’t have to waste any time queuing. If anything, the staff member at the entrance looked surprised to see someone approaching.
Just before the woman ducked inside, she glanced back at me and I got a better look at her face. Her very familiar face.
“Madame Shirley,” I whispered. It was her, I was sure of it.
I set off running, leaving Wayne somewhere behind as I called to the old woman at the top of my voice. “Hey! Wait! Stop!”
She was already through the entrance, though, and either she didn’t hear or she was ignoring my shouts.
If the man staffing the ride entrance was surprised to have one visitor, he was even more shocked when I came running up. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I want to go on the ride,” I said hurriedly.
“Really?” he asked, frowning. He jabbed a thumb towards the archway behind him. “On this?”
I nodded and the man shrugged, then stepped aside.
“Knock yourself out,” he said.
I was about to rush through when Wayne caught my arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
“Let go, Wayne. I’m going on this ride,” I said.
“No, you’re not,” Wayne growled. He said it with such menace in his voice that I almost caved in and let him lead me away. But then I spotted something over Wayne’s shoulder and I knew I’d won.
I pulled my arm away sharply. “Yes, Wayne, I am. I’m going on this ride and you’re not going to stop me.”
Wayne stepped closer. “What? You think I’m scared of you?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I think you’re scared of him.”
I pointed past Wayne to where Clumso the Clued-up Clown was half running, half waddling across the park. From the way he was looking around, I didn’t think he’d spotted us, but it was only a matter of time.
“So you can either stay out here and deal with Clumso or come on this ride,” I said. “Your call.”
I turned away and marched through the archway to where the pedalo boats were tied up. My heart was thumping against my ribs but Wayne didn’t scare me nearly as much as the thought of losing Madame Shirley did.
“Hurry up!” I told him, jumping into the little red and green boat. Muttering angrily, Wayne clambered into the seat next to me and my legs pumped furiously as I powered us onwards into the dark.
The tunnel we pedalled into was almost completely in darkness, except for the strips of light below the surface of the shallow water showing us which direction to go. The glow rippled on the walls of the tunnel, which had been designed to make the place look like a rocky cave.
I could hear the splashing of Madame Shirley’s boat somewhere in the gloom up ahead and pedalled faster, trying to catch up. Wayne sat back, letting me do all the work and occasionally scooping up a handful of water to flick in my face.
“What d’you want to go on this thing for?” he asked. “It’s rubbish.”
I tried to reply but I was too out of breath. My leg muscles were already burning but I powered the pedals round, faster and faster. Up ahead, I caught a glimpse of the other boat slicing gracefully through the water, then it was lost round a bend in the river.
Huffing and puffing, I gave chase. I could still hear the water lapping against the sides of Madame Shirley’s boat but now I could hear other sounds, too. Singing. Laughter. And the whirring of animatronics.
Suddenly I remembered exactly what the It’s a Funny Old World ride was all about.
“Um, you might want to shut your eyes,” I said, as we banked round the bend and straight into Wayne’s worst nightmare.
Thousands of doll-sized Clumsos lined the banks of the river. They were all wearing little costumes based on the national dress of various countries. There were Clumsos in lederhosen, Clumsos in kilts and bearded Clumsos wearing turbans.
An Inuit Clumso was sitting on a block of ice, dangling a fishing rod into the water. Behind him, a matador Clumso was being chased round in circles by a snorting plastic bull. At some point, someone had clearly decided the whole thing would be completely adorable, but as a thousand tiny robot clowns spun their heads our way I very nearly lost bladder control myself.
All the Clumsos were lit from below, casting their shiny plastic faces into dark, shadowy masks. Only the red noses and grins were visible on most of them, their mouths snapping open and closed as they sang:
Wherever you may go,
There’s a Clumso!
In country or in town,
There’s a clown!
Whatever you may do,
There’s a Clumso watching you,
He’ll help you turn your frown
right upside down!
I glanced at Wayne and found him hugging himself and shaking his head as he rocked back and forth. He squealed as dozens of fish-tailed merclowns erupted from below the water all around us, giggling as they spun in circles.
Clum-so, Clued-up Clum-so,
He’ll take you on a trip, don’t you know?
Clum-so, Clued-up Clum-so,
He’s right behind wherever you may go!
“I’ve died, haven’t I?” Wayne whimpered, sliding down in his chair so he couldn’t see the clowns twirling through the water. “That’s it. The bus crashed, or … or I fell off this boat and drowned or something. I’m dead. This is hell.”
“Get a grip of yourself, Wayne,” I told him. “It’s nothing to freak out about. It’s just several hundred mechanical clowns wearing traditional costumes and, in the case of that one,” I said, pointing to a tartan-clad Clumso wielding a broadsword, “carrying traditional weapons.”
I nodded towards his feet. “The faster we pedal, the faster we can get through it.”
Wayne was too far gone to pedal, though. He cowered in his seat, covering his head with his hands and mumbling incoherently. I could just make out Madame Shirley’s boat up ahead. From where I was sitting it didn’t look like she was even pedalling, yet her boat was slicing easily through the water, pulling ahead with every second that passed.
“Come on, Wayne, I need you to pedal!” I yelped.
Wayne shook his head. “C-can’t move,” he whimpered.
Over the high-pitched singing and giggling of the robo-clowns, I heard another sound. It was the splashing of another pedalo, and it was coming from behind us.
Sti
ll pumping with my legs, I craned my neck round to see who was behind me. There, to my surprise, was the real Clumso. He was pedalling hard and using one of his big shoes to row with.
“It’s Clumso,” I said. “He’s coming.”
Wayne shot me a dirty look through a gap in his fingers. “No he isn’t.”
“He is!” I insisted. “He’s chasing us.”
“You’re lying,” said Wayne, but there was a note of panic in his voice that was hard to miss.
“Why does no one ever believe me?” I sighed. “Just look!”
Hesitantly, Wayne leaned forward in his chair, then turned his head for just a tiny fraction of a second before facing front again.
“See him?” I asked.
“No,” Wayne mumbled.
“You didn’t look properly, did you?” I said.
“I did look properly!”
“Look again!”
“Fine!”
Taking a steadying breath, Wayne turned. He looked over my left shoulder at the river behind us. “There’s no one there,” he said.
“What?” I said. “But he was right—”
THUMP.
Clumso’s boat bumped into ours, just to the left of Wayne. “Got you!” Clumso hissed, as Wayne let out a scream so high-pitched only dogs could hear it.
Kicking in panic, Wayne’s feet found the pedals and he pumped his legs. The pedals under my feet moved, too, spinning so quickly I could barely keep up. Watched by the glassy eyes of hundreds of dancing clown dolls, our pedalo began to pull ahead.
“Faster! Pedal faster!” Wayne hollered, but my feet had slipped from the pedals and they were turning too quickly for me to be able to jump back into the rhythm again.
Worst Ever School Trip Page 7