Her breasts were much, much bigger.
But she was still limping.
“Mrs Trafe, you look really… different…” Joe said, staring at her.
“Do I?” replied the old dinner lady with mock innocence. “Now, what do you two fancy today?
Roast bat with all the trimmings? Soap soufflé? Cheese and polystyrene pizza?”
“It’s hard to choose…” faltered Lauren.
“You are new, are you, girl?” asked Mrs Trafe.
“Yes, I just joined the school yesterday,” replied Lauren, surveying the dishes, and trying to work out which one was the least horrible.
“Yesterday? That’s strange. I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before,” said the dinner lady, studying Lauren’s perfect face. “You look very familiar.”
Joe butted in. “Did you have the hip replacement operation yet, Mrs Trafe?” He was becoming increasingly suspicious. “The one I gave you the money for a couple of weeks ago,” he whispered, so Lauren wouldn’t hear.
Mrs Trafe began to jabber nervously. “Um, well, no, not yet dear, why don’t you have a large slice of my very tasty underpant flan…?”
“You spent the money I gave you on plastic surgery, didn’t you?” hissed Joe.
A bead of sweat trickled down her face and plopped into her badger snot soup.
“I am sorry, Joe, I just, well, I just always wanted to have a few things done…” pleaded the dinner lady.
Joe was so furious he felt he had to leave instantly. “Lauren, we’re going,” he announced, and she followed as he stormed out of the dining room. Mrs Trafe limped after them.
“If you could just lend me another £5000, Joe, I promise I’ll have it done this time!” she called after him.
When Lauren finally caught up with Joe, he was sitting alone in the far corner of the playground. She gently put her hand on his head to comfort him.
“What was all that about lending her £5000?” she asked.
Joe looked at Lauren. There was no way of avoiding telling her now. “My dad is Len Spud,” he said sorrowfully. “‘The Bumfresh billionaire’. My name’s not Potatoe. I just said that so you wouldn’t know who I was. The truth is, we’re stupidly rich. But when people find out… it tends to ruin everything.”
“You know what, some of the other kids told me this morning,” said Lauren.
Joe’s sadness lifted for a moment. He reminded himself that Lauren had still gone for an ice lolly with him yesterday when she thought he was just Joe. Maybe it wouldn’t ruin things this time. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.
“Because it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about all that. I just like you,” she said.
Joe was so happy he wanted to cry. It’s strange how sometimes you can be so happy it goes all the way around to sadness. “I really like you too.”
Joe moved closer to Lauren. This was the moment to kiss! He closed his eyes and pushed his lips together.
“Not here in the playground, Joe!” Lauren pushed him away laughing.
Joe felt embarrassed he had even tried. “I’m sorry.” He quickly changed the subject. “I was just trying to do something kind for that old bag, and she goes and gets her knockers done!”
“I know, it’s unbelievable.”
“It’s not the money, I don’t care about the money…”
“No, it’s that she took your generosity for granted,” offered Lauren.
Joe looked up to meet her gaze. “Exactly!”
“Come on,” said Lauren. “I think what you need is some chips. I’ll buy you some.”
The local chippy was bursting with kids from the comprehensive. It was against the rules to leave the school premises at lunchtime, but the food in the canteen was so abhorrent there wasn’t much choice. The Grubbs were at the front of the queue, but fled as soon as they saw Lauren, leaving their battered sausages sizzling on the counter.
The pair stood outside on the pavement and ate their chips. Joe couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed such a simple pleasure. It must have been when he was really, really little. Before the Bumfresh billions came and changed everything. Joe wolfed his chips down, and noticed Lauren had barely touched hers. He was still hungry, but wasn’t sure whether their relationship had advanced to the point where he could start helping himself to her food. That was normally after a few years of marriage, and they weren’t even engaged yet.
“Have you finished with yours?” he ventured.
“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t want to eat too much. I am working next week.”
“Working? Doing what?” said Joe.
Lauren suddenly looked very flustered. “What did I say?”
“I thought you said you were working.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, I am working.” She paused, and then took a breath. “Just in a shop…”
Joe wasn’t convinced. “So why would you need to be thin to work in a shop?”
Lauren looked uncomfortable. “It’s a very narrow shop,” she said. She checked her watch. “We’ve got double Maths in ten minutes. We’d better go.”
Joe frowned. There was something strange going on here…
Chapter 16
Peter Bread
“The Witch is dead!” sang a spotty little boy. “Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead!” It wasn’t even registration time yet, but already the news was spreading across the school like flu.
“What do you mean?” asked Joe as he took his seat in his classroom. On the other side of the class, he could see Bob, looking over at him with a pained expression. Probably jealous about Lauren, thought Joe.
“Haven’t you heard?” said another even spottier little boy behind him. “Spite’s been sacked!”
“Why?” asked Joe.
“Who cares?!” said a slightly less spotty boy. “No more boring History lessons!”
Joe smiled, then frowned. He hated Miss Spite and her tedious lessons like everybody else, but wasn’t sure she had done anything to deserve losing her job. Even though she was horrible, she was actually a good teacher.
“Spite’s been sacked,” blurted Joe to Lauren as she walked in.
“Yes, I heard,” she replied. “It’s brilliant news, isn’t it?”
“Erm, well, I suppose so,” said Joe.
“I thought that’s you wanted? You said you couldn’t stand her.”
“Yes, but…” Joe hesitated for a moment. “I just feel a bit, you know, sorry for her.”
Lauren pulled a dismissive face.
Meanwhile, a gang of fierce-looking girls were sat on desks at the back of the class. The smallest of the group was pushed over in Lauren’s direction as the others looked on smirking.
“Got any Pot Noodles then?” she asked, much to the amusement of the gang.
Lauren shot a look at Joe. “I don’t know what you mean,” she protested.
“Don’t lie,” said the girl. “You look different in it, but I well reckon it’s you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Lauren, a little flustered.
Before Joe could speak a young man in old man’s clothes entered the classroom and took his position uncertainly by the whiteboard. “Simmer down, please,” he said quietly. No one in the classroom took any notice, except Joe.
“I said, ‘simmer down, please’…”
The new teacher’s second sentence was barely more audible than the first. Still none of the other kids took any notice. In fact, if anything they started making even more noise than before.
“That’s better,” said the little man, trying to make the best of it. “Now, as you may know Miss Spite isn’t here today—”
“Yeah, she’s been given the boot!” shouted a loud fat girl.
“Well, that’s not… well, yes, it is true…” the teacher continued in his faint monotone. “Now I am going to be taking over from Miss Spite as your form teacher, and also to teach you History and English. My name is Mr Bread.” He began writing his name neatly on
the board. “But you can call me Peter.”
Suddenly there was quiet, as thirty little brains whirred.
“Pitta Bread!” proclaimed a ginger-haired boy from the back. A huge wave of laughter crashed over the classroom. Joe had tried to give this poor man a chance, but he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Please, please, can I have some quiet?” pleaded the unfortunately named teacher. But there was no use. The whole class was in uproar. The new form teacher had committed the biggest blunder any teacher can make – having a silly name. This is a serious point. If you have a name like any of those in the list below it is very, very important you don’t become a teacher:
Teachers' Names
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Sue Doku
Tom Atoe
Justin Case
Neil Down
Will Ing
Bob Head
Terry Daktul
Clare Voyant
Mel Formed
Rachel Prejudice
Mona Lott
Herbie Hind
Ima Hogg
Carol Singer
Dick Tate
Don Keigh
Rhoda Camel
Robin Banks
Felix Cited
Gerry Atrick
Bea O’Problem
Mya Bumreeks
Anita Bath
Sue Age
Marcus Absent
Al Gebra
Barbara Blacksheep
Kitty Litter
Mary Christmas
Jim Class
Doris Closed
Doris Locked
Wayne Dear
Dan Druff
Humphrey Dumpty
Stan Dupp
Cliff Hanger
Hugh Idiot
Lee King
Manuel Labour
Ruth Less
Willie Mammoth
Marsha Mellow
Walter Melon
Hazel Nut
Luke Out
Stu Pidd
Lolly Popp
Chuck Up
Seriously. Don’t even consider it. The kids in your class will make your life a living hell.
Now, back to the story…
“Right,” said the unfortunately named teacher. “I am going to take the register. Adams?”
“Don’t forget Tara Mosalata!” shouted a skinny blonde-haired boy. The laughter swept up again.
“I did ask for quiet,” said Mr Bread, pathetically.
“Or Ted Ziki!” hollered another kid. The laughter was deafening now.
Peter Bread put his head in his hands. Joe could almost feel sorry for him. This grey little man’s life was going to be an utter misery from this day forward.
Oh, no, thought Joe. We’re all going to fail our exams.
Chapter 17
A Knock on the Toilet Door
There are a number of things you don’t want to hear when you sit on the toilet.
A fire alarm.
An earthquake.
The roar of a hungry lion in the cubicle next door.
A large group of people shouting ‘Surprise!’ to you.
The sound of the entire toilet block being demolished by a giant wrecking ball.
The clicking sound of someone taking a photograph.
The sound of an electric eel swimming up the U-bend.
Someone drilling a hole in the wall.
JLS singing. (Admittedly that wouldn’t be welcome at any time.)
A knock on the door.
That last one was exactly what Joe heard at break time when he took a seat in the boys’ toilet.
RAT TAT TAT.
To be clear, that isn’t a knock at your door, readers. It’s a knock on Joe’s toilet door.
“Who is it?” asked Joe, irritated.
“It’s Bob,” replied… yes, you’ve guessed correctly: Bob.
“Go away, I’m busy,” said Joe.
“I need to talk to you.”
Joe pulled the chain, and opened the door. “What do you want?” he said angrily as he made his way to the sink. Bob trailed after him munching on a bag of crisps. It was only an hour since he’d been eating chips like everyone else, but obviously Bob got hungry very easily.
“You shouldn’t eat crisps in a toilet, Bob.”
“Why not?”
“Because… because… I don’t know, because the crisps wouldn’t like it.” Joe whacked the tap on to wash his hands. “Anyway, what do you want?”
Bob put the bag in his trouser pocket and stood behind his former friend. He looked into Joe’s eyes in the mirror. “It’s Lauren.”
“What about her?” Joe had known it. Bob was just jealous.
Bob looked away for a second and took a deep breath. “I don’t think you should trust her,” he said.
Joe turned around, shaking with fury. “What did you say?” he shouted.
Bob stepped away, taken aback. “I just think she’s…”
“SHE’S WHAT?”
“She’s fake.”
“Fake?” Joe felt white-hot with fury.
“Lots of the other kids reckon she’s an actress. They said she’s in some advert, or something. And I saw her out with this other boy at the weekend.”
“What?”
“Joe, I think she’s just pretending to like you.”
Joe put his face next to Bob’s. He hated being this angry. It was scary being so out of control. “SAY THAT AGAIN…”
Bob backed away. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t want a fight, I am just telling you what I saw.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re just jealous because Lauren likes me, and you’re a fatty with no friends at all.”
“I’m not jealous, I’m just worried for you, Joe. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Yeah?” said Joe. “You sounded really worried about me when you called me a spoiled brat.”
“Honestly, I—”
“Just leave me alone, Bob. We’re not friends any more. I felt sorry for you and talked to you and that was that.”
“What did you just say? You felt ‘sorry for me’?” Bob’s eyes were wet with tears.
“I didn’t mean…”
“What, because I’m fat? Because the other kids bully me? Because my dad’s dead?” Bob was shouting now.
“No… I just… I didn’t mean…” Joe didn’t know what he meant. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of £50 notes, and offered them to Bob. “Look, I’m sorry, here you go. Buy your mum something nice.”
Bob knocked the money out of Joe’s hand and the notes fell onto the damp floor. “How dare you?”
“What have I done now?” protested Joe. “What’s the matter with you, Bob? I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t want your help. I don’t want to ever speak to you again!”
“Fine!”
“And you are the one people should feel sorry for. You’re pathetic.” Bob stormed out.
Joe sighed, then got down on his knees and started picking up the wet bank notes.
“That’s ridiculous!” said Lauren later, with a laugh. “I’m not an actress. I don’t think I’d even get a part in the school play!”
Joe tried to laugh too, but he couldn’t quite. They sat together on the bench in the playground, shivering slightly at the cold. Joe found it hard to say the next sentence. He did and didn’t want to know the answer. He took a deep breath. “Bob said he saw you with some other boy. Is that true?”
“What?” said Lauren.
“At the weekend. He said he saw you out with someone else.” Joe looked straight at her, trying to read her face. For a moment she seemed to retreat to the back of her eyes.
“He’s a liar,” she said after a moment.
“I thought so,” said Joe, relieved.
“A big fat liar,” she continued. “
I can’t believe you were ever friends with him.”
“Well, it was only for a bit,” squirmed Joe. “I don’t like him any more.”
“I hate him. Lying pig. Promise me you won’t ever speak to him again,” said Lauren urgently.
“Well…”
“Promise, Joe.”
“I promise,” he replied.
A wicked wind whipped through the playground.
Chapter 18
The Vortex 3000
Lauren didn’t think the petition to get Miss Spite reinstated was going to be popular.
And she was right.
By the end of the day, Joe had only got three signatures – his, Lauren’s and Mrs Trafe’s. The dinner lady had only signed it because Joe had agreed to try one of her Hamster Dropping Tartlets. It tasted worse than it sounded. Despite having what was essentially not much more than a blank sheet of paper, Joe still felt it was worth presenting his petition to the headmaster. He didn’t like Miss Spite one bit, but he didn’t understand why she had been sacked. Despite everything, she was a good teacher, certainly a lot better than Naan Bread, or whatever his stupid name was.
“Hello, children!” said the headmaster’s secretary brightly. Mrs Chubb was a very fat jolly lady who always wore glasses with brightly coloured frames. She was always sitting in the headmaster’s office behind her desk. In fact, no one had ever seen her stand up. It was not inconceivable that she was so big she was permanently wedged into her chair.
“We are here to see the headmaster, please,” declared Joe.
“We have a petition for him,” added a supportive Lauren, holding the piece of paper in her hand demonstratively.
“A petition! What fun!” beamed Mrs Chubb.
“Yes, it’s to get Miss Spite her job back,” said Joe in a manly way that he hoped might impress Lauren. For a moment he toyed with the idea of thumping his fist on the desk to add emphasis, but he didn’t want to topple over any of Mrs Chubb’s abundant collection of lucky gonks.
“Oh, yes. Miss Spite, wonderful teacher. Don’t understand that at all, but children I am sorry to say you have just missed Mr Dust.”
“Oh, no,” said Joe.
“Yes, he just left. Oh, look, there he goes.” She pointed one of her bejewelled sausage fingers to the car park. Joe and Lauren peered through the glass. The headmaster was edging his way along at a snail’s pace with his Zimmer frame.
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