Googol Boy and the peculiar incident of the Great Quiz Trophy, John Michael [white hot kiss txt] 📗

and the French Normans, led by Duke William II. It occurred on the 14th October near the town of Hastings and ended with King Harold being killed with an arrow to the eye and William the Conqueror defeating the English. The battle was forever immortalised in the Bayeux Tapestry.”

Miss Fremskey stumbled back, attempted to say something but swallowed her own words and ended up sounding like a choked chicken. We all giggled and at that very moment Fremskey’s face turned a maroon shade of red. If this had been a cartoon, steam would have whistled out of her ears. She looked like one big simmering pimple ready to pop as she let out a loud grunt and thumped the nearest desk with all her might. It just happened to be poor Arnie Borstein’s desk (or Goggle Eyes as we called him because of his thick glasses). Miss Fremskey’s fist had caught the corner of Arnie’s weighty History book and it rebounded up into the air, knocking off his glasses in the process. All eyes turned towards the book (except for Arnie who couldn’t see a thing without his spectacles).

Time seemed to slow down as the book ascended in slow motion, spinning and spiralling like a plump ballerina pulling off a perfect pirouette. Arnie was squinting, looking around trying to figure out where his glasses had gone. He looked left, then right, around on the floor and then... upwards. At that very moment, the book came hurtling down and splatted him right in the kisser.

As everybody in the class winced, I could only think of one word − onomatopoeia.

“Why onomatopoeia?” I hear you ask.

Well, because the sounds made as the book squished Arnie’s face were all onomatopoeic. There was a a bit of a  some  sound, there was a  a noticeable  and I’m pretty sure that I even heard a 

Although it did look (and sound) particularly bad, apart from the two knocked out front teeth, Arnie did make a full recovery within a couple of weeks (and the lucky duck didn’t even have to go to school). He even managed to earn himself a new nickname − The Toothless Terror! If you ask me, Goggle Eyes had more of an intellectual ring to it but Arnie believed that his new moniker made him sound tough − so, all in all, I reckon he came out ahead.

With Miss Fremskey’s lust for vengeance satisfied with Arnie’s knocked out teeth, I got off rather lightly.

“That’ll be all Footsmell,” she hissed begrudgingly through clenched teeth.

Yep, I had answered the question... but it wasn’t always like this. No... once upon a time, things had been different. Very different indeed!

chapter two 

pacman

Before the ‘night of cognisance,’ I was your regular average kid. Actually, to be honest, I was your regular below-average kid. I was in the Maths class where students weren’t allowed to use compasses because they would accidently jab themselves. I’m sure you’ve heard of remedial reading class, well... I was in the class below that one. And in English? Even Zaambwi, the exchange student from Kenya (who couldn’t speak a word of English), was getting better grades than me. With sports, it was much worse. I was as coordinated as an orangutan on skates and as agile as a geriatric sloth. And you know how your parents, well-meaning relatives and neighbours say stuff to make you feel better? Comments like:

“You’ve got what they can’t teach in school – natural smarts,” from Grandma Bertha.

“You’ll make lots of friends because you make other people feel intelligent,” from Uncle Wilbur.

“Never mind − you’re just dumber than you look!” from the guy who packs the groceries at the supermarket.

Well none of those words made me feel better; actually, come to think of it, some of those remarks made me feel pretty darn rotten! I did, however, often daydream about how it would feel to be smart. Knowing how to spell words. Knowing how to count to twenty without having to take my shoes off. Knowing my times-tables. Knowing the capital cities. Knowing all the answers. But this was all ‘pie in the sky’ stuff. Well, it was until the night of cognisance.

“And what does cognisance mean?” I hear you ask.

Don’t worry... I didn’t know the answer before either. But now I know lots of stuff, so let me tell you, “Cognisance means having knowledge... lots of knowledge... more knowledge than you can poke a stick at!”

It all started one seemingly mundane night while I was struggling with my homework. Ah homework! The cause of misery of every kid’s existence − and I was no exception. I had to complete a speech for Science and, as usual, I had left it to the last minute. Everybody in the classroom had a different topic and my one was on something called photosynthesis. At first, I thought that this involved taking photos of plants but boy, was I wrong. So I fired up the ol’ computer and started working on my big photosynthesis speech. Actually, to be honest, Mum thought I was working on my speech but in reality, I was playing Pacman. And I’ll be frank − playing Pacman made much more sense to me than membranes, chlorophyll, and thylakoids.

Every time Mum came to check on me, I would minimise my Pacman game and open up the photosynthesis website and pretend to understand what was on the screen. A few timely remarks such as “Oh, yes,” “Ah ha,” “I get it,” coupled with some contemplative head-nodding would do the trick. Mum would see this and give me the typical mum-type encouragement: “Good boy,” “Well done pumpkin,” “Good stuff Howie.” She even brought me cookies and milk so that I could maintain my energy and concentration.

It was all going smoothly... Mum was happy, I was happy — there was harmony in the universe (and I even had cookies). Then suddenly, I got busted! I minimised the science website by accident and Pacman