Mascot Madness! Page 4

  ‘You will!’ said Mr Grunt. ‘Right now!’

  Newton took another step and stood shakily on the highest block.

  ‘How do you feel?’ asked Mr Grunt.

  ‘Dizzy,’ said Newton.

  ‘No wonder,’ said Mr Grunt. ‘Winning is a heady experience, isn’t it? Savour it. Own it. Enjoy it!’

  Newton swayed unsteadily.

  Jenny leaned across to me. ‘I think Mr Grunt is a bully,’ she whispered.

  At that moment a big yellow banana came dancing across the field towards us.

  Mr Grunt turned away from the winners’ podium and goggled at it. ‘What the heck is that?’ he said.

  18

  Let’s go bananas!

  ‘Looks like Mr Brainfright has come to cheer us on,’ I said to Jenny.

  ‘I feel better already,’ she replied, smiling brightly.

  Mr Brainfright finished his entrance with a spectacular series of mid-air somersaults and ended up on the ground in the splits.

  Mr Grunt just stood.

  And stared.

  I’d never seen him so lost for words.

  Mr Brainfright then jumped to his feet and began a cheerleading chant. ‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Let’s go bananas!’ He moved around us, encouraging us to join him. We remembered the fun of yesterday and immediately chimed in.

  ‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Let’s go bananas!’ we chanted. ‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Let’s go bananas!’

  It took Mr Grunt a few minutes to fully understand what was going on.

  And when he did, he wasn’t happy.

  In fact, it looked like he really was going to go bananas. ‘Stop this nonsense right now!’ he yelled at us. Then he turned to Mr Brainfright. ‘What’s the meaning of this interruption to my lesson?’

  Mr Brainfright took the banana head off. ‘It’s not an interruption,’ he said. ‘I’m the new Northwest Southeast Central School mascot. I’m here to bring the team good luck and inspire them to greatness.’

  ‘You’ll inspire me to kick you from here to the changing rooms if you don’t clear off!’ snarled Mr Grunt.

  ‘Be reasonable, Mr Grunt,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘I’ve been training all week for this.’

  ‘And I’ve been training all my life for this,’ said Mr Grunt, striding over to Mr Brainfright and getting ready to make good on his threat.

  Jenny jumped between them. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Leave him alone, Mr Grunt. We need him.’

  ‘We need a giant banana?’ said Mr Grunt. ‘Don’t be stupid!’

  ‘It’s not stupid!’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘All sporting teams have a mascot. The Northwest football team has a grizzly bear. The Northwest hockey team has an eagle. And the Northwest All Stars basketball team has a giant chicken.’

  At the mention of the Northwest All Stars, Mr Grunt softened and nodded. ‘Hmm,’ he said, stroking his chin. ‘That’s true . . .’

  ‘Even Northwest West Academy have a mascot,’ said Gretel. ‘Mr Constrictor’s dog, Chomp.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Mr Grunt. ‘But a giant banana is simply ridiculous.’

  ‘Nothing strikes fear into your opponent’s heart more than a giant banana,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘Besides, it’s certainly no more ridiculous than a giant chicken!’

  Mr Grunt turned on him. ‘I won’t stand for anybody saying anything against the Northwest All Stars! They are one of the world’s greatest basketball teams! And I could have been their greatest coach ever. If only . . .’

  At that moment I noticed Newton, who was still standing on the winner’s block. His face was very pale and he was swaying from side to side.

  ‘Mr Grunt,’ I said, but Mr Grunt was staring into space, saying, ‘If only . . . if only . . . ’

  ‘Mr Grunt!’ I said, louder this time.

  But it was too late. Newton swayed violently and fell forwards off the podium and onto the ground. He sat up, looking dazed.

  Jenny went to help him.

  The thud of Newton hitting the ground snapped Mr Grunt out of his daydream. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ he said, with his hands on his hips. ‘Newton Hooton, you are wasting my time.’ Then he looked at Mr Brainfright. ‘And so are you.’

  ‘That’s not how Principal Greenbeard sees it,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘He thinks a banana mascot is a great idea, and he has already given his permission for me to perform on the day.’

  Mr Grunt went red with anger. ‘Oh, did he just?’ he said. ‘Well, you DO NOT have permission to interrupt my class with your bizarre antics!’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr Grunt,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘And as a fellow teacher I completely respect your right to teach your classes as you see fit. But if you ever need me . . .’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ said Mr Grunt sarcastically, ‘but if I ever get so desperate that I need to call on you to help me I’ll . . . I’ll . . . well, I’ll never get that desperate! Goodbye . . . and good riddance!’

  Mr Brainfright shrugged. ‘Suit yourself, Mr Grunt,’ he said sadly. He put the banana head on and walked off across the oval.

  He was down, but not out.

  Not by a long shot.

  19

  Just another normal sports class

  The rest of our sports class was pretty much business as usual.

  Jack was given another fifty laps for attempting to mount the winners’ podium by bunny-hopping his way to the top. And I was given fifty laps for laughing at Jack’s attempt to mount the winners’ podium by bunny-hopping to the top.

  Later, during relay practice, Jenny caused an eight-student pile-up. She stopped to help the other team when one of their runners dropped a baton and they all ended up crashing into each other.

  Gretel dropped a shot-put ball on her toes.

  Grant snapped a pole-vaulting stick in half.

  Clive threw a javelin at Penny and Gina’s imaginary horses and made them cry. (Penny and Gina, that is, not the horses.)

  The class ended with Mr Grunt losing his temper and giving everybody fifty laps. Gretel was the only one who didn’t have to do them. She’d been to see Mrs Bandaid and had come back wearing ten bandaids—two on each toe.

  20

  Egg attack!

  The next morning we all limped into the schoolyard in varying degrees of pain. My legs were really hurting from the laps, Jenny had a big bruise on her arm from the relay accident, and Gretel was on crutches.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ said Jenny. ‘Things are worse than ever!’

  ‘Not as bad as they’re about to get,’ said Newton, his eyes wide with fear.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Jenny. ‘How could things possibly get worse?’

  Jenny got her answer in the form of an egg thrown from the window of the Northwest West Academy bus, which seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

  The egg hit Jenny’s shoulder and splattered all down the front of her dress.

  ‘Good morning, losers!’ yelled Troy Gurgling, who was hanging out the window of the bus, his hands full of eggs. ‘Wakey, wakey!’

  ‘Egg attack!’ Jack yelled. ‘Run!’

  But we were all either too sore or too injured to run, and it was too late anyway.

  The egg that hit Jenny was followed by five more—one for each of us plus a bonus second egg for her.

  It wasn’t fair. If there was one person in the school who didn’t deserve to be hit by an egg—much less two—it was Jenny Friendly. Jenny was the sort of person who spent her whole day thinking about—and looking out for—other people. There wasn’t a nicer, more thoughtful person in the whole school, but Northwest West Academy didn’t care about that. That’s how bad they were. Jenny was standing there, covered in thick, runny egg goo, just like the rest of us.

  As I wiped egg yolk out of my eyes and watched the smoke-belching bus tear off down the road, I swore revenge.

  I didn’t know how I was going to get it—I just knew that I would.

  I was going to make Northwest West Academy
sorry they’d thrown eggs at Jenny Friendly.

  I was going to make Northwest West Academy sorry that they had ever been born.

  Or my name wasn’t Henry McThrottle.

  Which it was . . . so it was definitely going to happen.

  I picked up Jenny’s bag as well as my own. ‘Come on,’ I said to the others. ‘Let’s go in and get cleaned up.’

  Just then, Fred and Clive appeared.

  ‘What a bunch of losers you all are!’ guffawed Fred.

  ‘Good one, Fred,’ said Clive.

  ‘We’re not losers,’ I said.

  ‘My mistake,’ said Fred. ‘You’re a bunch of loser omelettes! That’s what you are!’

  21

  The Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence

  We entered the classroom, limping and egg-splattered.

  ‘I’ll get the Super Dryer 3000!’ said Grant, jumping up and heading towards his locker.

  ‘NO!’ we all said at once, imagining ourselves covered in fried egg.

  When Mr Brainfright arrived, he stopped and stared at us. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked.

  We told him about Northwest West Academy’s latest cowardly attack. And while we were feeling sorry for ourselves we told him about what had happened in the rest of our sports class the previous afternoon, after he’d been sent packing by Mr Grunt.

  ‘I wish Mr Grunt would let you stay and cheer us on,’ said Jenny. ‘I’m sure we’d be better if you were there.’

  ‘Probably not, though,’ said Jack. ‘Let’s face it. We’re just no good at sports. We couldn’t even dodge a few eggs.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘Everybody has ability—even you, 5B. You just don’t realise it yet . . . and until you do, you can’t develop it!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Jenny.

  ‘A mascot is an important spirit-lifter, to be sure, but so is belief in your own abilities . . . I think it’s time to put you all on the Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence.’

  ‘Don’t tell me we have to go back outside,’ whined Newton.

  ‘I’m still tired from yesterday,’ said Penny.

  ‘I’m covered in egg,’ said Jack.

  ‘Relax,’ said Mr Brainfright, chuckling. ‘We don’t need to go outside. The latest research shows that sporting success has much more to do with the mind than anybody ever suspected. In fact, it’s possible that you could actually achieve more sitting here at your desks than you ever could on a sports field.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ said David.

  ‘Me too,’ said Jenny. ‘My mother says that practice makes perfect.’

  ‘And she’s right,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘But a recent study suggests that practising a skill in your mind can be just as effective—if not more so—than actually practising it with your body.’

  ‘But how?’ said Jenny.

  ‘Well,’ said Mr Brainfright, ‘in this study they tested two groups of basketball players. One group played basketball for half an hour every day. The other group imagined that they were playing basketball for half an hour every day. After a month, the first group showed a definite improvement in their basketball skills, as you would expect. But the second group, who had been doing imaginary practice, actually improved more! The researchers conducting the study had no choice but to conclude that the power of the mind is greater than the power of the body.’

  ‘But we’re not playing basketball against Northwest West Academy,’ said Clive. ‘It’s an athletics competition!’

  ‘Same difference,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘It doesn’t matter what the sport is—you’re using the same brain.’

  ‘Oh, that’s going to be hard for Clive, then,’ said Jack. ‘Seeing as he doesn’t have one.’

  ‘I’m telling my brother you said that,’ said Clive.

  ‘Actually, Clive,’ said Jack, ‘it was your brother who told me that you didn’t have a brain in the first place.’

  Clive looked confused.

  ‘That’s enough of that,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘There are more powerful uses for our brains than using them to accuse each other of not having them.’

  ‘It’s the truth!’ said Jack. ‘A recent study of the inside of Clive’s head showed that it was completely empty.’

  ‘That’s a lie!’ said Clive.

  ‘Clive! Jack!’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘Come now. We don’t have time for this. The competition is fast approaching. If Northwest Southeast Central is to have a serious chance at winning we need to get started right away. Everybody sit up straight and close your eyes.’

  22

  Visualisation

  We sat up straight and closed our eyes.

  Mr Brainfright started speaking in a very low, soothing voice. ‘Imagine that you are on the running track. You are crouched at the starting line. You can feel the spongy surface of the running track through the soles of your running shoes. Your fingers are touching the ground lightly. Your leg muscles are coiled like powerful springs. Electricity is shooting through your body. You can hear the roar of the crowd. You can smell your opponents’ sweat.’

  ‘Euww!’ said Jenny.

  ‘You can feel the sun on the back of your neck.’

  ‘Ouch, it’s burning,’ said Newton.

  ‘No it isn’t,’ said Mr Brainfright in his soothing voice, ‘because you applied sunscreen just before you left the changing rooms.’

  ‘What strength was it?’ said Newton. ‘I don’t think it’s working.’

  ‘Thirty SPF,’ said Mr Brainfright.

  ‘I need fifty SPF,’ said Newton. ‘I have very sensitive skin.’

  ‘Fifty it is then,’ said Mr Brainfright, sighing.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Newton.

  ‘The starter’s pistol fires,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘You take off. You run like the wind. Your legs are pumping like pistons. Your arms are pumping like . . . um . . . er . . . pistons. You look around. Your competitors are a long way behind. You feel the ribbon break against your chest. You mount the winners’ podium—’

  ‘Can I just stand on the second-place block, please?’ asked Newton.

  ‘No, it’s the winner’s block for you, Newton,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘You won the race!’

  ‘But it’s too high on the first block,’ said Newton.

  ‘I’m sorry, Newton,’ said Mr Brainfright, ‘but in the Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence, you are a winner, and winners have excellent balance and nerves of steel. Trust me.’

  ‘I’ll give it a try,’ said Newton.

  ‘Good,’ Mr Brainfright said. ‘So—now that we have that straight—you mount the winners’ podium and climb to the highest block.’

  ‘I’m doing it!’ said Newton excitedly. ‘I’m actually doing it!’

  ‘Good for you, Newton,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘Good for all of you. You are all standing on the highest block.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit dangerous for us all to be standing on the same block?’ Fiona asked.

  ‘No,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘You are each standing on your own winners’ podium.’

  ‘What, did everyone win the race?’ asked David. ‘Did we all come first?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘There are no losers in the Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence. You are all winners. Each and every one of you. You bow your head and feel the weight of the gold medal as it is placed around your neck. You turn to the crowd and raise your fist in the air. The crowd roars. You feel amazing, powerful. There is no one you can’t beat.’

  ‘Except for Northwest West Academy,’ said Jack.

  ‘No, Jack,’ said Mr Brainfright patiently. ‘You can even beat Northwest West Academy.’

  Mr Brainfright took us through all the events.

  For the hurdles, he had us imagining we were horses running in the annual Northwest steeplechase. We flew over those jumps like thoroughbreds, fast and strong and sure of foot.

  We fired shot-put balls from our hands a
s if we were long-range cannons.

  We threw discuses the entire length of the field as if they were as light as frisbees.

  We hurled javelins as if we were primeval hunters who relied on our accuracy and skill for our very lives.

  We pole vaulted as if we were desperate prisoners making a last-ditch attempt to scale the walls of Alcatraz.

  We ran long-distance races as if we were being chased by wild, man-eating animals.

  We even did the triple jump as if the ground beneath us was covered in red-hot lava.

  And we won!

  We won event after event.

  We were unstoppable!

  23

  Bananas

  For the next two weeks we continued to do the Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence in the morning, after lunch, and just before school finished for the day.

  And when we weren’t doing visualisations we were learning about bananas.

  Now, we knew Mr Brainfright really liked bananas. After all, he did once spend a whole lesson teaching us how to eat a banana. But it was starting to get beyond a joke. Since he’d started wearing the banana suit, all our lessons were about bananas.

  Not only was it boring to learn about bananas all the time, but seeing that suit every day was not easy. It brought back painful memories—memories that I would sooner have forgotten.

  Mr Brainfright was standing at the front of the classroom in his banana suit.

  ‘Well, 5B,’ he said, ‘I think it’s time we brushed up on some more banana facts. Did you know that bananas grow in clusters called hands and that each banana is called a finger?’

  We all shook our heads—except for Fiona. ‘I did,’ she said.

  ‘Very good, Fiona,’ said Mr Brainfright. ‘But did you know that bananas are grown in at least one hundred and seven countries?’

  Fiona’s eyes opened wide. ‘No, I didn’t know that!’ she said, making a note.

  Mr Brainfright continued, ‘And did you know that there’s a variety of banana—called the lady finger banana—that you don’t eat when it’s yellow, but wait until it’s gone black?’