Zombie!

by Alan MacDonald

  The class obeyed, curling up small.

  “Teeny, Bertie, not droopy!” frowned Miss Foxtrot. “Now, with the music, slowly start to grow. Up, up, spread your leaves to the sun!”

  Bertie grew bigger – and bigger. He grew into a giant. A huge, angry giant stamping on the ants in his way…

  “OWW!” cried Kylie.

  “ARGHH!” yelled Flora.

  “Bertie kicked me!” howled Smeeta, clutching her leg.

  “BERTIE!” screeched Miss Foxtrot. The music skidded to a halt.

  “Yes?”

  “That is NOT how we behave in class! Go and wait outside!”

  Bertie smiled to himself. Dance lessons were over for the day. He left the ballet slippers on the floor and headed for the door. The row of parents glared after him.

  “Can I get a drink?” he asked his mum.

  “No!”

  “Can I borrow your phone then?” begged Bertie. “Just to play one game.”

  Mum handed it over. “Try to stay out of trouble,” she sighed.

  Bertie sat against the wall playing Wacky Worm Racer on his mum’s mobile. Suzy’s dance class had been going on for hours. He wandered down the corridor to look in the other rooms.

  The first one had a toddler group singing nursery rhymes. The second had a yoga class tying themselves in knots. From the last room came the sound of loud, thumping music. Bertie looked in and saw rows of women stomping to the beat. Some of them were as old as his mum! He pressed his nose to the glass. His eyes grew round. No, it couldn’t be! It was! In the back row, wearing an orange leotard and stripey leggings, was Miss Boot, his teacher!

  Bertie’s mouth hung open. This was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Miss Boot, the terror of the school, the scourge of Class 3, Miss Boot was in there dancing! And not just dancing but panting, sweating and waving her arms as if she’d just scored a goal.

  Bertie had never considered what Miss Boot did out of school. Surely teachers just ate and slept and shouted at children? But it turned out he was wrong – Miss Boot had a hobby…

  Bertie had never heard of Zumba. It seemed to be crazy dancing for old people. He watched as Miss Boot tried to copy the dance teacher. She kicked up her legs. She side-stepped to the right. She spun round like a top and found herself facing the wrong way. Her face was red as a beetroot and dripping with sweat.

  Bertie shook his head. This was hilarious! If only his friends were here to see it too!

  Wait a moment, he thought. Darren’s house is only five minutes away. He could use his mum’s mobile! He punched in the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Darren, it’s me!” cried Bertie.

  “Hey, Bertie, what’s up?”

  Darren sounded like he was eating something.

  “You’ll never believe it,” said Bertie. “I’m at the leisure centre. You’ve got to get down here now.”

  “I can’t. I’m having breakfast,” said Darren.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to miss this,” said Bertie. “Oh, and bring a camera.”

  “What for?” asked Darren.

  “Never mind, just do it,” said Bertie. “And hurry up!”

  Ten minutes later, Darren arrived. He was out of breath and had obviously dressed in a hurry.

  “Have you got it?” asked Bertie.

  “What?”

  “The camera of course!”

  “In my pocket,” said Darren. “Why? What’s going on?”

  Bertie led him to the door and they pressed their noses to the glass.

  “DANCING?” said Darren. “You dragged me all the way here to see dancing?”

  Bertie shook his head. “Look,” he said. “The one at the back in the stripey leggings.”

  Darren looked again. He gasped. “NOOOO! IT ISN’T!” he cried.

  Bertie grinned. “It is. It’s Miss Boot!” he said. “Now you see why I called you?”

  The two boys watched with their breath steaming up the glass. Inside the room the beat was growing faster.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  “Let’s go!” cried the Zumba teacher. “Let me see you shake it!”

  The class began to sway and wiggle their hips. Miss Boot was waggling her bottom as if she had ants in her pants. She raised one arm, pointing to the sky.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  “She’s bonkers!” hooted Bertie.

  “She’s potty!” said Darren.

  They danced up and down the corridor, copying Miss Boot.

  “Shake it! Shake it!” cried Darren, wobbling like a jelly.

  “Move it, move it!” shouted Bertie, sticking out his bottom.

  They bumped into each other and collapsed on the floor, in fits of giggles.

  “Ha ha! Hee hee!” snorted Darren. “If only people at school could see this!”

  “They can,” said Bertie.

  Darren looked at him. “How do you mean?”

  “That’s why we need the camera, dimbo!” said Bertie. “To take a picture of Miss Boot dancing like a fruitcake.”

  It took a moment for Darren to get it. His face broke into a huge grin.

  “Wicked!” he cried. “Wait till we show Eugene.”

  “We could pin it up in class,” said Bertie.

  “It’ll be the best joke ever!”

  “It’ll go down in history!”

  Imagine Miss Boot’s face when she saw herself. There was only one small problem.

  “Who’s taking the picture?” asked Bertie.

  Darren’s smile melted away. “Not me!”

  “It’s your camera,” said Bertie.

  “Yeah, but it’s your idea,” argued Darren.

  Bertie looked through the door. “What if we took the photo from out here?” he said.

  “It won’t work,” said Darren. “You’ve got to get close or you won’t know it’s her.”

  “Well, I’m not going in there,” said Bertie. “She’ll eat me alive!”

  “Not if she doesn’t know it’s you,” said Darren. “Put your hood up. All you have to do is dash in, get the picture and leg it.”

  Bertie frowned. “If it’s that easy, why don’t you do it?” he said.

  “Someone’s got to hold the door,” said Darren.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The music thumped on. It was no use standing there arguing. If they waited too long the class would end and they’d lose their chance. One of them had to risk it and clearly it wasn’t going to be Darren.

  Bertie sighed and put up his hood. Why was it always him?

  Darren handed him the camera. “Just press this button,” he said. “It’s dead easy.”

  Bertie took a last look through the window. The Zumba class seemed to be working up a sweat. Miss Boot’s face had gone purple. She looked as if she might pass out. Bertie took a deep breath. Here goes…

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The music thumped louder as Darren opened the door.

  Bertie dashed in, keeping his head down, and raised the camera. The class had their backs to him. But at that moment Miss Boot spun round. Her mouth gaped open like a fish…

  SNAP!

  Bertie bolted out of the door. Darren slammed it shut and they both raced down the corridor at top speed.

  “Well, did you get it?” panted Darren.

  Bertie nodded and handed over the camera. It had all happened in a blur. For all he knew he’d taken a picture of his own feet!

  Darren pressed a button. His eyes lit up. “Wicked!” he said. “Wait till they see this at school!”

  Miss Boot marched into Class 3 and put down her bag. It was a Monday morning like any other. But something wasn’t right. Her class were all staring at her as if she’d grown two heads. Half of them wore idiotic grins on their faces. Others were giggling. In the back row Bertie and Darren looked like they might explode.

  Miss Boot folded her arms. “Well? What is it? Would someone like to share the joke?”

  No one spoke.

  “Very well,” said Miss Boot sternly. “Se
ttle down and let’s get on with our work.”

  She turned to the board to write today’s date. She gasped. Her face turned white. On the board was a photo – a photo of HER at Zumba class! She looked like a madwoman in a leotard.

  “Hee! Hee! Hee!”

  A new wave of giggles broke out. Miss Boot glowered. Someone was going to suffer for this. She tore down the photo and held it up.

  “SILENCE!” she barked. “WHO DID THIS? WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?”

  None of the class met her eye. Miss Boot’s gaze swept over them, seeking out the guilty one. In the back row, Eugene’s shoulders were shaking. Darren had his fist jammed in his mouth. Bertie was laughing so much his nose was running like a tap.

  Miss Boot narrowed her eyes. She remembered the boy who’d burst into her Zumba class. He had a camera and was wearing a brown hoodie – just like the one Bertie was wearing now. She smiled a thin smile.

  “BERTIE,” she said.

  Uh oh, thought Bertie.

  “Me, Miss?”

  “Yes, you, Bertie. Come here.”

  Bertie trailed up to the front.

  Miss Boot pushed the photo under his nose. “Did you take this picture, Bertie?” she demanded.

  “Me?” gulped Bertie.

  “That’s what I asked. DID-YOU-TAKE-THIS-PICTURE?”

  Miss Boot’s eyes were hypnotizing him. He couldn’t look away.

  “SPEAK UP!” bawled Miss Boot.

  Bertie gave a slight nod.

  Miss Boot crumpled the photo in her hand. “So, you like dancing, do you?” she said.

  “Not really,” said Bertie.

  “Oh, I think you do, since you’re so fond of taking pictures of it,” said Miss Boot. “Well, I have a little treat for you. Run along and join Miss Darling’s class in the hall.”

  “Miss Darling’s class?” said Bertie. They were Class 1 – the baby class. Why did Miss Boot want him to join them?

  As Bertie got closer to the hall, the sound of jolly music reached his ears. Miss Darling’s class were lined up in two rows, the boys facing the girls.

  “Bertie!” cried Miss Darling. “Can I help you?”

  “Um … Miss Boot sent me,” mumbled Bertie.

  “Lovely!” beamed Miss Darling. “We were just about to start country dancing. I think Angela needs a partner, don’t you, Angela?”

  Angela nodded happily and held out a hand.

  Bertie backed away. Country dancing? With Angela? Noooo! How could Miss Boot do this to him?

  Bertie gazed out of the window as the coach entered the gates. This was it – the zoo – the greatest school trip ever! He couldn’t wait to get inside. He wanted to see everything – the lions, tigers, bears, gorillas, hippos and, best of all, the elephants.

  Last week, Miss Boot had asked the class to choose an animal and make a Fact File. Bertie had picked elephants. He’d drawn a massive elephant poo beside a pigeon dropping. Miss Boot had written, “See me!” in his book.

  The coach stopped and Bertie joined the stampede to get off. But the huge figure of Miss Boot blocked the gangway.

  “STOP! Everyone back to their seats!” she yelled.

  The class groaned.

  “Before we go anywhere, let me remind you of the rules. First of all, keep together, I don’t want anyone getting lost. Secondly, no running, no yelling and no fighting.”

  Bertie rolled his eyes. In other words, no fun, he thought.

  “Finally, DO NOT feed the animals,” warned Miss Boot. “And I’m talking to you, Bertie.”

  Bertie gaped. He wasn’t going to feed the animals – not unless Know-All Nick leaned over the crocodile pool.

  Nick raised his hand.

  “Can we make sketches, Miss?”

  “Excellent idea, Nicholas,” said Miss Boot. She sighed. Bertie was waving an arm. “What is it?”

  “When can we eat our lunch?” asked Bertie.

  “When I say so and not before,” snapped Miss Boot.

  They waited at the entrance while Miss Boot collected the tickets. Bertie wished they didn’t have to stay together. He wanted to race off and find the elephant house. Maybe the zookeeper would let him climb up for a ride? If he had a pet elephant he’d train it to pick up heavy objects – Miss Boot, for instance.

  Finally they set off with Miss Boot and Mr Weakly leading the way. Bertie, Darren and Eugene kept to the back. Miss Boot dragged them round all the boring bits of the zoo. They saw a camel chewing grass, a flock of deer and a yak dozing in the sun.

  Bertie sighed. When were they going to see the lions and elephants? He didn’t want to miss feeding time – and, talking of food, he was starving!

  “When’s lunch?” he moaned.

  “Not for hours,” said Eugene.

  “And Miss Boot says you’ve got to wait,” said Know-All Nick, butting in.

  “Who asked you, smelly?” said Bertie. Nick was such a teacher’s pet. He probably didn’t pick his nose without permission. Well, Bertie couldn’t wait any longer – he reached into his rucksack for his lunch box.

  “Umm, you’re not allowed!” cried Nick.

  “It’s my lunch,” said Bertie.

  “But Miss Boot said you mustn’t,” bleated Nick. “I’m telling!”

  Bertie took no notice. His mum had packed him two rolls. Cheese and peanut butter – yum! But as he went to take a bite, Nick snatched it from him.

  “HEY! Give that back!” shouted Bertie.

  “Make me, bogey nose!” jeered Nick.

  Bertie made a grab for the roll but Nick threw it to Trevor and missed. It sailed right over his head, landing on the other side of some railings.

  “Oops! Silly me!” smirked Nick.

  Bertie glared in fury. “Go and get it!”

  “I can’t,” said Nick. “Look where it is.”

  Bertie looked. The railings were actually part of the monkey cage. Over by their house, a group of monkeys were playing on some rubber tyres. Bertie scowled. He would get Nick for this.

  Bertie could see his roll lying just inside the railings. It was probably dirty but who cared about that?

  “You could reach it,” he told Nick.

  “Reach it yourself!” Nick replied.

  “You threw it,” said Bertie.

  “Tough luck!” sneered Nick. “Serves you right for being such a greedy pig!”

  Bertie scowled. If he had his way, Nick would be locked in a cage and never let out. He glanced round.

  Miss Boot was up ahead, admiring the flamingos with the rest of the class. No one was watching. Bertie reached a hand through the bars. The roll was just out of reach. Maybe if he squeezed his head through? Got it! Now to get out before Miss Boot or the monkeys noticed.

  UHHHH? Bertie tried to free his head. ARGH! HE WAS STUCK!

  He tried turning his head one way then the other. It made no difference – it wouldn’t fit through. He was starting to panic.

  “What are you playing at?” asked Know-All Nick behind him.

  “I’m stuck!” grunted Bertie.

  “Oh dear!” sniggered Nick. “Shall I fetch Miss Boot?”

  “NO! Just get me out!” cried Bertie.

  Nick folded his arms. “Hmm, let me think about that,” he said.

  Darren and Eugene came over.

  “What’s going on?” asked Darren.

  “Bertie’s got his head stuck,” crowed Nick. “It’s because it’s so big.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Darren.

  “Stop messing around,” said Eugene.

  “I’M NOT!” moaned Bertie. “DO something!”

  Darren and Eugene looked at each other. Miss Boot wasn’t going to like this. Any minute now she might see Bertie and march over.

  “Turn your head,” urged Eugene.

  “I’ve tried that!” said Bertie.

  “Hold your breath and count to fifty,” said Darren.

  Bertie rolled his eyes. “That’s for hiccups!”

  “I’ve got an idea!” chort
led Nick. “Let’s tickle his feet!”

  Bertie ground his teeth. If he ever got out of this he’d get even with that two-faced sneak. He’d push him in an elephant poo. He’d put a rattlesnake down his trousers. He’d…

  “OWWW! What are you doing?”

  “Trying to get you out,” said Eugene. He and Darren pulled with all their might.

  “ARGHHH!” yelled Bertie. “YOU’LL PULL MY HEAD OFF!”

  They let go. Up ahead, Miss Boot had finished talking and the class were moving off.

  “Bye Bertie, have fun!” cried Nick, hurrying to catch up.

  Eugene looked round. “We’ll have to go,” he said.

  “Hang on!” cried Bertie. “You can’t just leave me!”

  “We can’t all stay,” said Darren. “Miss Boot will notice if we’re missing.”

  “But what if I’m attacked by monkeys?” moaned Bertie.

  Darren looked over. The monkeys were busy swinging on their tyres.

  “You’ll be okay,” he said. “Good job it’s not the lions’ den – that would be bad.”

  “We’ll come back later,” said Eugene.

  “WAIT!” cried Bertie. “You can’t just—”

  But they’d gone. He was left alone. Actually not quite alone because one of the monkeys was looking at him with bright little eyes. It threw back its head and screeched.

  Uh oh, thought Bertie. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.

  The monkeys were coming over. There were five of them with curly tails and wrinkled old men’s faces.

  “Hi,” gulped Bertie. “It’s okay … um, I won’t hurt you.”

  “EEEH EEEH EEEEEH!” screeched the smallest monkey. He had tiny teeth which looked as sharp as needles.