Petunia Perry and the Curse of the Ugly Pigeon

by Pamela Butchart

  When I arrived, Margaret was already waiting on her cushion. She looked wise.

  Cammy did not look wise. She looked unhinged.

  “I think we need to do something crazy,” she said (with a serious face). “Something that will make the whole school notice us.”

  I just looked at her.

  “Why would we do that?” I said.

  Cammy jumped up and looked me straight in the eye.

  She was so close I swear our eyeballs were almost touching.

  “Because we need to find our FOLLOWING, Peri!” she said. “How are we going to find our following and get them to our first gig, if nobody even knows we exist?”

  It seemed like a good point so I sat down, took a yoghurt and listened to Cammy’s “brilliant idea”.

  I cannot even begin to tell you how much I wish I had done a double forward roll across the room, back-flipped out of the window and sprinted all the way home before she could open her crazy mouth.

  Please see the following chapter (and maybe have a biscuit handy for when it gets really bad).

  The introduction of “The Worst Idea in the World™” went a bit like this:

  “Peri, what’s the ONE thing we could do in the cafeteria that would DEFINITELY make people notice us?”

  I have paid just enough attention in Mr Rhubarb’s English class to know that what Cammy is asking me is a “rhetorical question”.

  I answer anyway.

  “Eat our own arms?”

  Cammy gives me a “look”.

  “No. We’re going to do a ‘flash-mob dance’! This will get everyone’s attention and introduce a flavour of The Spoons to the cafeteria. Peri, just imagine everyone’s reaction when one minute you, me and Cara are standing in line and then the next minute we’re dancing for everyone to see!”

  “HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

  “Now, watch me. I’ve choreographed a routine. Some of the high-kicks are a bit tricky, but I think—”

  “Wait, you’re not serious?”

  “Of course I am. It’s perfect!”

  “Only if perfect means completely horrific! Cammy, this is a BAD idea. Flash-mobs are usually, well, MOBS! Loads of people. People who can actually DANCE!”

  But Cammy wasn’t listening.

  She was too busy trying to do the splits.

  And that’s when I started to get scared. I mean, even though I knew that there was NO WAY IN THE WORLD I was going to be part of a three-person flash-mob, I still felt a bit nervous, you know, like when you make eye contact with a police officer, and you know you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong, but you still start to get a bit nervous “just in case”.

  There was only one solution. I was determined not to use my one-and-only “no way” vote unless I absolutely HAD to, especially since Cammy’s bad ideas seemed to be getting worse (first the socks; now this!). I wondered if this was Cara’s influence.

  I knew that we’d have to ask Margaret. Margaret was now the only one that could stop Cammy from plunging herself (and me!!) head-first into the Worst Idea in the World. I mean, I’m SURE dancing in the cafeteria would get our band noticed. And YES, I’m all for “uniqueness”…

  there’s a line. I do not wish to be one of “those kids” who get slices of ham thrown at them in the cafeteria. And I’m pretty sure doing a so-sad-it-makes-butterflies-cry dance in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL would definitely lead to sandwich filling being thrown in our general direction. It’s one thing to be a bit “different”, but it’s a completely other thing to be INSANE.

  I looked at Margaret. She was sitting like a hen. This was a very good thing. Margaret always seems at her wisest when she’s like that.

  So Cammy agreed to ask for Margaret’s opinion.

  “Margaret,” I said softly. “You are looking very beautiful today.”

  “Stop it!” said Cammy. “Just ask her.”

  “Fine. Margaret, do you think we should completely humiliate ourselves in front of the entire school by doing a three-person flash-mob dance in the cafeteria tomorrow?”

  Margaret stared at me and then looked out of the window for a bit.

  “She’s not interested,” I said. “That means no.”

  “No it doesn’t,” said Cammy. “Just give her a minute. She’s thinking.”

  Margaret continued to stare out of the window.

  “Come on, Cammy. It clearly says in ‘The Book’ that if she shows a ‘notable lack of interest’ then the question has bored her whiskers off, and is therefore NOT a good idea.”

  “It doesn’t say that, Peri.”

  “Um … I think you’ll find it does, Cammy.”

  “Oh really? I think you’ll find it doesn’t, Peri!”

  “OK, let’s look then, shall we?” I said.

  So Cammy went and got “The Book”.

  Note to reader: “The Book” is made up of a list of all of the noises/movements Margaret makes when she’s trying to tell us something and their carefully decoded meanings.

  Over the years, Cammy and I have managed to figure out what Margaret is trying to tell us (most of the time) through analysing her various sounds and movements.

  We’ve actually started to do some of them ourselves, to warn each other of impending DANGER.

  Like the time in biology, when Cammy was hiding worms in her gym bag because we knew the boys were going to torture them next lesson with the acid (rather than just putting it near them and observing their behaviour, like Mr Herbert had said to do).

  But then Mr Herbert spotted that Cammy was up to something and started to make his way over to her, so I started “chattering” really loudly to warn her.

  Background information: “Chattering” is a really weird noise that Margaret makes sometimes. It sounds a bit like a mix between a bird and a machine gun (if you can imagine that). It kind of sounds like “EEERER ERER RERERERERERERERERERE”. Cammy and I give chattering a serious score of 9 on the “Margaret Warning Scale”.

  So anyway, Cammy got the warning and managed to slip the last of the worms into her bag without being caught. And then Mr Herbert sent me to the school nurse (I’m not exactly sure why, but I went anyway because I was a bit bored).

  Unfortunately for the “rescued” worms, Cammy’s dad picked her up by surprise after school and took her out for tea. When she got home she realised she had forgotten all about the worms, and that most of them were squished.

  SO … Cammy went to get “The Book”, but before we could even look at it, Margaret starting making a weird low sound. It was freaky. It sounded like it was coming from really deep inside her. Like from her tail or something. We’d never heard her do that one before. It was definitely new.

  “I think that’s a very clear NO,” I said firmly.

  Cammy nodded slowly and I was mammothly relieved.

  Cammy was acting really weird at lunch the next day. She had her coat zipped right up, and she was wearing a scarf even though it was boiling in the cafeteria.

  “Are you still upset that Margaret didn’t like your idea?” I asked her.

  “No,” said Cammy matter-of-factly. “Because Margaret didn’t actually say that.”

  And then I had a horrible sinking feeling.

  Oh God.

  Something was about to happen.

  Before I could get out of there, Cammy blindsided me at the baked-potato station and ripped her coat off to reveal a sort of half-peacock/half-mermaid leotard thing. At this point (even though I was 99% certain I’d dressed myself this morning) I started to panic that I had one on underneath my coat too!

  Everything got even weirder after that.

  As soon as Cammy’s coat hit the floor, she started kicking her legs and headbutting the air. And then she started pointing at me!

  First she did it with her left arm, then with her right, and then it kind of became part of her “dance”. And that’s when I realised there was music playing really quietly (it was coming from Cammy’s phone).

  I had to make a choic
e. And there wasn’t much time. I either just stood there and let my best friend humiliate herself in front of the entire school, or I did what a best friend should do and go down in flames with her.

  To be honest with you, I hadn’t really made up my mind when Cammy grabbed me by the arms and started pulling me back and forth, and spinning me around.

  But then her phone fell out of her leotard pouch and hit the ground. And the music stopped. And so did our “dance”.

  And it turns out Cammy was absolutely right. We had the full attention of VERYONE IN THE ENTIRE CAFETERIA (just NOT in a good way).

  I was supposed to meet Cammy and Cara after school that day for band practice, but I had to make up an excuse so I could go to detention for stealing the spoons that I didn’t steal.

  To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t that bothered about not going to practice. Cammy had completely humiliated us in the cafeteria that day, and I didn’t really feel like being around her just then in case she came up with another “brilliant idea” to promote our band.

  Cara had proved to be no help when I’d tried to explain to Cammy how embarrassing the cafeteria incident had been. And when I suggested that we NEVER do anything like that again and that we hand out flyers instead, Cara actually disagreed with me and told Cammy that she thought her flash-mob had been the perfect “eco-friendly” way to “raise awareness” of our band. And then Cara made me want to stuff her mouth full of memorabilia socks when she suggested to Cammy that we plan another flash-mob!!

  So anyway, I left them to practise and plot my future embarrassment by themselves, and said that I had to go and get my hair cut. I almost told Cammy I was off to do HER detention but I managed to stop myself. Yes, I was annoyed at Cammy for not listening to me about the terrible dance, but I didn’t want to make the whole situation worse.

  When I arrived at detention, I instantly regretted admitting to the “spoon theft”.

  As I looked round the room I spotted at least four poopulars, one of whom was Jessica Clark.

  “Peri!” said Mrs Kelp, clearly surprised to see me there.

  She scanned the register. “You have a double detention?” She sounded almost sorry for me. I nodded. “Please take a seat. There’s paper and a pen on the desk.”

  I sat there in silence, surrounded by poopulars, and thought about how unbelievably stupid I’d been. I knew that I should’ve just told Cammy about the detention rather than lying to her about going to get my hair cut. Cammy HATES lies. But the only reason I’d lied, and the only reason I was there, was because I was trying to be a good friend. And now I had to go home and cut my own hair.

  But then I started to think that maybe I WOULDN’T cut my own hair. I mean, why should I always be the one trying to be a good friend? It wasn’t as though Cammy was exactly being a good friend by humiliating me in the middle of the school cafeteria, banishing gorgeous spoon-players from our band and being obsessed with Cara!

  I stared at the blank paper. There was no instruction sheet, and nothing written on the board. I assumed we were free to write what we wanted, and began to channel my angry mood into a song called “Why Did You Have to Banish the Gorgeous Spoon Player, Cammy? Why?” And I was REALLY getting into it when Mrs Kelp said, “Ah. You decided to join us. Do have a seat.”

  I was determined not to stop writing while I was in “the zone” but was forced to look up when a voice said, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

  It was Smile Boy!

  He sat down next to me.

  “What are you writing?” he whispered.

  I remembered how to use my arms just in time and threw them across the paper so he wouldn’t see. It was a bit over the top.

  “Wow. Something private, I guess. Sorry,” he whispered, and smiled at me again.

  “Edward!” called Mrs Kelp.

  Smile Boy raised both hands, as if to say sorry, and began writing.

  His name was Edward. My heart was beating so loud I was convinced other people could hear it too.

  I sat there staring at what I’d written, reading it but not really reading it because I couldn’t concentrate.

  I wondered if I should call him Edward if I ever spoke to him. Or if it was only teachers who called him that, and maybe his parents too.

  I wondered what would happen if I had to shout after him if he ever dropped his bus pass. I imagined myself shouting, “Eddie!” in the corridor, waving his bus pass in the air, while everyone laughed at me, shouting, “Who’s Eddie? Do you mean Ed?!”

  And then I felt something tap me lightly on my arm. It was Eddie! He was staring straight ahead at Mrs Kelp, but his arm was stretched out towards me. He was trying to pass me a note!

  I looked at Mrs Kelp and slowly put my hand out to take the note. But I couldn’t find his hand right away, and ended up touching his arm a couple of times and going BRIGHT RED before I eventually got the note.

  I gripped the note in my hand under the desk, scared to do anything other than that in case my face burst like an out-of-date tomato.

  Eventually I calmed down a bit, and was just about to look at the note when Mrs Kelp said, “OK. That’s time up. Everyone out. Except for you, Peri. You’ve got a double.”

  Although I was a bit gutted that Edward was gone, I also felt massively relieved. I was now on my own, and that meant I could read the note Edward had written me without him looking at me while I read it.

  I waited until Mrs Kelp began furiously typing again before slowly unfolding Edward’s note.

  Although I was basically alone, I felt my face and neck burn with embarrassment as I read:

  That weekend I decided I couldn’t face seeing Cammy. I mean, she wasn’t AT ALL embarrassed by what had happened in the cafeteria (which terrified me) and I couldn’t stop feeling angry at her every time I thought about the horrible note Edward had written me. I had TOLD Cammy the dance was a bad idea, but she just HAD to go ahead and do it anyway, didn’t she? And it’s just like Cammy to do whatever she wants and not care about how I feel.

  So as soon as I woke up on Saturday morning, I went to visit my gran so Cammy wouldn’t be able to find me and physically pull me into another one of her “brilliant ideas”.

  So anyway, I decided to hide at my gran’s.

  This may not have been the best plan.

  I left feeling more stressed out than when I arrived.

  I guess that’s just what my family does to me.

  (I should point out here that my gran isn’t really a normal, sweet, “granny-ish” gran who says things like, “Oh! You’re getting so tall these days!” or “Would you like a biscuit?”.)

  My visit went a bit like this:

  “How are your legs today, Gran?”

  Gran has bad legs. I don’t actually know what’s wrong with them, they’re just bad. Gran’s got a bad back too, and a bad heart, the doctor says.

  “Oh, they’re bad. Bad, bad, bad,” said Gran.

  Poor Gran.

  “Can I get you anything, Gran? A cup of tea? A biscuit? A Terry’s Chocolate Orange?”

  Chocolate Oranges are Gran’s favourite. I proudly produce one from my bag. I am in fact campaigning for Granddaughter of the Year.

  It might sound like a terrible thing to say, but I want to be Gran’s favourite and I’m currently competing against my (very annoying) big cousin Luke who’s training to be a doctor and my three-year-old little cousin who has blonde pigtails and says things like, “I wuv woo, Wanny”. So the gloves are off.

  “Awww, you’re a wee pet, aren’t you? Looking after an old, frail bag-of-bones like me.”

  I love my gran.

  “Here you go, Gran. I’ll open it for you. How many segments would you—”

  “SSSSSHHHHH!” she hisses.

  “What? What is it, Gran?”

  Gran drops suddenly to the floor.

  Oh my God! It must be her heart!

  “SSSSHHH! Stop yapping and GET DOWN!”

  Oh, thank God. She’s alive.

 
“What are you DOING, Gran?”

  I am pulled to the ground.

  “That nosy witch across the road is at it again!”

  I lie on the carpet and watch as Gran crawls commando-style across the living-room floor towards the lamp.

  We are now in darkness.

  “Gran, are you OK?”

  Gran races across the room and looks through her net curtains.

  Her “bad” legs seem much better.

  “LOOK! Come and see this nosy parker across the street. She’s watching us!”

  Aren’t we watching her too?

  “She is OBSESSED with me. OBSESSED, I tell you,” Gran hisses.

  Did I mention my gran’s a bit mad?

  And now she’s got binoculars. Perfect.

  “Stupid woman! She’s forgotten to turn her kitchen light off. I can see right in!”

  I’m pretty sure people can get arrested for this.

  “OH THE DEVIL! She’s copied my curtains! Those are my EXACT curtains. LOOK!”

  Why is this happening to me? Why can’t I just have a nice normal gran who gives you cuddles and watches the TV?

  “Gran, can we put the light back on now?”

  “Well, we’ll have to shut these curtains first or she’ll know what colour underwear we’re wearing in no time. The nosy thing.”

  I help Gran “secure” the curtains.

  She looks livid.

  “I bet that nosy woman thinks I’ll have to go out and get new kitchen curtains now, doesn’t she? Well, I won’t give her the satisfaction!”

  Is it terrible that I want to shove the whole Chocolate Orange in her mouth? Just to shut her up?

  “OK, Gran, that’s nice. I better get going. Um, I think Cammy’s looking for me.”