“Yes, good effort, team,” said Mr Lawson, applauding politely. “It was a close-run thing.”
“Sorry, Dad,” said Wayne, hanging his head. “I know how much you wanted us to win. We let you down.”
Mr Lawson’s eyes went wide. “What? Let me down? No one let me down!” he said. “You’re the first team in our school’s history to win a single round against Foxley Hill. You came within less than a minute of winning the whole thing!” He looked across us all and smiled. “I honestly could not be prouder,” he said. “Although ... why is everyone wearing make-up?”
“Long story,” said Theo, butting in before I could explain everything.
“Can we get on with it, sir?” said Malcolm, and I felt Wayne tense beside me. “We’d like our prizes now.”
Mr Lawson smiled sadly. “Yes. Of course,” he said. He reached into a cardboard box and pulled out a shiny silver trophy. There were lots of inscriptions on the front of it. They all said “Foxley Hill School” then a date beneath.
After gazing at it longingly for a moment, Mr Lawson held up the trophy. “It gives me great pleasure to present the Winston and Watson Wagstaffe Cup of Competitive Chummery to this year’s winners, Foxley Hill.”
Malcolm took the trophy eagerly and sneered as he waved it at us. “Better luck next time,” he cackled.
“And now for the medals,” said Mr Lawson, reaching into the box again and fishing out five gold medals.
The audience all clapped as one by one Mr Lawson placed the medals over the Foxley Hill pupils’ heads. “Malcolm. Felicity,” he said, nodding at them sadly as he presented each one. “Jessica. Christopher.”
He stopped then, the final medal clutched in his hands. He looked around. “Where’s Edgar?”
Malcolm frowned and looked along the line. “What? He’s... Where is he?”
“Coo-ee!” called Mrs Moir. She shuffled towards the finish line, leading a wide-eyed Edgar by the arm. “Just found him wandering in the woods,” she said. “Mumbling something about floating heads.”
Beside me, Mr Lawson and Wayne both gasped at the same time. “Hang on!” said Mr Lawson.
“The whole Foxley Hill team didn’t cross the finish line!” blurted Wayne.
“Yes!” I said, punching my fist in the air. I lowered it again. “What does that mean?”
“As per the rules of the contest, in order for a team to be deemed as having completed the final assault course challenge, all members of said team must cross the finish line,” Mr Lawson babbled.
“Yes!” I said, punching my fist in the air again. And again, I lowered it. “What does that mean?”
“It means we won, dummy!” Evie laughed. She threw her arms round me and I felt Theo do the same. Chloe and Wayne piled on next and we all bounced up and down, cheering and whooping with delight.
“I’m about to have a panic attack!” I announced, as they squashed in on me. One by one they pulled away, until only Evie remained. Blushing, she untangled herself and we both turned to see Mr Lawson taking the medals and trophy back from the Foxley Hill team.
“It gives me enormous pleasure to declare that the winner of this year’s inter-schools contest is Nutley Grange!” said Mr Lawson, placing the medals over our heads.
“Watch the hair,” Chloe muttered, and even Mr Lawson couldn’t help but laugh. I looked across at Mum and Dad. They were both beaming from ear to ear. Behind them, Jodie gave me a thumbs up, then almost had her arm yanked out of the socket as Destructo set off after a squirrel.
After a few well-earned minutes rubbing our victory in Foxley Hill’s faces, Mr Heft gave us our phones back. Chloe grabbed hers eagerly and hugged it like a long-lost relative. “Oh, I’ve missed you,” she said, half sobbing.
“I’m sure you’ll want to take ‘selfies’ of each other with your medals,” said Mr Lawson, smiling.
“You can’t take selfies of another person,” I pointed out. “Those are called ‘photographs’.”
“Right, yes,” said Mr Lawson.
“You tried to be young and trendy there and it backfired quite badly, sir,” I pointed out.
Mr Lawson grimaced. “Yes. Quite,” he said, then he about-turned and marched off to talk to the assembled teachers and parents.
Wayne, Chloe, Evie, Theo and me all stood in a circle, admiring our medals. “Wayne, I still don’t know why you arranged for us all to be on the same team but it paid off,” I said.
Wayne looked at me strangely. “What?”
“You rigged the choices,” I said. “You planted our names.”
Wayne shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” I insisted. “You must have.”
“No,” said Wayne, looking genuinely confused. “I did think it was pretty weird but it wasn’t me.”
“What? Seriously?” I said. It couldn’t just have been coincidence. “Then who was it?”
My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down to find the subject line of an email staring up at me.
“RE: Madame Shirley.”
Madame Shirley? Before I could read it, Dad appeared beside us. He had his guitar in his hands and winked at me as he strummed a few chords.
“Oh no,” I groaned.
“I’ve taken the liberty of writing a little victory song,” he said. He cleared his throat, winked at me again, then began to play.
“They’re amazing,
They’re stupendous,
Whenever there’s a contest they’ll be—”
He stopped with a twang and let the guitar swing down on the strap. “Argh! That’s still Danger Mouse,” he said, then he shrugged and smiled. “Still, it’s the thought that counts, right?”
He turned and walked back to Mum. As I tapped my phone’s screen to read the email Evie appeared beside me. “Hey, Beaky,” she said, shuffling awkwardly from side to side. “I just wanted to say ... it was cool to hang out.”
And then, to my amazement/horror/delight, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
I opened my mouth to say something but for the first time ever, nothing came out. No lies. No truth. No nothing.
“I’ll see you at school,” Evie said, then she turned and hurried to join her mum.
“See?” said Theo. “Told you.”
I watched Mrs Green and Mum shoot daggers at each other again, then Evie gave me a little wave. I waved back and smiled.
“Theo, I have the feeling my life is about to become even more complicated,” I whispered, then I stared down at the email and realized just how right I was.
There were four words. Four words that made the whole forest spin around me. Four words that might just change my life forever.
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 Coda Studios, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an eBook by Stripes Publishing in 2017
Text copyright © Barry Hutchison, 2017
Illustrations copyright © Katie Abey, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-84715-864-2
The right of Barry Hutchison and Katie Abey to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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