Mascot Madness! (18 page)

‘Death?' said Jack hopefully.

‘Walking the plank!' said Principal Greenbeard.

‘Oh,' said Jack with a sigh of disappointment.

‘And then death!' said Principal Greenbeard. ‘How fast depends on how hungry the sharks are.'

‘All right!' said Jack enthusiastically. ‘Now you're talking!'

Jenny elbowed Jack. ‘Don't encourage him!' she whispered.

‘Well, Henry?' said Principal Greenbeard.

‘I wouldn't do this if I were you, McThrottle,' Fred whispered. ‘I'll tell everybody about you-know-what.'

‘Tell them,' I whispered back. ‘See if I care!'

‘Oh, we'll see all right,' said Fred.

‘We're waiting, Henry!' said Principal Greenbeard.

I told him everything I knew. I told him about how Fred and Clive were big fans of Mr Constrictor and how they'd known about the bus attacks, how they'd kept Mr Constrictor informed about our mascot—giving him time to train Chomp to attack bananas—and how they'd even threatened to squeeze the heads of our own team members if they won their events.

Principal Greenbeard was shocked. Fred had a reputation as one of the best and most responsible students in the school—as far as the teachers were concerned, anyway. The students, of course, knew better.

‘Well, Fred?' said Principal Greenbeard. ‘These are very serious allegations. What do you and Clive have to say for yourselves?'

Fred tightened his mouth and pointed at me. ‘Well, at least I didn't cause a tanker to skid off course and destroy the Banana Emporium and half of Northwest!' he said.

‘Don't be ridiculous!' said Fiona. ‘That wasn't Henry's fault. There was something wrong with the tanker's brakes. Everybody knows that!'

‘But . . .' said Fred, looking confused, ‘I saw the whole thing . . . Henry . . . and he dumped the banana suit . . . and . . . and . . .'

‘My dad is an accident investigator,' said Fiona confidently. ‘One of the best in Northwest. He filed the report. It was a faulty brake line. End of story.'

‘But . . .' said Fred, ‘but . . .'

‘But we're not here to talk about me,' I said. ‘We're here to talk about you and Clive, and Mr Constrictor.'

Fred looked at me angrily then he turned and looked up at Principal Greenbeard. He scrunched his face up—like he was about to cry.

‘So, Fred,' said Principal Greenbeard. ‘Are Henry's allegations true?'

‘No!' said Fred. ‘We didn't do anything, I swear! Well . . . we did . . . but we were forced into it by Mr Constrictor. He said that if Clive and I didn't tell him everything we knew and do everything he said then he would squeeze our heads until they
popped. His track record left us no choice but to believe him. I'm really and truly sorry, Principal Greenbeard, but we were just so scared.'

‘It's okay, Fred,' said Principal Greenbeard, patting Fred on the shoulder and giving him a handkerchief to dry the tears that he had managed to squeeze out. ‘I think we all know what sort of man Mr Constrictor is. It doesn't surprise me to hear that he's been bullying and threatening innocent children in order to get what he wants.'

‘But Fred's not innocent!' I said. ‘And neither is Clive!'

‘Nobody is completely innocent,' said Principal Greenbeard, ‘but I think in this case Fred and Clive deserve the benefit of the doubt.'

Fred and Clive nodded like angels to Principal Greenbeard and then turned and smirked at me.

‘Well, I'm glad we got that sorted out,' said Principal Greenbeard. ‘But I must admit, Mr Grunt's defection to Northwest West Academy is still a terrible blow. He is the best sports teacher Northwest Southeast Central School has ever had. His training methods were cutting-edge!'

‘Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that,' said Flip, who had come down from his booth to join in the celebrations.

‘What are you talking about?' said Principal Greenbeard. ‘Where am I going to get another sports teacher as qualified as Mr Grunt? He was in the Olympics, you know!'

‘I wouldn't be so sure of that, either,' said Flip with a mischievous grin. ‘That man bends the truth more than a bunch of snakes trapped in an S-bend.'

Jack nudged me. ‘I definitely got that one!'
he whispered, grinning.

‘I'm scared of snakes,' whispered Newton. ‘And I don't like S-bends much, either.'

‘Are you saying that Mr Grunt wasn't in the Olympics?' said Principal Greenbeard.

‘No, certainly not!' said Flip. ‘He was in the Olympics, all right—selling souvenir programs!'

‘He was a souvenir-program seller?' said Principal Greenbeard. ‘As well as competing?'

‘He never competed!' said Flip. ‘As far as I know, he only sold programs.'

‘Well,' said Principal Greenbeard, ‘Olympic track record or not, he's still a first-rate sports teacher—after all, he coached us to our first-ever victory today!'

‘Yes, but after how many defeats?' said Flip. ‘Listen here, Principal Greenbeard. I've seen more athletics competitions than you've had saltwater soup for breakfast, and the truth is you won in spite of him being your sports teacher. The real reason you won today is Mr Brainfright. He's the best banana mascot I've ever seen. Shoot, I'd go so far as to say he's the best mascot I've ever seen—and believe me, I've seen them all!'

Mr Brainfright blushed. ‘That's very nice of you to say, Mr Johnson, but I don't think I would go that far. A mascot is nothing without a talented team, and the students did an amazing job!'

‘Yes,' I said, ‘but only thanks to the Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence!'

‘What's that?' Flip asked.

I told him about the daily visualisation sessions Mr Brainfright had been conducting and how powerfully they had improved our performances.

‘Now that's cutting-edge training!' said Flip, shaking his head in admiration. He turned to Principal Greenbeard. ‘If you don't appoint this man as the new sports coach of Northwest Southeast Central School this very instant, Greenbeard, then you are madder than a bunch of mad monkeys in a mad monkey house in mad monkey land!'

Principal Greenbeard turned to Mr Brainfright. ‘What do you say?' he asked. ‘Will you be Northwest Southeast Central's new sports coach?'

Mr Brainfright smiled widely and nodded. ‘On one condition,' he said.

‘Name it,' said Principal Greenbeard.

‘That I'm allowed to continue on as 5B's class teacher.'

‘Done!' said Principal Greenbeard, shaking Mr Brainfright's hand.

We all breathed a huge sigh of relief.

And excitement.

With Mr Brainfright in charge, and Mr Grunt working for Northwest West Academy, victory was
not only assured for next year, but for many years into the future.

‘Give me a BRAIN!' I yelled.

‘BRAIN!' yelled every Northwest Southeast Central student.

‘Give me a FRIGHT!' I yelled.

‘FRIGHT!' they yelled.

‘Put them together and what have you got?'

‘BRAINFRIGHT!' chanted the school. ‘BRAIN! FRIGHT! BRAIN! FRIGHT! BRAIN! FRIGHT! BRAIN! FRIGHT! BRAIN! FRIGHT!'

The entire stadium was shaking and echoing with the thunderous noise. The only people who were not enthusiastically chanting were Fred and Clive Durkin—they were only pretending—and Jenny, who was shaking me violently by the shoulder.

‘Stop, Henry!' she said. ‘Tell everybody to stop!'

‘What's the matter?' I asked, raising my hands to silence the chant.

‘You know as well as I do that Mr Brainfright can't be the coach,' she said.

‘Why not?'

‘Yes, why not?' said Principal Greenbeard.

‘Because Mr Brainfright has mascot madness!'

‘Mascot madness?' said Mr Brainfright. ‘Me?'

Fiona stepped forward and gave Mr Brainfright
a blow-by-blow account of his strange banana-obsessed behaviour. I had to hand it to her. She left no detail unturned.

Mr Brainfright listened intently. ‘Well, well!' he said. ‘I've certainly heard of mascot madness, but I never thought it would happen to me. I know I was thinking a lot about bananas, but I certainly had no idea it was that bad.'

‘It was,' said Gretel.

‘Yes,' said Jack. ‘You were really freaking us out.'

‘I was scared,' said Newton.

‘Never mind!' said Mr Brainfright, putting a reassuring hand on Newton's shoulder. ‘I'm better now. Mr Constrictor's squeeze must have shocked it out of me.'

Jenny looked at him uncertainly. ‘How can we be sure?' she said.

‘Let's ask him a few questions about bananas!' I said.

‘Good idea, Henry!' said Fiona, consulting her notebook. She turned to Mr Brainfright. ‘What common viral skin condition can be cured by bananas?'

Mr Brainfright shrugged. ‘I don't know.'

‘What frequency of the colour chart does yellow occupy?' said Fiona.

Mr Brainfright shook his head. ‘I couldn't say.'

‘What is the third most popular flavour of milk at the school canteen?'

Mr Brainfright shrugged again. ‘Beats me,' he said. ‘Banana?'

‘You're just guessing, aren't you?' said Fiona.

‘I'm afraid so,' said Mr Brainfright.

‘I'd say you are definitely cured,' said Fiona, shutting her notebook.

‘How can we be sure, though?' said Jenny, still not completely convinced.

‘I know!' said Jack, pulling a carton of banana-flavoured milk out of his sports bag and holding it out in front of Mr Brainfright. ‘Would you like a drink?'

We all held our breath.

We knew how Mr Brainfright felt about banana-flavoured milk. He'd made his feelings very clear on that point.

‘Why,' he said, ‘I don't mind if I do!'

He took the milk, tipped it up to his mouth and drank the entire carton. When he finished, he licked his lips. ‘I sure needed that!' he said. ‘It was hot inside that suit!'

‘You can say that again,' I said.

Jenny nodded and smiled. ‘He's Mr Brainfright, all right,' she said.

‘So you can be our new coach?' said Principal Greenbeard.

‘With the greatest pleasure!' said Mr Brainfright. ‘We will, of course, need a new mascot though!'

This time I didn't have to think about it. My hand shot up. ‘I'll do it!' I said.

Well, that's my story.

And just in case you're wondering, it's all true.

Every last bit.

If you're ever passing through Northwest, and you happen to be passing Northwest Southeast Central School, feel free to drop in.

We're pretty easy to find. Our classroom is the first on the left as you go up the steps.

And our teacher wears a purple jacket.

But don't forget to call in at the office first and sign the visitors' book.

And while you're doing that, check out our winner's cup in our new glass cabinet. It's easy to spot—it's the only thing in there. But don't linger for too long because our office lady, Mrs Rosethorn, doesn't like time wasters.

Anyway, it would be great to see you, and if
you enjoyed that story then don't worry, I've got plenty more!

And they're all true.

Every last one.