So Feral! Read online

‘May I join in?’ asked Cordelia Foxheart. ‘I’d like to win that cup.’ Silence.

  No one wanted to take on Cordelia Foxheart. ‘Well?’ Cordelia pierces us with her evil eye. ‘Can I take part in the challenge?’ Silence seeps like spilt treacle.

  Eventually, I step in and say, ‘No.’ Cordelia says a word that would make a wharfie blush.

  ‘You haven’t got the staying power,’ I plough on. ‘An Eveready would have more.’

  Another wharfie-blush word from Cordelia. ‘You think you’re so tough. I’ll show you who’s tough.’

  Silence spreads like chewing gum in the tread of your shoe.

  ‘I can be more daring than the lot of you!’

  Exit Cordelia Foxheart, leaving a sludge of relief.

  Finally, we could get back to the Pollen Tree Cup.

  Lowie’s challenge was to get Laura to scream. She’s a tough little nugget and it takes a lot to throw her but as I’ve just told you, he succeeded.

  Andy’s challenge is he’s not allowed to wash for the whole camp. That’s not too hard. Besides, Andy has tactics. When each T-shirt gets on the nose, instead of taking it off, he just bungs on another one. At the moment he looks like a sausage dog. By the end of the week I swear there’ll be Abominable Snowman sightings.

  Laura — now this is cruel — has to wear the same pair of undies different ways for the whole seven days. Jonnie set that challenge. He says he’s done it and it’s easy. I reckon Laura’s done right-way-round, back-to-front, inside-out-right-way-round and inside-out-back-to-front so now we’re into upside-down, which might be why she’s kind of walking funny.

  Jonnie’s not allowed to turd. He’s famous for holding it in. But I bet he’s never gone seven days before.

  And me?

  My challenge sucks.

  I have to kiss Miss Reynolds.

  Chapter Two

  It’s now day five and I still haven’t worked out how I’m gonna lay one on Miss Reynolds. We’re sitting at breakfast when who should walk in? That’s right, Miss Reynolds.

  We hear she does ads — tampon ads! And she’s an escaped weightlifter from Russia. (If you stand outside her cabin early in the morning you hear this, ‘Ooof! Ugh! Clunk!’ so it must be true.)

  The only thing that can’t be true is that she’s the Fresh-breath Babe, ‘cause when Miss Reynolds walks past, I swear even the daisies die.

  We’ve racked our brains thinking of how to tell her she’s deadly. Laura gave her some strong menthol sweets and Jonnie donated his extra-extraextra mint chewing gum. She scoffed them, but they didn’t work and she didn’t get the hint. Andy gave up his Hot Stuff mouth freshener (we snuck in and left it on her bunk). There was no improvement. I conned the cook to put a large bunch of parsley on her plate with every meal. Hey, if it’s good for garlic breath …

  But that didn’t work either.

  So, when Miss Reynolds strides up to our table this morning, hawing and heeing with laughter, you can imagine the reception she gets.

  ‘Morning, Miss Reynolds,’ says Laura, grabbing one of those scented tissues from her pocket and holding it under her nose.

  ‘Got a cold, h-h-have we?’ asks Miss Reynolds. She has this way of puffing on her ‘h’s.

  Laura flinches, but recovers quickly and smiles. She shakes her head.

  ‘Hello, Miss Reynolds,’ says Andy, scrambling to his feet and increasing the distance between them.

  ‘Miss,’ says Jonnie with a tight nod of his head. He rocks on his chair, so far back that I’m waiting for the crash.

  ‘Hi,’ squeaks Lowie. By the look of those clenched teeth I’d say he’s going for the breath-holding marathon.

  I just nod hello. Mum always told me to lead by example so if I don’t speak maybe Miss Reynolds won’t either.

  ‘H-h-hi! H-h-hello, h-h-happy campers.’ Flurries of foul air hit our faces. ‘H-h-how about …’

  I wish for self-closing nostrils — like hippos have.

  Miss Reynolds continues. ‘A game of h-h-hopscotch?’

  Did she have to choose hopscotch? Why not chasings? Or tip footie? Anything that doesn’t begin with an ‘h’.

  ‘H-h-hide-and-seek?’

  My nose is trying to dive behind my tonsils. I think of my challenge. It’s all I can do to stop breakfast from reappearing.

  Miss Reynolds looks at each of us. I wonder if she sees what I see: a group of kids about to die of air failure. ‘What about …?’ she begins.

  She doesn’t say ‘what’ with a ‘w’, she says ‘wh’ with lots of extra blow. My nose hairs are being nuked. I interrupt before there’s permanent damage. ‘I’ve got it!’ I slam my fist on the table. ‘Let’s go on a hike.’

  My friends look at me as if I’ve gone mad. I don’t blame them.

  Hike? Why’d I say that?

  Miss Reynolds beams at me. ‘Excellent idea, Toby. Let’s go on a —’

  ‘Hike!’ I bleat, before she does.

  Laura’s glaring at me big-time. Walking long distances with her undies upside down obviously doesn’t turn her on. Lowie’s going purple. Whether that’s because of his breath-holding marathon or because he hates — positively hates — exercise, I can’t guess. Jonnie doesn’t speak. But he does let one rip. A huge piano accordion sort of flubbing noise that hangs in the air long after the sound has died.

  I guess the backlog is getting to him.

  ‘John!’ says Miss Reynolds, fanning the air. ‘What a disgusting smell.’

  She should talk!

  Miss Reynolds claps to get everyone’s attention. ‘It’s been suggested that we go on a lovely long —’

  ‘Hike!’ Andy, Jonnie, Laura, Lowie and me all cry out together.

  Miss Reynolds looks at us. She frowns, then pushes on. ‘We’ll rendezvous near the flagpole in say …’ she looks at her watch, ‘h-h-half an hour. Find a partner because I want you to walk in pairs.’

  Pairs! Who does she think we are? Kindy kids?

  Decision made, Miss Reynolds marches out of the room, completely ignoring our moans.

  The h-h-holidaymakers are not h-h-happy!

  And all because of me.

  I’m frisbeed by a piece of stale toast from Lowie. ‘Whatcha do that for?’ he roars, close enough to jangle the drums.

  ‘Idiot,’ hisses Andy. The toes of his steel-capped boots introduce themselves to my shins. ‘You a boy scout or something?’

  Laura gets me in a major headlock. ‘Apologise or die!’ she says.

  I’m not seeing stars but serious silver sparkles flash before my eyes. ‘S-s-sorry,’ I manage to gasp.

  With one last squeeze Laura lets me go. Her eyes narrow and she looks at me like she’s ready to pounce. Next, she looks round our table. Her face? It’s not pretty. Finally, she says, ‘Lowie, you and Andy pair up.’

  Oh, no, I think. I don’t want to be Laura’s partner. She’s no angel when she’s in this mood.

  ‘I’ll go with Jonnie,’ says Laura and Jonnie nods.

  But Laura is an angel … compared to who I get.

  Chapter Three

  ‘I don’t have a partner,’ I tell Miss Reynolds when we line up at the flagpole.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ she says in her no-nonsense way. She looks to see who doesn’t have a pair. ‘Cordelia Foxheart!’

  ‘I can’t possibly spend two hours in the company of someone who has no brain!’ protests Cordelia.

  ‘He doesn’t need a brain!’ snaps Miss Reynolds.

  I’m thinking, Two hours of Cordelia Foxheart. I’d rather be fed to the pelicans.

  ‘Cordelia! Sweet!’ I try to ignore the look of triumph on Laura’s face.

  How can I give you a better description of Cordelia?

  Lunch, Cordelia?

  ‘Even my dog wouldn’t eat that crap.’ Boomerang throwing, Cordelia? ‘Wouldn’t it be funny if it hit you on the head?’ Marshmallows round the campfire, Cordelia? ‘Only poor people eat marshmallows. How disgusting.’

  Just like Cordelia.
>
  ‘Sweet,’ I mumble again, as Cordelia stomps over to me.

  Miss Reynolds whistles through her fingers to get our attention.

  A colony of ants dies at her feet.

  ‘H-h-has everyone got a partner?’ No one answers so she continues. ‘Before we h-h-head off, I’d like to make an announcement.’

  From the look on her face it will be about rescue flares and location-emitting devices. I am wrong.

  ‘I’ve just made a most disturbing discovery.’

  I look at my friends, raising my eyebrows in question. We all shrug, putting on our I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about faces.

  ‘Some articles of clothing h-h-have been stolen from my clothesline!’ Miss Reynolds announces. We all shut up real quick. ‘If they are not returned I h-h-have no option but to contact the police!’

  This is serious. Everyone starts talking at once.

  ‘What was stolen?’ asks Cordelia. The last time I saw her this excited was when Emily Peters threw up.

  Miss Reynolds clears her throat. She blushes. ‘Some … ah … items of intimate apparel.’

  ‘What’s intimate apparel?’ asks Lowie.

  I’m glad he’s asked, ‘cause I have no idea.

  ‘Underwear,’ says Miss Reynolds.

  ‘Like a singlet?’ prompts Lowie.

  Miss Reynolds stamps her foot. Her face goes even redder. ‘If you must know, a fox-print bra and knickers set. A very expensive set.’

  ‘Oooh,’ says Laura, with a look that says she knows all about that kind of stuff.

  ‘Oooh,’ says Lowie, with a look that says he doesn’t.

  ‘If my clothes are returned,’ says Miss Reynolds, ‘I’ll not say another word on the matter.’

  We stand around, eyeing each other up to see if we can guess who’s the thief. I try to imagine who’d want a fox-print bra and knickers set. Maybe Laura? ‘Cause if she goes the distance, her old undies will have to be burned. I look at Laura. She’s fiddling with her panty line as though she’s got hives. Can’t be her.

  ‘I’ll give you till the end of camp, then,’ says Miss Reynolds. After a long pause, it’s straight back to business. ‘There’s a lovely little walk we can take to a rocky outcrop called Devil’s Peak. They say it marks the way to h-h-hell.’

  ‘Must have Toby’s name on it,’ hisses Laura.

  By the tug on her undies I know she hasn’t forgiven me.

  ‘If you look closely,’ says Miss Reynolds, ignoring Laura, ‘the rock forms a fork.’

  ‘Oh, goodie. A fork,’ says Lowie, earning himself a dirty look from Miss Reynolds.

  ‘A pitchfork, silly,’ says Miss Reynolds.

  ‘Ahhh,’ says Lowie in a way that I bet he’s thinking ‘hay’, not ‘horns and a tail’.

  After filling some water bottles we head off, Stay in pairs! ringing in our ears. Cordelia takes my sleeve and pulls towards the try-hards at the front but I hang to the back — a bit like Laura’s undies — to be with my friends. She does the big pout.

  ‘Something wrong with your bottom lip?’ I ask.

  Cordelia hrrrmphhs and takes off. I have to do a two-step to keep up ‘cause she’s still got this pincer grip on my elbow — worse than a soldier ant. Speaking of which …

  ‘Left, left, left-right-left.’ Miss Reynolds has morphed into Sergeant Major Reynolds. Her voice booms out. Even though my nose is in front and she’s behind she still manages to make my eyes water.

  My challenge is definitely impossible.

  We walk and we walk.

  Laura starts to waddle. Jonnie is methane propelled. And Andy’s beginning to look like a steamed cabbage. I’m worried he’ll get heatstroke. Even though it’s boiling, he refuses to take off even one of his T-shirts.

  We walk. Cordelia talks.

  ‘… stupid old Eucalyptus all falling to bits …’

  ‘… Daddy’s going to pay for this …’

  ‘… blisters on my blisters …’

  I hope her tongue gets blisters.

  I go into survivor mode. Fade out one left-right-left and one Moaning Minnie. Fade in immediate problem — my challenge.

  How to kiss Miss Reynolds?

  I’m so busy planning that I don’t see a tree root. I trip, falling into Cordelia. My nose hits her lips. At least I think it was only my nose. Anything else would be too gross to contemplate.

  Whack! Cordelia Foxheart has turned into a boxer. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I ask, ducking for dear life.

  She goes for me — poke, jab, bash — just like a heavyweight boxer. And all the while she’s screaming, ‘Miss Reynolds!’

  ‘What’s your problem?’ I yell, trying to get out of the way.

  Cordelia is wiping her mouth and belting me at the same time. ‘You tried to kiss me!’

  ‘Kiss you? I fell and hit you with my nose, you idiot.’

  Lowie shouts, ‘Toby and Cordelia kissed!’ Kissed-isst-st echoes round the valley. Lowie’s hooting and hollering and dancing some stupid jig.

  Laura shrieks, ‘Practising for Miss Reynolds eh, Toby?’ She crouches down, laughing so hard she’s fit to bust. I seriously hope she wets herself. That’ll put a dampener on her challenge.

  Jonnie’s in on it, too. But every time he laughs the air pressure rises.

  In fact, everyone’s screaming with laughter. Everyone, except Cordelia and me.

  ‘Cut it out!’ I yell. ‘Enough’s enough.’

  Cordelia turns on me. ‘I’ll give you enough. You desperate depraved individual! You, Hard-up Harry, you!’ Cordelia blabbers on.

  I pray for a plague of frogs, locusts — anything to shut her up.

  ‘I’m going to get you for that. You better watch out!’ She goes for the all-time hollering record. ‘Miss Reyn-o-lds! Toby tried to kiss me.’

  Miss Reynolds plants her nose one centimetre away from mine.

  I think of my challenge. She’s close enough for a quick peck.

  ‘Toby H-h-hartnett!’

  Quick peck, be buggered.

  ‘H-h-how dare you!’

  Fumes flood my face. They get in my teeth, my eyes, my hair. Everyone’s laughing so hard that even the kookaburras have left.

  ‘When we get back, young man, you and I will be examining the meaning of the term unwanted advances!’ Miss Reynolds reeks stronger than a garbage dump.

  I make a break-through decision.

  I will forfeit the Pollen Tree Cup.

  Chapter Four

  I have to walk beside Miss Reynolds all the way to Devil’s Peak and all the way back. Mouth breathing is my only defence. Boy, does it dry you out. By the time we get back to camp my teeth are covered with clag.

  Miss Reynolds is still cross. She barely talks to me. It’s the only ray of sunshine in a bleak situation.

  Cordelia walks past, her lips pursed like a dried-out abalone.

  People are still laughing as we wait for the stragglers to arrive. I pretend not to notice.

  ‘Hanging’s too good for ‘im.’ That’s Jonnie’s voice.

  ‘Tie him to an anthill at midday.’ That’s Laura.

  ‘I could strangle him with my bare hands,’ says Lowie, doing a Hulk impersonation and glaring at me as he pulls up.

  Surely they’re not talking about me?

  ‘I’ve got cheek chafe,’ hisses Laura when she comes past.

  ‘Raw meat!’ I’m showered with Lowie’s spit. ‘That’s my feet.’

  Jonnie walks over and stops a ruler-length away. He turns, bends over …

  I’m inhaling sewage! I think I’m going to be sick.

  ‘Nice day,’ says Andy, wafting past. Today’s T-shirt is already on the nose. ‘For rats.’

  Everyone is dirty on me — my friends, Miss Reynolds. And Cordelia Foxheart’s out to get me. I’ve blown more than my challenge.

  ‘Toby. Come over here, where I can keep an eye on you.’ It’s not the words, it’s Miss Reynolds’s tone that sets me off.

  I’ve had it! I’
ll show them. I’ll do my challenge.

  I walk over and plant myself in front of Miss Reynolds. I will kiss her now, keel over and put an end to all my misery.

  ‘What did you think of Devil’s Peak?’ interrupts Miss Reynolds, looking around the group. ‘H-h-hands up!’

  What am I doing? I am standing in front of Death-breath.

  Several hands go up. ‘Not much,’ says Laura. ‘I agree,’ adds Jonnie.

  ‘Hmphh!’ Miss Reynolds snorts, triggering nuclear fallout.

  Everyone staggers back. It takes all my strength not to follow. I’ve got to get this over with. I’ve got to complete my challenge.

  I suck in lungfuls of air, psyching myself for the worst. I lean forward.

  ‘Watch out for the devil!’ I yell. Don’t ask me why. Stupidest thing I’ve done.

  Miss Reynolds jumps back with fright. Her foot disappears down a wombat hole. She goes A over T.

  As she’s falling I get a squiz up Miss Reynolds’s shorts. Reminds me of a carcass at the butchers.

  It’s like a slow-motion movie. I watch as she tries to stay on her feet. I do what any sensible kid would not do. I hurry to help her up.

  ‘Oooohhh,’ she moans, lying still.

  I have visions of being charged. Murder by Smart Alec remark.

  ‘You okay?’ I ask, desperate for some sign of life.

  ‘H-h-help!’ is the reply.

  I’m not that desperate. Typhoon Tonsils flatten me.

  Miss Reynolds grabs her foot, her face scrunched with pain.

  ‘Deep breaths,’ calls out Cordelia. ‘It helps.’

  ‘That’s for childbirth, stupid,’ I say.

  Miss Reynolds starts huffing with gusto.

  I am going to expire. Calling her Dog-breath would be too kind.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to give you a fright. It was only a joke.’

  ‘Life can be one big challenge,’ says Laura, with a knowing look in her eye.

  ‘Miss Reynolds. You could sue Toby,’ Cordelia says with a sneer. ‘I know I would.’

  Miss Reynolds does not answer. She just barks at me, ‘Give me a hand!’ She grabs hold of my arm, gripping so hard my triceps become biceps.

  ‘Silly boy. You’ll have to help me get the first-aid kit from my office.’