Horror Holiday (2 page)

Maud glanced over her shoulder and saw that Paprika and his mum had gone into the school. She sighed. They hadn’t even gone inside yet, and already it was proving difficult to keep the
truth about Rotwood hidden.

They all got out of the car and crunched across the gravel. As Maud glanced up at the hulking grey school, one of the stone gargoyles winked at her.

It was going to be a long night.

M
r Montague headed towards the front steps. “Look at this monster!” he said.

Maud stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn’t believe her dad had discovered the truth already.

“I bet it didn’t have any trouble at all on that dreadful road,” continued Mr Montague.

Maud turned and saw that her dad was admiring a huge red truck with massive wheels and a gleaming chrome grille.

Maud wondered whose truck it was. It seemed way too cool to belong to any of the teachers.

“Come along, dear,” said Mrs Montague. “You’ll have plenty of time for all that at the Car Show.”

Milly scowled.

Maud climbed the large steps into the gloomy entrance hall. Hundreds of pupils and parents were milling around in the flickering light of the wall-mounted torches.

Mrs Montague paused to look at a display of paintings by some of the school’s youngest monsters. There was a giant spider with a row of yellow eyes, a three-headed dog, and a lion with
wings.

“These are very vivid,” said Mrs Montague. “Was the theme ‘nightmares’?”

“Yep, got it in one,” said Maud. The theme had actually been ‘favourite pets’.

The caretaker, Mr Quasimodo, stomped towards them with a clipboard. He had made an effort to dress up for parents’ evening, but Maud didn’t think it was quite working. His black
trousers stopped just above his ankles and his jacket was stretched so tight over the hunch on his back that it was splitting at the seams. He was wearing a clean white shirt, but it only made his
skin look greener.

“Wh … what’s that?” asked Milly.

“Ssh! It’s who, not what,” whispered Maud. “Mr Quasimodo is the school caretaker.”

Paprika’s mum stepped over to the caretaker, jabbing her finger into his chest and scolding him about the state of the poison ivy garden.

“I know he looks a bit strange,” said Maud. “But he’s alright really.”

“Yeah, he’s harmless,” said Paprika, who had appeared behind them. “He hasn’t eaten anyone in years.”

Maud stamped hard on Paprika’s foot. “No monster stuff,” she whispered.

“Oops,” muttered Paprika. “Sorry.” They took a few steps away, leaving Milly to gape at the terrifying caretaker.

“I don’t know if I can keep this up,” said Maud, once they were out of earshot. “I just want to have my appointment and go.”

“I know how you feel,” said Paprika. “Mum goes spare if I get a bad report. Once I got such a bad mark in history that Mum made me fly to school with one wing tied behind my
back.”

Maud glanced over at Paprika’s mother. She was waiting impatiently for Mr Quasimodo to find their appointment on his clipboard. Finally, she snatched it off him and scanned through it
herself.

Paprika sighed. “She said that if I don’t do well this year, she’ll take me out of Rotwood and send me to a boarding school in Transylvania.”

“She wouldn’t!” said Maud.

Mrs Von Bat swept past and seized Paprika by the arm.

“Gotta go!” he said miserably.

Mr Quasimodo shuffled over. “Names,” he grunted.

“Mr and Mrs Maurice Montague,” said Maud’s dad, holding his hand out.

Mr Quasimodo stared at Mr Montague’s hand and licked his lips. His stomach let out a loud rumble.

Mr Montague pulled his hand sharply back.

“Room 3B,” said Mr Quasimodo. “At top of staircase. Hurry.”

“Thank you, my good man,” said Mr Montague.

They all turned towards the spiral staircase, but before they could go, Mr Quasimodo plonked his fat green fingers on Milly’s shoulder.

Milly shrieked and squirmed out of his grip.

“My wife has set up crèche in dungeon,” he said. “You go there. Have fun.”

“D-dungeon?” Milly stammered. “You can’t send me to the dungeon. I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Oh, it’s not a real dungeon!” said Maud. “Don’t be silly. That’s just a name we give our games room as a joke. You’ll love it!”

“That does sound like a good idea,” said Mr Montague. “Why would you want to listen to Maud’s report anyway?”

“So I can laugh at the bad bits,” said Milly. “Obviously.”

Mr Quasimodo escorted Milly to the steps leading down to the dungeon. She turned back to look at them, her face turning as green as his.
She’ll be fine,
thought Maud.
There’s nothing dangerous down there. Well, there is, but hopefully it’ll be asleep.

Maud led her parents up the staircase to her classroom. Flaming torches cast long shadows along the curved walls. They passed an arched window overlooking the playground, which
was a mess of crumbling headstones.

“Is that a graveyard down there?” asked Mrs Montague.

“Ha ha! Of course not,” said Maud, thinking fast. “That’s just … where they store the spare flagstones for the entrance hall.”

As they made their way up, Quentin popped his head out of Maud’s blazer pocket and squeaked.

“I know how you feel,” whispered Maud. “This could be awful.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Maud led her parents along the stone corridor. This place was murky enough in the daytime, but with just the inky evening light seeping in through the
windows, it was hard to see anything at all.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” asked Mrs Montague. “Has there been a power cut or something?”

“Mr Quasimodo believes in saving electricity,” said Maud. “For the sake of the planet.”

“Oh,” said Mrs Montague. “That’s very green of him.”

And that’s not all that’s green about him,
thought Maud. They reached the door to Class 3B, and Maud took a deep breath. All it would take was for Mr Von Bat to let the
truth slip, and her Rotwood days would be over. No more Fright lessons, no more Monsterball and no more hanging out with Wilf and Paprika.

She lifted a hand and knocked on the door.

M
aud was just reaching for the handle, when the door creaked open of its own accord.

“Automatic door,” said Mr Montague. “Very snazzy. Probably works on floor sensors, doesn’t it?”

“Something like that,” said Maud.

Mr Von Bat was sitting behind his desk with his cape hanging neatly over the back of his chair. He smiled at them, exposing his fake fangs. He was actually just a normal human, but everyone in
Rotwood believed he was a vampire. Maud had hoped he was going to give the bloodsucker stuff a rest tonight, but obviously he hadn’t.
I’m doomed
, she thought.

But instead of running away screaming, Mrs Montague ran forward to embrace Mr Von Bat, who blushed and stood up stiffly.

“Norman?” she said. “I had no idea you taught Maud!”

“I’m surprised she never mentioned it,” said Mr Von Bat. He quickly spat his plastic fangs into his hand and placed them inside his pocket.

“This is Norman Bottom,” said Mrs Montague, turning to Maud’s dad. “The nice man who played Dracula in our theatre production last spring. You must remember
him.”

“Norman Bottom, as I live and breathe!” said Mr Montague. “But why the devil are you still wearing your costume?”

“Because Rotwood is a school for mon …” Mr Von Bat stopped as he spotted Maud shaking her head and gesturing wildly.

“It’s because he … er … likes to stay in character,” said Maud.

“You stay in character six months after finishing a production?” asked Mr Montague.

“Just to be on the safe side,” said Mr Von Bat.

Thank goodness he’s going along with it,
Maud thought.

“Well, that’s commitment for you,” said Mr Montague, impressed. “And from what I hear, you’re just as committed to teaching our little monster.”

“Monster?” asked Mr Von Bat, looking confused. “But Maud isn’t a monster. She’s just a normal human girl.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” said Mrs Montague. “Maud seems to be really enjoying herself at Rotwood. You like it here, don’t you, cupcake?”

“Yes, I do,” said Maud. “I really, really do.”