9
Dweeps Aren’t Our Friends
Bryony kept her head down as Jane steered the car into the teacher’s parking area. It was bad enough that everyone knew her stepmum was acting head teacher, but the last thing Bryony wanted was to be seen getting a lift with her. It never seemed to bother Edwin, but then that’s because he was a dweep. Bryony had a reputation of coolness to uphold, which is why she normally took the bus with Saffy and Jaz.
Once Jane had parked, Bryony checked the coast was clear before slipping out of the car and haring into the playground.
Since that disastrous evening at Wychetts, Bryony hadn’t seen much of Saffy and Jaz. The end of term exams had disrupted the normal school timetable, and due to the magic spell Bryony had been too focussed on getting good grades to hang out with her two best friends.
But now the spell was over, and Bryony had some serious hanging out to catch up with.
She quickened her pace across the playground, partly out of eagerness to be reunited with her friends, and partly because it had started to rain.
She dashed through the main block entrance, but found her route blocked by a tubby bald man with a very angry face.
“There you are,” bellowed Mr Wallwork, his bulbous cheeks flushing a vivid shade of beetroot. “I was just about to send out a search party.”
“I’m only a few minutes late,” said Bryony. “Anyway, it’s the last day of term so I’m not missing lessons.”
“Oh but you are,” said Mr Wallwork. “You’ve got extra lessons. All day. With me.”
“Extra lessons?” Bryony shook her head. “I don’t need extra lessons. I came top in the exams.”
“You scored an average of zero percent,” said Mr Wallwork. “That isn’t top, no matter how poor your grasp of mathematics is.”
“But I shouldn’t even be here,” countered Bryony. “I was supposed to be going to that posh new school for brainy kids.”
“The Schrunkopf Institute?” Mr Wallwork laughed. “In your dreams! They only take brainy kids, not low-grade rejects like you. Now get to the classroom, we’re wasting valuable study time.”
As she followed Mr Wallwork down the corridor, Bryony tried to get her head round the morning’s unexpected turn of events.
There was only one explanation: somehow the teachers had found out that she’d cheated at her exams. That’s why she wasn’t going to that brainy school and had to do extra studies.
That was terrible news. It meant she’d be split up from Saffy and Jaz next term. She might never see them again!
But Bryony’s mood changed when she entered Mr Wallwork’s classroom and saw two girls sat chatting at the back.
“Saffy and Jaz!” Bryony ran to her best friends. “Here I am!”
Saffy and Jaz carried on chatting.
“Saffy! Jaz!” Bryony waved her arms. “It’s me!”
But still there was no reaction.
“Earth calling Saffy and Jaz.” Bryony jumped up and down. “Do you read me?”
At last she got a response, but not what she’d expected.
“Go away.” Saffy spoke without looking at Bryony. “How dare you even talk to us.”
“Shove off.” Jaz waved a hand as though shooing away a fly. “We’ll catch something if you stand too close.”
Bryony wondered if the girls were still upset about their visit to Wychetts.
“I’m sorry about last week,” she ventured. “But I’ve explained that it wasn’t my fault. So we’re still friends, right?”
“Dweeps aren’t our friends,” sniffed Saffy.
“But I’m not a dweep,” said Bryony.
“Yes you are,” insisted Jaz. “You’re a dweepy little boy.”
Boy?
Suddenly Bryony realised what this was all about. Luckily she had already thought of an excuse.
“I’m only wearing these for a laugh,” she whispered, pointing at Edwin’s trousers. “It’s an end of term joke to wind up the teachers.”
Saffy and Jaz finally looked at Byrony, although their faces were more puzzled than amused.
“What were you going to wear instead?” said Jaz.
“What I usually do,” said Bryony. “A skirt.”
There was a pause, then Saffy and Jaz burst out laughing.
“A skirt,” cackled Saffy. “He’d wear a skirt to school!”
“I always knew it,” screeched Jaz. “He’s really a little girl!”
“Of course I’m a girl.” Bryony wasn’t really getting the joke. “I always have been.”
That made Saffy and Jaz laugh even harder, and they had to hold each other to stop themselves falling out of their chairs.
“Cut the cackle!” roared Mr Wallwork. “You’re in here to learn, not laugh. Now everyone sit down so we get started.”
Bryony went to sit next to her friends, but Jaz put her feet up on the empty chair.
More bellows signalled Mr Wallwork’s ever-mounting impatience, so Bryony was forced to sit one row in front of her friends.
No sooner had she sat down than she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head.
“Ow!” Bryony looked round to see a chocolate covered peanut bouncing on the floor. She wondered where it had come from, until she heard giggling from the row behind.
“Why did you do that?” Rubbing her throbbing skull, Bryony glared at Saffy and Jaz.
“Why d’you have to ask?” said Saffy. “It’s because you’re a dweep.”
“Cut the cackle,” repeated Mr Wallwork, as he handed out wads of paper. “If you three had paid more attention all year we’d be enjoying the last day of term with everyone else, not stuck in this room doing extra study.”
Bryony flinched as a thick wad of papers slammed onto her desk.
“This is your work for the day,” said Mr Wallwork. “You are going to re-do every exam, for every subject.”
“Every subject?” Another chocolate covered peanut struck Bryony’s head, but this time it didn’t register. “In one day?”
Mr Wallwork nodded. “And if you don’t pass them all, you’ll come back every day during the holidays until you do.”
Bryony had no reason to doubt Mr Wallwork’s threat. Legend had it that he’d once kept a class in detention for an entire weekend, even though it clashed with his own wedding. When his bride had turned up to look for him, Mr Wallwork had given her one hundred lines and confiscated her bouquet.
“Let’s make a start,” growled Mr Wallwork. “Do you all have pens and pencils?”
Another peanut struck the back of Bryony’s head, but she tried to ignore the pain as she opened her schoolbag to take out her pencil case. But the pencil case wasn’t hers. It was orange, and had the word “Edwin” embroidered on the side.
Bryony screwed her face up. What was Edwin’s pencil case doing inside her schoolbag? Then she realised it wasn’t her schoolbag. It was too large, too old fashioned, and way too smelly. She’d been in such a hurry that morning that she’d taken the wrong bag to school.
But there had only been one bag hanging up in the hallway, which meant Edwin must have taken her bag by mistake. Oh well, nothing she could do about it now. A pen was a pen, after all. She’d just have to make sure she didn’t chew the end in case she caught something nasty.
“Write your names at the top of the papers,” instructed Mr Wallwork. “And do try to spell them correctly, there’s ten points up for grabs there.”
Bryony unzipped Edwin’s pencil case, and dipped a hand inside to retrieve a pen. What she retrieved was not a pen, but a small furry rodent with half a tail.
“What are you doing here?” Bryony gawped at Stubby.
Stubby twitched his whiskers. “Still the same friendly greeting.”
“Be quiet.” Mr Wallwork glared at Bryony. “I will have silence in my classroom.”
Bryony deposited Stubby on the desk. “I don’t want you here,” she whispered. “You’re embarrassing.”
“Thought you might need my services,” said Stubby. “And we could continue our mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“I said be quiet,” repeated Mr Wallwork.
Bryony leaned forwards so her nose was touching Stubby’s whiskers. “What beneficial arrangement?”
“Allow me to demonstrate,” said Stubby.
“For the last time,” growled Mr Wallwork. “I said quieten down. This is a school, not a hairdressers.”
“Oh really,” said Stubby to Mr Wallwork. “And there was me thinking you’d popped in for a rinse and blow dry.”
“What did you say?” Mr Wallwork glared at Bryony, instinctively rubbing his shiny bald head.
“I didn’t say anything.” Bryony pointed at Stubby. “It was him.”
Mr Wallwork peered at Stubby. “You brought your pet mouse to school?”
“I am not a pet,” sighed Stubby. “As I am tired of explaining, my role is more of an advisory capacity.”
Mr Wallwork drew back, blinked, and then frowned. “Who said that?”
“He did.” Bryony continued to point at Stubby.
“Mice can’t talk,” said Mr Wallwork. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“Why not?” said Stubby. “It would be a fair swap.”
Saffy and Jaz burst into laughter. Mr Wallwork scowled at Bryony. “You must think I was born yesterday.”
“Only from your hairline,” said Stubby. “Although looking at your waistline I think it’s more likely you were launched off a slipway.”
Mr Wallwork gritted his teeth. “How dare you…”
“It isn’t me.” Bryony raised her hands in a gesture of innocence. “It was the mouse, honest!”
“This is some sort of ventriloquist act,” muttered Mr Wallwork. “Mice cannot speak. They are dumb.”
“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you,” observed Stubby. “More’s the pity.”
Saffy and Jaz were now screeching with laughter.
“You’ll regret this,” barked Mr Wallwork. “I’m not some weak willed liberal minded sop. I rule my class with a firm hand.”
“It’s the only part of you that is firm,” reflected Stubby. “I’ve seen tighter stomach muscles on a blob of blancmange.”
Mr Wallwork was turning a deep shade of beetroot. “I have never been so insulted in all my professional career,” he seethed. “And I will not stand for it!”
“Then by all means take a seat,” suggested Stubby. “I’ve only just started.”