Nathalia Buttface and the Embarrassing Camp Catastrophe

by Nigel Smith

  Darius looked bored.

  “And some of the most dangerous too,” said Sky.

  Darius looked interested.

  “This one might be my favourite,” said the professor, indicating a modestly-sized tank filled with leaves, moss, and a big branch. Two little brightly-coloured frogs were sunning themselves under the lights.

  “Peruvian zombie-frogs,” he said.

  Darius was SO interested.

  “For years only a legend. But I proved they were real.”

  “Well, I led the expedition,” said Sky. “They were quite tricky to find, by the way.”

  “The tribespeople say one drop of the juice from a squeezed frog turns enemies to zombies.”

  “There was a flipping big swamp I had to get through,” continued Sky. “Not to mention a ravine, mud spouts, and that flood.”

  “I know how you feel,” sympathised Nat. “No one listens to us – it’s cos we’re girls.”

  “I heard that,” said Professor Paradise.

  Nat and Sky chuckled.

  After the tour they were allowed to wander around the garden, as long as they promised not to break anything.

  Nat was so mesmerised she failed to notice that she’d been walking on her own for a while. She heard footsteps behind her.

  It was Rufus.

  “I got lost,” fibbed Rufus.

  “Right,” said Nat.

  They walked for a bit in silence.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said eventually. “Why is everyone unfriendly to us? Is it just because of the school we go to?”

  “No,” fibbed Nat.

  “Yes it is. We’re used to it. But it’s not fair, you know – we never asked to go there. And no one hates you because of YOUR school.”

  Nat looked at the ground. She was starting to feel a teeny bit bad.

  “Have you thought it might not be so nice for us having to be so flipping perfect all the time?” Rufus asked.

  She hadn’t. Not one bit. Nat grunted, wishing he’d shut up. Because she was now starting to feel GUILTY.

  “Last year a girl called Emma Nutbush got three Bs in her exams and the teachers wouldn’t speak to her for a week. She made the front page of the school newspaper. It said: ‘What’s the difference between a hive and Emma Nutbush?’ And inside it said: ‘Hives have fewer bees.’”

  Nat giggled. “Oh, that’s rotten,” she said. “Poor Emma Nutbush.”

  “Yeah, plus she’s called Nutbush,” laughed Rufus.

  “Could be worse,” said Nat. “My name’s terrible too.”

  “Join the club. I’m Rufus Bojangles-Chutney,” said Rufus B-C. “I want to play up front for Spurs – can you imagine that on the commentary?”

  Nat laughed.

  “And I had a lucky escape. My dad wanted to call me Gaylord, like my older cousin Gaylord Bojangles-Chutney.”

  “What does he do?” said Nat, shoulders shaking.

  “Doesn’t matter what he does, he has a terrible time. He could be the first Gaylord on Mars, but everyone’s still gonna be laughing at him.”

  By now Nat was laughing like a drain.

  “Wait there. Back in a tick,” said Rufus, dashing off.

  She heard a hissing noise coming from behind a nearby apple tree.

  It was evil ninja Darius, hiding in the long lush grass, crawling like a snake.

  “It’s going brilliantly. Now ask him about his secret project. Go on,” hissed Darius, “while his defences are down.”

  “Don’t want to. Shuddup,” whispered Nat. “I don’t think he’s completely horrible any more.”

  “You have to,” said Darius. “I heard your dad ask Dr Nobel about admission forms earlier.”

  EEEK, thought Nat.

  Just then Rufus came back and Darius slunk off back into the grass.

  Rufus was holding a long stalk with many pink and purple little flowers attached.

  “This is called a Stinking Christopher,” he said, “but just cos it’s got a horrible name doesn’t mean it’s not … you know … nice.”

  “It is nice,” said Nat.

  “You can have it if you want, but it’s not like I’m giving it to you or anything,” he said, shuffling his feet. “And it’s a branch, not flowers, so I’m not giving you flowers, OK?”

  Nat took it. “Thanks,” she said.

  In the grass she heard Darius making quiet kissing noises and decided enough was enough.

  “So, our stupid projects for Saturday,” she said. “Ours isn’t very good. I think we’re just gonna draw a map of Lower Snotley or something. It’s rubbish but that’s cos it’s Darius Bagley’s idea. He’s such an UTTER AND TOTAL CHIMP that it’ll be a disaster.”

  “He is a bit of a chimp, isn’t he?” laughed Rufus.

  “Oh, a baboon,” said Nat. “I think he’s even got a purple bottom. It’s fat enough to be a baboon’s bum.”

  “It matches his face,” said Rufus.

  “I think it was trending on Twitter,” said Nat really loudly. “Hashtag Darius Bagley has a face like a monkey’s rear end. An ugly monkey’s rear end too.”

  “He eats his bogeys,” said Rufus.

  “He eats other people’s bogeys,” shouted Nat. “He says they help the worms go down easier.”

  “Is he actually human?” said Rufus.

  “Good question,” said Nat, enjoying herself. “Is Darius Bagley human? Some say he’s a failed lab experiment, but I think he’s a successful lab experiment – in creating the most horrible creature in the world.”

  “Why do you hang around with him then?”

  “I don’t, not really. You must have seen us arguing. And look what he did to me at the riding school. He thinks I won’t get him back for that but OH YES, I WILL.”

  “I think you feel sorry for him. Gosh, you are nice.”

  “I am. I am so nice. Bagley finds it hard to make friends and that really bothers him. All he thinks about is making friends and where he is on the popularity ladder. AND HE’S RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM OF IT, THE LITTLE STINKER.” She paused to catch her breath.

  “I almost feel sorry for him,” she continued, feeling super-sneaky, “I mean, he thinks he’ll be popular if our project beats yours but it won’t because it’s totally rubbish. It’s about longshore drift or sediment – I don’t even know. He’s basically making a big mud pie. What a loser.”

  She put her hand over her mouth like she’d said too much.

  “Oh no, I shouldn’t have told you our project! Oh never mind, I trust you not to say anything.”

  Rufus looked like he was making a big decision.

  Finally, he said, “Our project’s flipping awesome, to be honest. You see, Plum’s auntie works for the Met Office. You know, the weather office.”

  Yes, I do actually GO to school, even if it hasn’t got its own swimming pool and helipad, thought Nat.

  Her face must have given her away because Rufus apologised immediately.

  “Sorry, course you know. Anyway, she’s lent us a weather balloon so we can track changes in the jet stream. We’ve hidden it in Dr Nobel’s yurt. We’ll have a live video feed down to the town hall on Saturday. With a bit of luck we can link up with the International Space Station too.”

  Nat looked a bit sick.

  “But I’m sure your map will be just as good as our awesome project,” he said hastily. “I won’t tell anyone about your map. I can keep a secret. Especially,” he added, running off, “if it’s your secret.”

  Nat felt terrible, then an apple clonked her on the back of the head.

  “Baboon’s bum?” said Darius, standing up. “Hashtag monkey’s purple bum? He wants to make friends? He eats other people’s bogeys?”

  “I was just carrying out your evil plan,” she said lightly, munching on the apple. “He has to believe we’ve fallen out.”

  “You were pretty convincing,” said Darius.

  “Yeah, wasn’t I?” said Nat. “Mmm, this apple is delicious.”

 
It tasted of … victory.

  Disaster struck five seconds later. “One of my frogs is missing!” yelled a furious Professor Paradise, thrashing through the undergrowth. “Some fool has opened the tank and let it out.”

  “Which one?” said Sky, looking worried.

  Everyone began to run towards the mad professor. Actually, the HOPPING mad professor.

  “One of the zombie-frogs,” he said. “It’ll take me ages to find it again.”

  “Again?” muttered Sky. “You didn’t find it in the first place.”

  Professor Paradise started looking frantically under bushes. “Out of my way,” he said, roughly pushing past Mr Keane, who looked upset.

  “Is this a bad time to ask him if he could help give us an idea for our project?” he said.

  Sky dragged him away before PP could hit him with a lizard.

  “Terrible time,” she said.

  “I knew this would happen if I let strangers in,” said the furious dome owner.

  “But, Godpapa,” said Sky, “the world is full of strangers.”

  “I know. That’s why I built my own world,” he said. “Now go, all of you. OUT! BEGONE!”

  And so they were cast out of paradise.

  Back on the minibus, Mr Keane looked like his old, beaten, miserable self.

  “Sorry,” he said to Nat, “I thought I was actually going to be able to help for once. Silly me.”

  He looked out of the window at Sky’s little car, disappearing in the distance.

  “Winning is so much harder than cheating,” said Darius, when Mr Keane had gone.

  “I don’t like cheating,” said Nat.

  “So you don’t need my evil, sneaky, cheating plan then?” said Darius.

  “Shut up, Darius,” she said. “This is different. This is an emergency.”

  Nat looked at Dad. He was sitting next to Dr Nobel, chatting quietly.

  “Besides,” she added, “these posh kids have got all the advantages. We’re cheating to make it fairer.”

  She didn’t QUITE like the sound of that, so she turned to talk to Penny instead.

  But Penny said Nat shouldn’t cheat so she went off to have dinner with Julia Pryde and Peaches Bleary.

  Dad wanted to run a folk-song-writing workshop that night, but someone (Nat) had hidden his ukulele and someone (Nat) had buried his hat so he gave up and went to bed early. He looked a bit sad, and Nat caught Mr Dewdrop putting more Xs on his report.

  “Dad makes it very hard for me sometimes,” Nat told Penny, as they were tucked up in their sleeping bags. “I have to get ONE night off from him showing me up. That’s why I hid the ukulele in the washing-up bowl.”

  But Penny didn’t reply.

  Nat tutted and closed her eyes.

  She had the strangest dream …

  Nat dreamed she was a snuggly, warm, fat caterpillar. She could feel herself wriggling happily through a cabbage patch. It was so realistic, she could almost taste the lovely soft cabbages. She wriggled for miles, it seemed, feeling the soft breeze on her face and occasionally being tickled by the lovely leaves.

  And then she felt herself trying to fly!

  It must be time to be a butterfly, she thought.

  Then she half-woke in pale sunlight.

  It took her a few seconds to realise where she was.

  She was in her sleeping bag, but out of her tent.

  She was out in the open, and she was rising off the ground.

  I’m flying – that’s nice. Perhaps I am a butterfly, she thought, still befuddled with sleep. This is great. I’ll dive-bomb Darius, that’ll scare the little …

  Suddenly she was wide awake.

  “YAAAAARGH!” she yelled.

  She was dangling, five feet off the ground, from a flipping, flying WEATHER BALLOON that was tied to the hood of her sleeping bag!

  “GET ME DOWN!” she screamed, as the breeze took her and wafted her over the yurts.

  It must have been Darius, and this was the absolutely worst thing he’d ever done.

  “BAGLEY, YOU MONSTER. I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU AND I MEAN IT AND I’M NOT EVEN JOKING!” she yelled.

  All the racket started to rouse the entire sleeping camp, and children and teachers alike began staggering out of their tents.

  “Somebody help meeee,” shouted Nat, floating away.

  But everyone was too busy laughing and pointing and fumbling for their cameras to help.

  “DAD!” she shouted. “Dad, do something.”

  “Coming, baby girl,” said Dad, in a sleepy panic.

  He ran out of his tent WITHOUT ANY TROUSERS ON!

  “Dad, you’re in your pants. Put something on!” yelled Nat.

  “No time,” said Dad, running after her. “Can you make yourself a bit heavier? You’re too high up to reach.”

  “You’re making this worse,” shouted Nat, as half-dressed Dad, in bright-white baggy Y-fronts, charged through the camp after his floating daughter.

  “Try and go the other way. You’re heading for the field of prize-winning longhorn cows next door and I’ve been told they’re very grumpy – you probably don’t want to annoy them,” shouted Dad.

  It was true: Nat was floating towards the fence.

  “How can I go the other way, you moron?” said Nat. “I’m in a balloon, not a jet fighter.”

  “Yes, OUR weather balloon,” shouted Dr Nobel. “That girl’s stealing our secret project.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Miss Hunny, wrapping her nightie around her. “She wouldn’t even have known it was your secret project. It’s just Nathalia and Darius playing again. Our school, um, encourages creative play.”

  “I have never heard such twaddle in my life,” said Dr Nobel. “Your school should be closed down. Your pupils are a menace.”

  Dad kept jumping up underneath Nat, but she was just too high for him to reach.

  “Someone jump on my back!” shouted Dad.

  Most children screamed at the thought and dashed back inside their yurts.

  “Dolores, help,” said Dad, as Miss Hunny ran over to him.

  “I’ll call the air ambulance,” she said. “They’ll get her if she goes too high.”

  “That’s a terrible idea,” shouted Nat. “Stop me getting too high.”

  Then Nat realised she was more worried about landing – landing in the field of grumpy cows.

  “Dad!” she yelled.

  Dad raced for the fence ahead of her. She flew towards his outstretched arms, but then an even bigger gust of wind took her upwards – just out of reach!

  Just then a small figure dashed out of nowhere like a blur and jumped on Dad’s back, clambering up him until he stood on his head. It was Darius, showing off his chimp-like circus skills.

  “I’ll get you,” he said, grabbing at her.

  “Get lost, Bagley,” said Nat, kicking out at him through her sleeping bag. “This is all your fault.”

  “Lift me higher,” said Darius, ignoring her.

  Dad raised his hands and Darius stood on them.

  “OOH,” said their audience.

  Darius grabbed the bottom of Nat’s sleeping bag.

  “Why’s it so draughty?” said Dad, feeling wind whip around his hairy bare legs.

  “What are you wearing, man?” shouted a high-low voice from the tents. “Or should I say, what AREN’T you wearing?”

  “OH HECK,” said Dad, suddenly realising he was being stared at IN HIS PANTS by Mr Dewdrop.

  “Fudge,” said Dad, in a total funk. “Mr Dewdrop won’t like this. This isn’t what he calls a nice country pursuit. He won’t consider my pants professional or becoming.”

  Quickly Dad covered his shame with his hands.

  Unfortunately that meant letting go of Darius, who was left dangling, clinging to the bottom of Nat’s sleeping bag.

  The two of them sailed gently over the hedge and straight across the field of cows, who were mooing unpleasantly, having been woken up by all the commotion.


  “I’m actually going to do you proper, professional-quality harm when I get out of here,” said Butterfly Nat.

  But now the extra weight was having an effect. They were going down! Just when Nat didn’t want them to. The cows looked particularly cross at being disturbed.

  “Let go, you total chimp,” said Nat. “You’re going to land us both in this field. Sacrifice yourself – get on with it.”

  “We can make it to the other side,” said Darius.

  “No we can’t,” said Nat. “Let go or else.”

  “If I let go, I’m going to get jabbed.”

  “Serves you right for tying me to the flipping balloon. Don’t deny it. Why on Earth did you do that?”

  In her fury she managed to tear a hole in the bottom of her sleeping bag with her foot. She shoved her big toe right up Bagley’s squishy little nose.

  “Ow. Gerroff!” said Darius.

  “I’m gonna rip your nose off, you little monster,” said Nat. “Then you’ll be even uglier, which is hard to believe.”

  “Dig your toe in a bit harder – there’s a crusty bogey in there that’s been stuck for weeks,” yelled Darius defiantly.

  “AAAAGH,” said Nat, disgusted, removing her toe. “You’re a maggot, you know that?”

  She wiped her wet toe on Darius’s short hair.

  “Just let go or we’re both gonna be cow fodder!” said Nat.

  But Darius was determined. He clung on. They were nearly at the other side of the field.

  But the annoyed cows were following them closely, and Nat saw the sharp horns on a prize longhorn called Pointy Doris – she later learned – getting closer to Darius’s fat little backside.

  “Serves you right,” she cackled, as Darius tried frantically to squirm out of the way. “I hope you get jabbed so hard it makes your eyes water.”

  “No, we can definitely make it,” said Darius.

  “There’s only two metres to go …”

  Which was when the balloon popped.

  The thin fabric snagged on a spiky tree.

  A pointy branch went:

  RRRRIIIIIP.

  And the two children plunged downwards.

  Nat reached up and grabbed a dangling branch sticking out from the tree. It held! She hung in the air like a huge wriggling fruit.