Monstrous Maud: Big Fright

by A. B. Saddlewick

  “Oh, Quentin,” said Maud. “I wish Mr Von Bat was frightened as easily as you.”

  She thought back to her very first Fright Class. Mr Von Bat had said you should find out what someone’s weakness is and use it against them. But Mr Von Bat didn’t have a weakness. Everything she’d tried, from the spooky to the soppy, had failed. So what was left?

  Maud was running out of time. She had two more days to scare Mr Von Bat, or she’d have to find another school. If there were any that would take her.

  Her eyes were drawn to the portrait of her great-aunt Ethel once again. She looked so confident in her moonlit graveyard. She’d have known what to do.

  A scream rang out from Maud and Milly’s bedroom.

  “Mum!” shouted Milly. “Maud’s been going through my chest of drawers again! And she’s been looking through my notebook! And she’s been wearing my ballet clothes! You have to do something about it!”

  Just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse.

  The next morning, Maud spent all of Vampire History staring at Mr Von Bat and wondering what his weakness could be. She was supposed to be reading a passage from her textbook about the causes of the Great Vampire War of 1823. But she was too preoccupied to take in the history of the Bitesworthys and the Bludhaus-Essenbergs.

  “Ouch!” shouted Paprika from the desk next to her. He’d given himself a paper cut on his textbook and was holding out his finger to show his dad.

  Mr Von Bat grimaced. “Go to the sick room at once. I’m not a nurse.”

  “I’ll take him,” said Maud.

  “Very well,” said Mr Von Bat. “But no messing around. And make sure you get that cut properly covered up.”

  The school sick room was a small, dusty chamber with a broken bed at each end and a table full of what looked like medieval torture instruments in the middle. A huge green ogre was standing in the middle of the room, wearing an apron covered in dark stains. Maud was just about to ask if the ogre knew where the nurse was when she read its badge. It was the nurse.

  She hoped she never got ill in school.

  The ogre wrapped Paprika’s finger in a dirty bandage and grunted to say that it was finished.

  As they walked back along a murky corridor to the classroom, Maud thought about how Mr Von Bat had reacted to the drop of blood on Paprika’s finger. The only other time she’d seen him make a face like that was when he’d seen the overturned cauldrons in the cafeteria.

  Maud paused in the corridor. “Didn’t you think your dad was a bit funny about that cut?” she asked Paprika.

  “Not really,” he said. “He gets like that sometimes.”

  “Which times?” asked Maud.

  Paprika looked like he was about to say something, but seemed to stop himself. “None in particular. It’s pretty random, really.”

  As they walked back to the classroom, they passed Mr Von Bat’s blood storage cupboard again. Maud looked at the sign and found herself wondering about the room again.

  When they got back into the classroom, Maud picked Quentin up from her pencil case, where he’d been sleeping, and popped him into her pocket. Then she waited for Mr Von Bat to get distracted. After a while, Oscar put up his hand and asked for help with the questions about the vampire war. He was scratching his decapitated head with his other hand, clearly struggling with it all.

  “Please may I go to the toilet, Sir?” asked Maud.

  “If you must,” said Mr Von Bat. “You just can’t sit still today, can you?”

  As Maud passed the coat hooks, she slipped her hand into the inside pocket of her teacher’s cape and grabbed the key she found there.

  After a short jog down the corridor, she was outside the door to the blood storage room. Glancing at the sign one last time, she turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

  “Okay, Quentin,” she said. “You keep a lookout.”

  Quentin took up position outside the doorway, glancing from left to right and lifting his snout in the air.

  Inside the room was a small stock cupboard full of jars of blood, just as Paprika had said.

  Maud felt goose bumps all over. It was probably just because she was feeling guilty about ignoring the sign. But at the same time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. What if there was a CCTV camera in here? Maud looked around. She didn’t see how there could be. Pencil sharpeners and rulers were about as far as technology went in Rotwood; there was no way they would have something as advanced as cameras.

  Maud took down one of the jars. She should have freaked out at holding a jar of actual human blood, but she pretended it was tomato juice, and then it didn’t seem so bad.

  She unscrewed the top. The liquid didn’t smell much like blood at all. It had a savoury odour that was strangely familiar. Maud dipped a finger into it and lifted it cautiously to her nose.

  What?

  She licked her finger.

  Maud didn’t have to pretend the blood was tomato juice. It was tomato juice.

  Maud couldn’t believe it. So Mr Von Bat wasn’t a fearsome blood-drinker after all. He was a vegetarian, just like Paprika.

  Carefully, she placed the jar back on the shelf and locked the door. Then she scooped Quentin back into her pocket and ran to the classroom.

  When she got back, Maud was relieved to see that Mr Von Bat was busy trying to help Zombie Zak. He was explaining the questions in the textbook, but Zak just kept looking at him and saying, “Ug.” Maud slipped Mr Von Bat’s key into his cape and returned to her seat.

  A few minutes later, Mr Von Bat came over and pointed to her textbook. “And have we worked it all out yet?” he asked.

  Maud smiled and nodded, although she was none the wiser about whether the Bitesworthys or the Bludhaus-Essenbergs started the Great Vampire War. But she did think she might finally have worked out how to scare her vampire teacher. Tomorrow she would try one more time. And this time it was going to work.

  It had to.

  Milly was practising her twirls and leaps in their bedroom again that night.

  “Go away, Maud,” she said. “My big show’s tomorrow, remember?”

  “That’s okay,” said Maud. “I was planning on spending tonight in the kitchen anyway. Which reminds me, do you still have the recipe for the cake you made for Miss Bloom last Friday?”

  Milly froze, mid-pirouette. “Why would you be interested?” she asked suspiciously. “You hate baking.”

  “I just thought I’d give it a try.”

  “It’s a very difficult recipe. You probably won’t be able to follow it.”

  “I could always stay up here with you instead, if you prefer. I could help you out with your ballet?”

  Milly made a face and went straight to her bookcase. She handed Maud a book called The Magical Princess’s Guide to Yummy Baking.

  “Don’t spill anything on it,” said Milly. “And promise it won’t go near any bugs, worms or maggots, or I’ll tell, and I’ll never lend you anything ever again.”

  “I promise,” said Maud, and ran down to the kitchen.

  Maud turned to the section on Special Cakes for Magical People and found the one Milly had made for Miss Bloom. She measured out the exact amounts of eggs, butter, flour and sugar and followed the instructions precisely. Except for one or two minor adjustments.

  When the cake was baked, she traced out the words “Best Teacher Ever” in purple icing, and stood back to admire her work. It looked a little messier than when Milly had done it – but you could still read it clearly.

  A couple of minutes later, Mrs Montague came into the kitchen for a drink of water. When she saw the cake, she dropped the glass she was carrying. SMASH!

  “Oh my goodness!” she gasped.

  “What is it now?” asked Mr Montague, running into the kitchen.

  “Maud hasn’t put her ant jar on the spice rack again, has she?” asked Milly, following him in.

  Maud’s dad was staring at the cake, eyes bulging behin
d his glasses. “Well done, Maud,” he managed to say, at last. “That cake is ... lovely. It looks like Rotwood really is changing you for the better.” And he leaned down to give Maud a big hug.

  “Thanks,” said Maud, blushing.

  “It was my recipe,” said Milly. “She got the recipe from my book.”

  The next morning, Maud got ready early and waited by the door for her sister. At last, Milly twirled out on to the landing in her full ballet costume.

  Their parents came out into the hallway to admire Milly, who curtseyed for them.

  “What a lovely tutu,” said their mum.

  “Thanks,” said Milly.

  “Thanks,” said Maud.

  Milly looked at her with confusion.

  “Good luck with your big day,” said their dad.

  “Thanks,” said Milly.

  “Thanks,” said Maud.

  Milly narrowed her eyes.

  On the bus, Maud held her cake box flat on her lap, willing the old wreck to trundle faster along the forest road. As soon it pulled up in the clearing, Maud dashed straight into Rotwood and up the winding staircase to her classroom.

  Mr Von Bat looked up from the Vampire Times crossword as she burst in. “Good morning,” he said, setting down his quill. “Or should I say, ‘Good bye’? Didn’t get very far with the scaring in the end, did we? What a shame. I was just starting to get used to having you around.”

  “Never mind,” said Maud. “I tried my best.”

  Mr Von Bat smiled. “So it appears it’s your last day at Rotwood, then.”

  “I know,” said Maud. “That’s why I’ve brought in something for you. It’s to thank you for teaching me so well.” Maud opened the cake tin.

  A broad grin stretched across Mr Von Bat’s face. “Best teacher ever? Well, if you say so. I suppose I could treat myself to a piece. To celebrate my little victory.”

  Maud took out a knife from her bag and sliced into the cake. As she did so, thick red liquid oozed out.

  Mr Von Bat looked at it with growing panic. “What ... what’s that?” he asked.

  “It’s a blood cake, of course,” said Maud. “What other sort of cake would I make for a vampire?” She lifted the slice out and more red stuff splattered down on to Mr Von Bat’s desk.

  Mr Von Bat jumped up and backed away from the cake, growing paler by the second.

  Maud grinned. She’d spent ages making sure the runny red icing looked exactly like blood. It was perfect.

  “I hope you like it,” she said, thrusting the slice towards Mr Von Bat. “I made it just for you.”

  Mr Von Bat backed up to the wall, but Maud went after him, holding the slice right up to his face. A drop of the red icing splashed on to Mr Von Bat’s cape and he let out a shriek of terror. Then he cowered on the floor, covering his head with his hands.

  “You’re not scared, are you?” asked Maud, innocently.

  “Urgh! Get that thing away from me!” he shouted. “I hate blood!”

  Maud calmly put the slice back in the cake box. “I thought as much,” she said. “You’re frightened of blood, just like Paprika. Aren’t vampires supposed to like it?”

  “All right, all right,” he said. “You win.” Mr Von Bat reached into his mouth and pulled out a pair of false fangs.

  Maud stared at Mr Von Bat’s plastic teeth. What on earth was going on?

  “So you’re ... not a real vampire?” she asked.

  Mr Von Bat couldn’t look her in the eye. “No,” he said glumly. “I’m as human as you are.”

  Maud put the cake back in the tin and helped Mr Von Bat to his feet again. He didn’t look very strict or frightening any more. In fact, he looked as if he might be sick at any moment. Maud had thought she’d be over the moon if she managed to scare her teacher, but he looked so petrified that she felt bad about it instead.

  “And what about Paprika?” asked Maud.

  “He’s half-vampire,” replied Mr Von Bat as he straightened out his cape. “His mum’s one, you see.”

  No wonder Paprika found it so hard to be a fearsome creature of the night. Maud felt sorry for him now, too.

  “Does he know?” she asked.

  “Yes, but he’d never tell anyone. He knows I’d get thrown out of Rotwood. And the truth is, I really like it here.”

  “Me too.”

  “The school I used to teach in was so horrible, with polished floors and rows of computers and large windows. I suppose the pupils were better behaved, but it was all just so ... normal.” Mr Von Bat shuddered at the memory.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” said Maud.

  “Of course you do. You’re human too. That’s why I didn’t want you around. I thought you’d guess the truth about me and I’d have to go back to somewhere nasty and ordinary.”

  Maud heard footsteps coming up the winding staircase. It was time for morning lessons.

  “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” asked Mr Von Bat.

  “Of course not,” said Maud. “Providing you let me stay at Rotwood, that is.”

  Mr Von Bat sighed. “Very well then. Just get rid of that revolting cake.”

  Maud wondered if she should explain, but decided not to. After all, it was a delicious cake and now she had lots of new friends to share it with. She stuffed it into her desk while Mr Von Bat put his fangs back in and recovered his stern expression.

  The door opened, and Class 3B filed in.

  At break, Maud lifted Quentin out of her pencil case into her pocket and went out to the graveyard. She spotted Paprika in the corner, rolling eyeball marbles along a cracked tombstone. She went over to him.

  “Hi Paprika,” she said. “I think I ought to tell you something.”

  “Is it about Tutus?”

  “No, it’s about your dad. I, er ... I know he’s a human.”

  Paprika’s eyes widened and Maud began to worry that he was going to turn into a bat again.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “The secret’s safe with me. After all, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Paprika nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “How did you find out? Can you read minds? Is that one of the special powers Tutus have?”

  “No,” said Maud. “It’s nothing like that. In fact, that’s the other thing I wanted to tell you. I’m not a Tutu at all. There’s no such creature. I just made it up because ... well ... because I’m just a normal human too.”

  Paprika looked confused. “But humans aren’t allowed in this school.”

  “I know,” said Maud. “But you’ll keep my secret if I keep yours, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will.” He smiled, showing his stunted, half-vampire fangs. “It’s like you said – we’re friends. I’m glad you’re here, Maud. You’re so monstrous.”

  Maud smiled back, and looked out over the misty graveyard. Her misty graveyard. In the distance, she could see a group of pupils playing football. Zombie Zak was in goal, but he couldn’t move fast enough to catch the ball.

  “Actually, I’m pleased you’re a human,” Paprika said. “Sometimes when my friends are doing amazing things like taking off their heads and casting spells, I feel a little ... funny about being half-human. But you’re human and you’re cool, so they can’t all be ordinary.”

  “Not all of us,” said Maud. She couldn’t help remembering her family’s last holiday to Cornwall, when her dad spent the journey there and back naming the engine type of every passing car.

  Maud felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Mr Von Bat, who looked even paler than when he’d seen the blood cake.

  “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “But I’ve just heard that the Head wants to see you.”

  Maud’s heart sank. After all the effort she’d made to convince Mr Von Bat to let her stay, it seemed as though the Head had found out about her.

  As Maud made her way back across the playground, she could hear the news spreading.

  Wilf ran over. “What did you do?” he asked. “You must be in serious
trouble.”

  “I don’t know,” Maud lied.

  “I told you there was something wrong with her,” said Poisonous Penelope. “Whatever she’s done, I hope they make an example of her.”

  Inside, Mr Von Bat pointed Maud in the direction of the Head’s office, which was at the end of a long corridor lit by a row of flaming torches.

  Maud had to push away cobwebs as she ventured down it. It didn’t seem like a part of the school that was used much.

  At the end of the corridor was a large door made of oak planks held together by iron studs. The doorknob was in the shape of a skull, and she could hear a yowling sound coming from inside. Whatever kind of monster the Head was, she was sure this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  It didn’t matter, though. She’d been summoned, and she’d have to face whatever was inside. This was going to be her last day at Rotwood, and it was hopeless fighting it.

  Maud knocked on the door and, all by itself, it creaked open.

  The first things Maud noticed were the cats. There was a fat ginger tom curled up on the windowsill, a grey cat with bright green eyes on top of a cupboard, and a tabby cat prowling around the stone floor.

  All of them turned to look at Maud as she entered, and some mewed at her. Quentin cowered inside her pocket.

  In the centre of the room was a large wooden desk lit by four dribbling candles and, behind it, the back of a large leather swivel chair.

  Maud held her breath as the chair turned slowly round to reveal ...

  Maud gasped.

  Sitting in the chair was a nice-looking elderly woman wearing huge round glasses, her hands stroking a black cat in her lap. Black all but a single white paw.

  Maud couldn’t believe it. “Great-aunt Ethel!” she gasped.

  The woman nodded. “Hello, Maud.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Maud whispered.

  “Dead?” said great-aunt Ethel. “Of course I’m dead. Would I be able to do this if I was alive?” She passed her hand right through one of the candles.

  “So you’re a ghost?”

  “Naturally,” said Great-aunt Ethel.