Super Creepy Camp Read online

  “No problem,” said Theo.

  “Any time,” added Evie, patting me on the shoulder. Theo looked at her, then at me, then at her, then back to me again. His jaw dropped.

  “What?” I asked, but Theo just shook his head.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said. “I’ll tell you later.”

  “I don’t think he could really spell it,” said Chloe, pointing with her thumb in the direction Mr Heft had fled. “That onomappy-thingy. I don’t think he could spell it. It’s lucky for him his phone rang when it did.”

  We all looked at her in silence for a moment, trying to figure out if she was joking. After a while, we all came to the conclusion that she probably wasn’t.

  “Yeah. Really lucky,” said Theo. He started to roll his eyes but then caught Wayne glowering at him, so pretended he was going to look up at the ceiling instead. “That could do with a paint,” he said, avoiding Wayne’s glare.

  Suddenly Mr Lawson’s voice echoed from the stage. “I’d now like to invite both teams to join me on the stage once more!”

  “Oh no, what now?” I groaned.

  “Second round,” said Wayne. “It’s the debate.”

  “Do I have to do anything?” I asked.

  Wayne snorted. “You? No chance. You’ll blow it again. We need three people for this round and you’re not going to be one of them.”

  “Hooray!” I cheered, raising my hands in celebration. I led the team out on to the stage, confident I could safely ignore anything that Mr Lawson was going to say.

  On the other side of the stage, Mr Mann and Mrs Moir were half carrying, half dragging a huge scoreboard from behind the side curtain. Mrs Moir grunted and sweated as she heaved it across the stage. Mr Mann, meanwhile, carried his end with one hand.

  “It is good here, yah?” Mr Mann barked, with such ferocity I thought poor Mrs Moir was going to have a heart attack.

  “Yes, there’s fine,” said Mr Lawson. He watched, dejectedly, as Mr Mann adjusted the numbers until the scoreboard read:

  The PE teachers left the stage and Mr Lawson turned back to the audience. “There’s still everything to play for!” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Up next, we have the debate round. Three members of each team will debate a randomly selected issue, with points awarded for style, delivery and content.”

  He reached under his lectern and pulled out a bowl filled with lots of little pieces of paper. “These are all the suggestions made by students, parents, staff and even members of the public via the contest’s website. There were some interesting suggestions this year,” he said, glaring out at our school’s Year Eights. “But we’ve carefully vetted each suggestion and narrowed the list down to ensure we get a great topic both teams can really get their teeth into.”

  “Wait, what are we getting our teeth into?” whispered Chloe, who had been paying even less attention than I had. “We don’t have to eat anything, do we?”

  “No, he didn’t mean our actual teeth, it’s not an eating contest,” Evie assured her. “It’s a metaphor.”

  “That’s a relief,” said Chloe. “I thought it was going all I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here! for a minute there, and there’s no way I’m eating caterpillars or crocodile tongues or whatever.”

  Mr Lawson shook the bowl to mix up the paper. “Now, I’m going to invite Miss Garden to come up and choose the motion.”

  There was enthusiastic applause from the Foxley Hill team and their half of the audience as the elf-like English teacher came trotting on to the stage. She waved out at the crowd, then reached a hand into the bowl, fished out a piece of paper and handed it to Mr Lawson.

  “Thank you, Miss Garden,” said Mr Lawson, ushering her back to her seat. He unfolded the piece of paper. “Here’s the subject for our debate. It has been submitted online by a member of the public. One ‘M. Shirley’.”

  My head snapped up. Theo turned to look at me. “M. Shirley?” he whispered. “Could that be...?”

  “Madame Shirley!” I said. I shook my head. “No. No, I mean ... what are the chances?”

  Mr Lawson took a sip of water, then cleared his throat. “The motion the teams will be debating today, is...” He paused dramatically.

  “Come on!” I yelped. “It’s not The X Factor. Hurry up and read what it says!”

  The head teacher glared at me, but then began to read. Each word that came out of his mouth sent little electric tingles of shock through me, but it was the last one that nearly made my hair stand on end.

  “It is always best to tell the truth.”

  I gasped. It was her! It had to be! Madame Shirley herself, the crazy old woman who had stolen my lying powers, must have sent in that suggestion.

  “Arguing in favour of the motion will be the Foxley Hill team,” said Mr Lawson. “While the Nutley Grange team will be arguing against. Both teams have one hour to decide who will be speaking for them and to prepare their arguments.”

  As Mr Lawson dismissed us all, I spun to face Wayne. “You’ve got to let me take part!” I said. “I can do this. I’ll be great at this one!”

  “No chance,” said Wayne. “You completely blew that last round. There’s no way I’m giving you another chance. Me, Chloe and Evie will do it.”

  “But listen!” I protested. “I promise I’ll be brilliant at this. I think a weird old woman wants me to take part,” I babbled. “I think that’s why she sent in the suggestion!”

  Everyone, with the exception of Theo, looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “What are you talking about?” Wayne demanded.

  “The mad old woman who broke my brain!” I blurted, as if that explained everything. “With her truth-telling machine!”

  Chloe looked me up and down. “Is he having some sort of breakdown?”

  “Honestly, he’d be really good at this one,” said Theo. “You should give him a chance.”

  “No!” Wayne spat. “I’m team captain and I decide who’s doing what.”

  “Who says you’re team captain?” Theo asked.

  Wayne turned round and shoved a fist right in his face. “This says so, all right?” he growled. Then, when it was clear Theo wasn’t going to argue any further, he gave a nod. “Right, ladies, let’s go and get working on our arguments. We’ll give this Foxley Hill mob something to chew on.”

  Chloe looked worried. “Chew on?”

  “Relax, it won’t be locusts or bits of kangaroo,” Evie said. She shot me a smile, then followed the other two down the steps and out into the corridor.

  Theo waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. “She well fancies you.”

  “Who, Chloe?”

  “No! Not Chloe. Evie,” Theo said.

  I shook my head and laughed. “What? No she doesn’t.”

  “She definitely does,” Theo argued. “Did you see the way she kept looking at you and leaping to your defence all the time?”

  “You leap to my defence all the time,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, but that’s because I’m your best mate, so I have to. It’s the law. She doesn’t though. She does it because she fancies you.”

  “No, she doesn’t fancy me,” I said, then I pointed to my mouth. “And because I said that, it must be true, because I can’t lie.”

  “Yeah, but that just means you don’t believe she fancies you,” Theo said, smirking. “But you’ll see, Beaky. You’ll see...”

  Theo and I sat at the back of a classroom, keeping out of Wayne’s way. He was at the front of the class, Chloe on one side, Evie on the other. They were hard at work trying to come up with their speeches and although I’d offered to help, Wayne had requested that I didn’t get involved.

  “Keep your big nose out of it, Beaky!” had been his exact words, in case you were wondering.

  Theo and I had tried to pass the time by playing Rock, Paper, Scissors but I couldn’t stop myself announcing which one I was going to choose before each round, so we’d given up pretty quickly.

  “I Spy?” asked Theo.<
br />
  I shrugged. “Yeah, OK.”

  “You go first.”

  I looked around the room. “I spy with my little eye ... a desk.”

  Theo shook his head. “No, that’s not how you play it. You say the first letter.”

  “I know,” I said. I looked around the room a second time. “I spy with my little eye ... a chair.”

  I slapped myself on the forehead. “Argh! I can’t even play I Spy! How can that possibly count as lying?”

  “I suppose it’s a bit like keeping a secret,” Theo said, “and you’re not very good at that.”

  “Theo was born with six nipples!” I shouted, then I clamped my hand over my mouth. “No,” I mumbled. “It isn’t one of my strong points.”

  “Keep it down,” Wayne barked. “We’re trying to practise our speeches here.”

  “How come you care so much, anyway?” asked Theo.

  Wayne shifted in his seat. “What? I don’t care. Why would I care? It’s stupid.”

  “Yes, you do,” I said. “It’s obvious.”

  Wayne sighed and drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him. “So? What if I do? No one from this school has ever won the contest before. The Foxley Hill teachers are always making fun of my dad. And, I dunno, I just want to beat them.”

  I gasped. “Wayne Lawson, you actually have emotions like a proper human being. We’ll make a real live boy of you yet!”

  “Shut up, Beaky,” Wayne growled.

  “Look, if you want to win, let me help with the speeches!” I said, jumping up. “Seriously, I’m like the world’s leading expert on telling the truth! The subject was literally sent in just for me!”

  “Sit down and shut up,” Wayne warned. “You’re not doing it. We don’t need you, anyway. We’ve got it all sorted, haven’t we, girls?”

  Chloe looked up from her phone. “Hmm?”

  “The debate,” said Wayne. “We’ve got it all in hand.”

  Chloe’s perfectly shaped eyebrows knotted. “Debate?”

  “Yes,” said Wayne, trying to keep his smile fixed in place. “I gave you your speech just a minute ago, remember?”

  Chloe peered down at a sheet of paper in front of her. “Oh, so you did! So I just read this, do I?”

  “That’s the idea,” said Evie.

  Chloe shrugged. “Oh, then yeah, it’ll be fine.”

  “Wayne, trust me on this...” I began to protest, but then the classroom door opened and Mr Heft squeezed through the gap.

  “Right then, time’s up,” he said. “We’re all waiting.”

  “For what?” asked Chloe. Evie waved the paper under her nose again. “Oh, the debate. Right.”

  “We’re counting on you here,” said Mr Heft. “I’m counting on you.” He shot me a glare. “After that spelling round... Well, let’s just say, my reputation is on the line.”

  “And your job, probably,” I added.

  “Yes, thank you for that, Dylan,” Mr Heft muttered.

  “When do you want to speak, Chloe?” Wayne asked.

  Chloe thought for a moment. “I don’t mind. I’ll go anywhere. Not first, though. I’d rather not go first. Or last. Anywhere but first or last.”

  “So ... second, basically?” said Evie.

  “Yes. That’s perfect!”

  The three of them got to their feet and we all headed for the door. “OK, I’ll open, Chloe will go next, then Evie can close,” said Wayne.

  “What about us?” asked Theo. “What will we do?”

  Wayne narrowed his eyes. “Stay here and keep out of our way,” he growled. “Both of you!”

  The next half hour passed very slowly. Theo and I sat in the empty classroom, listening to the droning of voices and regular bursts of applause echoing along the corridor from the hall. The voices were muffled, so we couldn’t hear what was being said, but judging by the levels of clapping, one team was doing much better than the other.

  “Three guesses who’s winning,” said Theo.

  “But there are only two teams,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, yeah. Fair point,” Theo admitted. “Two guesses, then.”

  “That still means I’m one hundred per cent guaranteed to get it right.”

  “Fine! Forget it, I just meant we’re probably losing,” said Theo.

  “Well, yeah,” I agreed. “But you never know. We might not be.”

  The classroom door opened and Mrs Moir creaked in. “We’re losing,” she announced. “It’s not pretty.”

  “See?” said Theo. “Told you.”

  Mrs Moir stepped aside and Evie shuffled in, clutching at her stomach and groaning. “In you go, pet,” said Mrs Moir. “You take a seat.”

  “Hey, what’s up, Evie?” I asked.

  “Poor thing has a tummy ache,” said Mrs Moir before Evie could answer. “Nerves, probably. It’s her turn to speak next. Theo, Wayne wants you to stand in.”

  I looked over at Evie just as she sat down. She winked at me, then went back to groaning. My hand shot up.

  “I’ll do it!”

  Mrs Moir turned to Theo. “Is that OK with you?”

  “I insist,” said Theo. He clapped me on the back. “Knock ‘em dead, Beaky.”

  I hurried for the door, flashing Evie a grateful smile on the way past. “Follow me,” said Mrs Moir. “And try to keep up if you can!” She set off towards the hall at a snail’s pace.

  “Tell you what, I’ll go on ahead and you catch up,” I said, strolling past her. I took the steps leading up to the stage two at a time and stumbled through the curtain just as the beam of a spotlight hit me in the face.

  “Dylan,” groaned Mr Lawson from somewhere in the blinding glare.

  “Beaky!” hissed Wayne, sounding even less pleased than his dad. “I told Mrs Moir to send Theo. Now we’re bound to lose.”

  I blinked away the glare and saw Evie’s empty chair just ahead of me. Still a little dazzled, I sat down.

  “It’s your turn,” Wayne growled. “Stand up.”

  I stood up. On the other side of the stage, three Foxley Hill pupils sniggered behind their hands.

  “Did you prepare any notes?” Mr Lawson asked.

  “No,” I said. “None.”

  Mr Lawson gripped the edges of his lectern like he might be about to collapse. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and muttered something under his breath. I didn’t hear what it was but I could guess it probably wasn’t anything complimentary.

  “Would you like a minute to read Evie’s notes?” he asked.

  I glanced down at the notepad sitting on the desk in front of me. I lifted the cover, expecting to see a load of scribbled arguments, but instead found just two words written on the front page.

  I quickly closed the notepad again. “No, I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll just make it up as I go along.”

  Mr Lawson and Wayne both groaned in perfect unison. “Are you sure about that, Dylan?” the head teacher asked. “We can give you a minute or two.”

  “No,” I said. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Sure?” said Mr Lawson, his voice coming out as a high-pitched squeak. “Final answer?”

  “Final answer,” I said. I cleared my throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, but Mr Lawson interrupted me.

  “You have to come and stand up here. We’ve only got one microphone,” he said, gesturing to his lectern.

  “Oh, right, sorry,” I said. I crossed the stage, accompanied by more sniggering from the Foxley Hill pupils.

  Mr Lawson stood his ground at the lectern. “Dylan will be arguing against the motion that it is always best to tell the truth,” he said. He still didn’t move aside.

  “Um, can I get past?” I asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “The microphone,” I said. “I need it to speak.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” Mr Lawson said. Taking a deep breath, he released his grip on the lectern and shuffled a few awkward steps backwards.

  I approached the microphone and leaned in. My mouth had gone
dry and I suddenly felt very self-conscious. The whole audience was staring at me in expectant silence. “All right?” I said, then a screech of feedback echoed around the hall.

  “Not so close,” Mr Lawson said.

  I moved my head back a little.

  I swallowed.

  “I’m going to tell you a story,” I said.

  And then, I began my speech.

  When it came to stories about the consequences of telling the truth, I had plenty to choose from. I could have talked about almost breaking up my aunt and uncle’s relationship, the beatings my truth-telling had earned me from Jodie, the trouble I’d got into at school – any of it.

  But I didn’t talk about any of the stuff that had happened as a result of Madame Shirley’s truth-telling machine. Those stories were all good, don’t get me wrong. They’d have helped my side’s argument, no doubt about it.

  But there was another story from way back that I knew wouldn’t just help our argument. It would win it.

  “When I was little, we had a neighbour called Mrs Munn,” I said. “She was old. About ... eighty, I think. She was nice, though, not all mean and grumpy like a lot of old people can be.”

  Behind me, I heard Wayne whisper. “What’s he on about? He’s supposed to be talking about telling the truth.”

  “One year, when I was about six, Mrs Munn asked me what I wanted for Christmas. She always bought me and Jodie Christmas presents. She was nice like that. I told her I wanted a Power Rangers action figure and I showed her a picture of it. I even told her which shop to get it from. ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘Leave it to me.’”

  “Is this going somewhere?” Mr Lawson hissed but I ignored him.

  “Christmas morning came. Mrs Munn popped round with her presents – one for Jodie, one for me and a box of sweets for my mum and dad. I prodded at my present and it was suspiciously soft. I could tell right away it wasn’t a Power Ranger. But she smiled at me and looked all hopeful. It was quite sweet, actually, in a really old and wrinkled kind of way.” I looked up and, to my amazement, the entire audience was watching me intently, hanging on my every word.