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

“Hey kid, how’d ya know all that?”

“Well... um... I dunno... I heard... maybe because of... um... ah...” I struggled to answer her and the reality of the situation was that I didn’t have a clue as to how I knew that the bus had a problem. I had as much interest in the workings of automobiles as I did about porridge, garden worms, or Dad’s collection of stamps.

“The mechanic said exactly the same thing this mornin’... the bus is gettin’ serviced after I drop youse off.”

“Ha ha... well I guess that’s great news,” I replied as I forced a cheesy smile.

“Looks like we gots ourselves a lil’ greasemonkey here!” she said as she smiled back, revealing her smoke stained teeth.

“In ya go ya lil’ scamp.” And with that she ruffled my hair as I scurried on board.

I tried to look as unassuming as possible but it was too late, everybody had overheard our conversation and they were staring at me as if I had just farted the tune to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

I quickly took my usual seat next to Barney towards the front of the bus.

As anybody who was ever misfortunate enough to go to school knows, the general pecking order of student-coolness was set in stone with the cool kids at the back, the wannabe kids in the middle and then there were the rest of us. Still, I was ahead of a few other ill-fated sods. If it wasn’t for poor Percival, or Pukeface Percy as he was known, who suffered from terrible motion sickness, and Moody Miriam with her penchant for uncontrollable nose bleeds, we’d be sitting right in the first row. And who could forget the fateful excursion to Peckadilley’s Petting Zoo? The bus had to navigate along a particularly rough road and the bumpy ride set off Percy’s motion sickness, he then puked all over Miriam and she responded in kind with a gushing nosebleed. It was such a mess that the teachers had to hose them down at the nearest service station and call their parents to come and get them. So, all things considered, at least I could hold down my food and Barney’s nose never bled, although he did pick it a lot. I settled down in my seat and we exchanged our usual morning greetings.

“Hey Howie.”

“Hi Barney.”

“Ah... what was that all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know you were into engines.”

“Um... I’m not... it’s just... well I don’t really know how to explain it!”

I let out a long sigh, school hadn’t even started and already things weren’t making sense... usually it took the first few minutes of a lesson to get me confused.

“Don’t worry about it Howie,” stated Barney. “It happens to the best of us. Do you remember last week when I couldn’t explain why Rome wasn’t the capital of Romania?”

“Yep... Miss Fremskey was quite peeved... you’re lucky she didn’t put you in a chokehold.”

“Yeah, well... sometimes you just have to hold your ground. That Fremskey doesn’t like it when you give it to her straight!”

“Well... ah... I’m not sure that your answer was -”

“Hey! Is that a new bag?”

I looked around over my shoulder and realised that Mum had accidently given me my sister’s sports bag − in all its bright orange glory. As I rummaged through the contents, I found her smelly gym shoes, a rotting banana, and an empty jumbo-packet of skittles. In her hurry, Mum had given me a carrot and a jar of mustard for lunch and my Dad’s gardening hat in place of my school cap.

“Damn... what a bad start to the day,” I grumbled out loud.

“Huh? Oh, you mean the speech?”

“The speech?! Oh no!” I gave myself an audible slap on the forehead. “I left my speech on my desk!”

“Oh, that’s no good!” proclaimed Barney. “Um... well... you can use mine if you like.”

I gave Barney one of those bewildered stares, the look you often get from your parents when you say or do something quite dopey. You know, like when you told your parents that you were going to run away with the circus and become a clown, or being caught red-handed as you tried to get your bread out of the toaster with a fork. Barney was a great friend, pretty much the only friend I had, and I always knew that I could rely on him through thick and thin. We were both languishing at the bottom of every class but that’s not the reason we were great mates.

I guess I could thank Bazza McNollop as it all started in kindergarten. Bazza would torment me every day and for no particular reason... I think that he just didn’t like the look of my face. I would cop wet willies from him, random noogies, Indian burns... you name it, I ended up getting it. He dished out his harassment with relish and always had a lop-sided sneer on his face as he tormented me. He had a surprising big fat mean-streak for a skinny little kid. Then one day, as Bazza was spitballing me, a random gust of wind disrupted his aim and he hit Barney by mistake. Now, normally Barney probably wouldn’t have even cared but this time the spitball managed to connect with the donut he was eating, a double-glazed caramel cream crunch with extra sprinkles, and sent it hurtling to the pavement. Barney grabbed both of Bazza’s ears and lifted him a few inches off the ground. He squealed like a hamster and after Barney let him go, he never bothered me again. After that we sort of became friends by default − we just naturally gravitated towards each other and it seemed that it was meant to be.

“Barney... don’t you think Mr Klopsberg will notice if we both deliver the same speech?”

“Um... I guess you’re right there Howard.”

“Plus... my speech is on photosynthesis and yours is on a different topic.”

“Ha ha... right again