Petunia Perry and the Curse of the Ugly Pigeon

by Pamela Butchart

  I felt my heart drop to my feet.

  I ran around backstage looking for her, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.

  TRACK THREE

  I was seriously panicking that we’d lost Margaret, so I ran back on to the stage to tell Cammy at the exact moment that she tried to save the gig by playing her weird-sounding bongos just as the side of the bongos split open (never use cardboard to make bongos) and loads of SPOONS came pouring out on to the stage!

  Cammy picked up the spoons and stared at them in disbelief.

  And that’s when I looked out into the crowd and saw a VERY angry face. It was the HEAD TEACHER!! What the FLAPJACK was HE doing here?!

  He stared angrily back at me. Oh no. I thought back to what he had said in his office that terrible time: “And what about the rest of the spoons?”

  Someone must have stolen more spoons from the cafeteria. THAT’S why the head was so angry about the two spoons on our notice. And that’s when I realised we’d been SABOTAGED.

  “Margaret’s gone!” I blurted out in the middle of everything.

  Cammy chucked the bongos to one side and ran backstage. As it hit the floor the second drum exploded and even MORE spoons fell out.

  Cammy’s mum ran backstage too. As we all searched for Margaret I heard Cara take the mic and say, “I’m sorry. It’s over.”

  Everyone was silent except for a few kind-hearted/tipsy people, who cheered.

  “MARGARET! MARGARET!” Cammy screamed.

  “THERE SHE IS!” I shouted. Thank God! Margaret had slipped her lead and was crammed inside a jumbo bag of cheese puffs, stuffing her face.

  Cammy’s mum scooped her up and said she was going to take her home right away, and that she’d come back for Cammy when she’d finished getting her stuff together.

  I could tell from her tone that she was less than pleased we’d almost lost Margaret, and probably even LESS pleased that Margaret had been eating “junk food” again.

  Then Cara’s mum and dad poked their heads backstage and said they’d wait for Cara in the car.

  We all just kind of stood there staring at each other.

  Before I even realised I was doing it, I was shouting at Cara. Saying that she had been in charge of ONE THING, which was to make sure Margaret had enough cheese-dust to keep her happy. Cammy was crying. And just then Edward came RUSHING in.

  “I’m so sorry!” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “I fell off my bike and bust my phone. Have I missed it?”

  Without answering, Cara stormed out and Cammy just stood there crying.

  Edward looked at me, completely stunned, and said, “What happened?!”

  The next day in school wasn’t great. I kept waiting for the head teacher to call me to his office about the spoons.

  Cara had sent Cammy a text saying that she wouldn’t be able to come to band practice for the rest of the week because she had loads on. Which we both knew was a lie, and that she wasn’t coming because I’d shouted at her for losing Margaret.

  Edward wasn’t in that day, and I had no idea why, and I couldn’t even text him to check that he was OK after his bike accident because he’d bust his phone. But worst of all Cammy was freaking out. She’d almost started crying in registration when a few people began drumming on their desks and laughing. Usually Cammy just ignores that kind of stuff and it’s ME who gets bothered by it.

  I explained to her that we’d clearly been SABOTAGED. And that it was most likely Jessica who’d tampered with Cammy’s bongos when we were getting ready backstage. I was sure that Jessica and the poopulars must have stolen the rest of the spoons as a prank so that WE’D get the blame. Jessica clearly liked Edward and was probably jealous that he was hanging out with us all the time and decided to wreck our band because of it.

  But Cammy said that she didn’t think it WAS Jessica who had sabotaged us. She said that Jessica had been really nice to her after the gig, and had asked Cammy if she needed a lift home when she was stood outside waiting for her mum to come back to collect her.

  I was actually stunned. Was Cammy being serious? Could she honestly not see that Jessica had set us up?

  “Do you think the head’s planning to expel us?” Cammy said, looking teary again.

  “No,” I said firmly. “I think it was pretty obvious that we didn’t know the spoons were in there. If anything, he’ll just ask to see me again.”

  Cammy put her head in her hands and said that we should probably just forget about the band. And even though last night had been AWFUL, I was still gutted when she said that, because I really didn’t want The Spoons to break up.

  Everything was sort of OK-ish by the end of the week. I’d decided to take the plunge and go to see the head myself; he SEEMED to believe what I told him about the sabotage (I did not mention Jessica by name, because Cammy made me promise I wouldn’t).

  I hadn’t really seen Edward much, and he hadn’t been able to come to the emergency band meeting that I’d scheduled to discuss “next steps” (neither had Cara, unsurprisingly).

  I felt bad about shouting at Cara like I had. I knew it hadn’t just been because she’d almost lost Margaret; I’d been jealous of how well she’d been getting on with Cammy (and how much she’d been encouraging Cammy’s crazy ideas).

  So anyway, Cammy and I decided to go ahead with the emergency meeting by ourselves. Cammy suggested that we take a break from rehearsals for a week or so. She also said that she was considering learning to play a more “normal” instrument for our comeback, like the “normal drums”, since her bongos were ruined anyway.

  I didn’t mind at all that Cammy wanted to play the “normal drums” instead of the bongos, I was just relieved that she seemed to want to keep the band going (even if we just practised together for fun and never did a gig ever again!). But I did think it was a bit weird of Cammy not to WANT to play something weirder, like the harp.

  The more I thought about it, Cammy had been acting a little less strangely since the disaster gig.

  By the end of the day, I’d decided to make the effort to find Cara and apologise for shouting at her at the gig.

  But I didn’t have to, she found me! She was waiting for me at my locker at the end of sixth period.

  “Oh. Hi!” I said. “I was actually looking for you.”

  Cara looked at me like she didn’t really believe me.

  And then she said, “You don’t have to come. My mum and dad are making me invite everyone in our class.” And then she handed me an invitation. “It’s our annual Halloween bash,” she said. “We always have one.”

  “Oh thanks,” I managed to say through the awkwardness and guilt.

  I was just trying to get the courage to make the situation even more uncomfortable by bringing up the shouting thing at the gig when Cammy appeared. She seemed to be in a much better mood.

  “It’s going to be the best Halloween party ever!” said Cammy. “We should all go as natural disasters!”

  I’d started to protest at this “a step too far” idea. But I don’t think anyone noticed because Cara had just shouted, “That’s a FANTASTIC IDEA!” And now she was high-fiving Cammy loads.

  By the time I’d walked home, I’d decided that Cara really didn’t like me. She was clearly OBSESSED with Cammy and thought she was the best thing since, well, spoons, I suppose. She probably hadn’t even been that bothered that I’d shouted at her.

  Somewhere between watching Cammy and Cara become best friends and arriving home, I’d decided to go to the Halloween party as a moth. I don’t really know why. I was in a moth kind of mood. But I figured that moths were pretty terrifying, with their weird cocoon-like bodies and their papery wings, so I thought it might make a good Halloween costume.

  When Mum got home I went downstairs to ask her if she could take me to Gran’s so I could use her sewing machine (and by “use her sewing machine” I of course mean “get Gran to make it for me”).

  If ONLY I had known what was waiting for me at the bottom of the s
tairs, I would have locked my bedroom door and stayed in there for all time.

  Mum had just bought a new PHONE.

  I was forced into one of those awful conversations you have to have when an old person asks you to explain something electronic to them.

  In my opinion, these situations never end well.

  Background Information

  My mum isn’t really what you would call up to date with technology. One awful day she turned to me, and said:

  “Peri, what’s the Internet?”

  (And please bear in mind that I am only twelve years old, so it’s not like she asked me this fifty years ago or something when people were somehow managing to exist without going online!)

  After about an hour, five arguments and a migraine, Mum eventually gave up and went back to her book. Thank God. I honestly don’t know where she gets this “weird inability to understand anything normal” from. I mean, I’m pretty sure Dad had the old dial-up Internet in the house before I was even born! And Gran’s a texting queen!

  Awesome texts that I have received from my gran:

  So anyway, I tried to run back upstairs when I saw what was going on, but Mum caught me.

  I did my best to protest by saying I wasn’t feeling very well, and that maybe she should ask Dad to help her instead, but Dad was conveniently “busy”.

  So I went hunting for him and found him hiding behind the dishwasher, “fixing” it (which Mum has been asking him to do for ages). How interesting that he eventually decided to do it when Mum came back from town with a new phone.

  Oh God. I can just imagine the state of the poor man in the phone shop. I bet he had to go home after she left.

  In the end, Mum decided to retire to her room to “bond” with her new phone, so Dad said that he would drive me to Gran’s.

  Unlike Mum, Gran appears to know exactly what the Internet is, and in fact the minute Dad left she asked me if I could help her buy something online.

  Night-vision goggles.

  What do you say to that?

  Pros

  I will surely become the favourite granddaughter.

  I will not have to have the really awkward conversation with her where I tell her “no”.

  She will be able to snoop on that “nosy witch” who lives across the road all night long if she wants. (I’m not sure if this is really a pro but I’m sure it would make Gran happy, so I’ll add it anyway.)

  She will save on electricity since she’ll never watch the TV again.

  Cons

  Dad could find out and I’d get into trouble for “encouraging” her.

  Someone could phone the police to report “stalking.”

  Gran could get arrested.

  Gran could go to prison, and who would make my moth costume then???

  Fortunately for everyone, Gran nearly fainted when I told her how much night-vision goggles cost. (Gran still begrudges paying any more than 50p for shoes, and spends a lot of time in charity shops haggling with the kind volunteers over things like someone’s old tights.)

  It took a while to get her focused on making my costume because she found out I hadn’t had my dinner yet (even though it was only 5.30pm) and she started banging pots and pans about and calling Mum a “silly career woman”. Then she forced about half a tonne of some sort of “stew” down my throat. But eventually she sat down at her sewing machine and made me a masterpiece!

  The next day at school I told Cammy about my moth costume.

  “What about your face?” she said.

  “What about my face?”

  Note to reader: I am very paranoid about my face. It is quite large. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have enough face for at least two faces.

  “I mean, are you going to wear a mask or something?” she said.

  Due to my face-paranoia it took me several seconds to realise Cammy wasn’t suggesting that I wear a face-mask in general and that her question was moth-costume-related.

  “I don’t think I know what a moth’s face looks like,” I said.

  So Cammy started doing some sketches in her workbook of what she thought a moth’s face would look like. It looked brilliant! And hideous!

  But then Mr Phart came running over.

  “More sketches, I see!” he said.

  Uh-oh. I just KNEW where this was going.

  “And I assume this is a sketch of my face, IS IT?”

  I KNEW he was going to think that we were drawing something to do with him again!

  I was about to protest, and explain about the moth thing, but then I looked at Cammy’s sketch and noticed that it really DID look a bit like Mr Phart. (Mr Phart is a very unfortunate-looking man.)

  “It’s not you, I promise!” said Cammy. “It’s for Peri’s Halloween costume! She’s going as a moth!”

  A strange look passed across Mr Phart’s face at this point.

  I now know that this was the look of a man who had been wronged.

  A man who had been wronged, and saw an opportunity to strike back with a vengeance!

  “A MOTH?” he sneered.

  And then he looked at the rest of the class and laughed.

  “Well, I suppose you do look a bit like a creepy insect of some sort!”

  And then the rest of the class burst out laughing too.

  Did Mr Phart just call me creepy?

  And an insect?

  Is he allowed to do that??!

  I couldn’t believe it.

  I’d been “slammed” by a teacher.

  Slammed by MR PHART of all teachers!

  The beast.

  I watched as Mr Phart squeaked back over to his desk.

  And then he “smiled” at me.

  It was not a friendly smile.

  It was the smug smile of someone who was clearly trying to convey a message:

  PAYBACK.

  On Thursday night I arrived late to Cara’s party because Dad had been stuck in the toilet for ages (my life!).

  When I eventually got there I couldn’t believe how great the place looked. Cara’s family had gone ALL OUT with the decorations. Their house looked super-creepy since it was really old and surrounded by dark fields. There were also about ten (brilliantly disturbing) zombies wandering around the garden as “decoration”. It was awesome!

  Dad looked freaked out when he saw them.

  “You want me to stay here until you get in?” he asked as one of the zombies headed towards the car.

  I had barely even said no when my freak of a dad basically pushed me out of the door and drove away before the zombie could touch him.

  “Good costume. You’re a dead owl, right?” said the zombie as he walked me up to the house.

  “Erm, no. I’m a moth.”

  “Cool. Dead moth is good too,” he said. “I’m Ziggy. Cara’s brother.”

  “Oh yeah. You came to our gig,” I said (and then wished I hadn’t). He looked at me with zombie pity.

  “Well, you guys can always join us tonight if you fancy it?” said Ziggy as he did a little dance. “We don’t have a keyboard but you could try your hand at the spoons?”

  I was about to ask him what he meant when Cara and Cammy appeared, joined at the hip (literally).

  “What do you think?” beamed Cammy. “We’re an EARTHQUAKE.”

  Cara looked mega-happy.

  “Well, technically, I’m the aftershock,” said Cammy.

  “You look brilliant, Peri!” said Cara. “I’m so glad you came!”

  “Thanks,” I said. I was a little bit shocked at how happy Cara seemed that I’d come to her party. “I’m a—”

  “You’re a MOTH!” said Cara before I could finish. “You look fantastic! How did you make your mask?”

  “Um. My gran made it. She used to mend costumes for the theatre.”

  Just then an army of (extremely non-scary) witches, cats and princesses walked past us and into the house (without even saying hello to Cara!).

  “Was that the poopulars?” I asked Cara.

 
“Yeah,” said Cara, seemingly unbothered by the fact that real-life demons had just entered her home.

  “Come and see Cara’s mum and dad!” squealed Cammy as she pulled me inside.

  Cara’s house looked even creepier on the inside than it did on the outside. There were zombies EVERYWHERE. Some were fake and some were real and you couldn’t really tell which were which until one of them grabbed you. It was terrifying! (In a good way.)

  “Most of the undead are my brother’s friends from uni. They’re fun,” said Cara as one tried to strangle her.

  “Mum! Dad!” Cara shouted across the room. “This is Peri.”

  I watched as two of the tallest people in the room made their way over. They looked TERRIFYING!

  “Guess what they are, Peri!” said Cammy excitedly.

  I couldn’t stop staring at Cara’s mum. She looked like she was on fire!

  “They’ve come as natural disasters, too.”

  “Hello, Peri. I’m Eve, Cara’s mum. And this is my husband, Ruirhi. We’re a forest fire!”

  “Wow!” I said. “You both look great.” And they really did! I’d been a little anxious to meet Cara’s mum and dad, in case Cara had mentioned the me-shouting-in-her-face-and-blaming-her-for-everything thing. But they were really nice.

  “It’s almost TIIIIIMMMMMMEE!” one of the zombies announced. “Please gather in the barn if you DAAAAARE!”