Once, he put his hand in his pants pocket and found a piece of broccoli. Instead of throwing it away . . . he ate it.

  Right in front of us.

  Who keeps broccoli in their pants pocket?

  I really want a paper round.

  Other kids really want paper rounds.

  No one can have a paper round until we have fought and won a war against the grannies who control all the paper rounds.

  ALL MY OTHER TEACHERS ARE STRANGE TOO

  TEACHER

  REASON THEY ARE STRANGE TOO

  Mrs Bigge-Crabbe

  Slaps herself on the forehead whenever a student answers a question incorrectly. This will certainly give her long-term brain damage.

  Miss Knott-Welles

  Farts when she gets angry. She gets angry a lot. Her classroom always smells.

  Mr Stop-Sine

  Is completely bald but has really, very, super thick bushy hair growing out of his ears. He has ear-beards.

  18

  THE DECISION

  ‘Hils,’ I said. ‘I think we have to go to war with the grannies.’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  I hoped she would say that.

  To be honest I wasn’t totally sure that going to war with some grannies was the right thing to do, but since Hils thought it was right I felt a lot better.

  It was after school and I was walking with Hils to her taekwondo class.

  ‘We have to stop calling them grannies,’ said Hils.

  ‘Why?’ I said.

  ‘Calling them grannies makes them sound too nice. If you’re going to wage war against someone you need to make them sound bad. Not nice.’

  ‘Why do you need to make someone sound bad if you’re going to have a war with them?’

  ‘So no one cares that you’re having a war them,’ said Hils.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

  Hils took a deep breath. I knew that deep breath. It was her let-me-explain-it-to-you breath.

  ‘Let me explain it to you,’ said Hils.

  I took a deep breath. It was my okay-you-explain-it-to-me breath.

  ‘Okay, you explain it to me,’ I said.

  ‘Imagine,’ said Hils, ‘that you want to have a war against cupcakes.’

  ‘Cupcakes? That’s ridiculous. Cupcakes are so nice. They’re small. They’re tasty. They don’t even have arms. Why would you have a war with cupcakes?’

  ‘But what if they weren’t called cupcakes? What if they were called “sugar grenades”? Do you think it’d be easier to have a war against “sugar grenades”?’

  This sounded very much like a trick question. I don’t like trick questions. Most questions are tricky enough as it is without anyone adding extra trick to them.

  ‘Sugar grenades don’t sound as nice as cupcakes,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Hils. ‘That’s why we have to stop calling them grannies.’

  I didn’t really know what Hils meant. I kind of did. But not really. I could have asked her to explain more but I thought that no matter how much she explained I was only ever going to kind-of-know what she was talking about.

  ‘I completely understand everything you said,’ I said.

  ‘So what shall we call them instead of grannies?’ said Hils.

  ‘Nanas?’ I said.

  ‘Negative. Nanas doesn’t sound bad.’

  ‘What if you say “nanas” in a bad-sounding way?’

  I said ‘nanas’ in a bad-sounding way.

  ‘Negative. Do you even understand what I mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We need to call the grannies something that will make it easy for us to want to go to war with them. Something like “elderly combatants”. But it needs to be catchy,’ said Hils.

  ‘What about “violent veterans”?’

  ‘Negative,’ said Hils.

  ‘“Fighting Fossils”?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“Prehistoric Punchers”?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“Angry Aged”?’

  ‘Better,’ said Hils.

  ‘“Bald Baddies”?’

  ‘Good,’ said Hils.

  ‘“Sneaky Creakies”?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“Ruthless and Toothless”?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“Untrustful Rustfuls”?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“Mouldy Oldies”?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“TROLL PATROL”?’ I said.

  ‘Negative,’ said Hils.

  ‘I think Troll Patrol is great.’

  ‘It’s too weird,’ said Hils.

  ‘“Stinky Seniors”?’ I said.

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“Wrinkly Warriors”?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘“The Wrinkly Stinky Seniors”?’

  ‘Too long,’ said Hils.

  ‘“Stinkly Wrinklys”?’

  Hils looked at me. She was thinking.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Hils.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘Hils,’ I said. ‘I think we should go to war with the Stinkly Wrinklys.’

  She was right. It did sound a lot better. I mean, a lot worse. Oh, you know what I mean.

  19

  THE PLAN

  ‘Hils,’ I said. ‘How are we going to go to war with the gran – Stinkly Wrinklys?’

  ‘I’m glad you asked,’ said Hils. ‘I’ve been weighing up the pros and cons of several strategic scenarios.’

  That’s army-talk for, ‘I’ve had heaps of time to think about how we’re going to have a war against those Stinkly Wrinklys because my last class was really boring.’

  ‘First,’ said Hils, ‘we have to ascertain the whereabouts of the Stinkly Wrinklys’ base of forward operations.’

  That means, ‘We need to find their clubhouse.’

  ‘Once we find their clubhouse what do we do?’ I said.

  ‘We lay siege to it,’ said Hils.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means we surround them,’ said Hils.

  ‘How are we going to surround them? There are only two of us.’

  ‘Then we cut off their supply of shortbread,’ said Hils.

  When Hils doesn’t know the answer to a question she just pretends you didn’t ask it and carries on with what she was saying. I think she will make a very good parent one day.

  ‘Shortbread?’ I said.

  ‘Stinkly Wrinklys love shortbread. Once they run out of shortbread they will get really hungry and come out of their base.’

  ‘Unless they have a rhino in there,’ I said. ‘You could live for ages on one rhino. Especially if you have a big freezer.’

  ‘When the Stinkly Wrinklys come out of their base . . .’

  ‘You could have roast rhino.’

  ‘We’ll take them prisoner . . .’

  ‘Green rhino curry.’

  ‘If they try and escape . . .’

  ‘Rhino pie.’

  ‘We’ll bury them up to their necks in dirt, cover them in honey and put ants on their heads.’

  ‘I’m not doing that,’ I said. ‘Can’t we just ask them to sit down and not move?’

  ‘Negative. If you’re not willing to bury the Stinkly Wrinklys and cover them in ants then I think we are going to need to formulate another plan,’ said Hils.

  ‘Affirmative,’ I said

  ‘Don’t copy,’ said Hils.

  We stopped out the front of Hils’s taekwondo training place. Inside I could hear a lot of people taekwondoing each other. I wondered if any of the Stinkly Wrinklys knew taekwondo. I wondered if our war against the Stinkly Wrinklys would be decided by a taekwondo showdown between Hils and one of the Stinkly Wrinklys.

  I sort of hoped it would.

  More than sort of, actually.

  ‘We have to find the Stinkly Wrinklys’ headquarters,’ said Hils.

  ‘How are we going to do that?’ I said.

  Hils looked at me. Her face was very serious. Like someone had just used a really, very, super powerful vacuum cleaner to suck all the unserious out of her.

  ‘There’s only one way,’ said Hils. ‘We’re going to need The Lurker.’

  ‘We don’t need The Lurker, Hils,’ I said. ‘I hate The Lurker. He’s so lurkey.’

  20

  THE LURKER

  I waited at the taekwondo place for Hils to finish her class. While she practised shouting and bowing I sat on the front steps and read my book. After a while one of the taekwondo teachers came out and asked me if I wanted to come in and join one of the classes.

  ‘Thank you, but I can’t,’ I said. ‘You see, I have a very rare kidney disease and if any part of my body gets hit I will instantly die.’

  The teacher went back inside.

  I went back to my book.

  ‘We need to find the Stinkly Wrinklys’ headquarters,’ said Hils as she sat down next to me after finishing taekwondo-ing. ‘The Lurker is the best person for the job.’

  The Lurker is a weedy, ratty sort of kid who is always hanging around. Everywhere you look, there he is. No one ever asks him to be there. He just is there.

  All the time. Lurking. The problem is you hardly ever know he is hanging around. Suddenly he’s just there. Right next to you. Lurking. He’s not friends with anyone. No one really likes him. He just hangs around. Not saying anything. Not doing anything. Just Lurking.

  ‘But all he does is Lurk around,’ I said. ‘Half the time you don’t even know he’s there. Until he wants biscuits.’

  ‘That’s why he’s so good at finding stuff out,’ said Hils. ‘He just Lurks around – without anyone even realising he’s there – until he finds out what he needs to know.’

  ‘No one can Lurk for that long without someone spotting them,’ I said.

  ‘Did you know,’ said Hils, ‘that The Lurker walked with us from school to taekwondo and has been standing next to you the whole time you’ve been out here reading your book?’

  I looked around.

  She was right.

  There he was.

  The Lurker.

  Right next to me. Just Lurking.

  The Lurker wasn’t even the tiniest bit frightening but it always gave me a fright when I saw him. Lurking.

  ‘You only spotted me because I wanted you to, Duncan,’ said The Lurker.

  ‘Hello, Leon,’ said Hils.

  The Lurker’s real name is Leon Lloyd-Llewellyn.

  ‘Biscuit,’ said The Lurker.

  ‘Of course,’ said Hils.

  Hils never said ‘of course’ to anyone.

  Hils reached into her bag and pulled out one of those big packets of biscuits. The ones with a whole lot of different biscuits in them. The Lurker grabbed the biscuits. He seemed to rip open the packet at the same time as he started eating them. He wasn’t even really eating them. It was more like he was fighting the biscuits with his mouth. Fighting them to death.

  He won.

  Of course he won. He is a human. (I think.) They were just biscuits.

  ‘Leon,’ said Hils. ‘I have a mission for you.’

  The Lurker stood there – covered in crumbs with a bit of dead biscuit sticking out of his mouth – and smiled.

  21

  THE TRAINING

  ‘While The Lurker is trying to find the Stinkly Wrinklys’ headquarters,’ said Hils, ‘you need to start training for the upcoming war.’

  I had never trained for anything.

  I did not like the idea of training. For anything.

  ‘Hils,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to do any training.’

  The next day I started training for the upcoming war.

  ‘Your training,’ said Hils, ‘will take place in three separate and distinct stages. First, I will show you what sort of weapons the Stinkly Wrinklys are likely to use against you. Second, I will show you how to defend yourself against those weapons. Third, I will show you to how to use the weapons we will be employing against the Stinkly Wrinklys.’

  I was already completely confused.

  ‘I understand exactly everything about what you just said,’ I said.

  ‘You’re already completely confused, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Outstanding,’ said Hils.

  ‘What do you think the main weapon the Stinkly Wrinklys will use against us will be?’ said Hils.

  ‘Rooster brand chilli sauce?’ I said.

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘But they have already used that against us.’

  ‘So they probably won’t use it again.’

  ‘Is rooster brand chilli sauce a chemical weapon?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘But it has chemicals in it, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Affirmative, I suppose.’

  ‘Then it must be a chemical weapon. I think we should contact the United Nations. I believe a war crime has been committed.’

  ‘Okay. Apart from rooster brand chilli sauce, what do you think will be the main weapon the Stinkly Wrinklys will use against us?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Pinching,’ said Hils.

  ‘Pinching?’ I said. ‘Like in “a pinch and punch for the first of the month”?’

  ‘Affirmative. Not many people know this, but as women get older every part of their bodies gets weaker apart from their fingers. Old ladies have the strongest fingers of anyone in the world. Their fingers are so strong they can pinch a brick in half. So when we go to war with them the first thing the Stinkly Wrinklys will try and do is pinch us.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound so bad.’

  Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, Hils pinched my cheek. She didn’t just give it a little pinch either. She pinched it really, very, super hard.

  ‘STOP!’ I screamed.

  Hils didn’t stop. In fact she pinched me even harder.

  I tried to scream ‘STOP!’ again but she was pinching my cheek so hard I couldn’t even scream.

  The pain in my cheek was so intense that I thought I was going to be sick. Then I thought I was going to faint. Then I got really cold and started shivering. Then I got really hot and started sweating. Then, all of a sudden, I didn’t feel any pain. I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t feel faint. I didn’t feel cold. I didn’t feel hot. I didn’t feel bad at all. I felt good. In fact, I felt really, very, super good. Like I was drinking an endless mug of the best hot chocolate ever after I had only been allowed to eat cold, mushy Brussels sprouts for a year and every sip of the best hot chocolate ever tasted as good as the first sip.

  Off in the distance I saw a light. It was coming from a shop. Suddenly I was at the shop, looking through the window. Inside the shop I saw a sleek, black one-man stealth helicopter. The shop door opened. A voice said, ‘Charlie, we need you to fly your one-man stealth helicopter on a top secret mission. Come in. Fly the mission.’

  Just then Hils stopped pinching me and the one-man stealth helicopter went away and all the pain, sick, faintness, cold and heat all came back.

  ‘WHY DID YOU DO THAT IT REALLY HURT AND I WAS DRINKING CHOCOLATE AND I HAD MY OWN ONE-MAN STEALTH HELICOPTER AND A TOP SECRET MISSION WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO ME I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS MY CHEEK REALLY HURTS!’

  ‘How do you think you would best defend against a pinching attack like that one?’

  ‘I THINK YOU HAVE KILLED MY CHEEK I’M PROBABLY GOING TO HAVE TO HAVE IT AMPUTATED I’M GOING TO ONLY HAVE ONE CHEEK FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE AND PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS GOING TO BE POINTING AND STARING AT ME AND I’LL END UP WORKING IN A CIRCUS BECAUSE CHEEK TRANSPLANTS ARE TOO EXPENSIVE!’

  ‘Calm down,’ said Hils.

  ‘NO.’

  ‘Calm down.’

  ‘MAYBE.’

  ‘Calm down.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘STOP SHOUTING.’

  ‘All right,’ I said.

  ‘How do you think you would defend yourself against pinching like that?’

  ‘That was amazing,’ I said. ‘Where did you learn to pinch like that?’

  ‘A book. How do you think you would defend yourself against pinching like that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘I will show you,’ said Hils.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ I said.

  ‘You need to know this,’ said Hils.

  ‘You can teach me later.’

  ‘Later could be too late.’

  ‘I will just have to take that risk,’ I said.

  ‘I must warn you that failure to take your training seriously may prove to be fatal.’

  ‘You can teach me later.’

  ‘Your funeral,’ said Hils.

  That reminded me.

  ‘I forgot to tell you. Last week I wrote a plan for what I want to happen at my funeral,’ I said.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Hils.

  ‘I don’t want to be buried. I want to be shot out of a cannon so my body blows up and goes all over the place and everyone all around the world hears about it.’

  ‘Outstanding.’

  ‘Will you shoot the cannon, Hils?’

  ‘Affirmative. Absolutely affirmative,’ said Hils. ‘Okay. Try and pinch me.’

  You and I both know that when someone asks you to do something to them that seems like it could hurt them, it really means that it’s going to end up hurting you.

  ‘Okay,’ I said.

  When something really awful happens to you, sometimes it feels like the really awful thing happens in slow motion. (I read that is because when the really awful thing happens your brain goes into overdrive and remembers so much information about what has happened that it feels like everything is in slow motion. I know, I don’t quite get it either. But it’s true.)

  That’s definitely what happened when I tried to pinch Hils.

  I raised my right arm and my brain started getting my thumb and forefinger into a pinching position. (I can’t remember ever being taught to pinch. It must just be something we know. Like how to breathe. Or that teachers aren’t always right especially if they say they are.)

  As my fingers got ready to pinch, the wart that’s growing just below my knuckle got a little bit redder. (The school nurse has offered to freeze the wart off for me free of charge but I read that warts could be cured by rubbing them against a toad so I am going to wait and try that first. I don’t meet a lot of toads so I may be waiting a while. It will be worth it though.)