I sat down and blinked, suddenly aware that I was holding my breath. My eyes flickered around the room. Mr Aku’s office was NOTHING like I imagined it.

  How I imagined Mr Aku’s office to look:

  • Cages for children that don’t follow the Code of Conduct

  • Pickle jars filled with organs

  • A dart board with all of our faces on

  How Mr Aku’s office ACTUALLY looked:

  • Dusty

  • Same curtains as my nana’s bedroom

  • Five buckets labelled ‘CONFISCATED’

  • A whole wall dedicated to CCTV monitors

  ‘Tell me one good reason why you, Mina Mahmood, should NOT be sent home right this second,’ said Mr Aku, without once looking up from his computer.

  ‘I-I-I . . .’ was about all I could manage.

  ‘Give me another good reason why you, Mina Mahmood, have been involved in NOT ONE, but TWO instances that have threatened the very integrity of this school.’ This time Mr Aku stopped what he was doing and looked me directly in the eyes.

  I shivered. Even my shivers SHIVERED.

  Mr Aku suddenly stood up. But before he could say anything else, it all came blurting out.

  ‘It’s-not-fair-all-we-wanted-was-what-waspromised-to-us-the-best-week-of-our-wholeentire-lives-but-you-took-it-all-away-and-thengave-us-hope-with-Fisbo’s-Circus-and-everybodytrusted-us-but-then-Barney’s-tarantula-Buttonswent-missing-and-he-just-kept-appearingwhen-the-inspectors-were-around-and-he’s-stillout-there-somewhere-AND-I-WAS-JUST-TRYING-TO-HELP!’

  I quickly clasped my hands over my mouth, I had said WAY too much and I couldn’t take any of it back. To make the whole situation a gazillion times worse, I could FEEL Mr Aku’s eyes burning into me. I peeked up at him and he just sat there looking at me. But then it caught my eye.

  The vein.

  It was back, bulging out of Mr Aku’s forehead. Nobody was safe when Mr Aku’s vein bulged like that. He mumbled something under his breath for what felt like forever. After a little while, he stood up and started pacing in his office. Up and down, up and down, as he continued to mumble even more words under his breath.

  Suddenly, he stopped. I jumped. I might have even yelped.

  His voice was so low, it was almost impossible to hear.

  ‘Do what you have to do, Mina,’ he breathed out, his vein twitching more than ever. ‘Whatever it takes.’

  Huh?

  Wait, did I hear right?

  Mr Aku nodded as if he had read my mind. ‘It’s your job, Mina,’ he said, ‘to make sure that eight-legged creature doesn’t see the light of day, EVER AGAIN . . . UNDERSTOOD?’

  ‘Whatever it takes?’ Reema and Mobeen asked at the same time as I filled them both in.

  ‘Whatever it takes,’ I repeated in a super serious tone, still unsure of the consequences if Buttons wasn’t captured – or worse, was spotted by one of the inspectors before we got to him.

  The three of us were crouched behind the allotments on the school yard so nobody could hear us. No one really comes back here any more, not since Bilal the Bully dared Barney to eat a pile of worms and he vomited out all of his insides. I’m almost certain a piece of his lung actually plopped out and Reema was currently sitting on its remains.

  Time was running out and things weren’t looking good. We only had a few minutes of outdoor break left to come up with one last plan. It was make or break time.

  ‘Maybe Buttons will just stay hidden forever?’ I said hopefully. ‘And just live in the ceiling or something?’

  ‘Or maybe he’ll be a surprise guest at the whole school assembly,’ Mobeen added, scratching his head nervously.

  My head dropped into my hands and I squeezed my eyes shut. ‘Now we can actually say farewell to Fisbo . . .’ I groaned.

  The whistle blew and we quickly ran to join the rest of our class line-up. We’d be heading straight into the gym hall for Mr Aku’s special, last-minute, whole school spectacular – his final attempt to impress the inspectors.

  ‘Shirts tucked in, collars out, pants buttoned up, please,’ Miss Khan whispered as we silently made our way towards the gym hall. She looked like a completely different person from this morning. Her hijab was wonky, and even a few strands of her hair had escaped and stuck to her blotchy, pink face. Nosey Nancy had overheard the other teachers talking; apparently Miss Khan had accidently picked up one of Mobeen’s old exercise books for book look with the inspectors instead of Nancy’s. One of the inspectors caught her trying to copy his handwriting and complete some of his old worksheets. Even Miss Khan had been sent to Mr Aku’s office today.

  As we got to the gym hall’s double doors, Miss Khan came to a sudden stop.

  One by one, we all stumbled into each other, like a line of wobbling dominoes. Reema ended up under my chin.

  ‘This is our last chance to impress, boys and girls,’ she whispered softly, but her face looked like it had already given up.

  That’s when I realised this wasn’t just about Fisbo’s Circus any more. We had to find Buttons for the honour of our class, and to show Miss Khan that we could be trusted.

  I looked around the line, and it was like we all connected as one weird hive mind. Nobody spoke, but we all locked eyes and nodded at each other as, silently, we tiptoed through the gym hall.

  We were the last class to arrive so, OBVIOUSLY, everybody was staring at us as an acoustic version of the Star Wars theme tune played in the background. It wasn’t every day we had a whole school assembly. In fact, this was probably the first time Early Years were allowed back in. Mr Aku had banned them because a bunch of them tried to climb on to his back during an awards ceremony. I could see one picking his nose, another eating her sleeves. Another, sitting right in front of Mr Aku, was licking the floor.

  We had been demoted to sitting on the floor instead of the benches to make space for the inspectors and all of the teachers that Mr Aku had forced to attend. But sitting on the floor didn’t come naturally to us any more. Nosey Nancy was squished between Owen and the wall. Mobeen was sitting on my lap. Poppy just awkwardly stood because there was no room left for her.

  I glanced nervously at the inspectors and gave them my BIGGEST, BESTEST smile. Hopefully that would be enough to convince them that our school wasn’t as bad as they thought.

  ‘Stop looking so weird.’ said Reema in a low voice as she pulled out her arm from under me.

  ‘Good afternoon, all,’ announced Mr Aku as the Star Wars music came to a stop. He puffed up his chest and glared at each and every one of us.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Aku. Good afternoon, everybody,’ we all said at the same time, kind of like zombies.

  ‘Well, well, well, isn’t today just a special, special day?’

  Mr Aku smiled so widely that I shivered. His eyes were bulging so far out of his head that he could probably have been mistaken for Mr Fisbo himself.

  ‘Before our OUTSTANDING Year Fives begin their spectacular performance of Homer’s Odyssey . . .’ he began.

  Reema gasped. ‘I didn’t know they were doing The Simpsons! How cool!’

  It was pretty cool. Ammu doesn’t really let me watch The Simpsons.

  ‘. . . I’d like to make a few OUTSTANDING announcements,’ Mr Aku continued, eyeing us all. ‘Firstly, I’d like to give a big well done to Year Six for raising an OUTSTANDING £371.21 for the Watermelon Trust.’

  Huh?

  We all glanced over at Miss Khan, who looked equally confused.

  ‘Because of me –’ Mr Aku began. ‘I-I mean, YOU, a difference will be made to the lives in Palestine that need it most.’

  I nudged Mobeen’s shoulder. ‘Didn’t we raise £21.21?’ I whispered.

  Ammu said it wasn’t even enough for a takeaway.

  Behind me, Thomas cleared his throat. ‘Word on the playground is that Mr Aku himself put in £350.’

  ‘Moving swiftly on . . .’ Mr Aku gave us the stink eye. ‘Can we all give a round of applause to our fantastic Early Years teachers who have managed to toilet-train three pupils who’ve been struggling to hold it in since September.’

  Ew, gross.

  All of the teachers started clapping. My eyes landed on the Early Years teachers. They looked like they were ready for a nap. One had a glue stick in her hair.

  ‘And finally,’ said Mr Aku, ‘before we turn to Year Five, I’d like to invite you all to offer an OUTSTANDING ovation to our VERY SPECIAL inspectors today. They’ve been walking around our school tirelessly all morning with our school council . . .’

  ‘We have a school council?’ I mouthed to the rest of our class.

  Even Miss Khan shrugged her shoulders.

  But Nosey Nancy was NOT happy. ‘It’s the name he’s given you three since you showed the inspectors around this morning,’ she hissed back. ‘It’s a complete and utter joke. I’ve been petitioning for a school council for three years!’

  I beamed at Reema and Mobeen.

  School council? WE were members of Western Primary’s very first school council?

  Whoa.

  Well, that’s a pretty BIG deal.

  But before we could celebrate, the lights had dimmed and the inspectors were making their way to Mr Aku in front of the stage.

  Everybody stopped wriggling around and we all suddenly sat up straight. Even the Early Years children stopped licking the floor.

  Inspector Big Beard was the first to speak.

  ‘Boys and girls . . .’ he began. His voice was slow and even a little bit suspicious, like he wasn’t even sure we were boys and girls. Maybe he thought we were brain-eating zombies or something. ‘It has been . . . let’s say, quite a day.’

  Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing? I wondered.

  ‘We’ve seen . . . a lot here at Western Primary.’

  Inspectors Wiggles and Stick Insect nodded in agreement. It was the first time I’d seen them all WITHOUT a clipboard in their hands. It’s like they had lost a limb.

  ‘Now, Mr Aku has promised us a show to remember to end our visit. So without further ado . . . let the show begin!’ Inspector Big Beard dramatically turned to face the stage and began clapping.

  And that was EXACTLY when the rest of us all gasped at once.

  Mr Aku clenched his teeth and jumped out of his seat.

  There he was. Buttons the tarantula.

  Curled up on the back of Inspector Big Beard’s bald head.

  Mr Aku’s whole school spectacular lasted exactly ten seconds. And five of those seconds were complete, AWKWARD silence.

  Everybody, except for the inspectors, froze mid-clap.

  Miss Khan nearly fainted. The other teachers looked like they were about to throw up. The vein on Mr Aku’s head was throbbing so hard, it looked like it would pop out and grow another head.

  Buttons had barely moved. To the untrained eye, he just looked like one of the fluffy hats the imam at the local mosque wears.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ breathed Reema, breaking the silence, her eyes completely fixed on Inspector Big Beard’s bald patch.

  We were all so hypnotised by Buttons that nobody dared to move. Until the child that was licking the floor in early years threw both of his shoes at Inspector Big Beard.

  And that’s when EVERYBODY went absolutely CRAZY.

  Early Years started howling and ran towards the gym cupboard. The Year Ones were crying and were almost knocked out by the stampede of Early Years. Year Twos were attempting to climb on top of their teacher. Years Three and Four erupted into screams, jumping up and down to warn the inspectors. The Year Fives, who were all sitting on stage, had ABSOLUTELY no idea what was going on.

  And what did we do?

  Somehow, we were all doing that whole Year Six HIVE MIND thing all over again and we stayed calm. I stood up and nodded. The rest of my class did the same. We were united: defenders of our school. Protectors of our people. Heroes in school jumpers. Miss Khan needed us. She had taught us to tie our shoelaces and tell the time when we were TOO OLD not to know how to do them.

  We owed her. BIG TIME.

  The inspectors just looked around at us and blinked. Like the Year Fives, they had NO IDEA what was happening either.

  And then Buttons did what Buttons does.

  He jumped off Inspector Big Beard’s bald patch and scurried towards us.

  ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGHHHHH!’ screamed almost everybody.

  Just like that, our hive mind broke. The teachers jumped on to their chairs to avoid close contact with Buttons. One of the teaching assistants used Barney as a human shield. It wasn’t safe any more. Not because of Buttons, but because of the fear of being trampled on.

  ‘EVERYBODY, SIT DOWN!’ Mr Aku bellowed. But nobody was listening.

  ‘We’ve got to do something!’ I shrieked in horror.

  But I was on my own. Mobeen was wrestling with a Year One that had latched himself on to Mobeen’s leg and started calling him ‘Baba’. Miss Khan had actually now collapsed, and Reema was desperately fanning her with a tennis racket.

  And if you think things couldn’t get worse? They could.

  The Star Wars theme tune started playing again. Somebody accidentally knocked over the fog machine so now the front of the gym hall was covered in mist. Mr Aku appeared like the walking dead as he blindly tried to find the inspectors inside the fog.

  Think, Mina . . . think.

  THINK!

  My heart was pounding like it was about to rip out of my chest. I backed away until I felt my arms touch the gym wall. My breathing was fast and heavy. My eyes darted around the hall. Reema and Miss Khan, who was now screaming into a sick bag, had been engulfed by the fog. Mobeen had escaped the clutches of the Year One and was now crowd surfing. He waved both of his arms in the air, trying to get my attention. But there was no time. I was desperate to come up with some kind of plan.

  And then I saw it.

  No.

  I couldn’t.

  Could I?

  ‘Whatever it takes’ . . . Mr Aku’s voice played over and over again in my head. And then a foam ball flew across the air and hit me in the eye.

  I was doing it.

  I stretched out my arm and pressed down on the fire alarm. And just like that, it exploded through the gym hall.

  Oh my god.

  WHAT DID I JUST DO?

  There are usually three different types of people when a fire alarm goes off.

  First you have the ones that take it WAY too seriously and look like they should join the army. Then, you have the kids that are ABSOLUTELY terrified and have to hold the teachers’ hands so they stop screaming. And, finally you have the ones that play it cool, and who are trying to figure out if it’s a real fire alarm or not.

  I nervously watched as the teachers finished up their registers and all of the classes sat down in perfect lines on the school field. I watched as all the teaching assistants surrounded the Early Years kids so they wouldn’t make a run for it. I watched as more and more children joined the first aid queue.

  There were no real witnesses, but it wouldn’t be long until the rumours of who pressed the fire alarm would start.

  I held a Koolpak to my eye as I waited in the first aid queue too; I was tenth in line.

  Mr Aku’s whole school spectacular would be remembered for years to come.

  Just maybe for the WRONG reasons.

  ‘What happened in there?’ Reema asked, concerned as she plopped down next to me.

  But I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Besides, there were too many eyes and ears close by. ‘Whatever it takes,’ I kept telling myself. Mr Aku practically gave me permission.

  ‘The three of you . . . Come with me.’

  It was Mr Aku.

  The entire school watched as we followed him across the playground. Before we knew it, we were standing in front of all three inspectors and Mrs Dixon.

  This was it.

  Judgement Day.

  Goodbye school. Goodbye friends. Ammu would DEFINITELY send me to Bangladesh for this.

  I suddenly really needed to go to the toilet. It looked like Mobeen did too, because he was hopping from one foot to the other.

  Inspector Stick Insect was the first to speak.

  ‘We wanted to thank you all, for a very . . . interesting day,’ he said.

  Huh?

  Mr Aku forced a smile on his face.

  ‘Yes, it was definitely a lively inspection,’ Inspector Wiggles added.

  WHAT was happening?

  The inspectors’ eyes turned to the rest of the school, who all of a sudden, were trying their very hardest to look busy.

  ‘Despite the circumstances,’ Inspector Big Beard announced to everybody, ‘the fire alarm procedures were, I have to say, OUTSTANDING.’

  Circumstances? What circumstances? The whole day had been a disaster. If you looked up disaster in the dictionary, you’d find us there. In capital letters.

  ‘We have certainly seen a lot of schools in our time,’ Inspector Big Beard went on, ‘but never have we seen one where EVERY pupil has reacted to an emergency with such PERFECTION.’

  The other inspectors nodded in agreement.

  ‘You did an exemplary job,’ Inspector Wiggles said.

  We did?

  ‘Some would say you are all a credit to your school,’ said Inspector Stick Insect.

  WE ARE?

  ‘Given the circumstances,’ said Inspector Big Beard, ‘I am certain you will all go down in history for one of the most unusual inspections we have ever had.’

  WE WILL??!!!

  My confused face was even more confused than usual.

  Mr Aku just blinked at us slowly, like an owl. But Mrs Dixon clearly read my mind.

  ‘We were just discussing with the inspectors how all of you – particularly you, Mina – have shown great initiative today.’ She laughed hesitantly. ‘Especially given that we had an extra, UNINVITED guest from the Bug Barn up the road.’

  The Bug Barn?

  Were they talking about Buttons?

  Mr Aku gave us a very tight smile and gritted his teeth before speaking.

  ‘Yes, Mina . . .’ He crouched down so we were face to face. I backed away. I couldn’t help it. ‘You were extremely vigilant in today’s assembly, perhaps even the first to notice the . . . situation.’

 

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