Read Online Monkey Bars and Rubber Ducks by T.M. Alexander - Free Book Online

all I could think about was being away from home for four days and having to team up with kids I don’t like and, worse, sleep in a tent with kids I hardly know. I tried the compodasty stuff but my brain wasn’t playing. My brain was only interested in what I was going to do about CAMP.
    There was only one way I was going to feel better. I had to get to school, and quick. I needed the Tribers. I wolfed a couple of wet Weetabix (they don’t require chewing, they don’t taste of anything either), shouted ‘Bye’ to no one in particular and headed off. I texted Fifty on the way to make sure I didn’t have to spend ten minutes waiting for him at the corner where we meet.
    ‘What’s the hurry? Flo bullying you again?’
    Ha ha, Fifty! I ignored his stupid remark and launched straight in to the CAMP problem. Fifty listened to me go on about how bad it was going to be, and when I stopped so he could say something back he said, ‘Same’.
    It’s no help having a friend like Fifty when there’s trouble. We didn’t need ‘Same’. We needed solutions. We needed the others.
    As we turned out of the alley I could see Copper Pie standing by the school gates, eating a bag of crisps – from a distance they looked like salt and vinegar. He usually has beef.
    We were about to cross the road when I heard a dog bark – it was Doodle, dragging Bee and Jonno, and way behind was Bee’s mum. Thanks to Doodle’s speed we all got to the gates at the same time (except for Bee’s mum).
    ‘What are you stuffing those for?’ said Bee to Copper Pie. Doodle tried to put his nose into C. P.’ s pocket. He could obviously smell the remains of his endless snacks.
    ‘Ran out of beef,’ he said, between chewing. His teeth were covered in a layer of mashed crisps.
    ‘Idiot, I meant why are you eating crisps for breakfast? They’re one of the top five bad foods. It’s so unhealthy,’ said Bee. Her mum had just caught up with us – she shrugged her shoulders as if to say,’ I don’t know where she gets it from.’
    ‘It’s not breakfast. That was ages ago.’
    Bee rolled her eyes, like a mum whose child won’t eat his greens.
    ‘Are we going in?’ she said. It did seem a bit odd standing at the gates and not going through them.
    ‘Do you think we’re meant to go straight to the office or are we allowed in the playground before registration?’ asked Jonno.
    I knew the answer but I wasn’t going to say it. If no one else remembered, I wasn’t going to be the one making us sit like lemons (but not as yellow) outside the office before school.
    ‘Office,’ said Fifty. ‘The Head said every spare minute.’
    Jonno gave Doodle a big rub on the back, and kissed his neck. That boy is weird. And we left Bee’s mum and walked slowly towards the main door.
    I don’t know about the rest of them but I couldn’t have cared less about the uncomfortable seats waiting for us. I was worried about being under canvas with Callum, or jammed up next to Jamie in a sleeping bag.
    Copper Pie opened the door. Fifty went next, then Bee. I was next. As I put my foot on the step I heard Flo’s foghorn voice.
    ‘There’s Keener, Mummy. He’s going to sit by the Head’s room, isn’t he, Mummy?’
    I carried on in, without a glance. The five of us walked in complete silence along the corridor. There were only three chairs outside, but still no one spoke. Jonno and Copper Pie went and got two chairs out of Mr Dukes’ classroom. They lined them up and we all sat down . . . and waited for the bell, or the Head – whichever came first.
    But what came first was a whole lot more amazing . . .

Mum’s
Army
    There was the sound of lots of feet, some clompy and some clickety. We all zoomed in on the direction of the approaching army. It didn’t sound like kids, and teachers don’t usually go round in herds.
    Incredibly, it turned out to be mums. To be specific, my mum, Bee’s mum (but no Doodle), Copper Pie’s mum (she was in the front) and