Drat! thought Maud. Now she’d have to walk home through the woods. And who knew what kind of dangerous creatures lurked among those trees?
They heard a noise and turned around. It was the Head, who’d materialised on the driveway beside her.
“The buses have already gone, Miss,” said Maud. “How can we get home?”
“This looks like another chance for you two to show that you can work together,” said the Head. “Penelope, you’ve got your broomstick here, haven’t you?”
“Er ... yes,” said Penelope.
“Well, why don’t you give Maud a lift home?”
It wasn’t quite what Maud had been hoping for. And more importantly, if Penelope found out that Maud lived in an ordinary human house on an ordinary human street, she’d realise Maud wasn’t a real monster, and she’d tell everyone.
“On second thoughts, I think I might walk,” said Maud. “It’s such a nice evening, after all.”
Grey rainclouds swept across the school grounds from the dark forest.
“No, it isn’t,” said the Head, firmly. “Not even a nocturnal ghoul could count this as a ‘nice evening’. I’m sure Penelope will be happy to help.”
“Actually, Miss,” said Penelope. “My parents will be expecting me back soon so—”
“So all the more reason to get Maud home quickly,” interrupted the Head.
Penelope trudged over to the broom shed and cast an unlocking spell on her broom. She carried it back over to Maud and climbed on.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked.
Maud clambered on to the back of the broom and tried to make herself comfortable. Couldn’t they at least put saddles on these things? And shouldn’t she be wearing some sort of crash helmet?
Penelope glanced back at her. “You have ridden a broomstick before, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” said Maud, trying to lounge back casually and almost falling off.
“Good,” said Penelope, “I’m in a hurry.”
“Play nicely, girls,” shouted the Head, as the stick shot up like a rocket.
Maud clung on desperately to Penelope’s waist as the stick hurtled into the sky. A cold wind blew so hard into her face that at first she had to close her eyes. By the time she’d managed to open them again, she could see the whole of the school grounds stretching out beneath her, circled by the dark green forest.
Penelope’s stick wobbled flimsily as she flew into the strong wind, and Maud had to shift back and forth to keep her balance.
They were now floating high in the air, swooping over the edge of the wood and passing the suburbs of the town, where the first streetlights of the evening were flickering on. Soon, Maud could see the spacious playing fields of her old school, Primrose Towers.
“Keep still,” said Penelope. “If you’re going to make me fly you home, the least you can do is stop fidgeting.”
“I didn’t make you fly me home,” said Maud. “You’re the one who got us into this mess.”
“I wouldn’t have tied Paprika’s laces together if he’d been playing well,” said Penelope.
“That’s not true,” said Maud. “He would have caught Mr Galahad’s head if you’d left him alone.”
Penelope turned round and jabbed Maud in the chest with one of her thin fingers. “He wouldn’t have caught it in a million years!”
“Look out!” shouted Maud.
They were heading straight for a lamppost. The witch turned back just in time to swerve out of the way, but she couldn’t keep the broom under control. The next moment they were plummeting to the ground. Maud closed her eyes and clung on to the stick.
The broom crashed into the ground with a jolt that sent Maud spinning through the air. Luckily, she landed in something soft.
Maud opened her eyes and saw she was lying in a privet hedge in the garden of a semi-detached house. A few feet away from her, the broom had planted itself into the garden with such force that it had ripped up a strip of turf. And Penelope was in a heap by the roses.
Maud looked into her pocket to check on Quentin. He was curled at the bottom of it and shaking with fright, but he didn’t seem to be hurt. She decided she’d give him an extra helping of milk and crisps tonight to make up for his ordeal.
The door of the house swung open and the porch light came on. “Goodness, are you all right?” came a voice from inside.
Maud wondered why she recognised the voice. Mum! thought Maud. She’d landed in her own front garden.
Her mum was standing in the open doorway of their house and staring at Maud through her large round glasses. She was wearing her beige cardigan and green skirt, and holding a needle and thread.
“What’s going on?” asked Maud’s mum. “Why have you stuck a broom in the middle of the garden?”
“It’s a scarecrow,” said Maud. “I thought it might be useful to put one up.”
“But we don’t have any crows,” said her mum.
“Well ... er ... this will keep it that way,” said Maud.
Her mum looked over at Penelope, who was scrambling to her feet and dusting herself down. “Is this a friend from school?”
“Not exactl—” began Maud.
“Hello there,” said Maud’s mum. “I’m Mrs Montague. We were just about to eat dinner. Would you like to join us?”
Maud stared at Penelope, desperately hoping she would say ‘no’. The last thing she needed was for Penelope to find out that Maud had a normal human family.
Unfortunately, a nasty grin spread across Penelope’s face. “Yes, please, Mrs Montague,” she said. “That would be absolutely delightful.”
Milly smiled smugly.
“I got ten out of ten on my History test. I knew I would.”
Maud, Penelope and Mr Montague were sitting around the dining table and listening to Maud’s twin sister Milly chattering about her day at Primrose Towers.
Maud never bothered trying to tell her parents anything about her own school day. Whenever she did, Milly would interrupt her and keep going until she’d described every last detail of hers. Not that Maud minded. She was trying to keep it a secret from her parents that Rotwood was a school for monsters, so the less she said about it the better.
“Then Farmer Gilbert from Buttercup Farm came in to visit us,” continued Milly. “And he brought a little baby lamb with him, and we all got to feed it with a bottle of milk. It was so cute. I took loads of photos.”
Well, at least Penelope has to listen to this too, Maud thought. It was probably a worse punishment than anything the Head could have thought up.
“And on Friday we’ve got sports day and the pupil who Mrs Fennel thinks has done best will win a ride to Buttercup Farm on a Shetland pony called Prancer and they’ll get to feed all the little calves and foals and piglets. Can you imagine how tiny and precious they’ll be?”
Maud glanced across at Penelope and was pleased to see that she’d gone pale from Milly’s description of the cute farmyard animals. With any luck, Penelope would soon run screaming for the door.
When Milly finally ran out of things to say, Maud’s dad turned to Penelope. “So, Penelope, how long have you been at Rotwood, then?”
“Since the start of Year 1,” she said. “Most of us have. That’s why we were so surprised when Maud joined last week.”
“She was transferred from her old school,” said Mr Montague. “Didn’t she tell you?”
“And which school was that?” asked Penelope, glancing suspiciously at Maud. Maud felt her cheeks going red. If only her dad would keep quiet ...
“Primrose Towers School for Girls,” said Mr Montague. “The school that Milly goes to.”
“I’m very popular there,” said Milly. “That’s why they didn’t expel me. Everyone used to call Maud ‘Monstrous’.”
“She’s not that monstrous, if you ask me,” said Penelope.
“She’s not at all monstrous!” said Mr Montague loyally, not realising that at Rotwood, being ‘monstrous’ w
as a good thing. “And Milly, remember we prefer to say that Maud was transferred, not expelled. To somewhere she would fit better. Like that time I took the rubber car mats out of my brother’s Honda saloon and put them in my Volvo estate.”
“Primrose Towers?” asked Penelope. “That’s pretty strange, if you ask me. I mean, strange for a mons—”
“Food’s here!” shouted Maud. She’d spotted her mum walking in with a huge pot of spaghetti Bolognese, and she didn’t like the way the conversation was going.
“That’s a splendid costume,” said Mrs Montague, looking at Penelope’s ragged black dress and large pointy hat. “Are you doing the Wizard of Oz at school?”
“Are we doing what to the Wizard of Oz?” asked Penelope. “I have a cousin who’s a wizard, but he lives in Manchester, not Oz.”
“Er ... no,” said Mrs Montague, smiling. “I make costumes for the local amateur dramatics society, you see. I’ve always wanted to do something like that, with pointy hats and fake warts. Can I touch that one on the end of your nose? I’d love to see what it’s made of.”
Maud coughed loudly and leaped up between the two of them. “Her warts are real!” she whispered. “Don’t mention them.”
“Oops,” said Mrs Montague. “Sorry, dear.”
“So,” said Mr Montague, “tell us, Penelope, wart lessons ... I mean, what lessons do you enjoy at school?”
“Same as everyone else,” said Penelope. “Fright Classes.”
“Beg your pardon?” asked Mr Montague.
“She means ‘Write Classes’,” said Maud. “That’s what we call English lessons at Rotwood. This is fun, isn’t it? Anyway, I’ll serve the spaghetti.” Maud picked up the spoon and dipped it into the wide metal pot.
“That’s nice, dear,” said Mrs Montague, sounding a little surprised but pleased that Maud had volunteered so readily.
“I can do it instead if you like,” said Milly. “Maud will probably get it wrong.”
“No, that’s all right,” said Mrs Montague. “Give her a chance.”
Maud picked up a bowl and was just about to spoon out some of the pasta when she noticed that the food was moving around. It wasn’t spaghetti at all – it was worms! Maud looked over at Penelope, who gave her a knowing smile. She’d clearly been casting spells again. And worst of all, it looked like she’d figured out Maud’s secret.
Maud slammed down the lid on the squirming pot. “Do you know, I think it needs more salt,” she said and hurried it back into the kitchen.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Mr Montague. “Too much salt is bad for you, anyway. Like putting petrol in a diesel car.”
Not as bad for you as too many worms, thought Maud, emptying the pot into the bin. When she was finished, she stopped to think for a moment, and then threw the pot on to the floor with a huge clang.
“Whoops!” shouted Maud. “I’ve dropped it!”
“I told you she’d get it wrong,” yelled Milly triumphantly. “You should have let me do it.”
Maud popped her head around the kitchen door. “Oh well,” she said, “it’s too late now. Why don’t we get a Chinese takeaway instead? I’ll find the menu.”
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to,” said Mr Montague. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to that.”
“Never mind,” said Mrs Montague. “I’m sure Maud couldn’t help it.”
“Sorry, Mum,” said Maud. She cast a glance at Penelope. “But on the bright side, it’ll give us time to look at Milly’s photos of that cute little lamb.”
“What a good idea!” said Mrs Montague.
Milly’s eyes lit up. “Just wait until you see him,” she said, fishing around in her bag for her camera phone. “He was such a scrummy little lambikins.”
“Actually, I’m not that hungry,” said Penelope, who looked as if she’d swallowed sour milk. “It’s getting late, so I’d better go.”
Penelope hurried out of the door into the front garden. Through the window, Maud noticed her pull her broomstick out of the earth. Maud dashed over and pulled the curtains shut before her family could see their guest float away on a cleaning tool.
As she sat down again, she felt her heart slow down to a normal pace. Thank goodness Penelope had gone, but she wished her parents hadn’t told her about Primrose Towers. Now her worst enemy would know for sure that Maud was a normal girl. And you could bet your eyeballs that Penelope would find a way to use it against her.
The next morning, Maud followed the other pupils from her class off the school bus as usual. She was just about to make her way over to the main entrance when she stopped in her tracks.
Writhing green vines completely covered the front of the school. The plants were snaking across Rotwood’s grey stones, wrapping themselves around the leering gargoyles and blocking out the windowpanes.
Mr Quasimodo was up his ladder, trying to chop the tangled vines down from the front of the building with a huge pair of shears. He stopped to glower at Maud as she approached.
A shiver ran through her. These were the same plants she’d seen in the greenhouse last night! How had they got all the way to the school ...?
“No!” gasped Maud, slapping her forehead as she remembered Mr Quasimodo’s words:
Lock after, or big trouble.
Wilf ran around the corner, howling with excitement. “Come and see this,” he shouted, waving everyone round to the back of the school. They all ran after him, and Maud followed, dread gathering in the pit of her stomach.
She heard loud gasps as she turned the corner. The entire playing field was covered with gigantic Venus flytraps, just like the ones Maud had been watering the previous night.
Now the plants had escaped from their pots, they’d grown into a seething mass, with thick green stems twisting and jerking, tough roots churning up the soil and red flowers chomping angrily at the air. Every time a bird flew overhead, the flowers would snap up at it one by one.
“Most regrettable,” came a voice from behind Maud. She turned around to see her teacher Mr Von Bat shaking his head. “It looks like someone forgot to lock the greenhouse door ...” He raised an eyebrow at Maud, and she cringed with shame.
“You’d all better get inside,” said Mr Von Bat. “The Head has called a special assembly to discuss this little ... incident.”
Maud trudged inside with the rest of the pupils, desperately hoping the Head wouldn’t make an example of her in front of everyone.
Rotwood’s main hall was a cavernous vault with an arched ceiling and lines of crumbling stone pillars. Narrow windows set high in the wall threw shafts of light through the dusty air on to the cobweb-covered walls.
The pupils took their places on rows of hard wooden pews that faced a pipe organ and an ancient wooden lectern bearing the Rotwood crest and the school motto:
A nervous murmur broke out as the ghostly form of the Head floated in through the back wall and stood behind the lectern. Even the vampires, witches and werewolves of Rotwood seemed to find the Head a little spooky.
“I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you all,” said the Head. “As you will have noticed, the school has a severe vegetation problem. The playing field is now covered with greenery so dense and vicious that it will take poor Mr Quasimodo at least a fortnight to prune it all back. As a result, I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel this year’s sports day.”
Cries and groans echoed around the hall. Wilf and his older brother Warren let out mournful howls. Maud knew they’d both had their hearts set on winning medals this year.
A few rows ahead, Maud saw Penelope stick up her hand.
“Be quiet now,” said the Head. “Penelope has something to say.”
Maud could guess what she was up to. Penelope was going to pin the whole disaster on her and claim she’d had nothing to do with it.
The other monsters quietened down as Penelope stood up. “I know how we can still have sports day,” she said.
That wasn’t quite what Maud had expected.
The Head peered at Penelope over the top of her round glasses. “And how might that be?”
“We could use the Primrose Towers playing field. I flew over it last night and it’s absolutely massive. Plus, Maud Montague’s sister Milly goes there, so Maud can get her parents to ask the head teacher at Primrose Towers.”
Maud shrank down in her pew as Penelope turned round to look at her with a smug grin on her face. All the other pupils stared at Maud too, and she could hear them muttering things like, “That’s funny, I thought Primrose Towers was a human school?” and “Why would any decent monster go to a horrible place like that?”
“I’m not so sure,” said the Head. “We’d have to be very careful. Humans and monsters don’t always mix well, you know.”
She glanced at Maud, and Maud could have sworn she winked.
“However,” said the Head, “I don’t see the harm in asking. Especially if we can have the whole field to ourselves. What do you think, Miss Montague?”
Maud didn’t know what to say. She didn’t like the idea of letting the Rotwood monsters and the prim Primrose Towers girls get too close to each other. But on the other hand, she felt very guilty about leaving the greenhouse door open. The whole situation was partly her fault, so she really ought to help. And if nothing else, it might prevent her being given a further punishment by the Head.
“All right,” said Maud. “I’ll ask my mum about it.”
The Rotwood monsters all broke into applause. “Yesssss!” called out Wilf. “You’re totally monstrous, Maud!”
But as Maud looked around, she saw one monster who wasn’t cheering. Paprika was sitting at the end of a row, with his head in his hands. Of course! He’d obviously have preferred it if sports day hadn’t happened at all, so he wouldn’t have to play more Monsterball. And now Maud felt guilty all over again.
Everything I do seems to to upset somebody these days, thought Maud, sadly.
Monstrous Maud: Spooky Sports Day Page 2