Mascot Madness! (6 page)

Newton looked worried. ‘I'd rather not, sir,' he said. ‘I'm scared of heights.'

‘All the more reason to get up there,' said Mr Grunt. ‘Fear is your enemy! Obliterate it. Pound it into submission. Show it who's boss.'

‘Why are you always picking on Newton?' said Jenny.

‘I'm not picking on him,' said Mr Grunt. ‘I'm offering him an opportunity to feel like a winner.'

‘Could I just stand on one of the lower blocks, please?' said Newton, pointing to the third-place block.

‘Certainly not,' said Mr Grunt. ‘Third place is no place for a winner.'

‘What about second?' said Newton.

‘No! Second place is just another word for first loser,' said Grunt. ‘Get up there, boy. Show me that you're not as pathetic as you look.'

Newton rose to his feet unsteadily. Jenny squeezed his hand. ‘Go on, Newton,' she said. ‘You can do it.'

Newton walked tentatively towards the podium and stood in front of it. Then he put his right foot onto the second-place block and climbed up. He stood there, knees shaking. ‘I think I'm getting a nosebleed. It's the altitude.'

‘Nonsense, boy—keep climbing,' said Mr Grunt.

Newton put his left foot onto the first-place block. ‘I don't want to do this, sir,' he whimpered. ‘I can't—'

‘You will!' said Mr Grunt. ‘Right now!'

Newton took another step and stood shakily on the highest block.

‘How do you feel?' asked Mr Grunt.

‘Dizzy,' said Newton.

‘No wonder,' said Mr Grunt. ‘Winning is a heady experience, isn't it? Savour it. Own it. Enjoy it!'

Newton swayed unsteadily.

Jenny leaned across to me. ‘I think Mr Grunt is a bully,' she whispered.

At that moment a big yellow banana came dancing across the field towards us.

Mr Grunt turned away from the winners' podium and goggled at it. ‘What the heck is that?' he said.

‘Looks like Mr Brainfright has come to cheer us on,' I said to Jenny.

‘I feel better already,' she replied, smiling brightly.

Mr Brainfright finished his entrance with a spectacular series of mid-air somersaults and ended up on the ground in the splits.

Mr Grunt just stood.

And stared.

I'd never seen him so lost for words.

Mr Brainfright then jumped to his feet and began a cheerleading chant. ‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Let's go bananas!' He moved around us, encouraging us to join him. We remembered the fun of yesterday and immediately chimed in.

‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Let's go bananas!' we chanted. ‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Let's go bananas!'

It took Mr Grunt a few minutes to fully
understand what was going on.

And when he did, he wasn't happy.

In fact, it looked like he really was going to go bananas. ‘Stop this nonsense right now!' he yelled at us. Then he turned to Mr Brainfright. ‘What's the meaning of this interruption to my lesson?'

Mr Brainfright took the banana head off. ‘It's not an interruption,' he said. ‘I'm the new Northwest Southeast Central School mascot. I'm here to bring the team good luck and inspire them to greatness.'

‘You'll inspire me to kick you from here to the changing rooms if you don't clear off!' snarled Mr Grunt.

‘Be reasonable, Mr Grunt,' said Mr Brainfright. ‘I've been training all week for this.'

‘And I've been training all my life for this,' said Mr Grunt, striding over to Mr Brainfright and getting ready to make good on his threat.

Jenny jumped between them. ‘No!' she cried. ‘Leave him alone, Mr Grunt. We need him.'

‘We need a giant banana?' said Mr Grunt. ‘Don't be stupid!'

‘It's not stupid!' said Mr Brainfright. ‘All sporting teams have a mascot. The Northwest football team has a grizzly bear. The Northwest hockey team has an eagle. And the Northwest All Stars basketball team has a giant chicken.'

At the mention of the Northwest All Stars, Mr Grunt softened and nodded. ‘Hmm,' he said, stroking his chin. ‘That's true . . .'

‘Even Northwest West Academy have a mascot,' said Gretel. ‘Mr Constrictor's dog, Chomp.'

‘All right, all right,' said Mr Grunt. ‘But a giant banana is simply ridiculous.'

‘Nothing strikes fear into your opponent's heart more than a giant banana,' said Mr Brainfright. ‘Besides, it's certainly no more ridiculous than a giant chicken!'

Mr Grunt turned on him. ‘I won't stand for anybody saying anything against the Northwest All Stars! They are one of the world's greatest basketball teams! And I could have been their greatest coach ever. If only . . .'

At that moment I noticed Newton, who was still standing on the winner's block. His face was very pale and he was swaying from side to side.

‘Mr Grunt,' I said, but Mr Grunt was staring into space, saying, ‘If only . . . if only . . . '

‘Mr Grunt!' I said, louder this time.

But it was too late. Newton swayed violently and fell forwards off the podium and onto the ground. He sat up, looking dazed.

Jenny went to help him.

The thud of Newton hitting the ground snapped Mr Grunt out of his daydream. ‘Oh, for goodness'
sake,' he said, with his hands on his hips. ‘Newton Hooton, you are wasting my time.' Then he looked at Mr Brainfright. ‘And so are you.'

‘That's not how Principal Greenbeard sees it,' said Mr Brainfright. ‘He thinks a banana mascot is a great idea, and he has already given his permission for me to perform on the day.'

Mr Grunt went red with anger. ‘Oh, did he just?' he said. ‘Well, you DO NOT have permission to interrupt my class with your bizarre antics!'

‘I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr Grunt,' said Mr Brainfright. ‘And as a fellow teacher I completely respect your right to teach your classes as you see fit. But if you ever need me . . .'

‘Thank you very much,' said Mr Grunt sarcastically, ‘but if I ever get so desperate that I need to call on you to help me I'll . . . I'll . . . well, I'll
never
get
that
desperate! Goodbye . . . and good riddance!'

Mr Brainfright shrugged. ‘Suit yourself, Mr Grunt,' he said sadly. He put the banana head on and walked off across the oval.

He was down, but not out.

Not by a long shot.

The rest of our sports class was pretty much business as usual.

Jack was given another fifty laps for attempting to mount the winners' podium by bunny-hopping his way to the top. And I was given fifty laps for laughing at Jack's attempt to mount the winners' podium by bunny-hopping to the top.

Later, during relay practice, Jenny caused an eight-student pile-up. She stopped to help the other team when one of their runners dropped a baton and they all ended up crashing into each other.

Gretel dropped a shot-put ball on her toes.

Grant snapped a pole-vaulting stick in half.

Clive threw a javelin at Penny and Gina's imaginary horses and made them cry. (Penny and Gina, that is, not the horses.)

The class ended with Mr Grunt losing his
temper and giving everybody fifty laps. Gretel was the only one who didn't have to do them. She'd been to see Mrs Bandaid and had come back wearing ten bandaids—two on each toe.

The next morning we all limped into the schoolyard in varying degrees of pain. My legs were really hurting from the laps, Jenny had a big bruise on her arm from the relay accident, and Gretel was on crutches.

‘What are we going to do?' said Jenny. ‘Things are worse than ever!'

‘Not as bad as they're about to get,' said Newton, his eyes wide with fear.

‘What are you talking about?' said Jenny. ‘How could things possibly get worse?'

Jenny got her answer in the form of an egg thrown from the window of the Northwest West Academy bus, which seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

The egg hit Jenny's shoulder and splattered all down the front of her dress.

‘Good morning, losers!' yelled Troy Gurgling,
who was hanging out the window of the bus, his hands full of eggs. ‘Wakey, wakey!'

‘Egg attack!' Jack yelled. ‘Run!'

But we were all either too sore or too injured to run, and it was too late anyway.

The egg that hit Jenny was followed by five more—one for each of us plus a bonus second egg for her.

It wasn't fair. If there was one person in the school who didn't deserve to be hit by an egg—much less two—it was Jenny Friendly. Jenny was the sort of person who spent her whole day thinking about—and looking out for—other people. There wasn't a nicer, more thoughtful person in the whole school, but Northwest West Academy didn't care about that. That's how bad they were. Jenny was standing there, covered in thick, runny egg goo, just like the rest of us.

As I wiped egg yolk out of my eyes and watched the smoke-belching bus tear off down the road, I swore revenge.

I didn't know how I was going to get it—I just knew that I would.

I was going to make Northwest West Academy sorry they'd thrown eggs at Jenny Friendly.

I was going to make Northwest West Academy sorry that they had ever been born.

Or my name wasn't Henry McThrottle.

Which it was . . . so it was definitely going to happen.

I picked up Jenny's bag as well as my own. ‘Come on,' I said to the others. ‘Let's go in and get cleaned up.'

Just then, Fred and Clive appeared.

‘What a bunch of losers you all are!' guffawed Fred.

‘Good one, Fred,' said Clive.

‘We're not losers,' I said.

‘My mistake,' said Fred. ‘You're a bunch of loser omelettes! That's what you are!'

We entered the classroom, limping and egg-splattered.

‘I'll get the Super Dryer 3000!' said Grant, jumping up and heading towards his locker.