Authors: Alan MacDonald
Zombie! (4 page)
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. “Settle 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?
