The Trouble with Sauce (6 page)

After school, Jonty, Nathaniel and Prune made their way to Misery Mall. They sat in a booth at the back of the café, hiding behind the big plastic menus and wondering whether anyone else would turn up. Prune pushed her head so far into the menu that her nose pressed up against the price of the toasted chicken sandwich.

By 4.15 no other kids had arrived. Normally the mall would be full of students, laughing at the clothes in
Sue Sue C Lady Fashion
and running around the supermarket. Not anymore. They were all too busy studying.

‘Should I have a look round?’ Jonty whispered from behind his menu.

‘Yes,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Another potential member
of our organisation may have entered without seeing us.’

‘Wait!’ said Prune. She handed Jonty a pair of huge sunglasses under the table. ‘Wear these so no-one recognises you.’

The café was virtually empty, but they could not be too careful.

Jonty put the sunnies on and peeped around the edge of his menu. There were two old women sharing a scone. Another old man sucked at his tea to cool it, but he sucked so hard that he made a whistling sound through his false teeth. There was one other person, also crouching behind his menu.

‘Someone else is hiding,’ Jonty reported. ‘I’m going to investigate!’

Wearing the enormous sunglasses, he jumped up and wandered over to the counter, pretending to get some sugar. As he sidled past the person behind the menu, he did a double-take.

‘Mr Gosney!’ he gasped. The Sports teacher was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but Jonty recognised his autographed Wallabies tracksuit.

‘Shh!’ Mr Gosney said.

‘What are you doing here?’ hissed Jonty.

‘Go and sit down. I’ll come over when I know no one’s watching.’

Jonty walked back to his seat as calmly as he could. A few moments later Mr Gosney shot over,
set up another big plastic menu up on the table and edged along next to the three others.

‘I really can’t be seen here,’ he said. ‘I’ve signed a contract saying I won’t contact any school students. Mr Foster sacked me. He claims I was stealing footballs from the school, because there were some in the boot of my car. I was only taking them to a school match. He’s threatened to call the police in if I speak to any of you.’

‘But why?’ Jonty frowned.

‘It’s just an excuse. Sports are to be the first “student-directed” study period,’ said Mr Gosney.

Only Nathaniel understood what he meant. ‘He means the students are teaching themselves instead of doing sports.’

‘You’ve got to help us, Mr Gosney,’ said Jonty.

‘I can’t. If I’m seen here, I’ll never teach again. All I can say is whatever you do, don’t get sent to the principal’s office. He’s doing something to everyone in there. I don’t know what, but if you get sent, run away, go home, do anything but go there!’

‘Can I take an order, or are you going to hide all day?’ It was the waitress. They all jumped and knocked over the menus.

Like a shot, Mr Gosney leapt up, ran out of the café and straight into
Sue Sue C Lady Fashion.

They weren’t sure what was more shocking — Mr Gosney’s warning, or seeing him in a hideous fashion shop.

‘Well?’ The waitress tapped her order pad. Jonty ordered a Coke to make her go away.

‘It’s obvious what we have to do,’ he said, once he’d got rid of her.

‘What?’ said Prune.

‘We’ve got to make sure we’re sent to the principal’s office.’

‘But Mr Gosney said —’ Nathaniel didn’t like going against a teacher’s instructions — even if it was a sacked Sports teacher, who was hiding behind some frilly orange blouses.

‘Jonty’s right.’ Prune nodded. ‘It’s the only way we’ll find out what’s happening.’

Thinking it was almost impossible, Nathaniel asked how they planned to get into the principal’s office.

Jonty grinned. This was his area of expertise. ‘Nathaniel, mate,’ he said as he clapped his hand on the smaller boy’s back, ‘it’s about time you learnt the joys of being really really bad.’

The second class on Tuesday was Maths with Mr Croxall again. The room was empty in first period and that made it ideal for setting up what Jonty had planned.

When all the perfect students arrived, they saw a big juicy book sitting on each desk. Over four hundred pages of absolutely massive equations. They salivated like lions in front of a steak. They were so eager to learn everything that was in the books, they ran to the seats to throw them open. Before they did, Boris noticed what was written on the whiteboard.

Do not open your books until instructed to do so.

‘Stop!’ He held his hand up. The other students obeyed. They sat down, rested their hands on the edge of the desk and stared hungrily at the books.

From the Dumb Circle at the back of the room, Jonty, Nathaniel and Prune pretended to concentrate on their own books. Every now and again Jonty looked up. He could see they were desperate to open the new books. He was enjoying their torture. He enjoyed even more the fact that they had all sat down so quickly.

‘Why should we wait?’ Mike asked. ‘It’s not as if Mr Croxall will be able to teach us anything. We’re a bit beyond his brain power now, aren’t we?’

‘He’s still our teacher.’ Anastasia drew herself up. ‘So we have to do as we’re told.’

The others nodded. Mr Croxall was still their teacher — for now.

Nathaniel grinned at Jonty. It was going exactly as they’d planned. All they needed now was for Mr Croxall to walk in. The students were itching to open those books. Boris looked at his watch. Mr Croxall was officially late.

The silence in the class continued as everyone waited.

Then it was Nathaniel who gave in. He had worked so hard at preparing to be bad that he couldn’t wait a moment longer. The plan would work just as well.

‘What’s in your book, Boris?’ he asked loudly.

‘I don’t think you’d understand. It’s high level stuff.’ Boris sniffed.

‘Oh really? I was looking at it last night,’ Nathaniel said. ‘I found it rather … childish. Amusing, but childish.’

The class turned round and glowered at him. The thought that Nathaniel was reading at their level was horrifying.

‘I found chapter six somewhat sensational,’ he said.

This was too much for them. They wanted to obey the sentence on the whiteboard, but their craving for knowledge was stronger. In perfect unison, they all threw open their books, desperate to read the chapter that Nathaniel had found so sensational.

‘Yeuch!’ they shrieked in disgust, as green liquid burst out of the books at them.

Boris choked as it fired into his open mouth.

‘The mess!’ Miranda squealed, as the food dye splattered all over her beautiful clean uniform.

Mike’s face was a dripping green mess.

The night before, Nathaniel and Prune had hollowed out the centre of each book and put in a booby trap. When the book was opened, it pulled a band that released a squirt of green food dye at high speed.

‘You!’ Boris growled at Jonty. His old friend had to be behind this trick.

Nathaniel squealed. Prune pointed and laughed.

‘Wasn’t me!’ said Jonty with a grin.

Furious, Boris and Mike jumped up to their feet — only to lose their balance. Their bums were stuck to their chairs and they crashed around, knocking their desks over. Soon all the students were standing, trying to pull their chairs off their backsides.

‘Now that
was
me!’ Jonty shouted above their wailing and the scraping of chairs. He had smeared every chair with a heat-activated glue. As the heat of their bodies warmed the glue, the students had stuck themselves fast.

Half the class fell over, as they tripped each other up with their chair legs. Desks were upended and books spilt onto the floor. In seconds the perfect classroom was in chaos. The more they lost control, the more the students panicked and the more they swung around. Boris was trying to remove his pants to get the chair off, but he fell over with his pants tangled around his knees.

Anastasia had managed to get her ponytail caught on the back of Mike’s chair and was being dragged along by her hair every time he swung round. She screamed out in pain and the others started screaming, too. Miranda and Lynn had got their chair legs caught on each other, were pulling furiously in opposite directions and crashing into everyone, as they tried to free themselves.

‘What on earth is happening?’ a voice boomed out from the door.

Mr Croxall had arrived at the perfect moment. His beautiful classroom was a disgusting mess. Green food dye was everywhere. The desks were scattered around the place and his perfect students looked hideous.

They froze at the sound of his voice and stood there trembling, not sure what they should do. Boris sat on the ground, trying to look as dignified as possible without his trousers on. The others followed his lead and sat down where they stood.

Mr Croxall entered the classroom and stopped. Jonty needed him to take one more step forward, but he stood still. As he looked round the scene and saw the only three students without green dye on them sitting at the back of the class, Mr Croxall knew exactly who to blame.

‘Jonty Townsend, what have you done?’ he shouted.

‘Sorry, sir, were you talking to me?’ Jonty said. ‘I couldn’t hear you.’

Mr Croxall’s face burst into a whole new shade of red. Nathaniel grimaced. He knew Mr Croxall had to step forward so they could finish their plan. Why wouldn’t he take that step?

Prune leapt up. ‘Sorry, sir. Is it time for desk placement?’ she said. ‘Where would you like me to sit?’ She smiled as if she was totally unaware of what had happened. ‘Is it my turn for the chalk?’

‘How … dare … you!’ Mr Croxall stared and finally took a step towards her.

Jonty seized the moment. In a flash, he took a ball out and hurled it at the long lightshade hanging from the ceiling.

Bang!
He hit it perfectly. On top of the shade, Jonty had placed a thin plastic bag packed with stewed prunes. As the light swung violently, the bag slipped off and burst onto Mr Croxall’s head. The brown, sloppy, lumpy liquid gushed out of the bag and poured over his face and down his clothes.

Prune beamed with delight. ‘What — don’t you like prunes, sir?’

Mr Croxall stood there speechless. His entire body trembled as he slowly lifted his left hand and pointed to the door.

‘Report to the principal,’ he muttered quietly and spat a prune stone out of his mouth.

‘Whatever you say, sir!’ Nathaniel marched first towards the door, his head held high. He had to admit, he had been spectacularly bad.

Jonty and Prune followed him, equally satisfied with their work.

Out in the corridor, they jumped up and down.

‘That was splendid!’ Nathaniel shouted. ‘The best homework I’ve ever done. The books exploded perfectly.’

‘You two did an amazing job,’ Jonty said. ‘You must have worked for hours!’

‘And the prunes!’ Prune couldn’t stop grinning. Jonty hadn’t told her about them.

‘I thought you might like that!’ he said.

She clapped her hands. This was revenge against all the people who had ever teased her, bullied her or called her wrinkly names. It was even revenge against her parents for calling her ‘Prune’ in the first place. ‘From now on, whenever anyone teases me about my name, I’m just going to imagine that bag of prunes falling on their head.’

Jonty smiled at how much his friends had enjoyed their tricks, but now they had to face the most important part of their plan — the principal’s office. No one who had been sent there had come out normal. Their smiles faded as they realised that in the next few moments, they too might become learning-obsessed zombies.

The principal’s assistant was waiting for them outside his office. They had never seen her before; only heard her voice summoning students. Her hair was piled up on top, making her head look even longer than it was. Her arms were folded and her lips pressed together.

‘You.’ She pointed at Nathaniel and then moved her finger round to the door of the principal’s office.

‘You two.’ She pointed at Jonty and Prune and directed them into her office. They were to wait there.

Nathaniel held his breath. This was not part of the plan. They had thought they would all face the principal together. Causing havoc in the classroom had been fun, but now he was in trouble with the principal for the first time in his life.

Jonty could see how scared his was. ‘Shout if you need help,’ he said. ‘I’ll kick the door down if I have to.’

‘You will do no such thing!’ barked the principal’s assistant.

Jonty and Prune sat down in her office. She closed the door to stop them seeing the corridor outside. She sat down at her desk and began to type furiously on her keyboard, while staring at a piece of paper in front of her.

Nathaniel knocked on the principal’s door. It swung open straightaway. Mr Foster had been waiting on the other side.

‘Nathaniel! What an unexpected pleasure,’ he said and led him into the room. It was light with windows on three walls so Mr Foster could view the entire playground. He sat on the edge of his desk and pointed to a chair directly in front of him. The padded seat was covered in dusty orange fabric that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.

Mr Foster stared at him through his rimless glasses. Nathaniel looked at the ground, trying to avoid the huge bushy eyebrows curling over the top of the glasses.

‘I imagine you are wondering why you are not top of the class anymore,’ Mr Foster said.

Nathaniel looked up.

‘That nonsense in the classroom is sort of thing that happens when someone as intelligent as you gets bored. Teachers, they don’t know what to do
with truly intelligent children.’ He said the word ‘teachers’ as if he hated them.

‘But they’re all so intelligent, so horribly intelligent. It’s impossible to learn so much,’ Nathaniel said.

Mr Foster laughed. ‘Clearly not. The evidence is there. Would you like to be as clever as Boris Brockman? Would you like brilliant ideas to dance through your mind? Book after book absorbed and learnt in seconds? Remember the thrill you used to feel learning something new? The explosion of understanding in your mind? Imagine having that every waking second of your day.’

Nathaniel stared at him. This was the last thing he had expected. It was like Mr Foster really knew him, understood exactly what he had been going through. ‘But how?’ he asked.

‘Oh it’s quite easy. This.’ Mr Foster held out a small green pill in the palm of his hand.

‘A pill?’ Nathaniel couldn’t believe it.

‘Take this and your superior brain will rocket ahead of the others. There will be no end to your learning. Speak a new language within a week, virtually on your own. Imagine never needing a teacher again.’

‘Is this what’s changed everyone,’ Nathaniel asked. ‘A pill?’

‘I’m afraid your parents did not consent to you
going onto my program. But I think you should make your own mind up.’

‘So everyone else agreed? Everyone’s parents let them take these?’

‘Of course, young Prune’s parents probably forgot to sign her form and I imagine Jonty Townsend lost his form on the way home.’

‘Just a pill?’ Nathaniel still couldn’t believe it. He had expected a massive brain-transplanting machine.

‘Yes!’ Mr Foster snapped. ‘This pill is the greatest single advance in human education since we learnt to speak! It has taken years of careful research, and extremely hard work.’ He stopped himself before he said too much. He gave Nathaniel a sickly fake smile. ‘Hold it!’ He extended his hand.

Nathaniel picked up the pill and held it close to his eye. It looked harmless. How intelligent he would be! It had transformed Boris Brockman’s dull brain into something amazing. What would it do to
his
brain? He would surge ahead of the whole school. He could get across all the books they were reading. He could finally join the Advanced Physics Study Group.

As soon as Nathaniel took the pill in his fingers, Mr Foster snapped his hand shut. He could see how curious the boy was. ‘Think carefully about this,’ he said. ‘Take it with you, by all means. Decide for yourself whether you want to try it. I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision.’

He walked Nathaniel out down the corridor and round the corner to the reception area. ‘Sit here and think it over,’ he said.

On his way back to his office, he opened his assistant’s door. ‘Prune de Luca!’ he said. She was next.

Prune sat in the same dusty orange chair. Her hands were pushed under her thighs as she stared down at her feet. She tried to imagine a throbbing force field that would stop anyone from interfering with her brain, but it was hard to do without screwing her face up. Mr Foster’s eyebrows were so distracting, too. She had no idea what to expect, but if he tried to cut her head open, she would scream loud enough for Jonty to hear.

‘How’s your diet?’ Mr Foster said.

Prune looked up suddenly. ‘We eat organic vegetables,’ she said.

‘Excellent. I myself do not eat so well. I take vitamins and minerals.’

‘Oh.’ Prune didn’t know what to say.

‘Have you heard of the
Powapowa Bora?’
he asked.

‘Powapowa Bora?’
Prune had no idea what it was.

‘It’s a plant from an island in the South Pacific. The berries are said to enhance brainpower. It’s said that if you have any psychic ability, the berries of the
Powapowa Bora
will bring it out.’

‘What?’ Prune was amazed. She was sure that if there was a plant that enhanced psychic ability, her parents would have made her eat it every day.

‘That’s not proven yet.’ Mr Foster could see she doubted him. ‘But I’ve found it remarkable.’

‘You take it?’ she said.

‘Oh yes.’ He popped one of the pills casually into his mouth and swallowed it. It had been a week or two since his last one, so he wasn’t worried about having another.

‘Ah!’ He gave a fake gasp and stared for a moment around Prune’s head. He moved closer, looking just above her.

‘You know I’m sure I can see a purple aura all around you,’ he said.

‘Purple?’ Her mouth dropped open. Purple was the most powerful aura there was.

‘Yes, I’ve been seeing auras more clearly since taking
Powapowa Bora.
Here.’

Before she could do anything, the principal slipped a pill into Prune’s open mouth, pushed it closed, and pulled her out of the chair. Next thing she knew, Mr Foster had guided her out of the door. ‘Sit with Nathaniel in reception, there’s a good girl,’ he said.

He returned to his desk, sat in his chair, smoothed his hair down and waited for his next victim. This was going better than he’d expected.
The last child in the entire school to be sent to him was about to enter. Mannington High was on the verge of being the most brilliant, best behaved school in the entire world.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Jonty Townsend,’ he said with a smile. ‘Do come in!’

Jonty took his turn in the dusty orange chair.

Mr Foster sat with his elbows on the desk. His chin rested on the very tips of his fingers. He sucked air through his grey lips and then nodded towards the door. ‘You’ve made some good friends there,’ he said. ‘Nathaniel, Prune — they are the sort of friends you should have. Boris was too much of a bully for my liking.’

‘He’s not dead.’ Jonty didn’t like the way the principal said ‘was'.

‘True, but he’s not your friend anymore, is he?’

‘He’s just crook or brainwashed or something.’

‘And you’re going to “fix” him?’

‘Yes I am,’ Jonty said.

‘Tut tut tut.’
Mr Foster shook his head. ‘That won’t be happening. In fact, you’re the one who’s going to be fixed.’

Jonty jumped up from his chair and looked around the room for an alien teleporting machine. ‘What have you done with Prune and Nathaniel?’

‘Nothing. They’re sitting quietly in reception.
Soon they’ll pick up the books on the table in front of them and discover they can remember everything they read. They’ll read faster and faster and then they’ll need another a book, but that won’t be enough. They’ll crave learning. They’ll research on the internet, find new things to learn. In no time at all they’ll be as clever as everyone else in the school.’

‘No, they won’t.’

‘They will and they will have chosen. Chosen to abandon you and let you remain the last stupid, badly behaved, rude, obnoxious child in the entire school. The only one who still needs to be taught and controlled. The only one left to play your idiotic pranks. Kick a ball to yourself. Jonty Nofriends, playing all alone, like a mouse in a cage.’ Mr Foster spoke louder and louder until he was shouting. Then he stood up.

‘All that time you’ve spent trying to be “cool” like your mate Boris will have been a complete waste. He doesn’t want to know you. You’re nobody to him. Then all the time you’ve spent trying to be “nice” to Nathaniel and Prune, trying to make them forget all the dreadful things you’ve done to them.’ He walked around his desk and Jonty backed away to the door, as the principal prowled towards him, snarling his words.

‘Desperate for friends, aren’t you, Jonty? You always have to have a little gang around you. Well,
not anymore. The entire school is one big gang and you’re not in it!’ He prodded Jonty’s chest with every word. His finger jabbed at the same spot over and over again and it hurt.

‘No!’ Jonty cried out. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to have no friends. He couldn’t stand being on his own.

‘You’ll be in a separate class on your own, all day every day. You’ll be captain of the soccer team. In fact you’ll be the
whole
team, because no one else in the school WILL PLAY WITH YOU — NO ONE!’

Jonty was pressed up against the door. He could feel Mr Foster’s breath on his face as he shouted at him. It was like standing in a hot summer wind.

‘It’s not true,’ Jonty whispered, as tears sprung into his eyes. ‘It’s not true.’ He wanted to shut out everything Mr Foster was saying. He wanted it to not be true, but deep down he was terrified that Nathaniel and Prune would change, too, and he would be left all alone. It was as if Mr Foster knew exactly what his worst nightmare was. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to have friends, but they were all being taken away from him.

Mr Foster pressed his face even closer. Jonty could feel his bushy eyebrows touching his forehead.

‘It
is
true,’ he snarled, determined to bend Jonty to his will.

‘Please,’ begged Jonty, ‘I don’t want to be the only one.’

‘But I want you to be. I want you to suffer.’

‘Why?’ Jonty said. ‘Why me?’

‘I need to have one student to punish in my perfect school and I’ve chosen you.’

Jonty could feel tears running down his cheeks. He had been so scared he hadn’t even noticed he was crying. ‘Please stop,’ he said. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘Don’t like being bullied,’ Mr Foster continued, ‘do you?’

‘No — stop — I’ll do anything!’

‘Anything?’ That was the word he’d been waiting to hear.

‘Yes,’ Jonty said. He wanted this to be over. It didn’t matter what happened — just as long as this unbearable moment was over.

‘Take this!’ Mr Foster drew one of the green pills out of his pocket and held it between his finger and thumb. Jonty looked at it. In an instant he knew this was the way Mr Foster had been making everyone behave. He knew exactly what would happen if he swallowed that pill, but right then, he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was get out.

He couldn’t stand it — the shouting, the breath, the eyebrows, the thought of being alone. If only he could get out of this office. He couldn’t breathe.
He opened his mouth and Mr Foster dropped the pill in.

‘Good boy,’ he said. ‘Now go and join your friends.’

He strolled over to the windows and looked down over his school. So he had done it. Finally done it. The entire school would have the most brilliant minds in the world. Now he could move onto the best part of the lot — getting rid of teachers altogether.