Читать книгу Nathalia Buttface and the Embarrassing Camp Catastrophe - Nigel Smith - Страница 7

“I think we all owe Darius a big thank-you,” said soppy Miss Hunny in class the following week. “The camping trip sounds super brilliant.”

Nat didn’t care how super brilliant it sounded because it still looked like they were going WITH HER DAD, AAAGH.

She looked at Darius sitting next to her. He had bits of stringy snot dangling from each crusty nostril and she really hoped it wasn’t just the one piece of string.

Miss Hunny burbled happily on. She was wearing a sun-yellow cardigan, and the long sleeves dangling over her hands spun round in excited little circles as she waved her arms around enthusiastically.

“We’re going to make camp, and try rock climbing and pony-trekking, go exploring, practise map-reading and do other cool geography stuff.”

“There isn’t any cool geography stuff, Miss,” said Nat, “because geography isn’t cool. It’s the least cool subject there is.”

“Who said that?” said Miss Hunny.

“Mr Keane, the new geography teacher,” giggled Nat. “It was when we asked him why he was crying at his desk last week.”

“He made my homework all soggy,” explained Penny, “and I’d spent hours drawing that unicorn.”

“You really must stop drawing unicorns in every class, Penny,” Miss Hunny scolded gently.

“Even in geography?” said Penny.

Miss Hunny looked at 8H with a mixture of affection and despair. Nat recognised the look: it was the look she often gave Dad.

“We’re also trying to find super-rare fossils,” said Miss Hunny, “and fossils are definitely cool.”

Darius pulled a string from his nose and flicked it at the back of Julia Pryde’s hair. “Nah,” he said, “dinosaurs are cool. Fossils are rocks. And rocks suck.”

“Language, Darius,” said Miss Hunny.

“Do you want this language instead then?” said Darius, unleashing a stream of gibberish.

Except it wasn’t gibberish. Parveen Patel shrieked and turned around in her chair. “Who taught you words like that?” she said angrily.

Darius then entertained the class with even more rude words in even more languages until he was told to sit outside the classroom. His excuse that he’d learned them as geography homework didn’t work.

Miss Hunny kept Nat behind after class.

Uh-oh, thought Nat, I’m in trouble.

“Now, Nathalia, I don’t think Darius wrote that essay on his own, did he?” said Miss Hunny, pulling up her sleeves. Nat shuffled her feet. “For a start, I could read it.”

“I might have helped him a teeny-tiny bit, Miss,” she admitted. She was pleased to FINALLY get the credit, but she was a bit worried she’d been caught cheating.

“I thought so,” said Miss Hunny, “which makes you …”

Here we go, thought Nat, that’s me picking up litter all week.

“… a kind and rather wonderful girl.”

“Not fair, why do I have to pick up litter? I’m fed up of – oh.” She paused. “Come again, Miss?”

“Like me, you see the good and the beautiful in Darius, where others only see naughtiness. Naughtiness, rudeness, untidiness, laziness, lateness, and a worrying fondness for farts, burps, bums, poos and – oh, do stop sniggering, Nathalia.”

“Sorry, Miss. Don’t mean to, Miss.”

“Anyway, I’ve been asked to nominate a team leader for our camping trip. And I was wondering if you—”

“Would be the team leader?” interrupted Nat, eyes shining. “Oh, flipping heck, yes. That’s brilliant, thanks very much. Winner, woo.”

“No, I’m going to ask Darius to be team leader.”

“What?” Nat felt like a spanner.

Miss Hunny smiled gently. “I think the responsibility will help him grow up.”

I think you’re barmy, thought Nat.

“I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on him. Help look after him.”

“Look after HIM?”

“Underneath that chimp-like exterior is a vulnerable little boy, Nathalia.”

“No there isn’t. Underneath the chimp is a gorilla, trust me.”

“Very funny. Just keep an eye on him. Would you do that for me?”

“Oh yeah. Well, of course. I mean, I don’t want to be a stupid team leader anyway,” fibbed Nat.

“You look a bit fed up,” said Miss Hunny kindly. “Sorry, Nathalia, I didn’t mean to get your hopes up. I was actually going to make you team leader but your father said I shouldn’t put too much pressure on you because you’re so delicate.”

I’ll show him how delicate I am when I get home, thought Nat.

Miss Hunny broke into a wide smile. “Oh cheer up. The REALLY exciting news is that we’ll be sharing the campsite.”

“Who with?” asked Nat.

“A lovely class from St Scrofula’s School. They were the other local school to win the essay competition.”

Miss Hunny said that as if it was a big deal.

“Big deal,” said Nat.

“Actually, that IS a big deal,” said Dad that night, as they drove home in his horrible, noisy, cluttered camper van, the Atomic Dustbin. “St Scrofula’s is a top school.”

“Don’t care, Dad,” said Nat, playing with the Dog in the back of the van. Her head was resting against a tent and some sleeping bags. They smelled of damp and mildew. Urgh, she thought, camping. Yuk.

“You should care. As it happens, your mum’s often talked about sending you to that school.”

A chill went down Nat’s spine. It was hard enough making friends at her own school, which was a normal one, let alone trying again with a bunch of snooty kids. She had worked her way up from the bottom of the bottom group of popular kids to nearly the middle of the bottom, and she wasn’t going to start at the bottom of the bottom again, thanks very much.

“It’s dead posh,” said Dad. “You’d like it. It looks a bit like a castle. It’s got a full-sized football pitch, floodlit tennis courts, and an Olympic-sized swimming pool.”

“So?” said Nat.

“All their kids go to top universities.”

“You’d think they’d be too tired to learn much, after all that running and swimming,” said Nat.

“They’ve even got their own school ponies,” said Dad.

“We’ve got school rabbits,” said Nat. “Well, we used to have school rabbits until the caretaker bought a new dog. Now we’ve got no rabbits, just a fat school dog.”

Her own dog shook his whiskery head as if to apologise for the school mutt’s doggy crimes.

“I bet the kids are stuck-up and horrible,” said Nat, “which is rubbish cos even the girls in my class are a bit stuck-up and horrible – and they go to MY school and they haven’t got anything to be stuck-up about.”

“Give them a chance when you get to the campsite,” said Dad. “You might make some nice new friends.”

“I haven’t even got nice OLD friends,” muttered Nat. She settled down on the mouldy sleeping bag. “And please tell me you’ve listened to me and you’re not coming. This camping trip’s rubbish anyway – I found out it’s all about geography.”

“Sounds great. Rock climbing, canoes, caves, maps, fossils, all that stuff.”

“Sounds rubbish. And you’ll just find new and horrible ways to show me up.”

“No I won’t, I promise.”

“And stupid Miss Hunny’s made Darius Bagley team leader. AND I’m his babysitter.”

“That was my idea,” said Dad.

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Nat. “Thanks.”

“Anyway, responsibility is good for you.”

“How would you know?” said Nat. “Mum’s in charge of everything.”

“Responsibility is good for SOME people,” laughed Dad.

They drove in silence for a little while. Silence, that is, if you didn’t count the racket from the dodgy exhaust. Nat’s brain was racing ahead, writing a LIST OF DOOM. Worse still, at the back of her mind, a little nagging voice was telling her it was ALL HER FAULT. If she hadn’t helped Darius with his stupid essay in the first place, they’d never be going camping.

The doom list seemed endless: rubbish campsite, week-long geography lessons, Darius in charge, Dad and his horrible little ukulele tagging along, snooty posh kids prancing about on their own ponies …

How bad was this week going to get? What else was going to go wrong?

Just then Dad hit a pothole and a frying pan slid off a shelf and clonked her on the head.