The Donut Diaries (16 page)

Luckily Fricker only had his normal artificial hands on – if he’d had the electric prod or lightsaber attachments things would have been even worse. As it was, it was exactly like being in hell and having your own personal tormenter.

We began by running twice round the rugby pitch, then we ran along the side of the canal, then over a bridge, then back down the other side of the canal, then across a field then, well,
then
I got confused and had no idea at all where I was going.

By the time we’d got back to the rugby pitch I was completely covered in mud and my lungs were screaming for air and my legs were made of wet jelly. The one good thing was that I’d gone deaf so I couldn’t hear Fricker screaming any more. All the other kids were sitting at the end of the field waiting for us. I sat down to join them, but Fricker screamed: ‘Get up, boy! Twice more round the pitch, double speed!’

By the time I’d got back to the gym the others had all changed and left, even my friends.

I was so tired I fell asleep on the bus home and missed my stop and had to walk back.

Dinner was another showcase for the
technique
of removing the flavour from food by the physical process of boiling: boiled fish with boiled potatoes and boiled carrots. Dessert was boiled plums.

I think I’d rather have eaten plain boils.

Saturday 14 October

PING
.

I’ve had my light bulb moment. An idea. A genuine idea. It came to me while I was swimming. It may be the best idea since Ug first watched a round stone roll down a hill as he was dragging his wheel-less cart along, and invented bowling.

Or it may be rubbish. The trouble is, it’s got lots of pieces which have to fit together perfectly, or the whole thing collapses, with
me
looking worse than ever.

I need to think it through carefully. And for that my brain needs food. The right food.

You know what I’m saying.

DONUT COUNT:

Sunday 15 October

STILL WORKING ON
my brilliant plan. I’ve drawn it all out on a big piece of paper. I filled it up and used every single colour of Ruby’s felt tips.

Oh yeah, there was a bit of a fuss about that – she’s been nervous about me using her stuff ever since the incident with Beaky. She scribbled all over my diagram, ruining it, so I said that I was going to tell Jim that she fancied him. That shut Ruby up, and she ran out of the room, which was a bit unexpected.
Maybe
she does fancy him …?

Anyway, tomorrow I put this plan into operation. Really quite excited.

DONUT COUNT:

Monday 16 October

AT LUNCH TIME
today, there was a ‘scene’ in the dining hall. I’m afraid I was in it.

It must have looked really bad.

We were sitting at our usual table staring in dismay at the steamed liver and mashed turnips (or maybe steamed turnips and mashed liver). Renfrew had been sulking all day. Everyone had mentioned it. But if you asked him, ‘What’s up, Renfrew?’ he’d just say, ‘Nothing,’ in a sort of grumpy snarl.

Then it all kicked off. I was telling the guys about how Jim’s dad was going to take us paintballing for Jim’s birthday, when Renfrew suddenly threw down his knife and fork with a crash, and stood up.

‘I’m sick of you going on about your brilliant mates at home. If you think they’re so great, why don’t you clear off to
their
school? You’re so thick you’d probably fit right in.’

Loads of people were watching this, their mouths hanging open. No one had ever heard Renfrew shout before.

I said, ‘Sit down, Renfrew, you idiot,’ but he just stormed straight out of the hall, the big drama queen.

Well,
little
drama queen, really.

‘What was all that about?’ said Spam, looking upset.

I shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

‘B-b-b-h-h-h,’ said Corky.

Little did any of them know that my brilliant plan had begun. Well, one person knew. The others would be informed only when it was strictly necessary.

Muwhahaha!

(That was meant to be an evil laugh, by the way, not the sound of me puking up the boiled liver.)

DONUT COUNT:

(I’ve decided to try to stick to one donut per day, just in case something goes wrong with my scheme.)

Tuesday 17 October

IT ALL CAME
to a head the next day at break. By now word had got round that me and Renfrew had fallen out. Some kids were saying that we were going to have a fight. Others said that we were too wimpy and there’s no way we’d get stuck in. But there was definitely that buzz in the air. It felt a bit weird.

Anyway, I was standing with Corky and Spam when Renfrew came up to me, sticking his chin out like he was hard or something.

‘You’re so fat, when you walk backwards you go “beep, beep, beep”,’ he said.

‘Good one, Renfrew,’ I replied. ‘Shame you stole it off the internet. But it doesn’t matter. I could lose weight if I wanted, but you’ll always look like a rodent.’

Renfrew’s face set hard. A crowd had gathered round. I could see the playground monitor, a woman called Mrs Smote who was a bit simple and wore wellington boots in all weathers, beginning to get agitated.

Then Renfrew tried to push me over. Renfrew probably weighs half what I do. He may as well have tried to push over a tree. Someone in the crowd laughed. And something else happened. Someone had moved behind Renfrew. It meant that when I gave Renfrew a really quite modest push, he fell over the crouching figure of … Spam!

The oldest trick in the book, and still one of the finest.

The crowd loved it. I saw the smirking face of the FHK. I also saw the unsmiling face of Tamara Bello.

But then Mrs Smote arrived to see what was going on, so we all had to split.

I felt pretty bad about Renfrew this evening. But then I had my one donut and felt better.

That’s the power of the donut.

DONUT COUNT:

Wednesday 18 October

I WAS WALKING
along the corridor on the way to Miss Michelet’s French class when a strong arm threw me against the wall. I shut my eyes and got ready for a punch in the guts or a dead arm or whatever. Nothing happened, so I opened my eyes again.

It was Tamara Bello.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘How are your verrucas?’ It wasn’t until later that I thought that she might interpret that as a bit rude.

‘I don’t know why I’m doing this …’

‘What, shoving me against the wall?’

‘No, warning you.’

‘Warning me? About what?’

Tamara tutted and rolled her eyes and generally gave the impression of someone who really wanted to be somewhere else.

‘Right, so I saw your friend Renfrew talking to Steerforth this morning. Amanda Cunningham was standing close to them, and I asked her what they’d been talking about. We all know what a swine Steerforth is, and it seemed weird him talking to Renfrew … Anyway, she told me that Renfrew told Steerforth that he had a good plan for really destroying you at Chimpsters. Something to do with a ditch and some stinky water. And Steerforth said that he didn’t want to get expelled, and Renfrew
said
he’d make it look like it was all your fault, and that Steerforth was only trying to help you. Anyway, it all sounded pretty sneaky, so I thought I’d tell you. But don’t get thinking that I’m bothered, ’cos I’m not. Anyway, I thought Renfrew and you were supposed to be friends?’