The Trouble with Sauce

by Bruno Bouchet

THE FINAL EXPERIMENT

  In the Maths prison, Mr Croxall and Mr Needham were ready to rush the door as soon it opened. They had heard Prune’s screams and the sound of the mob charging after Jonty and decided they had to do something.

  They heard the students approaching and glanced at each other. This was their chance. The second the door banged open they leapt, but it was useless. The zombie students surged in like a river in flood. The teachers were pushed right back against the walls.

  Twelve of them carried Prune above their heads, keeping a tight hold on her arms and legs as she squirmed and screamed. Nathaniel was carried in on high — like a deer caught in the hunt.

  ‘Down there!’ Henry the Octopus pointed to the ground far away from the door.

  ‘Where’s Jonty?’ Mr Croxall peered over a shoulder, worried about what had happened.

  ‘Your star pupil’s coming,’ Henry grunted in disgust.

  Boris wheeled in a hospital trolley with Jonty sprawled on it, unconscious.

  ‘He’s prepped himself for the final experiment.’ Boris grinned. ‘Smartest thing he ever did!’ He shoved the trolley hard and it rolled into the middle of the room.

  As quickly as the crazed students had rushed into the room, they flooded out again, locking the door and leaving the children and teachers trapped again. They all moved around the trolley.

  ‘The best we can do is to keep him still,’ Mr Croxall said.

  ‘Nathaniel, think of a way to get us out, please!’ Prune pleaded.

  Nathaniel walked over to Mr Foster’s cage. He hoped to get information about the sauce from him, but their old principal was a babbling idiot.

  ‘How long does it last in the system?’ Nathaniel asked, but got no answer.

  Mr Foster had been through one more round of electric shocks. His mind was completely scrambled. He was sitting cross-legged in his underpants. The index finger on his left hand pushed imaginary pills across the cage floor. ‘One to make you clever, two to make you more clever, three to make you stupid, four to make you more stupid, one to make you clever …’ He repeated the same line over and over again.

  Nathaniel gave up and joined the others. ‘Have you monitored Jonty’s heart rate?’ he asked.

  Mr Needham nodded. ‘It’s getting back to normal. That’s something, at least.’

  ‘What are we going to do, Nathaniel?’ said Prune.

  He knew that with Jonty out of action, it was up to him to try and get them out. Simply forcing their way out was no good. They could not reason with the students while the sauce was still ruling them.

  ‘They are obsessed with learning,’ Nathaniel said, ‘so we should bombard them with many different ideas for experiments. Confuse them with as many ideas as we can. Our best option is to delay them as long as possible in the hope that the sauce will wear off.’

  Everyone nodded. It was the nearest thing they had to a plan.

  ‘Remember when Jonty talked to Boris about Maths and the chalk circle?’ Nathaniel continued. ‘It was as if Boris almost remembered for a second. The more we can remind them of their life before the sauce, the better.’

  They fell into silence, all trying to think of different ways to confuse the students. They knew that at any moment the door would open and ‘the final experiment', as Boris had called it, would begin.

  Eventually the moment they had been dreading arrived. The key turned in the lock and a mass of students swarmed in again. They used their numbers to make sure no one could escape. The teachers were immediately pushed up against the wall again. Prune and Nathaniel were held tight by six students each.

  Once they were secured, the doorway emptied and Boris appeared, dressed like a surgeon. Another two hospital trolleys were wheeled in.

  ‘Time for biology: it’s craniotomy today!’ He clapped his hands.

  ‘You can’t!’ said Mr Croxall, horrified. ‘That’s — ’

  Prune and Nathaniel had no idea what craniotomy was, but judging by Mr Croxall’s face, it wasn’t pleasant.

  ‘You could examine their skins for sun damage!’ Mr Needham piped up. ‘I could show you how to establish which of them is most likely to get skin cancer.’

  ‘We’ve learnt all there is to know about skin cancer.’ Boris tutted.

  The children were grateful for Mr Needham’s effort, but it was no good. Prune and Nathaniel were lifted onto the new trolleys and strapped down.

  ‘Time to learn,’ Boris declared and marched out of the room. The three trolleys were pushed along behind him and then the swarm of students withdrew and locked the door again.

  Boris walked down the corridor beside Nathaniel. ‘You don’t even know what a craniotomy is, do you?’ He grinned down at the patient. ‘We already know almost everything about heads, but we want to have a look at how a brain could be improved.’

  Prune glanced over at Jonty’s trolley. She had been hoping he would wake up, but perhaps now it was better than he didn’t. As she watched him, Jonty groaned and his eyes flicked a little.

  ‘Jonty?’ Prune called across, but he didn’t answer.

  The science lab was packed with students eager to learn. They shifted around, keen for their lesson.

  ‘Make way for the subjects!’ Boris called out. The crowd moved aside to reveal three benches prepared like operating tables. Henry stood at the top of one bench. He was wearing surgical gloves and a cloth facemask. In his hand he held a small rotary saw. ‘I’ll have him.’ He pointed to Nathaniel.

  He was transferred onto Henry’s bench.

  Jonty was placed on the second operating bench. Boris snapped on his surgical gloves and mask and took his position above Jonty.

  Prune was allocated to Anastasia, at the head of the third bench.

  ‘Now,’ Henry announced, ‘in today’s lesson we’ll perform a craniotomy — cutting into the skull. From there we’ll examine the meninges and then, the highlight, the cerebral tissue of the brain itself.’

  ‘Let me go first,’ Boris said, switching on his rotary saw. The whir rang out.

  ‘No!’ shouted Nathaniel. ‘I’ve got the smartest natural brain here. Mine will be more interesting.’

  He was desperate to delay the operation. Even a second might save them.

  Prune piped up, ‘Can you tell what colour aura someone has by looking at their brain?’

  The students turned to her, wondering whether she should be first.

  ‘But don’t you want to see the effect of all the tuna on my brain?’ said Nathaniel. Even saying the word brought the smell back to him, but he ignored it. ‘It could be even bigger. You might have come up with a replacement for all the sauce you lost.’

  ‘But psychic ability is the next big advance,’ Prune said. ‘Imagine what you could learn if you could read people’s minds!’

  Anastasia’s eyes lit up and she turned on her rotary drill, ready to go.

  ‘Garbage! Psychic ability has no scientific basis!’ scoffed Nathaniel. ‘Stick to facts. You know I possess the smartest natural brain in our class. Use it to discover how to improve natural intelligence.’

  Jonty groaned again. His mind was a complete fog, but he could see some lights. He might be dreaming, but he could hear an argument about brains. He tried to focus his eyes and remember. He could remember running. He had been running hard and then suddenly he wasn’t. Why had he been running? His head hurt. As his eyes came into focus he could see his mate, Boris, standing above him. It had to be some prank.

  All the students were looking at Nathaniel, thinking maybe he was right: he should go first.

  ‘But no one’s ever examined a psychic brain before,’ Prune argued. ‘I’m your chance to perform a world first.’

  ‘What?’ Jonty choked out a laugh. ‘My backside’s more psychic than her brain!’ This was the weirdest conversation he could remember.

  The room fell silent. Then Nathaniel could hear the tiniest giggle. His heart skipped a beat. Jonty was awake and their strategy might finally be working.


  ‘Use my backside,’ Nathaniel said. ‘I can only do silent farts. I am physically unable to do a noisy fart. Listen.’

  Everyone listened carefully as Nathaniel pretended to squeeze and made no noise.

  There was another embarrassed giggle. Prune looked from side to side; she couldn’t remember any of them giggling since they had started on the pills.

  ‘Stop it! Don’t you see? They’re trying to delay us,’ Boris shouted. He gripped his rotary saw, leant over Jonty and said, ‘Congratulations, my old mate. You won.’

  Jonty stared up at him. His friend was holding an electric saw over his head, as if he were going to cut him open. Jonty grinned. It was obviously one of Boris’s stunts. ‘Go on then, mate. Dare you,’ he said.

  Boris squinted and lowered the saw.

  He paused.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ said Henry.

  ‘Just remind me, Henry,’ said Boris, ‘is it the dura mater or the arachnoid that comes first?’

  Henry rolled his eyes. This was basic stuff they had learnt ages ago. ‘If you want to access the frontal lobes, you need to cut —’ He screwed his eyes up. ‘You need to drill a Burr — Bu — This infantile talk of farting has put me off!’

  ‘Drill a Burr Hole,’ someone corrected him.

  Jonty thought this was the strangest trick they had ever pulled, but something about it was really funny. ‘Hey, how much does that saw cost?’ he asked. The two-dollar shop game was always good for a laugh. To him it seemed like yesterday that he and Boris were in the shop, trying not to laugh.

  Without thinking, Boris blurted out, ‘Two dollars, you idiot.’ He grinned for a second, then looked serious again.

  ‘How much is that face mask?’

  Boris tried to ignore the question.

  ‘Please, how much does the face mask cost?’

  Trying not to laugh, Boris pressed his lips together. His eyes looked furious, but his mouth wanted to crack up.

  ‘How much?’ Jonty pressed him.

  ‘Two dollars!’ he said and burst out laughing.

  ‘Stop it!’ shouted Henry, ‘Put the — whatsit in — put the knife thing in the — in the head and slice through the —’

  Their brilliant knowledge was draining away. Millions of facts and thousands of theories gushed out of their heads like water out of a bath.

  ‘If you want to access my hypothalamus you’ll need to retract the frontal cortex. Do you have a brain retractor with you?’ A beaming Nathaniel demonstrated his naturally superior mind.

  ‘I knew you were going to say that,’ Prune added. ‘See? I am pyschic. I picked up that energy.’

  ‘Stop wasting our time with your weirdo garbage, Prune. Honestly, you are so lame.’ Anastasia tutted, folded her arms and looked away. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to cut Prune’s brain open. For the first time ever, Prune was happy to be abused by a classmate.

  ‘Hello — Anastasia, shouldn’t you text Miranda to tell her what’s happening?’ she said.

  The students reeled as their brilliant intelligence dissolved in their minds. The knowledge was like a dense fog clouding their brains. As it lifted, they could see more clearly. For a second, they realised where they were and what they were doing and were devastated.

  Boris looked at the electric saw in his hand and dropped it to the floor.

  The students stood in silence, stunned at what they had been about to do. Then the memory of even that faded from their minds and they looked around in total confusion.

  ‘What’s going on? Where are the teachers?’ Henry the Octopus asked. Worried that he might cut himself, he put his rotary saw down.

  Nathaniel looked over at Jonty with a grin. ‘I think we’re safe now.’

  Jonty pulled a face and looked up at Boris. ‘Who invited Brainiac?’ he said.

  CHAPTER 27

  BACK IN CLASS

  The school was shut down for two weeks for a major clean-up. The new principal, Ms Bradbury, decided that this was the longest the students could afford to be away from school. The library would take months to restore, but the rest of the school could operate well enough. The teachers all had their jobs back. The only person who was not allowed back was Mr Foster. He was still sitting in his underpants, counting out invisible pills, but now he was in a place far away from any teacher, pills or tomato sauce.

  Prune’s parents decided she needed to go on a yoga retreat to help her get over what had happened. They even put some clothes on to take her there. Mrs de Luca still referred to it as ‘Prune’s journey', as if she’d been on a bus ride for the past few weeks.

  Nathaniel’s parents sent him away to stay with his grandmother for the fortnight. They had caught him playing a computer game in his room, instead of studying. He explained that there was no homework for him to do, but they still thought it was a worrying sign. The less he had to do with anyone at that school, the better.

  ‘That Jonty you talk about so much, I don’t think he’s a good influence,’ his mother said.

  Nathaniel snapped at her. ‘He’s the best friend I’ve ever had and if it wasn’t for him I’d have probably ended up like a student zombie.’

  His mother winced. She didn’t like him using words like ‘zombie'. A fortnight of playing scrabble with his grandmother would do his vocabulary the world of good.

  Jonty spent two days in hospital. Apart from a severe caffeine overdose, he had suffered concussion. He could remember virtually nothing of what had happened. He knew he had charged the school rugby team, but that was about all. He had no memory of the sauce or what had happened to any of the students. His parents kept saying they were sorry.

  His dad even got a bit teary. ‘I’ll always believe you in future, always,’ he said.

  Jonty had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘His memory of these events may return with time,’ said the doctor, ‘but don’t worry if it doesn’t. He’s fine.’

  Jonty’s parents thought that perhaps life might be better if it didn’t. The sooner everything got back to normal, the better. It would be good for him to spend time with his old friends.

  Jonty went round to Mike’s house to play Wii with Mike and Boris. They were both back to normal, with no trace of intelligence at all. They told stupid jokes, threw things at each other and called each other names.

  It was fun, but every time Jonty caught Boris’s eye, he got a strange feeling. Boris’s famous grin seemed a bit different from the way he remembered it.

  While Mike was skateboarding on the Wii board, Boris and Jonty stood behind him. Boris was trying to put Mike off. When his tactic didn’t work, he turned to Jonty.

  ‘Listen, mate,’ he said, ‘sorry for all the stuff we did. I can’t remember anything, but I heard it got a bit feral.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ Mike shouted over his shoulder from the Wii board. It was the first time any of them had mentioned it.

  ‘What stuff? Reckon I can remember even less than you. What you got planned for Monday morning? I hope Croxall’s forgiven us for all that oil and the garbage. I think we really hurt him. Perhaps you should lay off putting him on The List.’

  Mike fell off the Wii board in shock. Boris laughed.

  ‘What?’ Jonty asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Those guys really played with your head. School’s back to normal and that means everyone’s expecting something from us. I’ve got a rep to keep up.’ Boris was keen to take up exactly where they’d left off.

  ‘What do mean, those guys?’ Jonty was getting frustrated.

  ‘Mate, you were hanging out with The Wrinkle and Brainiac!’ Mike blurted out.

  ‘Huh?’

  Boris looked at the confusion on Jonty’s face, grinned and winked at Mike. Jonty saw him grinning and felt dizzy. Something flashed through his mind. He suddenly felt really flustered, as if this wasn’t right; as if he wasn’t supposed to be there.

  ‘Sorry, guys,’ he said. ‘I better go home. My head’s h
urting.’

  On Monday morning, when school opened again, it was Maths with Mr Croxall as usual. Everyone waited at the back of the class for him to arrive. Most of them felt strange. They didn’t know how to treat Jonty, Prune and Nathaniel. How did you thank someone for saving your school, when you couldn’t remember what had happened? To make it worse, there was a rumour going round the school that they had even tried to cut their heads open. Nobody spoke. The only sound was the clicking of Anastasia texting Miranda to say how ‘totally mental’ it was.

  ‘Totally,’ Miranda texted back.

  It was the first time Prune and Nathaniel had seen Jonty for a fortnight. They smiled at him, but he was ignoring everyone. His head was a complete mess. It was like he was having dreams, while he was awake. The dreams were so real they felt true, but if they were, his whole life was upside down.

  Boris grinned to himself. He reckoned a couple of tricks should get everyone back to normal. Brianiac and The Wrinkle needed reminding just who Jonty belonged to.

  The door opened slowly and Mr Croxall stepped in. His hands were still sore, so even turning the handle had been difficult. He looked around the room. The last time he had been here, he was a prisoner. Not anymore. He smiled when he saw Jonty and nodded his thanks.

  He stood still for a moment before speaking.

  ‘I think it’s time we stopped putting everyone in order. From today you can sit wherever you want,’ he announced. ‘Prune, you choose where to sit first.’

  Embarrassed by being chosen first for once, Prune kept her head down and sat on the nearest chair.

  ‘Nathaniel I think you might go next.’

  He sat next to Prune. He had brought the crystal she had given him and put it on the desk in front of him. She smiled quickly and placed her crystal on her desk, too.

  ‘Some things haven’t changed,’ Boris grunted and nudged Jonty. Prune turned round to see the two of them standing together, just like the old days. She thought she could see a smile on Jonty’s face. Her heart sank. What if he had forgotten everything? What if school was going to be just like before? She picked up her crystal again and looked at Boris. No — everything was not the same. She was different. Boris saw her looking at him and snarled.