Spurt (11 page)

Jack found a carrel at the back of the library and slipped his laptop from his backpack.

An online hater. Just the thought of it made him feel jumpy. It was bad enough having Sampson lurking around, talking about Jack’s fatal lack of pubes in front of everyone. Now there was some anonymous weirdo writing stuff about him on the internet. Why now, all of a sudden?

The Year 7s had said they were looking into it. But first Jack wanted to know exactly what was being said about him.

He’d just loaded up the
Bigwigs
fan forum when he heard a familiar voice from the next carrel. ‘What do you mean, “Search not allowed”?’

Jack rose from his seat and looked over the partition.

‘Philo?’

Philo glanced up from his laptop, looking surprised. ‘Oh! Jack!’ He folded down the laptop screen slightly. ‘Um … hi!’

‘Having a problem?’

‘No,’ said Philo, shrugging. ‘No problem. Just doing some … research.’

This was worrying. ‘What sort of research?’

Philo bit his lip. ‘Nothing.’

Jack sighed. ‘Not more merkins, Philo,
please
. Not after the trouble the last one got me into.’

Philo closed the laptop and gathered it up off the desk. ‘No, not more merkels, Jack. But I’ve got a good feeling that things might be about to look up for you soon. In the pubes area, I mean! Sorry I can’t stay and chat, though. I’ll be in touch!’

Jack took a deep breath and sat back down. Whatever Philo was up to, it didn’t sound good, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. He had a hater to track down.

Activity on the
Bigwigs
forum was building as the new season approached. The hardcore fans obviously knew about the past contestants coming back for some sort of reunion, but there were only guesses about when it might happen – at the start of the new season? Midway through? Just before the finals? There was also fevered speculation about who’d be returning and who wouldn’t.

Jack was tempted to log on and tell the world that he was one ex-Bigwig who definitely
wouldn’t
be. But then, in a random comment, Jack saw the word ‘Sprogless’ scroll by.

He looked at the username attached to the post.

‘ModLSkillz’.

It didn’t mean anything to him.

I heard that’s what they call him at school. lmao srsly

Jack looked at ModLSkillz’s profile. Whoever they were, they’d been a member of the forum for two years, but had only started posting the day before. Since then, ModLSkillz had written nearly a dozen posts, all in the same underhand, sneering tone, and all with the same target: Jack Sprigley.

Jack closed the laptop and stared blankly at the wall, thinking over what he’d seen.

The only person who’d ever called him ‘Sprogless’ was Oliver Sampson. But surely there was no way Sampson would’ve made an account on the
Bigwigs
forum
two whole years ago.
It
couldn’t
be Sampson. Could it?

Jack met the girls as planned in the far corner of the staff car park. The bell had rung for third period, and the school grounds were slowly emptying again as Upland Secondary’s students and teachers marshalled themselves for the next stretch of the day.

Jack scraped his feet nervously against the asphalt as the Year 7 girls approached. Each of them cradled a smoothie cup as though it were a crystal ball.

Jack lowered his voice. ‘So? Did you find anything out?’

‘We have searched,’ said the first girl.

‘We have found,’ said the second.

‘We have your answer,’ said the third.

‘Okay …’ said Jack.

The girls shared secretive glances and silently sucked on their smoothies. Finally the first girl lowered her cup and held Jack’s gaze. ‘The username “ModLSkillz” belongs to … someone at this school,’ she said.

Jack felt suddenly nervous.

‘The person who has this username … is someone you know,’ said the second girl.

‘No way,’ whispered Jack.

The third girl nodded. ‘The person with the username “ModLSkillz” is … Oliver Sampson.’

Jack nodded dumbly, processing the information. He wasn’t completely shocked. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t shocked at all. Sampson had basically gone from teasing Jack in the changing rooms to teasing him online. But it still didn’t make sense that Sampson would have made an account on the
Bigwigs
forum two years ago.

‘There’s something else,’ said the first girl.

Jack looked up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Something else about Sampson,’ said the second girl.

As the other two girls sucked on their smoothies and traded conspiratorial glances, the third girl fixed Jack with her most serious and most beady stare.

‘Something you definitely,
definitely
need to know.’

The bell rang for lunch. Jack thought about grabbing some hot chips or a pie from the canteen, but then he remembered something about revenge being a dish best served cold, and got a ham and salad roll instead.

He headed for the quadrangle and found the others already at the table. Sampson was there too. For once, Jack was actually pleased to see him.

Vivi and Darylyn looked on as Reese jammed his earbuds into a protesting Sampson’s ears. At first Sampson pulled a ‘What the – ?’ face. But after a few moments of having his ears invaded by rocksteady Martian doo-wop or whatever other weirdness Reese had queued up for him, Sampson’s face lit up with a ‘My life is changed!’ glow.

Vivi looked up as Jack approached. ‘So did you decide already? Because I
really
don’t want to be sitting next to you for the next double if you’re going to be as spaced out as you were this morning.’ She turned to the others. ‘Mr Jacobs had to call his name out three times in home room.’

Jack nodded and looked at Sampson, who handed the earbuds back to Reese. ‘Actually, yeah. I have decided.’ He imagined Sampson at his keyboard, hammering out insults about Jack and sending his bitterness out into the world for everyone to see. Because it all made sense now.

Jack shrugged. ‘It’s a no-brainer, really.’

Reese wound the earbuds back around his MP3 player. ‘I told you, dude. It’s the right call.’

‘Agreed,’ said Vivi. She poked Jack in the arm. ‘Obviously
I
should be the centre of attention right now that I’m officially in the running for Mayor –’

‘I’m doing it,’ said Jack.

Reese nearly dropped his MP3 player. A flicker of shock passed across Vivi’s face. Darylyn raised an eyebrow.

‘I genuinely did not expect that,’ she said.

But there was only one reaction Jack cared about. He kept his eyes fixed on Sampson.

Oliver Sampson. Applicant for
Bigwigs
season two.

Application rejected
.

It was almost too good to be true. But the Year 7 girls had solid sources: they knew people who knew people who had older cousins who’d done work experience in the
Bigwigs
production office. Somehow, they’d traced the ‘ModLSkillz’ tag to an application from Oliver Sampson. And for whatever reason, Sampson had been rejected. Jack didn’t care why. All he knew was that he had the upper hand for once.

Sampson went quiet for a moment. ‘You’re going to be on
Bigwigs
again?’ he said, finally.

‘It’s a reunion special,’ said Jack. ‘Me and the other past contestants. It’s weird, you know – in some ways, you never really
stop
being a Bigwig. It probably seems weird to someone who’s never actually been a Bigwig themselves –’

‘Well, it’s pretty brave of you,’ Sampson butted in.

Everyone turned to look at him.

‘Brave?’ said Jack, frowning. ‘Why?’

‘I mean, it’s not like you’ve actually
changed
at all, Sprigley. Everyone’s going to think there’s something
wrong
with you.’ With that, Sampson forced his way past Jack and took the closest exit from the quadrangle – nearly knocking over a couple of Year 10s on the way.

‘We’ll see,’ Jack called after him, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He’d already texted his mum. She was probably emailing the producers as he spoke. It was basically a done deal.

He turned to the others and shrugged. ‘I think people might be surprised. They might not even recognise me.’

Vivi gave Jack a look. ‘What do you mean “might”?’

Jack’s bed sat at an awkward angle in the middle of the bungalow. Boxes full of books and magazines and comics were stacked against the wall near the doorway to the tiny ensuite.

‘So where do you think the bed should go?’ Jack asked Philo.

Philo appeared to be deep in thought. ‘On the floor,’ he concluded.

Jack sighed and threw himself onto the bed. ‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll decide later. At least all the big stuff’s shifted in now. Thanks heaps for helping me, Philo.’

Philo sat at the foot the bed. He was supposed to be manning the Sultana World stand at the Upland Tourist Information Centre, but apparently he’d persuaded his parents to let him have a rare Saturday off. ‘It’s no bother, Jack. I could do this all day!’

Lucky
, thought Jack. They’d been moving furniture since eight in the morning.

First, they’d moved all of his gran’s things out of the bungalow and piled them up in the back room of the house. There were still a few things to move out of Jack’s room – garbage bags full of his clothes, his schoolbag and a few miscellaneous oddities from under his bed – before they could start moving Marlene’s things in.