Mascot Madness! (11 page)

He shrugged. ‘It's your funeral, Banana Boy,' he said, and opened the door of the bus.

‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S!' chanted Mr Brainfright defiantly as he launched himself forward.

Now, it could have been great.

It could even have been inspiring.

It could have struck fear into the hearts of our opponents.

But it didn't.

Because Mr Brainfright tripped and fell out of the bus.

He landed on his back, his arms and legs flailing helplessly in the air.

The Northwest West Academy students laughed and applauded.

‘Way to go!' yelled Troy Gurgling, looking bigger and uglier than ever. ‘Want a hand back onto the bus? I'd hate to see a nice banana like you get all squashed!'

‘Or stomped on!' sniggered one of his leering friends, stamping his feet.

‘Or mashed up!' sneered another, grinding his fist into his open palm.

‘This is no place for bananas,' said Troy. ‘Or for Northwest Southeast Central School losers, for that matter. Why don't you all just go right back home and save yourselves the trouble of actually competing? We all know who's going to win. Am I right or am I right?'

‘Right! Right!' chanted the other Northwest West Academy thugs enthusiastically.

‘They're probably right,' said Newton in a small voice. ‘I think we should just go home.'

‘I think someone should help Mr Brainfright,'
said Jenny. She rushed off the bus and helped him to his feet. ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves,' she said to the Northwest West students.

‘You're the one who should be ashamed,' said Troy. ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves for being such losers! We're just trying to save you from the disappointment of trying and losing again.'

‘Thanks for your concern,' said Jenny, helping Mr Brainfright to his feet and brushing dirt off his suit. ‘But don't worry about us. You should be worrying about yourselves, because this year you've got another thing coming!'

‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S!' yelled Mr Brainfright, punching his fist into the air. ‘Let's go . . . BANANAS!'

The Northwest West Academy students looked at each other . . . and laughed.

It wasn't exactly a promising start.

And it was about to get even worse.

Although we were all for staying on the bus, Jenny's selfless action in assisting Mr Brainfright shamed us into getting off.

But things didn't look any more promising when we got inside the stadium.

Instead of a small group of jeering Northwest West Academy students, there was an entire grandstand full of them.

And if you thought
GO HOME LOSERS
wasn't very nice, well, that was positively welcoming compared to the rest of their banners:
NORTHWEST SOUTHEAST CENTRAL NINCOMPOOPS!
,
GREENBEARD'S GUTLESS WONDERS!
and
EVERYBODY HATES NORTHWEST SOUTHEAST CENTRAL SCHOOL!
are the only ones I can print here because the rest contained words that are banned by our school handbook.

In the middle of the field the Northwest West Academy brass band were playing their
tuneless school anthem.

It was hard to make out the actual words, but there was no doubt about the chorus, which the whole school sang enthusiastically:

Northwest West!
We are the best!
Chuck out the rest!
When put to the test,
we are the best!
Yeah! We are the best
in the whole Northwest!
We're Northwest West
. . . Academy!

‘Academy?' said Fiona disdainfully. ‘That doesn't even rhyme.'

But worst of all—worse even than their offensive banners, their horrible music or their poor rhymes—were the scary Mr Constrictor and Chomp, the even scarier Northwest West Academy mascot.

Although Mr Constrictor was supposed to be an
ex
-pro wrestler, you would never have known it to look at him. He was still heavily muscled and bald, and his face appeared to be permanently frozen into a scowl. All that was missing was his trademark snakeskin leotard.

Mr Grunt, on the other hand, was not looking quite so strong.

Arriving on the second bus, he entered the stadium limping, and had what looked like a ride-on mower tyre track across his face.

We followed Mr Grunt to our seats in the stand and sat down.

We had no school band.

We had no banners.

All we had was a dancing banana.

Mind you, the dancing banana was doing its absolute best to get us all revved up.

Mr Brainfright was jumping, punching, kicking, spinning on his back, moonwalking, twisting, turning and chanting with incredible energy. He looked more like a yellow tornado than a banana.

The Northwest West Academy students responded to Mr Brainfright's efforts with howls of laughter. They pointed, slapped their knees and pelted him with rubbish.

‘Hey, Banana Boy!' yelled Mr Constrictor. ‘We're going to make a smoothie out of you!'

Mr Brainfright ignored them and just kept right on dancing.

Even if you thought he did look silly, you had to admit that he had courage.

‘I'll show you what we think of bananas around
here!' Mr Constrictor yelled. He produced a banana and tossed it in front of Chomp. The dog leaped upon it and tore it to shreds.

Mr Brainfright stopped dancing and stared at Chomp.

Chomp bared his teeth and stared back at Mr Brainfright, strings of foamy drool falling from his jaws onto the remains of the banana.

‘They've trained that dog to attack bananas,' said Jack, puzzled. ‘How did they know we had a banana mascot?'

‘I'm scared,' said Newton.

‘Join the club,' said Jack.

‘There's a club for scared people?' said Newton.

‘No, Newton,' said Gretel. ‘It's just an expression. But if there were one, you'd be the president.'

‘No, I wouldn't,' said Newton. ‘I'd be too scared. I'm scared of clubs.'

Mr Brainfright backed slowly away from the dog.

Our hearts sank.

But just when it looked like Mr Brainfright was going to back right off the field, he stopped, took a fast run-up, and did a spectacular flip right over the top of Chomp.

As Mr Brainfright flew over him, Chomp actually cowered. Then he sprang back up, looked around, and began barking. Mr Brainfright had
succeeded—if only for a moment—in confusing his opponent!

The effect on our school was electrifying.

As one, we rose to our feet and rocked the foundations of the Northwest Stadium with a mighty cheer.

‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S!' yelled Mr Brainfright, rising to his feet with us. ‘LET'S GO BANANAS!'

We all joined in the chant, stomping our feet, the sound echoing like thunder under the metal roof.

For the first time in memory the Northwest West Academy grandstand was silent.

The sight of a giant banana taunting their mascot may not exactly have struck fear into their hearts, but it had certainly given them something to think about.

At that moment the PA system crackled into life.

‘Welcome to the fiftieth annual Northwest interschool athletics competition!' said Flip Johnson, a sporting journalist for the
Northwest Times
, who had called every one of the Northwest competitions since they'd begun fifty years earlier. ‘Let the games begin!'

We roared as one again.

Northwest West Academy roared right back, only louder.

It was on!

And when I say it was on, I'm not kidding. Northwest Southeast Central School went off like a rocket!

And Newton Hooton was no exception.

The first event was the one-hundred-metre sprint.

‘You're up first, Hooton!' growled Mr Grunt. ‘Just remember what I taught you.'

‘What was that?' Newton asked, but Mr Grunt had already walked off.

We all crowded around Newton, hoping to provide moral support.

‘I can't do this,' he said as Jenny gently guided him to the starting line. ‘I can't!'

‘Why can't you?' said Jenny.

‘I'm scared!'

‘But that's good,' said Gretel. ‘If you're scared, you'll run faster.'

‘That's one of the things I'm scared of,' said Newton, crouched and quivering. ‘What if I run so fast I can't stop?'

‘You'll be fine,' said Jenny. ‘Remember how we chased the Northwest West Academy bus?'

‘Yes.' Newton nodded, smiling nervously. ‘That was fun.'

‘So is this!' I said. ‘And don't forget you've visualised this race many times!'

Newton nodded.

‘And Mr Brainfright is on your side!' said Jack. ‘Just look at him go!'

‘Give me a NEWTON!' yelled Mr Brainfright at the Northwest Southeast Central stand.

‘NEWTON!' they roared back.

‘Give me a HOOTON!'

‘HOOTON!' roared the crowd.

‘PUT THEM TOGETHER AND WHAT DO YOU GET?'

‘NEWTON HOOTON!' roared the crowd. Then, at Mr Brainfright's instigation, they went into a slow hand-clapping, foot-stomping chant. ‘NEW . . . TON . . . HOO . . . TON . . . NEW . . . TON . . . HOO . . . TON . . .'

The syllables of Newton's name echoed around the stadium. The chanting was so loud it even drowned out Chomp's frenzied barking, despite Mr Constrictor's best efforts to get him to bark louder.

‘Hear that, Newton?' said Jack. ‘They're chanting your name!'

‘I hear it,' said Newton, who was crouched on the starting line, a determined look on his face. He was no longer quivering. He looked focused and strong.

‘We're now ready for the first event of the day,' announced Flip. ‘The hundred-metre sprint.'

The starter raised her pistol and fired.

Newton gave a little yelp and took off, crossing the finish line a full two seconds ahead of his nearest Northwest West Academy rival. And he wasn't content with that, either. He kept running.

And running.

And running.