Nathalia Buttface and the Embarrassing Camp Catastrophe

Behind him, Nat felt the familiar footsteps of doom approaching. “I need some fresh air,” she said, following him. “At least it smells nice out here.”

“Time to dig the dunny!” yelled Mr Bungee, who was right outside.

“Who knows what a dunny is?” asked Mr Bungee.

Children and teachers alike were assembled in a field near the camp. It had stopped raining and the sun was actually threatening to peek out.

Darius, who had a black eye, chuckled.

Rufus, who had TWO black eyes, was too busy scowling at Darius to answer.

“A dunny is what you need to dig today,” shouted Mr Bungee, waving around a couple of heavy spades as if they were toothpicks. “In fact, you gotta dig two: one for boys and one for girls. Now can you guess?”

The quicker-brained children giggled.

“You gotta dig the dunnies nice and deep cos when you use them you don’t want anything jumping up and biting you on your backside,” he said. “That’s a bit of a final clue, mates.”

Nat had a horrible feeling she knew what a dunny was. She sidled over towards Dad. “Can I go home now please?” she said.

He just chuckled.

“Any volunteers to dig the dunnies?” screamed Mr Bungee.

No one moved.

“Thought so – there never are. So that’s why we’re gonna have a little healthy competition between your schools. The kids from the losing school will shovel the soil.”

“That’s not going to help the kids make friends,” said Dad.

Mr Bungee looked at him like he was one of those bothersome spiders in a dunny.

“Friends?” he said. “I like to get a bit of rivalry going, and the dunny challenge is a great kick-starter.”

“No, I think we’re better off working together,” said Dad. He had one eye on Mr Dewdrop, who had his notebook and clipboard out and was watching Dad closely.

“You’re not in charge,” said Mr Bungee.

“No one needs to be in charge,” said Dad.

Nat looked across at Mr Dewdrop, who frowned and scribbled a big ‘X’ in his book. Uh-oh.

“But maybe they do need to be in charge,” said Dad, seeing the cross and changing his mind quickly. “Well said. Carry on.”

Nat sighed.

Mr Keane, their gloomy geography teacher, raised his head. “We should really do a survey on the best place to site a dunny,” he said. Then he groaned. “That’s using geography, that is. That’s what it’s for. Depressing, isn’t it?”

Nat heard some grown-up snooty sniggering. There were three St Scrofula’s teachers standing there, and they were all at it. It was the first time Nat had had a good look at them.

They were all bright and shiny and correct, like the buttons on a soldier’s tunic. They were annoyingly tall, annoyingly smart, and annoyingly impressive. She had hoped they would be a little bit rubbish like all her teachers. But of course they weren’t. It was annoying.

Just by looking at them, Nat knew Dad would approve, which was even more annoying.

While Mr Keane pulled himself together, the new teachers introduced themselves to Nat’s class.

There was a Dr Nobel, who taught science, and had tiny, round, shiny glasses and a big, round, shiny head.

There was a Miss Slippy, who taught advanced geography and was as thin as a toothpick.

And there was a Mr Rainbow, who was completely and totally grey. He taught difficult science, advanced chemo-biology and something about time travel, but Nat had given up listening by then to be perfectly honest.

They were all the smartly-dressed, scrubbed-clean, shiny-shoed, sharp-eyed kind of teacher. Not one of them was covered in tea stains, bean juice and despair, like Mr Keane.

Nat saw Dad study the super trio carefully, before looking at her crumpled, unhappy geography teacher. He then stared at the irritating Misses Austen and Eyre, whose classes regularly got the worst exam results in the county.

Nat could see exactly what Dad was thinking. Convincing him that her school was the best was going to be an uphill struggle.

“Are all your teachers like these two?” Mr Bungee asked Miss Hunny, indicating Dad and Mr Keane. “Funny sort of school, isn’t it?”

The kids from St Scrofula’s giggled.

“There’s nothing funny about my school,” said Miss Hunny, offended.

Now it was Nat’s class’s turn to laugh.

But Nat didn’t laugh. She was looking at Dad’s face. He was wearing the only expression that ever scared her.

Dad was taking it all in … HE WAS THINKING.

He was looking at the bright, shiny faces of the St Scrofula’s kids. He was thinking that they were WINNERS. And pretty soon, Nat realised, he was going to want his little princess to be a St Scrofula’s winner too.

Right, thought Nat, these rotten winner kids will just have to start losing. And they have to start losing RIGHT NOW.

She looked at the spades.

And THERE’S NO WAY we’re digging their flipping dunny.

The Who’s Digging the Dunny? competition took place in the field.

“Each school chooses one representative to take part,” shouted Mr Bungee. “It’s a test of brains.”

“Flora Marling,” shouted Nat’s class.

“And it’s a test of strength.”

“Marcus Milligan,” shouted Nat’s class.

“And it’s so dangerous you might never see them again.”

“Darius Bagley,” shouted Nat’s class.

“I’m only pulling your legs about the danger, campmates,” laughed Mr Bungee.

“Oh,” said Nat’s class, disappointed.

“That man’s so very amusing,” trilled Miss Austen, “as well as being a dreamboat.”

“A born comedian,” said Miss Eyre.

“We’ve got Ivor,” said Miss Hunny, indicating her hilarious old college friend, Dad.

“I think you mean we’ve got a jester,” sniffed Miss Austen.

“Or a village idiot,” sniffed Miss Eyre.

“Is it true?” said Mr Keane, who’d missed the last few minutes because he’d been crying in a ditch. “Is it really so dangerous you might not return? I want to volunteer. Please let me.”

“It’s not enough that everyone in my family is potty,” Nat said to Penny, “or that everyone I know is barking mad. It just has to be all my teachers too!”

“What do you mean, everyone you know is mad?” said Penny, who was holding a Y-shaped stick out in front of her.

“I didn’t include you,” said Nat, who totally did include Penny. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for ley lines. It’s like magic energy. This campsite’s built on an ancient burial ground. I read it somewhere. ”

Nat decided she really needed to make better friends.

She watched as Darius, standing on his own, practised his long-distance spitting, and noticed how he was cleverly using the wind to get some curl.

She decided she REALLY needed to make better friends.

Darius grinned at her and she grinned back. Then she remembered she was still cross with him.

She marched up to him, ready for pinching. He backed away.

“It’s so not fair you get a nice chalet, even if you do have to share with that stuck-up Rufus.”

“Not any more,” said Darius. “He left. Said he prefers a yurt.”

“Why don’t you say that too, and I can have your chalet?” said Nat. “It’s only cos of me that we’re here.”

“Get lost,” said Darius. “I don’t prefer a yurt.”

Nat was about to pinch him when she saw Miss Hunny watching. She patted Darius like a dog.

“Nice Darius, good Darius,” she said, remembering she was supposed to be looking after him.

“I’m confused now,” said Darius, who’d been expecting pinching.

He ran off anyway, to be on the safe side.

Mr Bungee was shouting again.

“The team leaders have five minutes to choose their dunny champion,” he said, “so get a move on.”

Nat spent the next five minutes arguing with Penny about how stupid ley lines were, and so she hardly noticed Dad having a long conversation with Darius. She probably should have paid more attention because what happened next took her completely by surprise.

“Nathalia is our dunny champion,” said Miss Hunny. “And it was a fair vote, so don’t start arguing.”

“How did this happen? No one even mentioned me. Have YOU done this, Dad?” she said angrily.

He took her to one side.

“Shush,” he said. “I don’t want Mr Dewdrop from the Nice ’N’ Neat Alliance to think I’m pulling strings for you. It’s not very professional.”

“You haven’t pulled strings. You’ve DROPPED ME IN IT! There’s a massive difference. Why have you done this?” she complained.

“I know you’re always worried about making friends and being popular,” said idiot Dad kindly, “so what better way than by being the class champion?”

“Class DUNNY champion.”

“A winner’s a winner.”

“What if I lose?” she said. “It’ll be my fault my classmates are digging the dunny.”

“Don’t be so negative,” said Dad with his lopsided smile. “Honestly, sometimes I think I’ve got more confidence in you than you do.”

Nat was told to get changed into something “she didn’t mind getting a bit muddy”, which alarmed her. She stomped back to the half-dark yurt and rummaged around in her rucksack in the gloom until she found an old T-shirt and a pair of tracky bottoms.

On her way back down the hill, she began to think. Maybe … just maybe Dad had done her a favour. Perhaps this was her chance to get one over on St Scrofula’s stuck-up school. If she could win … well, maybe her school wouldn’t seem so bad after all.

IF she could win.

“Can we have the competitors?” said Mr Bungee. “Get a move on. No one wants to be digging a dunny in the dark.”

Nat trudged over to the enthusiastic Kiwi.

Her opponent was Plum, who had actually volunteered herself for the challenge.

“I’m not being big-headed,” said large-bonced Plum, “I just know I’m smart and fast and super able.”

“There you go,” said Dad, “that’s what I call confidence. What a school!”

“Shuddup, Dad,” said Nat.

“There are three rounds,” said Mr Bungee, “so the first girl to win two rounds is the winner.”

“Get on with it,” snapped Nat.

“The first round is a general-knowledge quiz,” said Mr Bungee. “So, what’s the capital of New Zealand?”

“Italy,” guessed Nat, who was pants at geography.

“Wellington,” said Plum.

“Wellington it is,” said Mr Bungee. “And a bloomin’ lovely place it is too, eh?”

The St Scrofula’s kids cheered.

“Next question. Cuddly little koala bears are native to Australia – and they’re the only good thing about the place, if you ask me. Now, what do they eat?”

“Bugs. Or grass or toast,” guessed Nat.

“Wrong.”

“Or milk, fish, bread, eggs, cheese …”

“Way off.”

“Pies. Peanuts. Ready-salted crisps. Sweet popcorn. Chicken nuggets.”

“Stop guessing.”

“Eucalyptus leaves,” said Plum smugly.

“Correct,” said Mr Bungee. “Next question. Who’s the queen of New Zealand?”

“This isn’t general knowledge,” complained Nat.

“It’s general knowledge to me,” said Mr Bungee.

“Is it Kylie?” said Nat.

“NO. Firstly, Kylie’s a pop princess. Secondly, she’s another Aussie. You’re worse than your father.”

“It’s actually a really clever question,” said Plum, with a smarmy smile. “You haven’t really got a queen, but because you’re in the Commonwealth, you share ours.”

“How do you KNOW this stuff?” said Nat, who wanted to throttle her rival.

“It’s called an education,” said Plum.

Nat scowled.

She looked at Dad. He looked impressed.

“You have to admit it: they’re making us look like idiots, love,” he said.

“St Scrofula’s wins the first round,” said Mr Bungee, to cheers from one lot of kids and boos from the other.

“The second round is an eating challenge. First rule of camp survival: you gotta eat.”

He dangled two fat chilli peppers in front of the girls.

“We call these the Auckland Bum-burners. They are hot. Hot enough to boil a kiwi’s behind. The first one to eat a whole chilli wins.”

With relief, Nat saw that Plum looked nervous.

Nat took a pepper. It almost glowed red in her hand, like an ember from a fire.

She looked at her classmates. They were all urging her on. If Nat lost this, they would lose the contest. She had no choice. She rammed the thing in her mouth and started chewing.

It wasn’t too bad for about half a nanosecond.

Then it was bad. Very bad indeed.

Nat thought the roof of her mouth was going to erupt through the top of her head. Her tongue felt like a firework and even her teeth rattled.

“I’M GOING TO DIE AND I’M NOT EVEN JOKING!” she yelled, running around in circles, mouth open, desperately trying to suck in cooling air.

“WATER, WATER, GIMME WATER!!!!”

She snatched Penny’s water bottle and took huge gulps.

“Water makes it worse,” said Mr Bungee, with a nasty grin.

“AAAAGH, YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME EARLIER!” Nat screamed, running around some more, tongue hanging out like a thirsty dog.

It took about five minutes for the throbbing pain to die down, and about ten minutes for everyone to stop laughing at her.

“Did I win?” Nat said finally. Her eyes streamed with tears and she could hardly speak.

“Course you won,” said Plum in a superior kind of way. “I didn’t do it.”

“Why not?” asked Nat.

“Didn’t need to – I was already one up. I’ll wait for the third challenge.”

“Tiebreaker,” said Mr Bungee. “Winner takes all. Loser takes … a couple of dunny shovels.”

“Ooooh,” said the watching kids from both schools, who were now all willing their champion to victory. And wishing poo-shaped defeat on their rivals.

“We think you’re awesome, Plum,” shouted her best friend, a tall girl called Thursday Wonton. “Absolutely amazeballs.”

“Yay!” cheered the Scrofulas.

“You’d better win, Buttface,” said Darius helpfully. “You’re unpopular enough as it is.”

“Yay,” agreed Nat’s class.

Nat scowled at them.

Mr Bungee, who was milking the suspense for all it was worth, finally made the announcement they were waiting for.

“The last challenge is a straightforward race,” he said.

It was straightforward. Straight and forward through an assault course.

The huge assault course was already set up in the woods. There were ropes to swing along, a net to crawl under, a pipe to squeeze through, tyres to hop in and out of, and then, finally, a big wooden wall.

“Best thing is, all the mud will break your fall,” said Mr Bungee, “so you can really go for it. Are you ready?”

“No. Not really,” said Nat unhappily.

But Mr Bungee had already raised a whistle to his lips.

“There’s a bell on a tree at the end of the course,” he said. “The first one to ring it wins.”

All the kids yelled as he blew for the start of the race.

Plum was off like a rocket, squishing through the mud.

The first obstacle was a big net, close to the ground. Nat watched as her rival slid under it with practised ease.

“You’ve done this before,” said Nat, as she got to the net.

“Yah, we’ve got our own assault course at school,” said Plum, who was halfway through. “It’s so fun.”

So fun, yah. The only assault course we’ve got is running past the Year Eleven boys smoking behind the science block, thought Nat grimly, as she dived under the net after her opponent.

The mud was cold and sticky and soon she was plastered in it. But before Nat could wiggle out the other side, Plum was already whizzing along the monkey bars like, well, like a monkey.

“You’re losing!” shouted Penny from the sidelines.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Nat, reaching the monkey bars.

“Your tracky bottoms are coming loose,” said Penny, telling her something she didn’t know.

“EEEK!”

Automatically, Nat put her hands down to pull up her trousers. Forgetting she was holding on to the monkey bars.

Splat! Down she went, into the mud.

“You fall off, you gotta start again,” shouted Mr Bungee.

Nat squelched desperately back to the start of the course and began again.

Halfway across, going hand-to-hand on the bars, she became aware of her problem tracky bottoms. Why were they so loose? She kept crossing her skinny legs to hold them up, but they kept slipping down!

“I think I mixed up our tracky bottoms and I packed mine in your rucksack by mistake,” shouted Dad. “They might be a bit big for you.” He fidgeted on the spot. “Also, it might explain why I’ve got a bit of chafing. I thought these were tight.”

“We can see your pa-ants!” chanted the boys from St Scrofula’s. “We can see your pa-ants!”

Dangling there in mid-air, covered in mud and with Dad’s oversized tracky bottoms sliding down, Nat heard a horrible wail of fury. She wondered where it was coming from. Then she realised: it was coming from her!

She saw Dad – rubbish, tracky-bottoms-swapping, pants-revealing Dad – standing at the end of the assault course. He waved.

A red mist descended in front of her eyes.

This time she WAS GOING TO STRANGLE HIM.

With a yell, she raced through the monkey bars, hurled herself into the pipe, hopped furiously across the tyres and reached the big wall just as Plum was disappearing over it.

“Come ’ere, you,” she shouted, and grabbed Plum’s leg.

“Aaaargh!” yelled the girl, as Nat yanked her off the wall and used her as a stepping stone.

Nat was over the wall and in the lead! She was way ahead. Nothing could stop her now.

“You’ve won, now ring the bell,” yelled Dad.

But then he saw that Nat DID NOT CARE ABOUT THE BELL.

She was completely ignoring the bell.

Instead, she was heading straight for him, outstretched hands full of gooey mud.

“I’ll just … just go and, er … look for something in these trees,” said Dad, ducking behind a handy oak.

“You’ve embarrassed me for the last time,” shouted Nat, chasing him in circles.

She had just got him cornered against a big tree and was about to plaster him in mud when she heard a bell ring.

It was Plum, ringing in victory.

“Oops,” said Nat.

In the end, Dad dug the dunny.

Nat said he had to because it was his fault she’d lost the race. If she hadn’t been so cross with him, she’d have made it to the bell on time.

While the camp cooks were boiling up sludge for supper, Nat and Penny and Darius went to the field to see how Dad was getting on.

Nat was planning to offer words of encouragement like: “Hurry up, baldy,” or “Dig it a bit deeper. We don’t want spiders or splashback.”

Darius just wanted to go so he could use it first.

When they got there, they could just see Dad’s bald spot peeking above ground. There was a mound of freshly-dug earth near the hole. Great shovelfuls of earth were being chucked up … and over Mr Dewdrop, who was standing next to the hole.

“Are you sure you’re setting a good example to the children?” Nat heard Mr Dewdrop ask, brushing earth off his clipboard. “I mean, you should get your girl Nathalia to do it. After all, it’s usually ‘losers, weepers’, everyone knows that.”

“Thanks. You could have said that two hours ago,” grumbled Dad, climbing out, covered in mud and dirt and worms. “I’ve finished it now.”

Darius whipped out some loo roll. “Out of my way,” he said with an evil grin.

Dad just smiled. “We need to put the little loo hut over it first,” he said. “Here, you can give me a hand.”

After a few minutes of heaving and dragging (Darius and Dad) and groaning and complaining (Nat), they had manoeuvred the little loo hut over the big hole.

Mr Dewdrop wandered off without helping and Nat had a horrible feeling Dad wasn’t making a good impression on him.

Darius dashed straight inside the dunny.

Dad brushed himself down and looked at the pile of earth he’d dug up. “I was hoping to find a bit of T. rex in the ground,” he said. “There’s tons of fossils round here.”

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