‘I’m Boojum Bark.’ It was time to show a bit of courage here, decided Boo. He stuck his chest out. ‘Hero and werewolf!’
Miss Cassandra flapped her wings, sending tiny puffs of feathers spiralling down towards the bubbling lava. ‘You’re not Hamad the Heroic?’
‘No.’
‘Or Gladys the Glamourpuss?’
‘No!’
‘Oh. Sorry about that. Clawk! Clawk! Clawk! Clawk! Clawk!’ Miss Cassandra turned her back on him and strutted up one of the paths in the cliff.
Boo plodded back to the classroom and sat down as inconspicuously as he could next to the lump of fungus. Now that he was closer he could see the features behind the fuzz. Green skin, hollow black eyes and lots of flies. Boo stared. And were those stitches around his neck and fingers?
‘Right, you putrid scraps of rotten scrambled eggs,’ said Ms Snott, her lips hardly moving, or her wrinkles either.
‘Why does she keep insulting the class like that?’ Boo whispered to his neighbour.
‘Her always do that.’ The lump of fungus’s idea of a whisper was a softer rumble. But not much softer. ‘Her says it gets us used to insults in case bogeys try to make us angry by saying mean stuff. I think she talking to you now …’
‘I said,’ repeated Ms Snott, ‘perhaps you’ll tell this mob of quivering jellies a bit about yourself, Boojum. What heroic act did you perform to make you a student Hero? Stand up!’
Boo stood. His smart new clothes were wrinkled, and there was a rip in the pants, just where you didn’t want a rip to be. That blasted mouse! He dropped his hands over the tear and hoped no one noticed. ‘I … um … what sort of bit?’
‘Not the bit that you’re trying to hide behind your hand,’ muttered Princess Princess, just loud enough for everyone to hear. A ripple of laughter ran through the classroom.
‘Now, now,’ said Ms Snott. ‘Well, Boojum?’
‘Well …’ To Boo’s embarrassment his voice turned into a squeak. He tried again. ‘Well, I’m a werewolf.’
‘Were-puppy,’ muttered Princess Princess.
‘And … and I scared off the Greedle and its Zurms when they tried to invade my village …’
Suddenly the class went silent. Real silence, of the not-even-a-wriggle or a yawn-down-the-back type.
‘Ah, yes,’ said Ms Snott. Even she looked respectful now, though her wrinkles still didn’t move. ‘I heard about that.’
‘That was you? How did you do it?’ It was Yesterday. Boo hadn’t noticed that her desk was on the other side of Princess Princess’s. ‘No Hero has ever fought the Greedle in person. Not and won,’ she added.
‘Well, I, er … I didn’t exactly fight it. I sort of widdled in its ice cream so it decided to take it and run …’
The silence shattered into laughter.
‘Some Hero!’ snorted Princess Princess. ‘You peeed it off! Hey, everyone, he’s a Pong Fu Hero! Or should that be Kung Poo!’
‘It worked, didn’t it, Princess Priss?’ Yesterday’s voice was soft, but somehow the class quietened at her words.
‘Exactly,’ said Ms Snott. Her voice was still expressionless. But Boo was learning to listen for the emotion behind her words now. ‘Brains beat muscles once again. Continue, Boo.’
‘And the Werewolf General — he’s our world’s big Hero — he said I was a Hero too. So I had to come here. And I said yes because,’ he gulped, ‘if I really learn how to do this Hero stuff properly I can rescue my mum and …’
‘Oh, yawn! Another I-must-rescue-my-family loser. BORING!’ It was Princess Princess again. But she can’t mean it, thought Boo. She’s just … um … she’s just … he tried frantically to think of a nice reason for Princess Princess to be so nasty.
‘Thank you, Boo. You may sit down. Just out of curiosity, your royal lowness, Princess — stand up girl! — why did you come to Hero School?’ The ancient teacher still showed no expression as she gazed at the princess.
‘Me?’ Princess Princess sounded surprised. ‘Because I look totally cool in Hero costumes, of course. And because our royal family is naturally heroic so of course we get to come to the school whenever we want to. My grandfather tricked three wicked gnomes out of their treasure. And my aunt gave a dragon indigestion.’
‘But what did you do, Princess?’ asked Ms Snott quietly.
Princess Princess looked at her defiantly. ‘I’m the best student Wham! Bam! Pow!er in the school, even though I’ve only been here two weeks! And I’m the best Zoom!er, too!’
‘So you’ve never actually fought a bogey?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Princess Princess spun lightly on one foot and punched the other into the air. ‘I’m obviously heroic! And my dad says that only a Hero is good enough to marry me, and the School for Heroes is the best place to meet one. A Hero prince at least, of course. Or a king. Or even a small-time emperor,’ she added. ‘My dad’s King of …’
‘Thank you, Princess,’ said Ms Snott. Even her eyebrow was still now. ‘And now you mangy mucous-guzzlers can all turn to page sixty-three of The Nasty Book of Nasties, and if it bites you there are bandages in the cupboard. Today we are studying the Spotted or Green-Fanged Mumbler, one of the lesser but smellier bogeys from the Ghastly Otherwhen. Now, can any of you think how you might recognise a Green-Fanged Mumbler?’
The lump of fungus put up his hand. ‘Him got name tag?’
‘Good answer. But not quite. Any other of you black-toed, ear-wax munchers got any ideas?’
Boo put up his hand with the others. He had a feeling it was going to be a long, long time till lunch.
It was.
Boo’s head ached halfway through the first lesson … and human heads were bigger than wolf heads so there was more to ache. He hated being in human form. And having to wiggle his fingers to write instead of holding a pen in his jaws was even worse. How was anyone supposed to remember all the bogeys? Or what worlds they came from?
But the rest of the class seemed to manage. Especially Princess Princess. She appeared to know The Nasty Book of Nasties by heart.
And what does it matter? he wondered. Surely all a Hero had to do was wait till something started eating people or freezing them to make chess pieces like the Grubberlubby. And then you knew they were evil — or at least had been made a servant of evil by the Greedle — without having to count their tentacles, or remember which monster had blue fangs and which one had cockroaches living in its belly button.
But what if …
Boo’s hand was in the air before he realised it. Uhoh, he thought. This isn’t the time to make myself conspicuous. He slunk his hand down again, but it was too late.
‘Yes, Boo?’ asked Ms Snott, showing as much emotion as a strawberry ice cream.
‘Um … what about the bogeys who don’t look like monsters?’ he asked. ‘They won’t be in the book, will they?’
‘Duh,’ said Princess Princess. ‘There are another twelve volumes, you know.’
‘Yes, but … but what if a particular bogey isn’t in those either?’
‘Of course they are —’ began Princess Princess.
‘Any creature might be evil, if it’s been taken over by the Greedle,’ cut in Yesterday. ‘That’s what Boo meant, wasn’t it, Boo?’
Boo nodded.
Ms Snott fixed him with her black stare. ‘You want to know how to recognise a bogey again?’
‘Yes,’ said Boo.
Ms Snott smiled, though it took a while for her wrinkles to move into what were evidently new positions. ‘You want a way to be absolutely sure if you’re safe or in danger?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Boo.
‘There isn’t one,’ said Ms Snott flatly. ‘Class dismissed.’ She hobbled from the room, leaving a scent of lycra and talcum power behind her.
Boo stood up to go out, but the blob of fungus stopped him. ‘She go. But we stay.’ The blob of fungus grabbed a can of fly-spray from under his desk, gave his flies a quick squirt, then sneezed.
Boo watched in horror as one of his long green teeth fell out.
‘There’s another class before lunch,’ said Yesterday, leaning down and picking the fungus’s tooth up from among the still-twitching flies as though nothing unusual had happened. ‘I … I’m really sorry about your mum, Boo,’ she added, handing the tooth back.
‘Thanks,’ began Boo. He fought back the pang that sliced through him whenever he thought of Mum, then stared as the blob of fungus casually plopped his tooth back into his mouth. ‘Um, why …’ he began.
Yesterday shook her head warningly. ‘Shhh. Mr Hogg is coming. He teaches Zoom!ing. He’s an old pig.’
‘Is he strict?’ Boo whispered back.
‘No, he is a pig,’ hissed Yesterday, just as Mr Hogg trotted through the door.
The new teacher was small and pink. He wore a flamboyant pink suit with a hole in the trousers for his curly tail, and an extraordinary pair of glasses on his nose.
Mr Hogg sat back and stared at the class over his glasses. ‘A new student, I see!’ Boo had expected him to grunt, but instead the pig’s voice was high and unexpectedly musical. ‘Stand up, young man!’
Boo stood.
‘And what is your name?’ demanded Mr Hogg.
‘Boo, sir,’ said Boo. ‘I mean Boojum Bark.’
Mr Hogg smiled, showing neat piggy teeth, so white and even that Boo suspected they were false. ‘I suppose you are thinking, Bark, how you had roast pork for dinner last week?’
Boo gulped. ‘How did you know, sir?’
Mr Hogg sighed. ‘Because for some reason every student has roast pork the week before their first class with me.’ Suddenly the beady eyes twinkled. ‘But not pork like me!’
‘Wha—what?’ Boo blinked. He was tied up — tight — with thick red ropes! And he hadn’t even seen Mr Hogg move.
Mr Hogg buffed one tiny trotter against his fluffy pink scarf. ‘You are thinking: “Ha, wrinkled old pig, how did he do it? Did he do it?” It is quite simple. You just Zoom! into Otherspace while your victim stays stationary, remembering to pick up your choice of rope, string, barbed wire or dried cow gut, pause for afternoon tea — if you’ve remembered to take your picnic basket to Otherspace with you — brush off the chocolate cake crumbs, then Zoom! out of Otherspace and re-enter your ordinary world at the point from which you left and tie up the bogey tight as you can.’
‘Um, simple,’ croaked Boo.
‘Don’t croak, lad. It’s not becoming. You’re a wolf, not a frog,’ said Mr Hogg. ‘And do something about those pants. Red is just not your colour. As I was saying —’
All at once Boo was free, nor was there any sign of the ropes that had tied him.
‘Er … how did you do that?’ he asked.
‘Just good heroic science, my boy! And totally normal Hero skills!’
Suddenly Boo realised the wrinkled little piggy eyes were twinkling at him. ‘Now,’ said Mr Hogg, ‘I’ll show you how to do it.’
It was no use. No matter how hard Boo concentrated he couldn’t even get into Otherspace, much less Zoom! about it. Luckily the rest of the class seemed to find it hard too, though not as difficult as it was for him.
All except Princess Princess. When it was her turn to come to the front of the class she turned a somersault right by Mr Hogg’s table — and suddenly Mr Hogg’s pink trotters were tied up with his pink scarf.
‘Excellent!’ cried Mr Hogg. ‘You can untie me, girl, thank you. Now, shall we try it again with the rest of you? Bark, out here again …’
At last the bell rang for lunchtime. Boo was starving — he was used to a quick lap of ice cream whenever he wanted it, or at least a frozen lizard. He hadn’t even dared to snap one of the flies that buzzed around the lump of fungus in case Princess Princess saw him at it — not that flies tasted as good in human form as they did to a wolf.
His head felt stuffed with too many facts. He didn’t want to know all this, he just wanted to know about the Ghastly Otherwhen and how to find Mum. But it was just beginning to dawn on him that he really was being trained to be a Hero here — a full-time Hero, not just a kid who’d Zoom! in, grab Mum, then go back to being an ice-cream delivery wolf.
Did he really want to be a full-time, proper Hero? Worse — did he even have a chance of being one?
It had seemed so easy back in Sleepy Whiskers: go to school and learn a bit of heroing. It had never occurred to him that he mightn’t be any good at it.
Everyone here seemed so much better at being a Hero than he did.
Boo pulled his lunch box out of his bag, then walked out of the classroom, down the corridor, and out the entrance again. The black cliffs loomed above. The yellow crystals glinted in the red volcano light. Below him the magma swirled and bubbled, sending up another cloud of steam.
But there was no sign of any other students.
Boo sighed and stared around. Maybe they had vanished. Maybe vanishing was one of the secret Hero tricks that he hadn’t learnt yet. No, he could hear voices coming from somewhere in the smoke …
Maybe they’d all gone invisible.
If only someone friendly was around! Even that nice girl Yesterday had disappeared. If only …
‘Hi. Remember me? Me Mug,’ said a voice above him. Boo looked up. It was the giant lump of fungus. He looked exactly like the Rat Surprise that Boo had accidentally left under the table for two weeks. Except this kid was two metres tall, which Rat Surprises usually weren’t. But at least he looked friendly. Or Boo supposed he did, under the fungus.
‘Of course I remember you.’ How could anyone forget sitting next to a giant lump of fungus? thought Boo. ‘But I don’t think you’re a mug at all,’ he added, trying to be friendly too. ‘Some of your answers were really good.’ Not that any of them answered the questions, thought Boo. In fact, he wasn’t even sure his neighbour had heard the questions, much less understood them. But he was glad he’d been kind when the … thing … smiled. Green crumbly teeth gleamed inside the fuzz.
‘No, it’s just me name is Mug.’ Mug batted away a few flies then peered down at Boo, dribbling slightly. Boo moved his sandwich out of range. ‘Me had something me meant to ask you. But can’t remember. Me forget head if not sewn on.’
‘Sewn on?’ asked Boo.
Mug grinned. His teeth were fuzzy too. ‘Me zombie,’ he rumbled. ‘From Zombie Island. You not guess?’
‘No,’ said Boo. ‘I’ve never met a zombie before. Is everyone in your universe a zombie?’
‘No. Not till they dies. Zombies nice peoples,’ Mug assured him. ‘It good life on Zombie Island when you dead. Well, us likes it anyhow, so we go dead real soon. We likes dogs, too. Also wolfses. Even before you dead. Long as you remember, don’t chew eyeballs if find it lying about. Me always losing eyeballs.’
‘I promise I won’t chew any eyeballs,’ Boo assured him.
Mug grinned again. ‘Me remember what me wanted to ask now! You have friend here?’
‘Me? No,’ said Boo, startled.
‘You want friend?’
‘Well, yes,’ said Boo cautiously. How could you say no to a question like that?
‘Good!’ Mug took out another can of fly-spray from a pocket hidden among his fungus fuzz, squirted it at the flies, then sneezed again. This time an eye fell out. ‘Me want friend too! Me had friend once,’ he added, putting the can of fly-spray back in his pocket and the eye back in his eye socket. ‘But you wanna friend who blow out goobies when him sneeze, chews him’s toenails and blows up toilets when him farts?’
‘No,’ said Boo.
‘Him not either,’ rumbled Mug sadly. Then he beamed. ‘But me no longer blow goobies everywhere!’
‘Um, good,’ said Boo weakly. He gave Mug’s bum a cautious sniff, hoping he wouldn’t notice. It smelt a bit like one of Ms Shaggy’s rotten chicken necks, even with his limited human nostrils. But it also smelt friendly, and unexpectedly kind.
‘Me got handkerchief!’ Mug held up a large ball of what looked like pure congealed
snot. ‘Me fart now before me gets to toilet. Me not chew toenails. Me civilised!’ said Mug proudly. ‘Me have you for friend now!’ He peered down at Boo’s lunch. ‘What you got for lunch?’
‘Rat sandwich.’
‘Hot lake!’
‘I think you mean “damn”,’ said Boo.
‘That too. Me got zombie spaghetti and dead-slug quiche. You wanna swap?’
‘Zombie spaghetti?’
‘It delicious,’ Mug assured him. ‘Just make sure swallow hard or it wriggle back up.’
‘Um … could I swap a rat sandwich for the dead-slug quiche?’ Boo loved snail quiche, and the snails were usually pretty dead by the time they’d been quiched. He figured that dead-slug quiche should be much the same, but without the crunchy bits. Maybe having Mug for a mate wasn’t going to be quite as bad as he had thought.
‘Don’t worry if quiche slither a bit as it go down. It zombie quiche. Just chew extra. Slugs no good at slugging up out of your tummy again. Hey,’ rumbled Mug. ‘You like to borrow my spare pants?’
Boo glanced down at his pants. They still weren’t hiding the bits pants were most importantly designed to cover.
‘Yes, please,’ he said.
The pants were too long, and smelt of zombie and fly-spray, and his bum looked like it sagged almost to the floor. But it was better than having his rude bits poking out in class.
And now he knew where the toilet was as well. The water steamed a bit when you flushed it. That was why he hadn’t been able to smell all the Hero widdle, he realised. The water flushed it all away.
‘We go sit by skinning pool,’ said Mug, after he’d shown Boo how to wash his hands afterwards and how not to drink from the toilet bowl. ‘That where other kids have lunches.’ He began to trudge out the door then down the corridor.
Boo stuffed his torn silk pants down behind the dirty towel basket and scurried to keep up. He still hadn’t quite got the hang of walking fast on only two feet. ‘Don’t you mean swimming pool?’
‘Nup. This pool boiling water. All water hot in volcano. You swim in that and all your skin come off. So it skinning pool. Come on. Pool over there.’
Lessons for a Werewolf Warrior Page 8
