Googol Boy and the peculiar incident of the Great Quiz Trophy by John Michael (classic books for 13 year olds txt) 📕

the bell did finally ring, everybody ran out of the school as quickly as possible -like frantic escapees pouring out of a burning building.

Barney and I were running down the corridor when an unwelcome sight appeared before us. It was none other than Savani.

“You shall not pass!” she yelled out like some diminutive evil sorceress attempting to hold back her enslaved prisoners.

I managed to stop dead in my tracks but Barney, carrying a little more excess weight, needed a longer runway to come to a complete standstill and, unfortunately for Savani, she was right in Barney’s path. I had to give it to her though, she didn’t flinch, not one little bit, not even a smidgen. Her hand was outstretched with her palm facing outwards − it was Barney who closed his eyes and scrunched up his face as he approached the moment of impact. I found myself wincing as well.

Even though Savani was more irritating than a buzzing mosquito* at midnight − I still didn’t want to see her get steamrolled. And that’s what would have undoubtedly happened. She would have been flattened. Like the annoying mosquito that she was. And make no mistake about it, this was a battle which Barney would’ve won − the laws of physics were on his side. When you factor in mass, speed weight and velocity − Savani would have been toast. The flattest piece of toast that you had ever seen, but toast nonetheless.

I pried one eye slightly open and saw Savani puff out her chest, she was doubling down. It was evident that she didn’t give a hoot about the laws of physics. Savani was completely unflustered, she obviously believed that she could move mountains or, at the very least, move Barney.

Luckily it didn’t come to that. Barney was able to stop himself with a few millimetres to spare. He opened his eyes and was rather surprised that Savani was still standing upright, looking unscathed and unsquashed (but she was still looking irritable as ever and that was a bit of a bummer).

“Out of my way, Tweedledum!” she snapped at Barney. “It’s Sootfell I’m after!” Savani side-stepped Barney with a look of annoyance on her face. She seemed totally oblivious to how close she came to becoming a Savani pancake. No doubt, Barney was relieved that he hadn’t squished her. Of course, it would have been all his fault as he was running in the corridor. Plus, it would have looked really bad on his school report card:

Savani marched down the corridor and, even though I wasn’t the best at reading a person, I could tell by her flared nostrils and the way her eye was twitching that she wasn’t getting enough fibre in her diet. In that moment, I felt my heart palpitate and I thought of making a run for it, but I simply couldn’t move. It was as if my feet were frozen to the floor, which was probably a good thing because if I had run away from Savani, I would not have been able to show my face around these parts ever again.

I could hear the mocking comments: “Savani chased him out of town,” “He’s scared of a girl,” “He’s the wussiest wuss this side of Wussberg!” No, my reputation would have been in tatters and I would have had to just keep on running. Out of the school gates. Out of the county. Out of the state. I could see how my future would unfold − I would end up as one of those flea-bitten wandering tramps. Drifting from town to town. Chasing boxcars. My only possessions would be wrapped in a cloth at the end of my bindlestick − a harmonica, a pack of playing cards, a compass, a can of beans and maybe an extra pair of underwear.

I’d live a life scrounging through garbage bins and fighting off rats for the juiciest scraps of food. Sure, it would be a tough life, sleeping on park benches and getting splinters, but darn it, I would learn to accept who I had become. Yes, it would be the hobo life for me. Roaming free across the range with no fences to bound me in. Of course, ‘Howard’ wouldn’t quite do it as a vagabond name and I’d have to think up a more hoboesque title − something like Boxcar Willie, Freddie the Freeloader, Beans McFarty or, my personal favourite, Hobo Joe. To top it off, I would have my own little trademark hobo ditty which I would sing when things weren’t going my way, or when I was down on my luck, or when the cops were chasing me (which I assume would happen regularly). It would go something like this:

 Oh! Nobody knows ’bout my hobo woes! 

Got no shoes and I’ve got holes in my clothes.

My feet are sore and I’m stuck in the rain, 

Where’s that boxcar? Need to jump on that train. 

 A pack of dogs chasing me through the park, 

I’m so dog-gone tired and it’s gettin’ dark.

Slept on a wooden bench and almost froze, 

Oh! Nobody knows ‘bout my hobo woes!

I say, nobody knows ‘bout my hobo woes! 

“Sootfell! Sootfell!” Savani’s shrill voice interrupted my hobo ditty and brought me back from my daydream about living the carefree life.

“Huh?”

“What are you mumbling about Sootfell?”

“Ah... um... nothing!”

“Were you singing?” She eyed me suspiciously.

“Of course not! Ha! Singing? Don’t be absurd!” I responded defensively. On top of everything else, I certainly didn’t want Savani to know about my hobo flights of fancy.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself Tweedledee?”

Once again, I had no idea what Savani was talking about and before I could think of something to say, she marched up to me and got right into my personal space. She was so close that I could feel her breath. Not only could I feel her breath but I could also smell it and, yep, there was no