“Silence!” shouted Mr Von Bat. “Now if you’ll all take out your History scrolls ...”
The pupils groaned as they took yellowing rolls of parchment out of their bags. Maud took out the exercise book she’d used for History lessons at Primrose Towers. She was glad she’d covered it with spooky pumpkin stickers – it didn’t look too out of place.
“Don’t worry,” whispered Wilf. “We only have normal lessons like Vampire History, Graveyard Studies and Potion Science in the mornings. We have Fright Classes in the afternoons.”
“What are Fright Classes?” asked Maud.
“Lessons in scaring people, of course. You must have had them at your last school.”
“Of course,” said Maud. “But we called it, er ... ‘scare science’ there.”
Luckily, Wilf seemed convinced.
Maud couldn’t wait for the afternoon now. Fright Classes sounded like a lot of fun. She’d always enjoyed making her sister and her parents jump out of their skins by shouting, “Boo!” – and now she was going to be taught how to scare by a genuine monster. You could bet your eyeballs it would be more interesting than any of Miss Bloom’s dull lessons.
Mr Von Bat walked over to the huge family tree hanging on the wall. “Now, as you’ll remember from last week’s lesson, the ancient vampire line of the Bitesworthys are distantly related to the Bludhaus-Essenbergs, who were descended from the great Fangston-Goryvitch dynasty ...”
It was very difficult to follow, but Maud tried to jot it down as best she could. It was hardly surprising, really. She hadn’t even known that vampires were real until a few minutes ago. No wonder it was all proving a little overwhelming.
After Mr Von Bat had been explaining the family tree for an hour, a distant bell sounded, and all the pupils packed away their scrolls and filed outside for break. Maud was about to follow them when Mr Von Bat’s voice stopped her.
“Not you, Miss Montague. I think you and I should have a word.”
He crossed the stone floor and closed the door, leaving just the two of them in the classroom.
“If it’s about the Dracula thing, I really didn’t mean it,” said Maud.
“Yes, well, let’s try to move on from that rather unfortunate incident. It was your little secret that I wanted to talk about.”
Maud wondered what secret Mr Von Bat meant. She’d once used Milly’s Barbie hairbrush to comb Quentin’s fur, but there’s no way he could know about that.
“What secret?” she asked.
“That you’re human, of course!” Mr Von Bat exploded. “That you don’t have a supernatural bone in your body. You’re not invisible, you can’t turn into a bat, and I’m sure you’ve never even tasted blood. You’re just a normal little girl, and yet you’ve got the cheek to turn up at a school that’s strictly for monsters only!”
Maud’s heart sank. “How did you know?”
“I’ve been teaching monsters for years, and I know a fake when I see one. And what I’m looking at now is an ordinary little girl.”
Maud didn’t like being called ordinary. She didn’t see why she couldn’t be just as spooky as all the others if she tried her best. Even if she was human.
“I’m going to talk to the Head about you,” said Mr Von Bat. “I fully expect you’ll be sent back to your old school.”
Maud thought about Primrose Towers. No way did she want to go back to its clean corridors and prissy pupils. Rotwood might be very freaky and even a little frightening, but at least it was interesting.
“Please don’t tell the Head!” said Maud. “My old school was stuffy and boring. I don’t want to be sent back!”
Mr Von Bat considered this for a moment and then chuckled to himself. “Very well,” he said. “If you’re so keen to stay, I’ll give you until the end of the week. If you can scare me by Friday, I won’t take the matter any further.”
Maud let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Oh, I wouldn’t get too excited,” said Mr Von Bat. “I ought to warn you that I’m completely, one-hundred-per-cent fright proof.”
As Maud made her way back down the gloomy staircase, she thought about Mr Von Bat’s challenge. What could she do to frighten a bloodsucking vampire like him? It seemed impossible, but she had to try. If she got expelled again, Milly would never let her forget it.
At the bottom of the staircase, Maud followed a group of pupils through the main hall. They trooped out of a large stone doorway at the back that had the word engraved above it.
A grassy area stretched out behind the school, in which uneven grey slabs of stone seemed to have been planted. They were covered in damp moss and shrouded by thick swirls of mist. It took Maud a moment to realise she was in a graveyard. The pupils wove in and out of tombs, playing tag. It wasn’t like any playground Maud had ever seen before.
Maud spotted Wilf and Mr Von Bat’s son in an overgrown part of the graveyard, playing catch with the head of the boy who looked as if he was from a Shakespeare play. Maud thought they were being mean for a moment, then realised that the boy’s head was smiling.
“Hi Maud!” said Vladimir. “I’m Paprika.”
“I thought you were Vladimir.”
“My dad calls me that when I’m in trouble.”
“Hi Maud!” said the disembodied head, just as Wilf caught it. “I’m Oscar.”
“Er ... hi,” said Maud.
Wilf threw Oscar’s head back towards Paprika. Unfortunately, it slipped through the vampire’s fingers and landed in a patch of long grass.
“Oops,” said Paprika. “Sorry.”
“Butterfingers!” shouted Oscar’s head, as Paprika ran over to fetch it. Somebody tapped Maud on the shoulder and she turned to see that it was Oscar’s headless body. He held his hand out and she shook it nervously. She didn’t quite know where to look, so she just smiled at where Oscar’s face should have been.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Oscar’s head. “And thanks for being scared of me. That’s very nice of you.”
“Hey, new girl!” shouted a voice from across the graveyard.
It was Poisonous Penelope, the witch from Maud’s class. She strode over, a werewolf at her side. The werewolf must have been at least two-metres tall, with thick whiskers sprouting around his nose and sharp teeth jutting from his gums.
“Hey,” said Wilf to the larger werewolf, and Maud noticed that his voice shook a little.
The big werewolf just growled in reply.
“What’s the matter with you, new girl?” asked Poisonous Penelope. “You look like you’ve never seen a ghost.”
Maud tried to laugh this off. “I’ve seen plenty. Some of my best friends are poltergeists, in fact.”
In truth, the only times she’d seen them before were on ghost trains, but she didn’t think anyone would be impressed by that.
Poisonous Penelope stepped forward and jabbed Maud’s chest with her bony finger. The large werewolf next to her lurched at Maud and growled again.
“What sort of monster are you anyway?” asked Penelope. “I don’t remember Batty mentioning it.”
All around the graveyard, other pupils stopped what they were doing and stared towards Maud. Suddenly it was really quiet.
“I can’t believe you don’t know,” said Maud. “I’m the scariest kind of monster in the world.”
Penelope looked unimpressed. “And what kind of monster is that exactly?”
Maud looked around. The pupils stared back. She tried to think of the scariest name she could, but nothing came.
“I’m a ... Tutu.” Well, it would have to do.
The pupils looked confused.
“I’m a terrifying Tutu. The most terrifying one of all, in fact. The other Tutus call me ‘Monstrous Maud’.”
“I’ve never heard of a Tutu,” said Poisonous Penelope. “Prove it.”
Maud fished around in her inside pocket, her heart racing. She usually kept a few plastic bugs in there, and she thought they might come in useful now. She could chuck a co
ckroach in her mouth and pretend to chew it, or maybe even throw a spider at Penelope and shout, “Boo!” But something was wrong today. In her pocket, she could feel Quentin ... and something else soft and fluffy.
Maud pulled it out. To her horror, she saw that it was a tiny doll in a frilly pink evening gown. In her rush to get ready this morning, she must have picked up Milly’s blazer by mistake! And now all the Rotwood pupils were going to tease her for being as pathetic as her sister.
Maud looked up, expecting to see a circle of jeering faces. But, to her surprise, the Rotwood students were all staring at the doll with expressions of terror. Even Poisonous Penelope was backing away from it, as though she thought the doll would bite her head off.
Maud didn’t understand what was going on, but she wasn’t about to miss her chance to scare Penelope. She jumped forward and thrust the doll in the witch’s face.
“Raaahhhh! RAAAHHHH!”
Penelope darted away, screaming at the top of her voice. Even the huge werewolf ran after her, yelping with terror.
Maud examined the doll. How on earth had something so boring managed to scare so many monsters?
“Put that horrible thing away!”
Maud looked up to see a teacher running over to her.
“Pupils aren’t allowed to scare each other during break. Save it for Fright Classes or you’ll end up in the Head’s office.”
Once again, the mention of the Head’s name drew gasps of fear from all the pupils.
“Why’s everyone so scared of the Head?” she asked, once the teacher had moved on.
There was an awkward moment of silence, then Paprika said, “You don’t want to know.”
“Sorry about my brother Warren,” said Wilf. “He’s a bit of an idiot when it comes to choosing friends.”
“That’s okay,” said Maud. She couldn’t believe the bigger werewolf was Wilf’s brother. They were certainly as hairy as each other, but Wilf was so much nicer than the snarling, growling wolf who hung around with Penelope.
“That was so monstrous!” said Paprika. “I’ve never seen Wilf and Penelope so scared before. They chose the wrong person to mess with this time.”
“Yeah, totally, er ... monstrous,” said Maud. She was starting to think that at Rotwood, ‘monstrous’ might mean something good. “That’s what you get for picking on a Tutu.”
The others nodded at this and looked impressed. Somehow, she’d managed to convince all these genuine monsters that she was one of them.
As Maud made her way back to the classroom for afternoon lessons, her mind was racing. Maybe she would be able to stay at Rotwood after all. If she could scare the monsters in the playground, who was to say that she couldn’t scare Mr Von Bat?
That was decided, then. She was going to do it. She didn’t know how, but she would find a way to stay at Rotwood – whatever it took.
At lunchtime Maud followed the other pupils down a steep staircase and along a narrow passageway to the school cafeteria, which was inside a dark crypt. It looked like somewhere you’d find lost treasure rather than food, with cobwebs dangling from the low ceiling and dusty lanterns burning on the wall. Rickety benches and wooden tables were laid out across the uneven floor and, at the end of the room, a row of dinner ladies with long, crooked noses and pointed black hats stood behind bubbling cauldrons of food.
“Grub’s up!” shouted one of the dinner ladies.
Maud picked up a tray and walked over to them.
“Fried fingernails?” asked the first, offering her a scoop of nails in breadcrumb coating.
“No, thanks,” said Maud, and moved along.
“Slime soup?” asked the second dinner lady, offering her a ladleful of thick green liquid.
“Er ... not today,” said Maud.
“Spider stew?” asked the third.
Maud saw that many of the spiders in the stew were still alive, and were trying in vain to climb the steep sides of the cauldron. She shuddered, but said, “No, thanks,” as politely as she could.
“Pie?” asked the fourth dinner lady.
Maud nodded, grateful that she’d managed to find something edible.
She found a space on one of the benches and cut into the crust of the pie. She was about to scoop some into her mouth when she noticed movement on the end of her fork and, to her disgust, saw that she was about to eat a wriggling maggot. When she looked down, she saw that the whole pie was full of maggots.
Opposite, the girl with the red eyes was happily crunching through her own helping. “It’s not fair,” said the girl, with one of the insects still wiggling out of the side of her mouth. “You got loads more than me.”
Maud pushed her plate across to her. “Help yourself. I’m not that hungry, actually.”
“Are you sure?” asked the girl. “That’s so monstrous of you. I love maggot pie. It’s my absolute favourite, except for centipede pasties. And earwig samosas.”
“I know how you feel, Tutu girl,” said the skeleton boy, who was sitting next to Maud. “I can’t eat the food here either. It goes right through me.”
To demonstrate, he poured a spoonful of slime soup into his mouth. It dribbled through his jawbone and down on to his ribcage. Maud laughed along with everyone, even though she felt a little sick.
Paprika sat down on the other side of her, carrying a packed lunch, and Maud made a mental note to bring one of her own the very next day.
“Here,” said Paprika, offering Maud a stick of celery from his lunch box. “You can have some of my food, if you like.”
“Thanks.” Maud checked the celery for creepy-crawlies before biting into it. Celery wasn’t exactly Maud’s favourite food, but at least it didn’t squirm when she bit into it.
“I didn’t know vampires liked celery,” she said. “I thought you drank blood.”
“We do,” said Paprika. “At least, we’re supposed to. I don’t really, er ... like it, though. I’m sort of a vegetarian. Dad says I’ll get the taste for it one day. He says it will make me big and strong like him.”
Maud looked over at the teachers’ table, where Mr Von Bat was slurping a bowl of gloopy red liquid through a straw. It looked awful, but she didn’t want to say that to Paprika in case it hurt his feelings.
After lunch, it was time for Maud’s first ever Fright Class. She sat right at the front and jotted down everything Mr Von Bat said. This was way better than listening to endless lists of vampire dynasties. And, more importantly, it might help her figure out how to scare Mr Von Bat himself.
“Frightening people is very simple,” said Mr Von Bat. “It can be as easy as finding out what someone dislikes, and exploiting their weakness. Take my son, Paprika, for example.”
Paprika’s pale cheeks blushed as everyone in the class turned to look at him.
“Paprika is a vampire. And what don’t vampires like?”
“Garlic,” answered everyone at once.
“Exactly,” said Mr Von Bat. He reached into his desk drawer and produced a clove of garlic.
As soon as he saw it, Paprika whimpered with fear and dived under his desk.
Poisonous Penelope let out a loud snort of laughter from the back of the room.
“So here we see the basic fright process in action. The weakness is garlic, and my son’s cowardly response was to hide under the desk in terror.”
Maud couldn’t believe Mr Von Bat was being so mean to his own son. He certainly wouldn’t like it if she scared him in front of everyone. Not that he seemed to be frightened of anything, anyway. He didn’t even flinch at the garlic, and he was much more of a vampire than Paprika was.
Maud gulped. Oh no, she thought. This is going to be even harder than I expected.
On the bus home, Maud looked over her notes from Fright Class.
“Look!” said Poisonous Penelope from the seat behind. “Maud can’t wait to do her homework.”
Warren, who was sitting next to her, gave a chuckling growl.
Maud ignored them, determined
to work out what she could do to frighten Mr Von Bat. He’d said that you have to use someone’s weakness against them, so how could she do that? She already knew that garlic wouldn’t work.
As the bus trundled back through the old forest, Maud stared out of the window at the thick clumps of trees with their withered branches and knotty roots, thinking hard.
And by the time the bus pulled up at her stop, she had a whole page of ideas.
As soon as she got inside, Maud ran upstairs to work on her scaring plans. But she’d only got halfway up when her mum and dad popped out of the living room.
“So how was it?” asked her mum.
“It was fine,” said Maud. She wanted to say, “It was amazing,” but she didn’t want them to know too much about Rotwood. If they found who the other students were, they might not want her to stay.
“I know the first day at a new school can be frightening,” said her dad.
You can say that again, thought Maud.
Milly flounced into the hall with her tutu on, practising her ballet steps. “How was Rotwood?” she asked, putting on a fake sympathetic voice because their parents were there. “I’ve heard it’s a frightful place.”
“Hmm,” said Maud, smiling to herself.
Milly broke off from her prancing and narrowed her eyes.
Maud realised she needed to be more careful. Hiding the truth from her parents wouldn’t be a problem. Her mum was working hard on her Dracula musical and her dad was too obsessed with his cars to notice much. But Milly could always sense when Maud was keeping something fun secret, and she always did her best to spoil it.
“I’d better get on with my homework,” said Maud.
Mr and Mrs Montague looked up. “Er ... pardon?” said her mum.
“Are you feeling all right?” asked her dad.
But Maud was already racing up the stairs. On the way, Maud passed the long diagonal row of Montague family portraits. They showed her parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, all of them with the same awkward smile and large round glasses.
Monstrous Maud: Big Fright Page 3
