Chapter 1
‘Oy! Greta! Wait up!’ Jimmy yelled.
‘No!’ Greta called back. ‘I’ve got a special thing to show Mr Couchini, and it’s good.’ The two friends were walking (well, one was walking, one was running) across Garry Wiggin’s School for Inapproachable Munchkins. Jimmy Dick stopped to catch his breath. He leaned forward, his long brown hair flopping over his brown mischievous eyes, his hands resting on blue jeans.
‘Come on, Greta!’ Jimmy yelled. ‘I’ve got something in my backpack that really doesn’t need to be shaken up!’ Greta Fender finally stopped, and turned around. Jimmy puffed up next to her.
Her jaw worked, chewing on a piece of gum. Greta always carried gum everywhere. Her blue eyes sparked with annoyance, one hand on her hip, her skin pale. Her other hand was holding the predictable book. The book had a picture of Einstein, was as thick as a good-sized dumbbell, and was called, Einstein: The Man Who Created the Theory of Relativity. Truth, or Tales? She wore a blue skirt, with a blue top, and her blonde hair was viciously tied up in a bun with a blue ribbon.
‘What?’ Greta chewed loudly, her breath smelling faintly of blueberry. ‘Another one of your pranks?’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Mr C loves them!’ Jimmy protested. ‘And this one is a good one.’
‘So this is why we had to sneak out of class?’ Greta said. ‘It was really getting interesting. I never knew so much about Antoine-Laurent de Lavoisier.’
‘I thought it was pretty boring,’ said a knew voice, right beside Jimmy. Jimmy jumped.
‘Don’t do that, Victor!’ Greta said. She had only reacted the slightest bit, but Jimmy noticed she clutched the book she was holding a bit tighter.
‘It’s funny,’ Victor Winter grinned maliciously. His jet-black hair in braids and savage black eyes made a contrast to the bright colours Greta was wearing. He was wearing a grey jumper, and his brown skin was scarred where Victor had accidently slashed himself with his first knife.
‘You’re out of the class early,’ Victor spoke in a low lisp. ‘Where are you going?’
‘We’re going to Mr Couchini’s.’ Greta said. ‘Why are you out of class?’
‘Never went,’ Victor said indifferently. Greta gasped. Jimmy knew his friend well enough to know that for her, skipping classes all together was a crime worthy of a fine and jailing for a month. Of course, skipping a bit was fine.
‘Mr C’s class is ahead!’ Jimmy said, bounding over to a dilapidated little hut like shack. From outside, it didn’t look like much. But Jimmy, Greta, and Victor knew better.
‘What’s he doing there?’ Greta asked sharply. ‘Doesn’t he know you’re not to graffiti school property?’ She pointed at a strange man standing next to the hut. He had a can of what looked like pepper spray, and was spraying the wall grey with the words, Fish is good! Eat fish! His mud brown eyes were sunk deep in his face, his muscles were so big that the white shirt he wore was starting to rip. A necklace of skulls was ringed around his neck. He wore giant size 11 boots, and in his other hand was a knife. He turned and smiled grimly at them. Jimmy quickly ran into the shack. He wanted nothing to do with that man.
Jimmy bounded into the room, and stopped for a few seconds. This was his favourite part of the day, walking into Mr Couchini’s classroom, and seeing the craziness around there. There were no desks, like you’d usually have in a classroom. Instead, there was a ring of couches and beanbags, and a pile of cushions were piled haphazardly in a corner. As expected, Mr Couchini wasn’t there. Jimmy got to work.
As Greta and Victor settled down in their favourite beanbags, Jimmy strode over to the door, and got to work with some rope. Then, he grabbed three of the beanbags, and cut holes in them. He knew Mr Couchini wouldn’t mind. He tore the stuffing out, leaving his two friends to clean it up. Then, he filled up a couple of water balloons outside, came inside, careful not to trigger his trap, and stuffed them into the beanbags. They sagged, not as full as they were before, but still full enough. Jimmy expertly sewed the holes together, with his knitting needles. He’d thought it might be a good thing to learn, in case Godzilla attacked town, and he had to make a net. Then, he sauntered over to Greta and Victor, and plopped down into the beanbag right next to Victor. Greta threw him a piece of gum, which Jimmy chewed contentedly. Then, Mr Couchini arrived.
Mr Couchini never came through the front door. No, that was too normal for him to do. He scaled the wall outside, and jumped in from a hole in the roof. Once, Jimmy had strung rope over the hole, like a spiderweb, to see what would happen. Mr Couchini had jumped, and gotten hopelessly entangled in the rope. It took an hour to get him out. This time, Mr Couchini did a back-flip through the hole, and landed on his desk, with his arms outstretched. The three friends clapped. Mr Couchini bowed. Mr Couchini was wearing his eccentric clothes as always. He wore a splendidly plaided kilt, a short pink top hat, red(ish) glasses, brown(ish) gloves, and short army trousers.
‘Jimmy, my friend,’ he laughed. ‘What traps have you gotten for today?’
‘Nothing much,’ Jimmy said breezily. ‘I have a rope trap at the door, and water balloons in the beanbags. Mr Couchini fell off the table, his pale face contorted in laughter, his blonde hair flopping around, his hands clutching at his thin stomach. Luckily, Greta managed to shove some pillows underneath him before he hit the ground.
‘Excellent work!’ he giggled. ‘We’ll blame it on Fluffy, why don’t we?’
There was an indignant hoot, and a barn owl flew in through the hole in the roof.
‘Sorry Fluffy,’ Victor smirked. ‘Life’s life.’ Fluffy pecked him.
‘I think the other students are coming now,’ Mr Couchini said, peering out of the door. ‘Yes, they seem to be now.’
‘Everyone in position!’ Greta said. She bounded back to her beanbag.
A fat kid walked through the door. Jimmy vaguely remembered his name was, Thomas? Tom? Timmy? Timmy. Timmy barely had enough time to raise his hand in greeting to Mr Couchini before he was hoisted up into the air by his ankle.
‘Jimmy!’ he shouted. ‘Get me down this instant!’ Jimmy rolled around on the floor in laughter, and paid for his inattention, rolling into a balloon filled beanbag, and getting doused in water. Choking, spluttering, and still laughing, Jimmy crawled over to Timmy, and quickly untied the rope, sending poor old Tim crashing down onto the ground. By this time, the rest of the class had gotten into the room. There were multiple screams, and swears, as the classmates either sat on water ballooned beanbags, or got splashed.
‘Alright!’ Mr Couchini yelled. ‘Quiet! Now, what have you scrummy lot brought here for us to study?’