The Look at Us! show was going to be terribly impressive, everyone could tell. The journalists had already written “terribly impressive” in their notebooks so they could have a nap during the show instead of writing their reviews.
Camera crews had arrived to broadcast the entire performance on live TV, knocking over several valuable vases in the Great Grand Hall as they came in. Rows and rows of smartly dressed people filled the theatre, and Tatiana Firensky’s father had the best seat, right at the front. Professor Bombast had a fixed grin on his face as he welcomed all the pushy parents, who shook his hand with bone-crushing grips.
Then darkness fell. There was a hush. The show was about to begin.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” boomed Professor Bombast from behind the curtain. “I present to you … this year’s show-offs!”
The camera crews jostled each other for the best position as the curtain went up. Unfortunately it went up too quickly, and everyone caught a glimpse of Madame Chi-chi kissing Professor Bombast with a wet smacking sound. It left a big red lipstick mark on his face. But let us not dwell on that disgusting kissing image, dear reader.
The audience shuffled in their seats. The first half of the Look at Us! show would feature performances from all of the show-offs, then the entire second half of the show would be dedicated to Tatiana Firensky. She would be performing a ballet solo from Swan Lake, followed by a bit of Shakespeare, followed by a tap dance.
A few people commented that it was odd to have one student take up the second half of the show, but they were quickly hustled out by the massive bodyguards that Tatiana’s father had brought in.
Miss Crabb and Gladys Goulash were sniggering in a corner. Miss Crabb stopped sniggering when Ivan Firensky marched towards her. He whispered something in her ear and Rory, who was watching from the side of the hall, sneaked up behind them to listen.
“Well?” Ivan Firensky was saying in a low voice. “Where’s the recipe?
“I ain’t got it yet!” said Miss Crabb. “It’s in her head, but that stupid Elspeth can’t seem to remember all the ingredients.”
“Get it from her. Get it NOW!” said Ivan Firensky tensely. Then he seemed to remember something and smiled at Miss Crabb sweetly. “We have ways of getting the information,” he said. “If you can’t get her to remember, I will make sure she does.”
“Gah! I’ll get it.” Miss Crabb glanced from left to right. “Who else knows about our plan?”
“Just us,” hissed Ivan Firensky. “And my darling daughter, of course. I had to warn her that today would be VERY special indeed. A school concert that nobody will ever forget!”
“Eee-hee-hee! No more horrible children to cook for!” cackled Miss Crabb.
They both started laughing in an evil way. Neither of them noticed the small nervous face of Rory Snitter, who was hidden behind the bulk of a mean-looking bodyguard, listening to every word.