The Fincredible Diary of Fin Spencer

by Ciaran Murtagh

  Couldn’t he see I was wearing an X-WING T-shirt? That meant I was only going to play X-WING! I snatched up a guitar, cranked up the amp and let rip.

  Mr Burchester shoved his fingers in his ears and unplugged the amp. Spoilsport. He made me play the xylophone instead. No problem – I can play X-WING on anything.

  Then he took the xylophone away and gave me a triangle.

  Then he took that away and made me sit in the corner sorting out sheet music for the school orchestra. I even managed to make that fun as I made paper aeroplanes out of the music and aimed them at Mr Burchester’s head.

  Then he gave me a red docket and I had to sit outside in the corridor until lunch. WHO CARES? Tomorrow he won’t remember a thing either!

  As we were lining up at lunch, JOSH came over and asked me what I was doing.

  I told him I was having the best day ever. He told me I was being a total jerk. I said he was only feeling sore because I’d called him a dweeb in the spelling test. JOSH said that it wasn’t just that, but everything I was doing was jerky.

  I’d heard enough so I went and sat at the cool table where he wouldn’t be allowed. BRAD shared his crisps with me again. Now I know BRAD’s got a heart of gold if you’re on his side. He’s a loyal friend, no matter what, unlike some people I could mention – JOSH DOYLE.

  BRAD dared me to start a food fight in the canteen. EASY! In five seconds flat we were in the middle of beanageddon! In the saucy carnage BRAD and I managed to escape before the dinner ladies found us.

  Then he dared me to write on the wall in the boys’ toilets. At first I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want BRAD to think I was a scaredy-cat, and besides, loads of people have written on the walls and have never been found out. I reckoned I’d have to be the unluckiest boy in the world to get caught.

  It turned out I WAS THE UNLUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD. Mr Finch, the headmaster, came in just as I’d got my pen out. I started to make my usual excuses but Mr Finch wasn’t listening. BRAD wasn’t holding a pen, so he let him off with a warning.

  I was about to say how unfair that was – I mean I hadn’t even written anything! – when I remembered that none of this mattered anyway! Tomorrow this won’t have happened.

  I let Mr Finch drone on about how disappointed he was with me, how I’d already got two red dockets today and how an afternoon at home might ‘Bring back the FIN we all know and love.’ Which we all know is teacher-speak for ‘You’re usually a dweeb.’

  It was only when he was marching me into his office that I realised he was going to call my parents. He asked for my mum’s or dad’s number and I gave him one of the numbers I know off by heart … It took him a few seconds to realise that Mama’s Pizza and my mum are not the same person.

  He stormed off to get the secretary to call home instead. As he was leaving he told me to have a think about what I’d done. And I did. I thought it was pretty cool! I’d had the courage to do all the things I’d always wanted to do, but had always been too scared to try. I wouldn’t want to do them every day, but today, knowing that it was a one-off that everyone would forget, it was fun!

  When Mum arrived at school she was embarrassed and very, very angry. She blamed my behaviour on the fact that I had eaten seventeen bowls of Coco Snaps that morning. She promised that she’d definitely never buy them again and that from now on I’d be eating Keep Fit cereal for breakfast EVERY MORNING.

  When we got home Mum sent me straight up here to my room, shouting, ‘If you think we’ll be taking you to that concert after this then you’ve another think coming!’

  BRILLIANT! I knew they’d got tickets! Now all I have to do is use the diary to put everything right and I’ll still be on course for X-WING next week. I LOVE THIS DIARY. I just need to write it down, so here goes …

  I want Mrs Johnson to forget ALL about the spelling test and give me back my merits – and of course I want JOSH to forget that I was ever mean to him (even though it was quite a good joke).

  I want Mr Burchester to forget ALL about me misbehaving in music (and to make his next lesson an X-WING special).

  I want the dinner ladies to forget about the food fight.

  I want Mr Finch to forget he ever found me writing on the toilet wall.

  In fact, I want EVERYBODY at school to forget all the naughty, show-offy things I did.

  And I want Mum and Dad to forget everything about today and take me to the concert just like they’d planned. There – that should do the trick. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. I’ll have had a great day today and no one will be any the wiser about what I got up to. I AM A GENIUS!

  I AM NOT A GENIUS.

  As soon as I got downstairs this morning I knew something was wrong. My little sister was smiling at me as if I was in trouble. Her smile was so big I knew I must be in the biggest trouble ever.

  BUT I COULDN’T BE COULD I? This diary should have fixed everything right? No one should remember what I got up to yesterday. I changed it all. So maybe I was in trouble for something completely different that I didn’t even know I’d done yet. That’s what parents are like. Sometimes you never find out what they’re really angry about.

  I decided to pretend that I hadn’t noticed ELLIE’s ‘so big I’m going to eat my face’ grin. Instead I flashed my own big smile at Mum and said, ‘Good morning.’

  Mum stared at me like I’d just used her wedding dress to clean the car and Dad grunted from behind the paper. ELLIE’s smile got even bigger, which I didn’t think was possible. Seriously, it was like she was about to grin her own ears off or something.

  Mum looked at me and started to list everything I did wrong yesterday. That was when I started to get very worried. She hadn’t forgotten a thing, and when she said it out loud like that it sounded BAD.

  I poured myself a massive bowl of Keep Fit cereal and tried to change the subject.

  I asked Dad about ‘Kids Say the Sweetest Things’. He just grunted and turned the page. I really was in big trouble this time. I knew it right down to my spotty Spider-Man underpants.

  Mum said she and Dad were going to have a chat about my behaviour after breakfast and then they’d decide on a ‘suitable course of action’. Which everyone knows is Mum-speak for ‘catapulted into space’, or grounded at the very least.

  Breakfast over, I ran out of the door and off to school. But it was only as I was turning into the school gates that I realised that if Mum and Dad hadn’t forgotten what I did yesterday then nobody at school would have forgotten either. Suddenly I wanted to be whisked off to and live there forever – anything was better than walking through those gates!

  Sure enough, when I got to school Mr Finch was waiting for me at the door. He took me straight to his office and made me apologise for everything. I had to go and see the dinner ladies and Mr Burchester and Mrs Houstoun to apologise. By the time I’d said ‘I’m sorry’ to each of them in turn I was starting to think my name was SORRY SPENCER.

  And all this was before the day had even properly started! Mr Finch also handed me a list of punishments that I had to do at break time and lunchtime. BRILLIANT. I spent the whole of first class trying to be quieter than a human mouse to avoid getting into any more trouble.

  And I spent first break scrubbing writing off the toilet wall. It was so unfair. I didn’t even get to make my own mark first! Normally JOSH would have helped me, but of course he hadn’t forgotten how mean I’d been to him yesterday. When he saw me carrying the bucket and sponge down the corridor he just looked at me and mouthed the words in my direction.

  Thanks, JOSH.

  BRAD was far too cool to be seen washing toilet walls, which is fair enough I guess. He did invite me onto his table at lunch to make up for it but I was too busy picking up litter and sorting out the lost property pile. There’s something about sorting through cheesy clothes that puts you right off your food …

  By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, FINCREDIBLE FIN was a distant memory. Now I was a total loser.

&n
bsp; Only BRAD seemed to think what I did yesterday was cool. I mean, even though he didn’t help me with any of my punishments or anything, it was nice of him to say that and not rub my nose in it like JOSH did. It didn’t really make me feel any better though. I mean, even I thought that all those things I did yesterday made me a total loser. I’d never, ever have done them if I had thought anyone was going to remember.

  I’m glad it’s almost the weekend. Maybe when I go back to school on Monday everyone will have forgotten.

  I walked home on my own. When I got back ELLIE was still smiling, which meant I was still in trouble. Mum and Dad had decided to round off the perfect day by grounding me for THE WHOLE WEEKEND. At first I was angry, but then I remembered that nobody wanted to hang out with me anyway, so what did it matter?

  I don’t understand. I thought this diary would fix everything but it hasn’t! It’s made everything worse. I can’t believe I thought I had a magic diary in the first place. I am a loser. I’m a loser for believing in magic diaries and listening to batty old ladies at funfairs. Whatever strange things have happened over the last couple of days must just be weird coincidences. I should have known. Fincredible things don’t happen to a boy like me.

  Anyway, all of this magic diary business has been very distracting but at least if I’m grounded I’ll have lots of time to practise my stunt-jumping for the talent show next Friday. If I want to win the phone I need to be good. I hope JOSH is practising his guitar playing too. I don’t want him letting me down. I’m going into the garden to practise a few stunt jumps right now …

  Well, that was a bad idea. When I got into the garden I made a ramp out of a bit of the fence that had fallen down and decided to start small by jumping over the flowerbeds. BIG MISTAKE. Turns out I need just a bit more practice.

  When Mum saw that I’d skidded all over her flowers she locked my bike in the shed. PERFECT. How am I supposed to become a stuntboy if I don’t even have a bike?

  My life can’t get any worse. Everyone at school thinks I’m a loser, Mum and Dad have grounded me, I’ll never win the talent show and I’ll probably never taste another bowl of Coco Snaps in my life! STUPID DIARY! Why did I ever start writing it in the first place? Look what trouble it’s got me into! I told you I wasn’t a diary person. Why didn’t I listen? I could write anything and it wouldn’t matter. Watch, here goes:

  I wish my dad would turn bright green, my mum’s hair would fall out and my sister would become a poodle. Oh, and GIVE ME BACK MY BIKE!

  Like that’s going to happen …

  What did I tell you?

  Nothing has changed. Mum still has her hair, Dad is still his usual shade of pink, and my sister is not a poodle. Most importantly, my bike is still very much locked in the shed. I knew nothing would change, but a teeny weeny bit of me hoped that it might.

  This diary has got me into so much trouble. When I realised everything was still the same I thought about throwing it straight in the bin. But then I remembered the future millions it’s going to make me so I’ve decided to keep writing in it until after the talent show at least.

  When I went downstairs this morning Mum and Dad were still cross with me and ELLIE was still grinning like a clown at a custard pie chucking contest.

  To make matters worse ELLIE was being extra polite to Mum and Dad, which only made me look extra naughty by comparison. And that was unfair because I hadn’t even done anything wrong today. It was only nine o’clock!

  Once we’d all had breakfast ELLIE offered to unload the dishwasher. Mum shook her head and said that as I was the one who’d been naughty I should do it. That was just perfect. And all morning, every time ELLIE offered to be helpful, Mum ended up giving me another job to do – and ELLIE knew it so she made the most of it!

  I wanted to go back upstairs, cover my head with the duvet and pretend today wasn’t happening. But no such luck. I’d forgotten that it was Gran’s birthday and we were all going to her house for a party. I had to get changed into ‘something appropriate’. Which we all know is mum-speak for ‘something hideously embarrassing’. By the time she’d finished, I ended up looking like a butler.

  ELLIE came downstairs dressed as Princess Jasmine from a cartoon she’d just watched. And Mum said NOTHING! I wasn’t sure how that counted as ‘something appropriate’ but apparently it did.

  On the way to Gran’s house ELLIE asked Dad if she could choose the music because she’d been such a good girl. She was really rubbing it in. We drove for an hour and a half listening to the new album. Her favourite, is just the worst. I ended up knowing all the words even though I really didn’t want to.

  By the time we got to Gran’s house my ears had melted. I mean, what is a squishy wishy anyway?

  Gran had invited loads of her friends to her party so the garden was full of old people dancing badly to rubbish music. These people knew how to party – NOT! I was about to liven things up and put on X-WING when Gran stopped me and put on ‘Stairway to Heaven’ instead, that song that Mr Burchester was so keen on, which seemed a little bit inconsiderate at a party full of old people, quite frankly. Apparently it didn’t matter what I thought because I wasn’t here to enjoy myself, Mum said. In fact, she told me that as I was grounded, I was lucky to be allowed to come to the party, and I could at least ‘help out’. Which we all know is mum-speak for ‘be her personal slave’.

  Mum handed me a plate of tuna sandwiches and told me to offer it round. I spent the next half an hour trying to force-feed old people sandwiches while being stalked by Gran’s terrifying cat, Mr Yummy Whiskers.

  Don’t ask! Gran let ELLIE name him. In the end I lured Mr Yummy Whiskers behind the shed and gave him the lot.

  But if you thought that was the end of my list of jobs you’d be wrong. Mum took me into the kitchen and told me to do the washing-up. It was not fair – ELLIE was doing NOTHING. Worse than nothing, actually – she was showing all the old people her Princess Jasmine dance.

  For some reason they loved it! HONESTLY!

  The washing-up took ages and by the time I’d finished, my hands looked like a pair of prunes. I headed outside just in time for party games. Who knew that old people still played party games? And not party games for old people, like Whose Teeth are These?, Pass the Walking Stick, or Shave My Chin Whiskers either. No, real party games like Pass the Parcel and Charades. Charades took forever. There was a film called Gone With the Wind, which nobody could get. I’d have just made a farting noise and waved.

  After the birthday cake, which had so many candles on top it looked like it was on fire, it was time for Gran’s presents. Mum and Dad always bought the present and card and just put mine and ELLIE’s names on it. But after they had handed over the gift from all of us, ELLIE announced that she’d got an extra special surprise. She had made one of the most horrible things I’ve ever seen – a birthday card for Gran!

  It turned out she had also made up a poem and written it inside the card. Everyone stood and smiled as she read it out loud.

  It didn’t even rhyme! And smiley-wiley isn’t a word! I blamed Charlie Dimples for that. If he could have a hit with was it any wonder that six-year-old girls were making up words left, right and centre? But apparently that didn’t matter. It was the thought that counted and the old people loved it. ELLIE is such a suck-up!

  Just then Mr Yummy Whiskers staggered out from behind the shed and threw up a whole trayful of tuna sandwiches right in front of everybody. Luckily, I don’t think anyone realised it was my fault. Unluckily, I had to clear it up anyway.

  While we were in the car on the way home, listening to another hour and a half of ELLIE waved a five-pound note in front of me. ‘Gran gave it to me to say thank you for such a thoughtful birthday card,’ she told me.

  THAT IS SO UNFAIR! I should be the one getting paid. I was the one who did ALL the work at the party!

  I was still none the wiser as to what a squishy wishy was when we got home, and I was really fed up. Before this day could get any worse I dec
ided to come up here to my bedroom.

  I really wish I’d remembered Gran’s birthday and written her a poem this morning. Then she’d have given me five pounds, too. At least my poem would have rhymed! It can’t be that hard to write something that she’d have been impressed by. Something like,

  There! That’s worth five pounds of anybody’s money. Too late now, though, isn’t it? Maybe next year. ELLIE’s rich and I’m in Gran’s bad books. I hate my life.

  When I woke up this morning there was a five-pound note lying on my pillow next to a letter. Now either the tooth fairy is being incredibly generous, or my ear has turned into a cash machine … or this diary has been up to its old tricks again!

  I picked up the letter and had a look. Sure enough it was from Gran. She was thanking me for the wonderful poem I’d written for her birthday!

  Now don’t get me wrong, I was happy to have five pounds. It’ll come in very useful …

  But you and I both know I didn’t write a poem. Well I did, but I wrote it down here, in this diary after the party …

  Now I’m just confused! Sometimes the diary changes things and sometimes it doesn’t! IS IT MAGIC OR ISN’T IT? I wish it would make its mind up. It’s like an old man at a cake counter.

  Anyway, I decided to go downstairs and see what else the diary had changed. But ELLIE was still grinning and my bike was still locked in the shed so nothing was different there.