Aasha Alsufi did come back the next day, and even though everyone gave her space
like Mr Winter said, there was still this huge contest going on to see who could be the first to get her to talk or smile.
Epic fails all round.
Aasha Alsufi just either nodded or shook her head and seemed much happier when she was left alone.
But for me, things were looking up. I went through most of the week without hearing the words ‘Eric Vale – Epic Fail’ once.
Then came Friday – school assembly day.
This assembly was special, because this was the week our class was in charge of running it. That meant Mr Winter had to pick people for different jobs like MC-ing, reading the notices and introducing the speakers. And we had to provide the entertainment. That’s where Chewy and I came in.
We were given the job of acting out a scene from this story we’d been reading in class. That meant we had to memorise our lines and dress up and everything. Chewy and I were supposed to play identical twins.
Chewy reckoned it didn’t really make sense because our eyes were totally different colours.
Probably the only reason we got chosen was because Chewy volunteered us. Chewy volunteers for everything. He doesn’t care what it is. As soon as he heard Mr Winter say, ‘Now I need two boys to volunteer to …’ Chewy stuck up his hand and blurted out, ‘Me and Eric’ll do it!’
For a minute there Mr Winter went a bit pale. So did I when I heard what we had to do.
I wanted to quit straightaway but Chewy talked me out of it.
‘If you think you can’t, you won’t, Eric,’ he told me. ‘But if you think you can, you will!’ Chewy was positive! that we’d do great. I had my doubts, but I agreed because I knew Chewy would bug me to death if I didn’t.
So Mr Winter said, ‘Right. Good. Yes, that’s … excellent. Looks like we’ve got the boys’ roles all sorted out. Now we just need someone for the girl’s part. How about you, Li?’
That’s Li Wan. She’s the smartest person in our class (although I’m pretty sure Chewy thinks he is). Anyway, Li said yes and Mr Winter didn’t look quite so pale after that. The best thing about doing the acting was that we got to dress up in costumes, with swords and everything, on account of the scene was set in the time of knights and castles. Li was like a princess or a lady or something. And we all had to wear these special little microphones on our collars so we could move around the stage and everyone could hear us, which was pretty cool.
On the day, all the school, including the Year Sixes and Sevens, got together in the assembly hall. I was pretty nervous because this was just the sort of place where a really bad Eric Vale – Epic Fail disaster could take place. But even though Chewy decided to add a few of his own made-up lines during the performance to ‘improve’ it, the whole thing went really well. At the end, the three of us got a big round of applause.
After our act was finished we had to sit up on stage for the rest of the assembly. As we headed for our seats Li reminded me to turn off my lapel mic. I flicked the switch and watched the little green light disappear.
Then I made sure I reminded Chewy to turn his off as well.
All the Year Fives who had done assembly stuff were sitting in a row of chairs on one side of the stage. On the other side were the seats for the Principal, the Deputy Principal, Mr Winter and our special guest speaker.
Our special guest speaker was Mrs Doreen Dorrington. She was the Deputy Lord Mayor. She was telling us all about herself and how she went to Moreton Hill Primary School about a million years ago when she was a little girl, and she went on … and on … and on … and on … and on.
And just when you thought she had to be finished … she went on … and on … and on some more!
I was trying my best to pay attention to the Deputy Mayor’s talk because Mr Winter had given us a huge speech about ‘being on show’ while we were up on stage and about ‘setting an example’ and about not ‘fidgeting around and distracting everyone’ in the assembly hall. I promised myself that this was going to be one time I wouldn’t let my mind drift off. No unauthorised hiking trips!
But it was tough. Really tough. Mrs Dorrington’s talk was like torture. That’s all I could think about while I was sitting up there on stage trying not to fidget. Man, this is torture! This talk is exactly like torture. If you really wanted to torture someone, you know what you could do …
Torture was no stranger to Secret Agent Derek ‘Danger’ Dale. He sat tied up in a chair. In front of him stood the most evil of all his evil enemies, the incredibly evil Doctor Evil MacEvilness.
‘So, Secret Agent Derek “Danger” Dale, we meet at last!’
‘No, actually we’ve met lots of times before,’ said Dale with a frown. ‘Remember how you keep trying to kill me and take over the world but I keep stopping you EVERY SINGLE TIME?’
‘Of course! That is SO annoying! I thought your face looked familiar. So tell me, Dale, are you going to give me the Secret Code or not?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because if I tell you then it wouldn’t be a secret any more, would it?’
‘Perhaps your tongue will loosen if I pull this switch and send one hundred thousand volts of electricity racing through your body?’
‘I doubt it. Fortunately I’ve been trained to take up to one hundred thousand … and one volts.’
‘Yes, but what if at the same time I have my evil sidekicks tickle you under the feet and arms with ostrich feathers, pull out your nose hairs with tweezers and drag your fingernails across this specially prepared blackboard?’
‘You swine! Now I know why they call you evil Doctor Evil MacEvilness. It’s because … you’re MEAN!’
MacEvilness tossed back his head and cackled like a maniac.
‘Maybe so, Dale, but you have to admit, I have a terrific sense of humour! Now give me the Secret Code!’
‘Never! There’s nothing you can do to make me give up the Code. NOTHING!’
‘Nothing?’ MacEvilness said with a sickly grin. ‘Not even THIS?’
The incredibly evil Doctor pulled a cord and a curtain opened behind him. Secret Agent Derek ‘Danger’ Dale gasped in horror. His face turned white with fear.
‘YOU WOULDN’T! YOU COULDN’T! NOT EVEN YOU, MACEVILNESS, WOULD STOOP THAT LOW!’
‘Just watch me, Agent Dale. When you’re ready, MRS DORRINGTON. Take ALL the time you need.’
Deputy Mayor Doreen Dorrington stepped forward and started to speak into the microphone.
‘Well, when I was a little girl, things were very different from what they are today. Can you believe, when I was a little girl we didn’t even have a television set? When I was a little girl there were no computers either. When I was a little girl, my only toys were a piece of string, half a bent paper clip and a dead cockroach. For dinner we had a slice of stale bread to share between nine of us and on special occasions, a bowl of steam. Why, when I was a little girl …’
Secret Agent Derek ‘Danger’ Dale clamped his hands over his ears and screamed.
WAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!!!!!!!
The feedback from a microphone echoed around the hall. Suddenly I remembered where I was! I looked across the stage. Mrs Dorrington was still talking! I couldn’t take it any more. I leant down to Chewy and whispered out the side of my mouth.
‘I think they should call her Mrs BORING-ton, not Dorrington. “Hi, I’m Deputy Mayor BORE-een BORING-ton. I–BORE–DEAD–PEOPLE!”’
Chewy twisted up his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh. And then something strange happened. All of a sudden everyone in the assembly hall started talking and laughing right in the middle of Mrs Dorrington’s speech. Talk about rude! Someone was going to be in BIG trouble!
I looked over at Principal Porter and our Deputy Ms Carter and Mr Winter. They all seemed pretty upset.
They were looking around trying to work out what caused all the noise and making angry bulldog faces at everyone in the hall to get them to be quiet.
I leant down and spoke out the side of my mouth to Chewy again.
‘What just happened? Did Mrs BORING-ton BORE someone to death or something?’
Suddenly everyone in the hall starts killing themselves laughing again. What was the matter with these people? Didn’t they have any manners?
‘Hey, what’s the bet that when Mrs BORING-ton was at school she was a BORE-der.’
More laughing.
‘What’s going on, Chewy?’ I whispered. ‘Hey, check out Mr Winter. His hair’s red enough already. If his face goes any redder I reckon he’ll explode like a tomato!’
Now everyone’s really cracking up! And they’re doing something else as well. They’re all looking in my direction. Some of them are pointing. I look behind me to see what they’re laughing at but there’s nothing there. Weird. I turn back.
I look around the assembly hall. They’re laughing even harder now. The only person I can see who’s not laughing is Aasha, the new girl. She just looks a bit frightened and confused by all the noise.
Then I see Martin. He’s slapping Tyrone on the back with one hand and pointing at me with the other. His mouth is making word shapes, and the word shapes it’s making are … EPIC FAIL!
I turn to Chewy.
‘Chewy, I think everyone’s gone totally nu–’
And that’s when I see the microphone on his collar. How can I miss it? It’s right next to my mouth.
AND THE GREEN LIGHT IS ON!
Everyone has heard every single word I’ve said! I look back to the Deputy Mayor. She’s giving me an evil stare that even evil Doctor Evil MacEvilness would be jealous of. I swing back to Chewy.
‘I told you to turn your mic off!’
‘Off?’ Chewy said, scratching his head. ‘It was off. I thought you said to turn it on.’
‘What? Why would I …’
Then I realised everyone’s laughing even louder because everything we’re saying now is still bouncing around the hall! I go to grab Chewy’s mic, but before I can, Mr Winter grabs both of us by the shirts and pulls us off the stage. Mr Winter’s stronger than I thought.
My feet are hardly touching the ground.
We get a big round of applause. Bigger than for our acting. Chewy even manages to throw in a couple of bows as we get dragged away.
When we’re well and truly offstage and hidden behind the side curtains, Mr Winter jabs his finger at our mics. He doesn’t look happy. In fact he’s doing a great impression of a serial killer. It looks like his red hair has run and stained his face. He speaks in a scary whisper with his teeth closed.
‘Are. Those. Things. OFF?’
I check mine. Chewy checks his. ‘Off,’ we say together.
Then I expect Mr Winter to really go bananas. But he doesn’t. He just stands there for a long time with his eyes closed, shaking his head. So I thought I’d better say something to break the silence.
‘Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean it. Honest. But … she was a bit … you know …’
Mr Winter snapped his eyes open and stared down at us. He was back in serial killer mode. Chewy and I took a step away.
‘Boring? Is that what you were going to say, Eric? That Mrs Dorrington is a bit boring? Well, of course she’s boring! I know she’s boring! You know she’s boring! Everybody knows she’s boring. She’s the Deputy Mayor of Boring! She probably invented boring!
It wouldn’t surprise me if she had a Masters Degree in Boring from Boring University! If she was any more boring she’d be a weapon of mass destruction! Doctors could use her as a general anaesthetic! Engineers could use her to bore tunnels! But just because you know someone’s boring doesn’t mean you have to say …’
Mr Winter froze.
He turned his head slowly. He was listening to something. I could hear it too. It was coming from the assembly hall. It was like there was a riot going on out there. And there was laughing too. Lots and lots of it. Mr Winter looked at my mic.
So did I. Then we both looked at Chewy’s. So did Chewy. He unpinned it from his collar and held it up. There was a light glowing on the side of it. He frowned.
‘Green means OFF, doesn’t it?’ he asked.
I grabbed the mic from Chewy’s hand and clicked the switch. The green light disappeared. Mr Winter just stood there for a couple of seconds. Then he leant back on the wall behind him. He knocked his head against it three times (hard!) then slid slowly down until he was sitting on the floor with his long legs stretched out in front of him.
Chewy and I looked at each other. Then at Mr Winter. And we waited. And waited. And waited some more.
‘Uuuummmmm … would you like us to … put the mics … back in the storage cupboard now, Mr Winter?’
Mr Winter looked up at us and smiled. He seemed to be taking it pretty well considering the whole school including the Principal had just heard him raving on about the Deputy Mayor.
‘Would you, Eric? That would be … lovely.’
I was thinking maybe Mr Winter had hit his head a bit too hard against the wall. When we came back from the storage cupboard he was still sitting on the floor – sort of hugging his legs. He was still smiling. At nothing.
‘Aaaaaaaah, anything else we can do for you, sir?’
Mr Winter smiled some more and bobbed his head slowly up and down.
‘Why yes, as a matter of fact, Eric, there is. Before you leave, would you mind … just shooting me?’
Moreton Hill Primary School Newsletter No 11
View from the Principal’s Desk!
Last Friday we were delighted and honoured to have Deputy Mayor and ex-student Doreen Dorrington address our school assembly. What a treat for the children! Deputy Mayor Dorrington is a past student of Moreton Hill Primary School and she gave a fascinating and informative insight into what life and school were like when she was a little girl.
Many times during her speech the assembly hall was filled with much laughter. Our sincere thanks to Doreen for her highly amusing and educational talk and for her Council’s continuing generous support of our building fund. I know I speak for everyone at Moreton Hill Primary School when I say we can’t wait for Deputy Mayor Dorrington to return and tell us more about her enthralling and highly entertaining life.
A special mention too goes to Mr Brian Winter’s Year Five class for running such a well-organised, entertaining and, at times, surprising assembly. In related news, Mr Winter has kindly volunteered to be in charge of organising this year’s school fete. This is a very big undertaking and I am especially grateful to Mr Winter for so generously offering his services.
Peter Porter
I think Principal Porter should get a job teaching creative writing. He’s a natural! I was wishing that I could just rewrite the whole school assembly disaster and make it turn out the way I wanted.
When we got back to the classroom there was something I did have to write, thanks to Mr Winter: an essay on The Importance of Being Polite at All Times. Chewy asked if Mr Winter was going to have to write something like that for Principal Porter. Bad move. Chewy got an essay on The Importance of Knowing the Difference Between an OFF and ON Switch.
But writing the essay didn’t worry me that much. What really worried me was that my ‘Epic Fail’ nickname was back, and not only that, it was up in big flashing lights for the whole school to see. And I’d put it there!
Martin even came up with a new term for when something went wrong. He named it after me. He called it an Eric Fail. A few other kids started to use it too. I was becoming famous. For all the wrong reasons.
I had to DO SOMETHING!
On Saturday morning I went over to Chewy’s house. He lives in the next street. We were in his room checking out his new computer game.
‘Chewy, this Eric Vale – Epic Fail thing is driving me nuts! You gotta help me do something about it!’
Beside me William Choo-Choo Rodriguez bit his lip and squinted his eyes. He nodded his head thoughtfully. He didn’t say anything for ages. He looked like he might be coming up with a really great plan. Then he spoke.
‘Do something about what?’
‘About the Eric Vale – Epic Fail thing, of course! What else would I be talking about?’
Chewy nodded his head thoughtfully again.
‘Riiiiight. Uhuh. Yeah, I see. Of course,’ he said before screwing up his face. ‘But why?’
‘WHY? WHY! BECAUSE I DON’T WANT THE STUPID NICKNAME EPIC FAIL, THAT’S WHY!’
‘Really? I think it’s kind of cool.’
‘Yes of course you do. But you think Choo-Choo’s cool, don’t you? You’d probably think Booger Brain was cool!’
‘Hey,’ Chewy said, raising his eyebrows, ‘Booger Brain – not bad!’
‘Not bad!’
‘Yeah, like it could mean you’ve got this enormous brain or something.’
‘Right. And I suppose it’s green and hanging out of your nose, is it?’
I was starting to wonder if it was a smart idea coming to Chewy for help. The problem with Chewy was, he never saw anything as a problem and no matter what anyone else said, he always thought he was right.
It was like that day with the crossword when he got his nickname. He still reckoned ‘Choo-Choo’ was the correct answer even when Meredith Murdoch (who else?) pointed out to him at lunchtime that not only was his answer ‘wrong’ but it was also ‘dumb’, since it didn’t even have the right number of letters in it to begin with.
Of course anyone else would have just kept quiet and taken it. You know, give up while you’re waaaaaaaaaaaay behind. But not Chewy. Ooooooh no. That’s because in Chewy’s mind he’s never wrong. So naturally he just had to argue.
‘It does so have the right number of letters. As long as you spell it “C–H–U–C–H–U”.’
Which almost causes Meredith to have a heart attack.
‘What? The answer’s a seven-letter word. Before, your stupid answer had too many letters. Now it hasn’t got enough letters!’
‘Then spell it “C–H–U–C–H–O–O”.’
Near heart attack number two for Meredith.
‘What! That’s insane! You can’t change the spelling to whatever you like just to make it fit! None of your other answers will work now.’
‘Yes they will.’
‘Okay then, what did you put for two down? The clue is What cars travel on. The answer has to be “road” because it starts with the “r” from the second letter of “freight”. But you’ve got an “h” there from your stupid and wrong “Chu-Choo”. See, I told you. It doesn’t work!’
‘Does too,’ William said, ‘’cause the answer’s not “road”, it’s “highway”.’
Call the ambulance – Meredith is having a fit.
‘What! Are you crazy? That’s even stupider! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! It has to be a four-letter word. No way will “highway” work.’
‘It will if you spell it “H–W–A–Y”,’ William informed her.
Too late. Call the undertaker.
Back in Chewy’s room I decided to give it one more try.
‘Come on, Chewy. I need your help here. How can I get people to stop calling me Eric Vale – Epic Fail?’
Chewy looked all thoughtful once more. I wasn’t holding out much hope this time round.
‘Gee, I don’t know, Eric. Maybe if you wanna stop the epic fail thing, you gotta do something to make people forget it. You know, maybe have some kind of … epic win.’
‘An epic win? Like what? It’s not just a few kids in our class any more. It’s spreading around the school now. What could I ever do that would be that epically awesome?’
Chewy went quiet again. Then he clicked his fingers.
‘Hey, what about winning the School Project Award?’
The School Project Award was presented every year. Anyone from any year could enter a project of their choice under one of four categories: Maths, Science, Arts or Literature. Heaps of smart kids entered it. There were two main prizes. Project of the Year, judged by a panel of head teachers including the Principal, and the People’s Choice Award, voted by students, parents and the other teachers.
‘The School Project Award? That’s crazy. Some genius in Year Six or Seven who builds a working time machine or comes up with a chemical formula for changing old toenail clippings into gold usually wins that.’
‘Remember, Eric, if you think you can’t, you won’t. But if you think you can, you will,’ Chewy said.
‘Really. What if you know you can’t? What happens then?’
Chewy shook his head. ‘When you’re negative, you’re just saying no to your own potential, Eric.’
‘Yeah, well, in this case, I’m just saying no to my potential failure.’
‘Failure is just …’
‘I know, I know, Chewy – delayed success! I have a feeling my success is going to be delayed for the rest of my life.’
‘Doubt it,’ Chewy said. ‘But anyway, maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not such a good idea going for the School Project Award this year.’
That didn’t sound like Chewy. He never gave in that easily.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to win it this year.’
Now that was more like it!
‘What? You? Have you even got a project?’
‘Sure. Right there on my desk.’
I went over and stood beside Chewy’s desk.
‘Where is it? All I can see are R2 and C3.’
R2 and C3 were Chewy’s guinea pigs. Everyone thinks he named them after those Star Wars droids R2D2 and C3PO. Which he sort of did, but their real names are actually R2 Do Poo and C3 Pee On Everything. You can probably guess why.
‘R2 and C3 are my project.’
‘They’re your project? What do you mean? What category are you entering?’
‘That’s one of the brilliant things about my entry, Eric. It covers all four categories! Maths, Science, Arts and Literature.’
‘What? How can two guinea pigs in a smelly cage possibly be a Maths, Science, Arts and Literature project?’
‘Because I’m doing other stuff as well.’
This I just had to hear.
‘Other stuff? Like what?’
‘Like calculations.’
‘What kind of calculations?’
‘Complex mathematical calculations.’
Chewy pulled out a big sheet of cardboard from behind his desk.
‘These ones.’
The sheet had two graphs on it. One was labelled R2 and the other C3. The bottom of each graph was marked with dates and each vertical axis was marked Number of pellets.
‘See, I’m recording how much R2 and C3 poop every day and I’m plotting it on these graphs. I’m also comparing their rate of poops to each other and to the different kinds of food they eat. Like, I’m working out the average number of poops per carrot and the average number of poops per apple. It’s very complicated stuff. I have to take into account all sorts of things like the different sizes and weights of the apples and carrots. Lucky for me, all the poops are almost exactly identical.’
I stared at him. I blinked. He was still there. It wasn’t a weird dream. ‘But … why?’
Chewy shrugged his shoulders as if the answer was obvious.
‘For scientific research.’
‘Right. Of course. Well, that’s great, Chewy. I’m proud of you. You’re helping make the world a better place. But I still don’t see how that covers all four categories? You’ve got Maths and maybe some Science, but what about Arts and Literature?’
‘Well, for the Literature bit I’ve written an awesome poem. Took me ages.’
Chewy opened a folder on his desk and handed me a sheet of paper. There was a poem on it, all right. I read it out.
‘Did you notice how it’s a poem about guinea pigs and at the same time, the first letters of all the lines together actually spell the word guinea pigs? I did that on purpose,’ Chewy said proudly.
‘Wow,’ I said, ‘now that you mention it …’
I was almost too scared to push the next question out of my mouth.
‘And so … for the Arts category, then?’
‘That’s the killer, Eric. That’s where I totally blow the judges away. That’s what gives me … the edge.’
I waited as Chewy’s round face split into a big smile.
‘I’m recycling R2 and C3’s poop pellets and making them into a picture!’
‘You’re wha …’
Before I could finish my question Chewy had whipped out another cardboard sheet from behind his desk – a giant one this time. He was holding it inches away from my face. It had a strange smell about it.
‘Pretty awesome, hey?’
I leant back a little to take it all in – and to get my breath back before I passed out. It was an almost completed, life-sized picture of a person made entirely out of thousands of guinea pig droppings glued to cardboard. Something about the way the ears stuck out, the cheesy grin, the little round head and the spiky hair seemed familiar.
‘Is … that … supposed to be … a self-portrait?’
‘Sure is,’ Chewy said, looking super-pleased, ‘except I like to call it … a self-pootrait!’
There are times when I think that maybe my good friend William Choo-Choo Rodriguez might be from another planet. All the other times I’m sure he is.
‘Well, Chewy, you’ve obviously got the School Project Award all tied up, so what about me? What am I gonna do to beat this Eric Vale – Epic Fail thing? What other sort of epic win could I have?’
‘You got me,’ Chewy said as he grabbed some fresh pellets from R2 and C3’s cage and began gluing them to the sheet.
‘Maybe you need to go to someone else for help.’
‘But who?’
We both thought about that for around a micro-second.
‘Big Bob,’ we said at exactly the same time.
o•o•o•o•o•o•o•o•o•
Of course Big Bob could help! Big Bob always helped! That’s what Big Bob did. He was the friendliest, most helpful guy in the world. Even teachers went to Big Bob for help. That’s why he was class captain and the most popular guy in Year Five and almost the whole school.
Big Bob helped move heavy stuff.
Big Bob helped kids with their homework. Big Bob helped new kids settle in (except for Aasha Alsufi, but we were all bombing out there). Big Bob helped organise class activities. Big Bob helped keep Martin and Tyrone under control. Big Bob was an expert helper!
‘I don’t think I can help,’ Big Bob said.
It was before school on Monday morning. Chewy and I were sitting with Robert ‘Big Bob’ Falou on one of the lunch benches.
‘There must be something you can do?’
Big Bob narrowed his eyes.
‘Well, you said Martin and Tyrone are the main ones carrying on about the Eric Vale – Epic Fail thing, right? So maybe you just have to stop them. I suppose I could give them a “friendly” head squeeze if you want.’
Big Bob was famous for his head squeezes. He did it to everyone. Except the girls, of course. The head squeeze was kind of like Big Bob’s hug. He’d just wrap one of his big arms around your head and squeeze it a bit. It didn’t hurt at all, and getting a head squeeze from Big Bob was the same as getting a pat on the back or a handshake from anyone else. It was his way of saying he liked you.
was definitely a good thing.
Unless he gave you a ‘friendly’ head squeeze, which looked exactly the same as a normal head squeeze only it was actually a bit less ‘friendly’ and a bit more ‘squeeze’. Not that Big Bob would ever hurt anyone. It’s just sometimes he had to kind of remind some people that he could. Martin and Tyrone mainly. Mostly for being rude to the girls. Big Bob didn’t like that much.
I have to admit that getting Big Bob to put the squeeze on Martin and Tyrone was very tempting – even if it didn’t work. But my problem was bigger than just the two of them. I had to show a whole lot of other people that I wasn’t the epic fail that it looked like I was turning into.
‘Nah, thanks anyway, Big Bob. I think Chewy’s right. It needs to be something I do. I need a proper epic win to change people’s minds. Something like the School Project Award, except it has to be something I’ve at least got one chance in a million of actually doing.’
We all went quiet for quite a long time then. I thought I might have set Big Bob an impossible task. But Big Bob never liked to let anyone down.
I could see his mind ticking over. After a while he began to nod his head slowly.
‘The swimming carnival,’ he said. ‘It’s next Monday.’
‘Yeah. What about it?’
‘Well, what’s the only thing that Martin is any good at?’
That was easy.
‘Swimming.’
‘And what does he always win without hardly trying?’
Also easy.
‘The first division freestyle final at the swimming carnival.’
‘So that’s it. That’s how you have your epic win. Beat Martin in the first division freestyle final. He just thinks he’s always going to win. But you’re a pretty good swimmer.
You always make the first division. Just think. If you beat Martin, then how can he call you an epic fail? What would that make him? And if you stop Martin, you stop Tyrone. Plus you’ll have your big win in front of the whole school, and I bet a lot of people would love to see Martin get beaten. You’ll be a legend. Yeah. I reckon that’s it. You beat Martin at the swimming carnival next Monday, I don’t think anyone will be calling you an epic fail after that.’
Everything Big Bob said was absolutely true! It was a brilliant plan! Perfect! Except for that bit about me beating the best swimmer in Year Five, a swimmer I’d never even got close to in the past, a swimmer who trained, who was in a proper squad, a swimmer who could actually dream of going to the OLYMPICS one day without people locking him up in a padded cell. And I had to do all that in front of the entire school in only one week’s time.
Yes, that’ll happen. Remember, if you think you can’t, you won’t! If you think you can, YOU’RE MAD!
‘You can do it, Eric,’ Chewy said, clenching his fist. ‘You really can. I believe in you, man!’
Which was nice, except William Choo-Choo Rodriguez also believed that it was possible to win the School Project Award with a self-pootrait. But I was getting desperate now and Big Bob’s plan was the only plan I had. So I had to make myself believe that it was possible too.
Time for positive thinking for positive results!
‘Okay. I think it’s crazy but I’ll give it a shot!’ I said, and stood up to leave.
‘Hey, Eric, look.’ Chewy laughed with a snort. ‘You’ve got a big bit of gum stuck to your pants!’
I looked behind me. There was a long sticky grey line stretching from the back of my school shorts to the bench.
‘Hahahahahaha! Eric Vale – Epic Fa–’ Chewy froze with his mouth open. ‘Oh … yeah … right … Sorry, Eric … I forgot. You don’t like that much, do you?’
This was going to be harder than I thought.
