by Nigel Smith
“I wouldn’t want to go anywhere that’s a thousand kilometres away from a nice steak and kidney pudding,” said Dad, and the kids laughed.
“Don’t laugh,” said Nat, “you’ll only encourage him.”
Mr Bungee gave Dad a filthy look. “Stop interrupting,” he said. “Now, kids, survival is about quick thinking. I’ve got some useful equipment in my truck and I’m giving the team leaders one minute to get any items which they think might be needed in the wild.”
“Now, that’s clever,” said Dad loudly to Mr Dewdrop. “Although it’s a bit like that film and I like to be more original when I work with kids. I find they like it more.”
Mr D wrote something on his clipboard. Dad gave Nat a quick thumbs up to show how well he thought he was doing.
Nat looked for a hedge to crawl under.
“GO!” screamed Mr Bungee.
Darius and Rufus ran to the truck, with everyone yelling encouragement.
Except Nat, who yelled annoyance at Miss Hunny.
“Miss, why did you make Darius our team leader? He’s a total chimp.”
“I think making him a leader is good for him,” she said. “And you must keep supporting him, Nathalia – it’s very important. I’ve been watching you recently and it’s almost like you’re cross with him.”
Nat kicked at the ground in frustration.
After a minute, Mr B blew a whistle and the leaders showed him their wilderness survival equipment.
Rufus had a handsaw, some rope, and a fishing rod.
Darius had a packet of mints.
“Interesting,” said Miss Hunny.
“Hey, that’s MY packet of mints,” said Mr Bungee. “They’re not even part of the survival test.”
“What did you get those for?” shouted Nat.
“I like mints,” said Darius, through a mouthful of mints.
The St Scrofula’s kids and teachers laughed.
Nat felt sick. They were going to do SO BADLY.
She looked at Dad, who was chatting to Dr Nobel.
“Let’s play … Survivor School!” shouted Mr Bungee.
The St Scrofula’s kids growled like tigers.
Nat looked at her classmates and teachers, pottering about like wombats.
We don’t look like survivors, she thought. We look like LUNCH.
“You’ve got one hour,” yelled Mr Bungee happily. “And I want to see each school build a fire, make a camp, and set a trap for something furry.”
“Furry? Ooh, are we getting a camp pet?” said Penny, who had three cats, six hamsters, a roomful of gerbils, and a dog called Bilbo.
“Don’t talk rot,” drawled the Kiwi camp leader, over howls of laughter from the St Scrofula’s pupils. “But if you do catch something, I’ll teach you how to skin it. With your bare hands.”
Penny went pale.
“Everyone, follow me,” said Dad, who had obviously decided it was time for him to take charge of the rabble. “We can start with the camp – I’ve seen a great place to make it in the woods. Quickly now.”
No one followed as Dad jogged towards the trees. No one else moved. It seemed to take him AGES to realise he was on his own. Finally, he turned round.
“Oh, come on,” he shouted, “you can trust me. I was a Boy Scout, you know.”
“Shuddup, Dad, no one cares,” shouted Nat. “Go and sit in the minibus.”
“But I was great in the Scouts,” continued Dad. “I got badges and everything. Who wants to see my badges?” He walked back towards the kids, winking at Mr Dewdrop.
Nat knew what badges Dad had won and she didn’t want anyone else to find out. “We should just believe him. Let’s go,” she shouted.
“No, no, obviously everyone wants to see them. I brought the badges all this way because I knew they’d come in handy,” said Dad, rummaging about in a rucksack and bringing out a handful of tatty old cloth badges.
He held them up, one at a time.
“This is my cooking badge,” he said.
“What, like skinning and eating little bunnies?” said Penny.
The boys looked impressed.
“No, for making cupcakes,” said Dad, “but I had to make them outside, of course. In the back garden, yes, but that’s still outside, no matter what the other boys said.”
Nat looked for a hedge to hide in.
“Plus, they had pictures of wild animals on, all drawn in icing,” continued Dad. “I got extra marks for that. Although I didn’t get top marks because David Spudulike ate my lion’s head, the little monster.”
He showed them another badge. “This is for knitting,” he said.
“Knitting?” said Julia Pryde. “Are you joking?”
“It’s a very important skill,” said Dad, ignoring the giggles from the children. “You can make fishing nets, or bags to carry berries and nuts around in the forest. You can make a handy sweater in case it gets cold and, of course, you can always knit the word ‘help’.”
Help, thought Nat. Help meeeee.
“Although, to be fair, knitting is only really a sensible option if you’re in an area with lots of sheep in,” continued Dad.
Please shut up, thought Nat.
But Dad, with an audience, was now unstoppable. Worse, Nat knew they were wasting time, as she watched kids from the rival school disappear into the woods.
“This badge is for flower-pressing,” said Dad, to howls of laughter. “No, listen! You might laugh, but spotting an edible marigold could save your life one day.”
The howls got louder.
“This is a goodie. It’s my morris-dancing one. I admit it’s not much use helping you survive, but a good morris dance keeps everyone’s spirits up.”
Some of the children started dancing around, hitting each other with sticks, like mini morris dancers.
“You’re very much not helping,” yelled Nat, ducking as a stray stick whizzed past her left ear.
“And let’s not forget my home-decorating badge.”
“Which Scout troop were you in, EXACTLY?” said Miss Austen. “Are you sure it wasn’t the Brownies?”
“It wasn’t an ordinary Scout troop,” admitted Dad. “It was more of a breakaway group. I have to be honest: it was my Auntie Sharon’s breakaway group.”
“Auntie Sharon?” said Miss Eyre. “What are you talking about, man?”
Dad shuffled his feet. “I didn’t want to say anything in case you thought I only got so many awards cos I was a suck-up favourite. I really earned those badges, you know.”
“That’s enough badges for one day,” shouted Nat, thinking enough was enough. She grabbed Dad and started dragging him away. “Let’s get on with this.”
“I haven’t shown them my other badges,” said Dad, as she led him towards the woods.
“And I’ve got a silver cup for winning Auntie Sharon’s Who Can Stay Out in the Garden the Longest Competition.” Dad dropped his voice. “Although I’m not sure it counts properly because I spent an hour inside, in the kitchen at midnight getting some milk and biscuits and refilling my hot-water bottle. I think Auntie Susan saw me, but she never told.”
“That’s great, Dad, you’ve FULLY shown me up now. I’m going to build a shelter by myself where no one will EVER FIND ME.”
Trying to build a camp was a total nightmare. Dad kept taking charge, which made everything way worse. After what seemed like an eternity of struggling, the children, aided by Miss Hunny (but not lazy Misses Eyre and Austen), had just about got some leafy, wet branches folded over to make a nice tent, when Dad said:
“It needs to be at a different angle. Leave it to me.”
Then he charged in, shoved things around, and the whole lot fell on top of him.
“Aaaagh, I’ve got a leaf in my eye,” he yelled from somewhere under the pile. His arms and legs stuck out, thrashing about like an upturned, leafy beetle.
Nat and Darius watched him flail about for a while. They were sitting on a slope nearby, finishing the mints.
“Thinking abo
ut it, I’m quite glad you got these,” said Nat. “I mean, if you’d chosen the saw, Dad would’ve lost a body part by now.”
“You’re the leader,” said Flora Marling, coming up to Darius and dropping a pile of wet logs on his head with a clonk, “so make the fire. I’m going to do the other part – the furry animal traps.” She floated away.
I can believe in fairies when I see you, thought Nat, watching Flora in awe.
Darius coughed up a woodlouse, stared at it wiggling in his palm, then ate it.
Hmm, and I can believe in goblins too, she thought.
Darius picked a tiny leg out of his teeth and looked at the wood with an expert eye.
The logs were green and sodden, but Nat knew that if anyone could set them ablaze, it was him. She shuffled away nervously. Just in case.
“Any ideas?” she said.
Darius spat on the wood.
“That won’t help,” she said.
Her friend kicked the logs away and stood up.
“Can’t set fire to them,” he said.
“I bet you can,” said Nat. “You’ve set fire to the chemistry lab every week all term.”
“Follow me,” he said, walking deep into the woods.
He didn’t bother to look back to see if she was actually following, which made her irritated enough to ALMOST not follow him.
But she did; she told herself she needed to be around to keep him out of trouble. Truth was, she secretly quite liked watching the trouble.
“Where are we going?” she said, after several minutes of trekking through the woods.
“To see what the other school are doing. Sssh,” he said, “you’ll never be a ninja like me if you keep jabbering.”
“Darius Bagley, you are not a ninja,” said Nat crossly.
“I’m more of a ninja than you are,” he said.
“More of a chimp,” she muttered.
Then Darius jabbed a grubby finger towards a red flickering light ahead. “Sssh, look …”
“How did they get a fire lit?” said Nat, as they watched the St Scrofula’s kids and their flipping perfect camp.
They had already built a large shelter, which had even got a proper roof and chimney. In front of the building blazed a small but cheerful fire. Some of the kids had branches in their hair and mud on their faces. They looked like savages.
“They cheated,” said Darius simply.
Nat peered harder. He was right! Mr Bungee was helping put the final touches to the shelter. She saw him laughing with Dr Nobel.
“Why’s he helping them?” said Nat.
Darius shrugged. He studied the scene a little while longer.
Eventually he said, “I’m taking their fire. You distract them and I’ll grab a burning branch.”
“I don’t like the sound of any of that,” said Nat.
But Darius was already heading towards the camp. “Thought you didn’t want them to be better than us,” he said quietly.
That did it. Nat took off with a determined look on her face.
I wonder, she thought, as she got nearer, keeping out of sight, I wonder if I should make a noise like a furry animal? Then they’d leave the camp and … Oh yeah, hunt me down with sharp sticks. That’s a rubbish idea.
Well, she decided, if I don’t want them to hunt me, I need to sound like I’m hunting THEM. I just need to sound really scary.
She was very pleased with her logic, but as she looked at the St Scrofula’s kids through a gap in the trees, she didn’t think they looked very easy to scare.
She cleared her throat and wondered what kind of animal might frighten them off. The only thing she could think of was Darius, and he was busy.
In the end, she decided some low growling and a bit of bush-shaking was her best bet.
“RRRRR,” she began, feeling like a total spanner.
No one in the camp heard her.
She shook the bush harder.
“GRRRRRR!” she yelled. “GRRR, ROAR, WOOF!”
A few of the children at the camp looked round, alarmed.
It was working!
Now Nat was having fun. She began to howl like a wolf. Surely everyone was scared of wolves.
“AAAA-OOOOH!” she began. “HOWOO OOOL!”
“What on Earth are you doing?” said Plum.
Who was standing RIGHT NEXT TO HER.
In her efforts not to be seen, Nat had totally failed to notice the other gir, who was in the bushes collecting berries.
“Glark,” said Nat, totally caught out.
She wanted to run away, but to her horror found she was unable to move. She was rooted to the spot in utter embarrassment.
“Hey, everyone,” laughed Plum, “guess who I’ve found spying on us? It’s Bumole.”
“It’s pronounced Bew-mow-lay,” said Nat, deciding she could move after all and kicking her hard on the shins.
“Ow, you little beast,” shouted Plum, and made a grab for her.
Nat dodged easily. Being Darius’s friend meant she had the reflexes of a cat in a room entirely filled with mice and balls of string.
“Everyone, let’s capture her!” shouted the bruised girl, as Nat took to her heels and fled.
She heard a great shout from the camp behind her. She crashed frantically through brambles, hopped over logs and dodged the tree trunks looming up at her.
Nat was a fast and nimble runner with her old friend BLIND PANIC on her side. She was getting away!
Right up until the moment she stepped on a trap.
Clunk, went the rope noose around her foot.
BOOIINNNG, went the bent tree, which was attached to the noose.
WHIZZ, went Nat, yanked upside down through the air.
“WAAAAH!” yelled Nat, dangling like a fish on a rod.
“Well done,” said Darius, running underneath her with a burning branch. “What a great distraction. I managed to pinch a branch AND put their fire out. Good job I had that extra can of pop today.” He ran right past her.
“Get me down, you horror,” yelled Nat.
“No time to hang around.” Darius grinned, disappearing. “See you later.”
Nat was found, a minute later, by Mr Bungee, who put his meaty hands on his hips and laughed like a drain. The other children joined him, and Nat, swinging gently in the breeze, had to endure an eternity of mocking laughter before Dr Nobel and Miss Slippy bent the branch down and set her free.
“Well, we caught a big one,” roared Mr Bungee, “although there’s not much meat on her.”
Dazed and humiliated, Nat bared her teeth and produced the sort of noise that she’d been trying to make earlier. Only this time, she was genuinely, properly scary. Her long blonde hair flew around her face like a cavewoman who’d stopped making an effort and decided to let herself go.
Nat advanced on her tormentors like a real wild animal. Which, basically, she was.
“You’re all gonna get it,” she hissed, grabbing a large heavy stick from the ground and swinging it like a club. Nat was handy with a rounders bat; she had lost more balls over the roof of the housing estate opposite the playing fields than anyone.
Everyone took a step back. They all looked nervous – except Rufus, who had a strange look on his face Nat didn’t recognise.
“Now now, young lady, you’re all right. There’s no harm done,” said Miss Slippy, moving towards the furious girl.
“Who set that trap?” said Nat. “Cos they’re first. I’m having all of you, but they’re first.”
“Where on Earth do these children come from?” said Plum nervously. “I don’t think we should be mixing with them.”
The other children seemed to agree, because they’d already run off.
“Wait for me,” Plum yelled, following.
Nat faced the teachers, still holding her stick.
“Put down the stick,” said Dr Nobel. “You’ve made your point, now don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“I won’t,” said Nat. “I really won’t regre
t it.”
As he advanced, Dr Nobel’s large, shiny, bald head swam into Nat’s view. A reddish mist had drifted across her eyes, and now his head looked like A MASSIVE ROUNDERS BALL.
She drew her arm back as far as she could, shifting her weight to get in her best rounders batting position and …
… someone snatched the stick from her hand, just as she let fly.
Without the stick, Nat whirled around twice before flopping dizzily to the ground.
Behind her, Dad was saying, “I’ll take her back now. I’ll make her a nice cuppa. Brewed on our lovely, warm fire.” He scooped Nat up off the ground and carted her off.
By the time they got back to their makeshift camp, Nat had recovered from her rage.
“I think all the blood ran to my head while I was hanging there,” she explained, as Dad put her down. “I turned into Oswald Bagley for a minute.”
Dad shuddered at the name. Oswald was Darius’s mad, bad, and beardy older brother, the terror of the town. Unfortunately for Darius, Oswald looked after him.
“I thought Oswald might be better now he’s married,” said Dad. “Turns out he just made his wife worse.”
Darius was sitting by the fire, toasting worms.
“Do NOT tell anyone what just happened,” she growled.
“OMG, Nat,” said Penny, sitting next to her. “Are you OK? Darius told me all about it.”
Nat glared at him.
He grinned.
“It’s OK cos I was sworn to secrecy,” added Penny. “I only told one other person.”
Just then, everyone in the camp started pointing at Nat and laughing.
“Oh, can no one keep a secret?” said Penny.
“I always said she was highly strung,” chuckled Julia Pryde, looking at Nat.
“Hilarious,” said Nat.
“You trying to get above yourself?” said Milly Barnacle.
“Good one,” said Nat. “Any more, people? Let’s have them.”
Nat had learned a long time ago that the best way to stop people laughing behind her back was to let them do it to her front. It was painful but over quicker, like an aching tooth being yanked out, or a plaster coming off a scab.
Finally, everyone ran out of jokes and Nat went to help continue building the shelter.
Dad had been doing his best, which meant it was rubbish, but at least he hadn’t nailed himself to anything or blown it up. Which was what usually happened when Dad did DIY.