This week’s edition to our Olympia Extracts is a wonderful humorous read, Bogflushers by Patricia Anne Mills!
It was a very hot Tuesday, in the month of June, in Stanley Primary School. Mrs Sheldrake, the teacher, was standing in front of her class of Year 6 students talking about their visit to Crumpton Comprehensive School the following day. It was something, she believed, they had been looking forward to for a long time and were very excited about.
Luke, the eldest boy in the class, was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest and his legs straight out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He was trying very hard to concentrate on what Mrs Sheldrake was saying but she was standing in front of the large open window and the vertical blinds swayed gently in the breeze, making his eyes start to droop, as he listened to her sweet and clear voice. A fly droned round his head helping his mind to drift to a pond in the grounds of the big house where he and his dad were going fishing that night.
His dad knew the head gamekeeper who allowed them to go there whenever they wanted. Tonight his dad had promised him that they would have a barbecue and that they would sleep out in the open, under the stars. He was picturing them there, their rods dangling in the water, the fish lazily swimming just beneath the surface. An incredible night was ahead of him. The problem was he’d probably have to have a wash in the pond in the morning and maybe suck a peppermint to freshen his breath because he wouldn’t have time to go home before he came to school.
Suddenly he was awoken from his daydream by a sharp pain in his side. It was Georgie, his friend, poking him in the ribs with his finger. “W... w... w... w... w...w... wake up,” he whispered loudly.”
“I am awake,” replied Luke.
“Y...y... y... y... y... you weren’t. You were s... s... s... s... s... s... s... snoring!”
“I wasn’t asleep and anyway I don’t snore.”
“Oh yes you do,” said Emily who was sitting at the same table. “You sounded like a tractor.”
“I don’t snore, you liar,” repeated Luke, but this time more angrily. “Anyway you look like a lobster,” he said to Emily quite nastily who, it was true, was really quite red in the face. A large bead of sweat was trickling down her forehead which had stopped just above her nose as if it couldn’t be bothered to go any further. Emily was rather tubby and hot weather always made her uncomfortable and quite sweaty.
“Ssssssssssh,” hissed Cameron, who was sitting opposite Luke.
“Ooooooooooh keep your hair on, farty,” said Luke. He usually used this nickname when he was cross with Cameron because he knew it upset him. Cameron had an unfortunate surname, Trump, and he was teased mercilessly because of it. Cameron slowly turned his head away from Luke to concentrate on what Mrs Sheldrake was saying and he even refused to look at him when he tapped his chair with his foot under the table.
“That wasn’t nice,” snarled Chenise, who was sitting on the other side of Luke. “You know how upset he gets.”
“Oh shut up, dimwit. He knows I was only joking.”
“Well it wasn’t a very good joke, and I’m not dim! I’m might not be as clever as you but Mum says everybody is different and I think it’s a good job too because I wouldn’t want to be as mean as you. Are you alright, Cam?” she asked, leaning across the table but she had to be satisfied with a small nod of his head.
“Oooooh, Mum says, Mum says,” whined Luke in a high pitched voice, mocking the way Chenise spoke.
“Flippin ’eck, dun’t she ever get fed up of hearing her own voice,” grumbled Arthur, nodding his head in Mrs Sheldrake’s direction. Right now he wished she’d just disappear. He closed his eyes and pictured four evil skeletons rattling their way into the classroom, each picking up one of her limbs, while she kicked and screamed. Then they carried her off in their bony arms to their foul-smelling den, never to be seen again. Slowly he turned his back on her so that she couldn’t see what he was doing, which was playing his favourite game on his phone and he was determined to beat his best score.
“What are you doing, Arthur? Turn round so I can see you,” said Mrs Sheldrake. “I don’t think you’ve heard a single word I’ve said.”
“I have,” he said forcefully.
“Well I don’t think so. Turn round immediately!”
Slowly, so that it gave him time to slide his phone into his pocket, he shuffled round in his seat and stared directly at Mrs Sheldrake with a surly look in his eyes. Arthur, who was quite a sullen boy, really didn’t like her because she was rather bubbly and enthusiastic and she was always smiling broadly and waving her hands about. But to be fair, he didn’t like many people and he never got very excited about anything. Ever since he’d gone to live with James and Mandy, his foster parents, he was miserable. He knew they were good people but they didn’t allow him do things his mum and dad had, like staying out till midnight or drinking cider and smoking cigarettes. It really annoyed him, even though he did feel much healthier and brighter these days.
Like what you read? Pick up your very own copy of Patricia’s book, here!
