Dance-off! (3 page)

Lorna put the music on again. By now our piece of paper seemed about the size of a postage stamp –
and
it was thick and springy with being folded so often, so it was extra tricky to balance on. We didn’t stand a chance. Never mind the Leaning Tower of Pisa – we were the Collapsing Tower of Cuddington.

Ryan and Danny had managed to stay on their paper, though. And across the other side of the room, Sean was balancing perfectly on the ball of one foot, with Fliss on his back as if she was no more bother than the tiniest, lightest rucksack!

Lorna laughed. “I think we’ve got a winner,” she said, pointing to Ryan and Danny.

“Hey!” complained Sean, holding his hands out to draw attention to his perfect balance.

“Yes, I can see you,” said Lorna, “but I don’t think I’ve spotted – what’s your name, sweetie?”

“Felicity,” squeaked Fliss.

“I haven’t spotted Felicity giving Sean a piggyback yet,” said Lorna. “So I think you’ve had an unfair advantage.”

“
Right
,” said Sean. He let Fliss slither down from his back. Then, all mock-determination, he put his hands on her shoulders and lifted his leg as if he was going to climb on to her!

Fliss giggled and went bright pink again. Sean grinned and reassured her: “Only joking.”

But then he did something amazing. Standing behind Fliss he got her to raise one leg at the back – “It’s called an arabesque,” he said – and then, with one hand under her thigh and the other at her waist, he lifted her till his arms were straight, way above his head.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Mrs Weaver from her chair in the corner, her eyes shining as if she was at some amazing circus show.

“Don’t try this at home, kids,” said Sean, walking round the room while Fliss emitted little delighted squeaks somewhere near the ceiling.

“Big show off!” laughed Lorna.

Sean grinned, stuck his tongue out at her, and gently lowered Fliss to the floor. By this time Fliss was opening and shutting her mouth like a goldfish. And the M&Ms were positively green, they were so jealous!

After that, the rest of the workshop went like a fab party. The whole class were really into it by now. There were no more games – that had just been to get us in the mood, I think – but we tried making pictures of things with our bodies. Things like anger, or excitement, or sadness. Then, after these still poses (it was a bit like pretending to be statues, I guess) we tried moving to express the same ‘feelings’. It was really interesting. Kenny liked ‘anger’ the best – she stomped around the hall, puffed up like some bizarre, Leicester-City-supporting ogre.

“That was
sooo
wicked!” said Frankie, bouncing about the changing room afterwards.

“We should do the Newspaper Game at our sleepover tomorrow!” said Fliss.

“Hey, yeah!” agreed Lyndz. “But wouldn’t that mean we’d need to invite Sean too, to be your partner?” Fliss went beetroot again, which gave the rest of us such a major attack of the giggles that Lyndz got hiccups.

“That’s – hic – torn it!” she spluttered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll cure you!” yelled Kenny. “Pile on, guys!”

And in a second the Sleepover Club was one big mass of arms and legs. “It’s a dance called Squeezing Out The Hiccups,” said Frankie when Mrs Weaver came in and told us off.

I don’t think Mrs Weaver found it funny. But we did.

“Oh no – look!” Frankie nudged me. “Mrs Poole is making Lorna and Sean eat school dinner. What did they do to deserve
that
?”

I craned my head past the people queuing in front of me, and saw the three of them carrying trays over to one of the tables. “Poor things,” I grimaced. “She obviously hates them and wants them never to come back to Cuddington.”

As people collected their food there was a massive scramble to sit on Lorna and Sean’s table.
The seats filled up in about two seconds flat.

“Surprise, surprise,” said Kenny, as we all sat down together at another table nearby (the Sleepover Club was
far
too cool to join in the scrum). “Look who’s sucking up big time.”

I glanced across and saw that the M&Ms had bagged the plum seats right next to the dancers and were beaming sickly smiles at them.

“I’ve never seen the M&Ms move so fast,” said Lyndz.

“Poor Lorna and Sean. Those smiles are enough to put anyone off their dinner,” added Frankie, making sick noises.

“The
food’s
enough to put anyone off their dinner,” said Fliss, wrinkling her nose. She was fiddling her fork about in her chicken pie as if she was expecting to find a dead beetle in it.

“Ha, ha. They’re not even looking at what they’re eating,” I said, watching as the M&Ms shovelled forkfuls of pie into their mouths without tearing their eyes from their heroes. “Just wait – they’ll be spilling it
all down their jumpers any minute now.”

“Perfect opportunity! This is too good to miss!” said Kenny. She searched around, looking on the floor, and on the windowsill next to our table.

“What’re you after?” asked Frankie.

“Aha!” Kenny’s hand dived for something on the dusty windowsill. She flashed her open palm under our noses, then strode off towards the M&Ms’ table.

“Eeyeuch!” Fliss cringed. “Did you see – a horrible, curled-up dead spider! How can she even pick it up?”

All our eyes were on Kenny. I couldn’t hear what she was saying in the hubbub of the dining hall, but I saw her point to the water jug, and someone pass it to her. As she stretched out to reach it she leaned over Emma Hughes’ shoulder, and with the quickest craftiest movement – honestly, that girl could do magic tricks! – she flicked the spider on to Emma’s plate.

Emma – with her eyes glued to Sean as if he
was some angel – hadn’t spotted a thing. And by the time Kenny got back to our table, she couldn’t disguise the massive grin spreading over her face.

We counted the seconds: “One elephant, two elephants, three…” before there was an ear-splitting screech and Emma scraped her chair back.

“Pffff – pfffleeuch!” Her tongue was flapping out of her mouth, and she was actually
spitting
on the floor, desperately trying to get rid of the spider.

“What is it?” screeched Emily Berryman.

“Emma! How disgusting!” roared Mrs Poole, looking absolutely horrified. “Get out of the hall – now!”

“But Mrs Poole!” protested Emily. “There was something in her dinner!”

“Out!” commanded Mrs Poole, pointing to the door. I guess she was a bit tense, what with having guests and wanting the school to look good. Emma ran out of the room, her hands clapped over her mouth.

We were all laughing into our dinners by
then, Kenny hardest of all. A minute later I saw Emily Berryman watching us, a look of anger and then determination creeping over her face like some dark shadow.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “The Goblin’s on to us.”

“It’ll be payback time,” said Fliss flatly. “And there are two things they’ll want to get back at us for. The fizzy drink and now this.”

“Aw, we’re not scared. Let ’em do their worst,” said Kenny, all gung-ho and couldn’t-care-less. “We’ll take them on any time.”

The bravest cowboy in the West – that’s Kenny for you!

Later in the lunch break, I’d just been to the school library and was heading back across the playground, looking for the others, when Alana Banana came up to me. “Where’s Laura?” she asked.

“Kenny? Er… I’m not sure,” I said, looking around. “Maybe she’s in the loos.”

Alana seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then she said, “Rosie, I was in the changing room just now and I saw some of your P.E. kit on the floor.”

“Mine?” I said. I
thought
I could remember putting all my kit in my gym bag after the workshop. But I’d kind of done it on automatic pilot, because I was so busy talking to my friends, so I couldn’t be 100% sure.

Alana nodded. “I’d go and get it if I were you, or it’ll end up in Lost Property.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” I said. And Alana ran off across the playground.

I headed straight for the changing room. I hate losing stuff at school. It’s such a trauma trying to get it back, and you always get a massive lecture.

Luckily I didn’t run into any teachers on the way, and as I came up to the changing room I could see it was empty.

I hurried through the door. And that’s when I saw it.

Dangling from the ceiling, limp and pale and lifeless, was a human arm. Dripping with blood. The blood was oozing down it slowly, ending in a great big drop hanging from one of the fingertips.

I screamed. My stomach contracted at the same time like I was going to be sick, and I had to hold on to one of the coat racks to keep my balance.

“Rosie? What is it? Are you OK?” In a second Frankie was by my side. She must have been passing in the corridor and heard me. Was that a piece of luck.

I grabbed hold of her and pointed a trembling finger towards the arm. Frankie gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth, probably to stop herself from screaming too.

“I-I’ll fetch a teacher,” she stammered. But she hadn’t gone more than a couple of steps when a voice shouted out:

“Dur-brains!”

“Who said that?” I looked around. Then I
heard cackling laughter coming from above.

The horrible arm had vanished and a face had appeared in its place, upside down, with the hair dangling round it. It was Emma Hughes. And out from a bundle of coats in the corner came Emily Berryman, laughing like a drain.

I felt sick now in a different way.

“Ha,
ha
! Can’t believe you fell for it!” Emma sneered triumphantly. “Who’s a poor ickle scaredy-cat, running to get teacher, eh?”

“I
am
going to get a teacher,” said Frankie. Normally she wouldn’t dream of telling on anyone, even the M&Ms, so I knew she’d been really frightened. She added, “You’re not supposed to be up there.”

Emma had climbed through the small square hatch in the changing-room ceiling – the one that opens into the loft. She must have lain down up there and dangled her arm through the hole.

“Too late,” said Emma. Her face disappeared and her legs popped out instead. She let herself down gingerly on to the nearest
free-standing coat rack. It wobbled a lot as she pulled the hatch cover shut.

“Well, help me down, then!” she snapped at the Goblin, who started forward and tried to hold one of Emma’s ankles. Emma kicked it free irritably, so the Goblin held the coat rack instead and promptly got her fingers trodden on.

“Ouch!”

“I couldn’t see where you were, could I?” said Emma crossly. Now, up close, I could see that she’d whitened her arm with talc, and the ‘blood’ had been tomato ketchup that she must have pinched from the dining room.

By this time the M&Ms were squabbling so much, Frankie and I were grinning, though we still felt a bit shaky. “Come on,” Frankie whispered. “Let’s leave them to it.” And we legged it down the corridor and back out into the playground.

There we found Lyndz and Kenny, trying to put a zig-zag parting in Fliss’s hair.

“Aw, that hurts!” Fliss was squealing.

“Hold still!” said Kenny firmly. When she saw
us, she asked, “Does this look right to you? I’m not sure what I’m doing, to be honest.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Lyndz, comb poised in mid-air. “Where’ve you two been? You look white as anything.”

And when Frankie and I started to say what had happened, all three of them forgot Fliss’s new hairstyle and listened, open-mouthed.

“And was the blood like… dripping on the
floor
?” asked Kenny at last.

“Don’t even
say
blood!” said Fliss, looking queasy. “It was
ketchup
.”

“Whatever it was, it must’ve been scary,” said Lyndz, putting an arm round me.

“They must’ve planned it for you, Kenny,” I said. “The first thing Alana said was that she was looking for you. It was only when she couldn’t find you that she must’ve thought I’d do instead.”

“Too bad,” said Kenny. “I would’ve loved it! Great practice for when I’m a doctor. Mind you,” she added, “I wish I’d thought of it first. It
was a mean trick to pull on you non-medical types. Those creeps are so for it now!”