Cool School Read Online Free Page A

then stand well back.
    Big Carl takes the rope without even bothering to say ‘thank you’. He’s so used to everyone treating him like a hero that he takes it for granted when you wait on him. He climbs the ladder, then, like Tarzan, he launches himself across the gym. You’ve taken the precaution of running the rope over a rafter and tying the end of it to the plywood partition. There’s a wild scream from that end of the gym, as the partition rises two metres into the air. That’s Sam. There’s a second wild scream—from Big Carl—as he crashes into a heap of gym mats. Then there’s wild laughter from all around the gymnasium as people realise what’s happened. You sneak out into the sunlight, smiling. Now all the world knows what Sam looks like dressed in hot pink undies.

omehow you get through the day, even though you feel like sticking chewing gum up your nostrils to suffocate yourself. Or taking an overdose of chocolate. Or putting your head in the toilet and pressing the flush button.
    It’s the end of the school day at last. The bell rings. You can’t wait to get out of the place. You grab your bag and head for the gate.
    You decide not to catch the bus: you don’t want to risk being laughed at like that again. You walk off down the road. It’s a long walk but you don’t mind.
    About a k from the school you hear a panting noise behind you. You’re scared to turn around in case it’s a mad serial killer, red in the face, spit dribbling down his chin, with the axe raised above his head.
    But you summon your courage and turn round anyway. There’s no serial killer. In fact there’s no one there at all. It’s quite a shock. Then you look down, and at your feet is a little terrier dog. He’s a cute scruffy little thing, wagging his tail enthusiastically. He seems to be grinning up at you as he pants away. He’s so happy to have found you. You bend down and pick him up, holding him in your arms as you scratch behind his ear.
    Around his neck is a collar, and as you look at it you see a name tag attached. You manage to pull it out and read it. It says: ‘If you find me please return me to 26 Blundstone Drive, West Mitchell.’

ou race to the fire alarm. The sign says: ‘In the event of fire, break glass and press button.’ You draw back your fist and punch the glass hard. Ouch! Unfortunately the glass hasn’t broken, but your hand probably has. You look around and see a good weapon: a library book that’s lying on the floor nearby. You pick it up and look at it. It’s called Tomorrow, When the War Began and it doesn’t look too bad. You think, Gee, I might read this.
    There’s a photo of the author on the back jacket flap. He’s not going to win any beauty competitions but, hey, looks aren’t everything: it still might be a good book.

or once in your life you time something perfectly. You race to the cleaner’s cupboard, sliding the last five metres to the door, and turn the handle smoothly, throwing the door open with a huge push. You step over the body of the cleaner who had been eating his lunch just inside the door.
    You grab the bucket from the sink, tip out the tea that the cleaner had been brewing in it, and fill it with water. You leap over the cleaner and rush back to the lockers, which are now blazing furiously.
    You pour the water over the flames but to your horror the flames flare up even more brightly. Where did you go wrong? You suddenly realise!
    It was hot water that you tipped on the fire! Oh no! How could you have been so stupid? You rush back to the cleaner’s cupboard and trip over the body of the cleaner. You jump up and fill the bucket with cold water. You head out the door. The cleaner’s coming back to life and staggering to his feet. Unfortunately the bucket catches him on the side of his head and he goes down again.
    Back at the lockers you realise