“Come back!” Clumso cried, his voice echoing around the cavern. “I just want to talk to you!”
“He’s lying,” Wayne gibbered. “He’ll eat us. We have to get out of here!”
We powered around another bend and saw the way out up ahead. Madame Shirley was clambering out of her boat and on to the dockside. “Wait! Don’t go!” I yelped, but she turned and started strolling towards the exit.
Determined to catch her, I managed to find the pedals and we both kicked furiously, gritting our teeth as I chased Madame Shirley and Wayne fled from Clumso the Clued-up Clown.
When we were less than a metre from the dock, Wayne stood up, almost tipping the pedalo over, and hurled himself towards dry land.
“What are you doing?” I cried, in disbelief as his legs pulled in opposite directions. For a moment, he seemed to be leaning at an impossible angle, frantically flapping his arms. Then, with a splash, he hit the water.
He thrashed around in panic, shouting, “I’m drowning! I’m drowning!” before finding he could stand up. When he did, the water barely came up to his knees.
I smiled weakly at him. “Well, at least the rest of the sick’s been washed off.”
Realizing Clumso was closing fast, Wayne scrambled up on to the dock and sprinted towards the exit. With a pretty skilful bit of manoeuvring (if I do say so myself), I brought the boat in close to the edge and hopped out.
I blinked as I raced out of the dark tunnel into the light of the outside. Shielding my eyes, I scanned the park for Madame Shirley, desperately trying to pick her out from the crowd.
“Come on, where are you?” I muttered. “Where are you?”
There! She was sitting on her scooter by the Gravity Drop, leaning back to take in all of the twisting metal staircase that led up to the top. I hurried over, calling her name as I drew closer.
“Madame Shirley! Madame Shirley!”
She didn’t turn. It wasn’t until I clattered up behind her that she gave a little jerk that suggested she’d heard me.
“Hello, dear. Can I help you?” The old woman turned to face me and I felt my heart drop to somewhere around my knees. There was a bit of a resemblance, but up close it was obvious I’d made a mistake.
“You’re not Madame Shirley,” I told her. “You’re just an old woman with mad hair.”
The woman looked a little uncertain, but nodded and smiled. “Er… Madame who, dear?”
“She looks like you but has a magic shop,” I said. “Have you seen her?”
The old woman’s faint eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think so.”
“Pickled onion crisps!” I said.
“I’m sorry?”
“She had loads of pickled onion crisps. And a box that stops you being able to lie.”
The old lady looked at me blankly. “Um … can’t say that’s ringing a bell. Never been fond of crisps, myself. Get stuck in my false teeth.”
I pointed accusingly at her. “Your pedalo was moving by magic!”
“It was an electric one,” the woman said. She patted herself on the thigh. “Legs aren’t what they used to be.”
“Oh,” I said, lowering my arm again. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
The woman rummaged in her pocket. “Mint?” she asked, holding a crumpled paper bag out to me. “They’re extra strong.”
I took one. The fact she wasn’t Madame Shirley was a huge disappointment, so I thought I might as well get a mint out of it.
“Thanks,” I said, popping it in my mouth.
“Well, cheerio, dear,” the woman said, rolling off on her scooter. “I hope you find your friend.”
I gave her a half-hearted little wave and was about to head in the opposite direction when Wayne’s voice growled in my ear.
“Hey, well done,” he said.
“For what?” I asked, not daring to turn round.
Wayne nudged me towards the Gravity Drop entrance. At the bottom of the steps, a chain had been clipped in place, along with a little sign announcing the ride would re-open in 15 minutes.
“You found a closed ride,” Wayne said. “It’ll be nice and quiet up there.”
My throat went dry. My legs shook with panic. This was it – Wayne had me cornered.
With a quick check around to make sure no one was watching, he shoved me towards the chain. “Get up the stairs,” he said.
And with that, we began to climb.
At the top of the stairs was the Gravity Drop itself – a square room with glass walls and a dozen or so straps hanging from the ceiling. Wayne pushed me inside and my legs were so tired from the climb I almost fell over.
“Wow, those stairs were hard work,” I puffed.
Wayne looked at my empty hands. “Where’s my report?”
Oh no! The reports. “I must’ve left them on the pedalo,” I realized.
“What?”
“It’s OK, I hadn’t written anything on yours anyway,” I said truthfully. “And all I’d written on mine was about you beating up Clumso and crying on the train ride.”
If I thought that was going to defuse the situation, I was wrong.
Wayne advanced, fists clenched. “I wasn’t crying,” he spat. “It was a dust allergy!”
“You were definitely crying,” I said, then I winced.
“I didn’t mean to say that. It just came out. Like that wee you did when Clumso turned up in Year Six.”
That did it. Wayne shoved me in the chest and I stumbled back towards one of the big windows. “I’m going to kill you,” he said, so matter-of-factly that I actually believed him.
“Hey, easy, Wayne,” I said, sliding along the window and trying to get away from him. “You don’t want to end up in jail like your brother.”
Wayne’s already dark expression darkened even further. He started advancing then stopped and looked uneasily down at the floor. There were two large glass panels in it, giving a clear view of the ground below. Wayne peered down at them for a few moments, then his head snapped up.
“You’re scared of heights,” I said.
“I told you, I’m not scared of nothing!” he growled. He nervously licked his lips, swallowed hard, then made a grab for me.
I ducked just in time to avoid his grasping fingers. He advanced on me as I backed away across the room.
“We can talk about this,” I said. “This doesn’t have to end with anyone getting hurt. Especially me.”
“Do you know how hard I’ve worked to make all the teachers think I’m one of the good guys?” Wayne asked, shuffling across the floor and giving the glass panels a wide berth. “Do you know how much effort that takes?”
“A lot?” I guessed.
Wayne nodded. “That’s right. A lot. They all think I’m the perfect student, so how is it going to look when I don’t turn in my report? It’s going to blow my cover, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. A bit,” I babbled, still backing off.
“So you’re going to tell them you threw it away,” Wayne said. “And that you pushed me into the water.”
“I can’t say that,” I told him.
“You’d better!”
“No, I can’t. It’s like I tried to tell you earlier – I can’t tell a lie. Something happened to me at the weekend – I can’t really explain it, because I don’t understand it, but now I can’t lie.”
Wayne stopped advancing and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
I sighed. “No one ever does. But it’s true,” I said. “You could say those things, though. You could say I chucked away your work and pushed you in the water. I mean, you were probably going to, anyway, because you’re a horrible creep, but—”
My back bumped against the glass on the other side of the room and I realized I had nowhere left to go. With a final few unsteady steps, Wayne was right in front of me. I tried to slide sideways but he slammed a hand against the glass wall, blocking my escape.
I swallowed. “If the teacher sees me with a black eye, she’ll know it was
you.”
Wayne grinned, showing his yellow teeth. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave a mark. I’ve done this lots of times before.”
“Oh. Well, that’s reassuring,” I whimpered. “At least I’m in the hands of an expert.”
I braced myself for the pain, then spotted a shape heaving itself up the stairs. A colourful shape. With jiggling pom-poms.
“C-Clumso,” I whispered.
Wayne sneered. “Yeah, like I’m going to fall for that,” he began. But then came the unmistakable slapping sound of Clumso’s massive shoes on the floor. Or rather, just one massive shoe. Clumso seemed to have lost the other one. And that was the least of his problems.
His orange wig was peeling off at his temples, revealing a closely cropped skinhead below. Either water or sweat had mixed in with his make-up, which now ran down his face in streaks of purple, green and white.
Clumso’s satin trousers were ripped at both knees and I could see nasty-looking grazes on his skin below. One of his pom-pom buttons had fallen off and there was something else missing, too: his smile. Clumso the Clued-up Clown did not look happy.
Wayne turned then immediately pressed himself up against the glass beside me.
“There you are,” Clumso said, limping towards us. “I’ve been chasing you little thugs all day. Thought you’d give old Clumso the slip, eh? Thought you’d managed to get away?”
The more I saw of Clumso, the more terrifying he was becoming. He’d been mildly unsettling when we’d first met him that morning and he’d given me a fright on the pedalo ride. Now, though, he looked like the deranged villain of a horror movie, with Wayne and me playing his latest victims.
Wayne was trying to say something but all that was coming out was a high-pitched croak. Clumso dragged himself closer. Four metres away. Three. Two. My blood whooshed through my veins. Wayne was right. This was it. I was about to be killed and eaten by a theme park clown mascot.
Clumso stopped and leaned down so his red nose was just centimetres away from us. “I’ve just got one thing to say to you two,” he whispered, his eyes going slowly from Wayne to me and back again. “Cows have four stomachs.”
Wayne and I both started to scream, then stopped. We glanced at one another. “W-what?” I stammered.
Clumso leaned back. “I told you, I’ve got to give you a fact. Cows have four stomachs. There you go.”
With a final glare at us, he turned and began limping back towards the stairs. I had just begun to relax when he spun round, his face a mask of fury.
“HOW MANY STOMACHS DOES A COW HAVE?” he roared.
“F-four!” Wayne and I both yelped at the same time.
Clumso smiled. “Well remembered,” he said, then he winked at us and carried on to the stairs. “Man, I am so quitting this stupid job,” he muttered, beginning the slow climb back down.
Wayne and I stood there in silence, both breathing heavily, still pressed against the glass. It took me almost a full minute to find my voice. “Well, I suppose that could’ve gone a lot worse,” I said.
And then, without warning, the doors in front of the stairs slammed shut and the whole room plunged towards the ground, accompanied by the high-pitched giggle of Clumso the Clued-up Clown.
I’d love to say it was just Wayne who screamed like a five-year-old as the Gravity Drop fell. That would be a lie, though. The truth was that we both squealed and clung to each other in terror as we plummeted towards the ground.
When the brakes kicked in and the ride slowed to a stop, we quickly released our grip on one another and looked in opposite directions, trying to pretend the last few seconds hadn’t happened.
The door slid open and we stepped outside, just in time to see Mrs Rose striding past. “There you are. Come on, it’s home time. Back to the bus.”
I almost cheered. I had done it. I had somehow survived the day with Wayne without him beating me to a pulp. I was safe!
“Just coming, Miss,” Wayne said, smiling sweetly. He waited until she had pulled ahead, then turned to me. “As soon as we’re off that bus and back at school, you’re dead.”
OK, so maybe not that safe.
We made our way back to the coach and everyone rushed to pile on. Theo and I sat down in the same seats we’d sat in earlier.
“You survived then,” Theo said.
“For now,” I mumbled. “But Wayne’s going to kill me when we get back to school.”
“Ah,” said Theo. “That’s unfortunate. Can’t you just tell the teacher?”
I shook my head. “They’ll never believe me. They think I’ve been bullying him!”
“Suppose,” Theo said. “Shame there isn’t a way they could see him like we do.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, then I felt a stirring somewhere at the back of my brain, like a memory was waving its arms about and trying to attract my attention.
See him like we do. See him like we do.
I sat bolt upright in the seat. “Wait! That’s it!”
Frantically, I began to pat the front of my school jumper. “Where is it? Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” Theo asked. He edged away. “Is it a spider? It’s not a spider, is it?”
“No, it’s—Aha!” My hand pressed down on the circle of plastic and glass. The camera was still on my jumper!
Taking out my phone, I checked the open apps and – yes! – there it was. The app had been running since last night, recording everything that had happened.
“We’ve got him,” I gasped. “We’ve got him. Attacking Clumso, threatening me, making that little girl puke. We’ve got everything! I can show Mrs Rose.”
Theo took the phone from me. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “The Journeyman 8228 really is an impressive coach,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Not this again.”
“No, you’ll like this,” he said, tapping at my screen. “As well as the extra leg room, deluxe toilets and all that other stuff, it’s got something else, too.”
“And what’s that?”
Theo grinned and nodded at the TV, which was showing boring countryside scenes. “Bluetooth,” said Theo. He tapped my screen and the image on the TV changed.
All the kids were on board now and Mrs Rose was pacing along the aisle, doing her head count. She stopped when Wayne’s voice came blasting out of the TV.
“Leave me alone, you big freak!”
All eyes went to the screen. The footage was shaky, but everyone could clearly see Wayne just as he booted Clumso in the shins and shoved him to the ground.
“Here, give it to me,” I whispered, taking the phone from Theo. I skipped forwards to the train ride. At the corner of the screen it was just possible to make out Wayne with his hands over his head.
“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened in the world,” the on-screen Wayne sobbed.
Around us, a few kids began to giggle. I skipped forwards again and Wayne’s sneer filled the screen. “Better get writing. Fill my report out. Say that ride was lame,” he said through the TV’s tinny speakers. “Too slow and boring. And if you say anything about me crying, I’ll kill you.”
Mrs Rose turned and looked over at Wayne. “Wayne?” she said. “What is this?”
Wayne opened his mouth to speak but his lies had run out. I skipped ahead again, letting everyone see Wayne tormenting the girl on the ride then lingering on him being splattered with her puke. A big cheer went up at that.
“Who is playing this?” Mrs Rose demanded. My hand went up all by itself.
“Me, Miss,” I said.
She rounded on me, looking furious. “How dare you, Dylan? Recording a fellow pupil without their consent is a direct violation of the school’s rules and privacy policy. You’re in very big trouble.”
“You tell him, Miss,” Wayne said.
Mrs Rose tutted. “Oh, shut up, Wayne. Drop the act. I’ll deal with you when we get back to school,” Mrs Rose snapped, startling Wayne with her tone. She held a hand out to me. “Give me the came
ra.”
“But—”
“Don’t make me ask again, Dylan,” she said. “That’s my only warning.”
I got the feeling she wasn’t kidding. Even Theo gulped. “I’d give her the camera, Beaky.”
Reluctantly I unclipped the spy camera and passed it to her.
She slipped it straight into her pocket without looking at it. “If I ever catch you with anything like that again you’ll be facing expulsion. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Miss,” I said. “I didn’t actually realize I had it on.”
Mrs Rose shook her head. “More lies. Surprise, surprise,” she said, then she about-turned and pressed the power button on the TV, just as Wayne splashed face-first into the water.
“Great. Something else she thinks I’m lying about,” I muttered, sinking back down into my seat. “Guess I should be used to that by now.”
Theo shrugged. “It’s not all bad. Wayne’s going to be in big trouble when we get to school, so he won’t be able to beat you up.”
That was true. I’d saved myself from a beating. Of course he’d catch up with me eventually and he’d be even angrier by then, but I didn’t need to worry about that now.
The front doors of the bus hissed closed and the engine rumbled into life beneath us. The bus had just started to creep forwards when Theo nudged me. “Here, Beaky,” he said. “Who’s that waving at you?”
I leaned over, looking through the window to where he was pointing. An elderly woman with hair like a startled scarecrow and a long, rainbow scarf stood on the pavement. At first, I thought it was the same old woman I’d chased, but when she reached into her pocket and pulled out a packet of pickled onion crisps I looked at her more closely.
Worst Ever School Trip Page 8