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

of the stage like some frail wrinkled sparrow on a perch, flapping her arms madly in order to restore her balance.

In contrast, the principal just stood there frozen, like some ice sculpture, unsure of what to do next. Seeing that Mr Ditherington was dithering as to his next course of action, the woman decided to take matters into her own hands, as she was probably seeing her life flash before her eyes. Her bony arms reached out and desperately clutched at the principal. At this point Mr Ditherington arched backwards, his survival instincts were telling him that he didn’t want to join the old woman as she tumbled over the side. And that was that. It looked like she was going to do a solo dive into the turf and break a few bones. She had a look of fear and dread etched on her wrinkled face and, as she was going over the side, the old woman instinctively lunged at the principal with one last frantic lurch.

Mr Ditherington did seem to be a safe distance away but, alas, not safe enough as her bony fingers were able to reach his tie. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The principal’s centre of balance was disrupted as she grasped him tightly around his tie and instead of Mr Ditherington pulling the old woman to safety, she dragged him over the edge.

There they were. On the grass. Two jumbled bodies, a tangle of legs, arms, elbows and knees. The poor old lady ended up having quite a few injuries, including some fractured ribs and a displaced hip. She probably regretted grabbing Mr Ditherington by his tie and taking him with her, she definitely would have sustained less injuries had he not landed on top of her. The first-aid staff plied her full of strong pain killers which put a stop to her wailing and had her singing some song about a happy place where rainbow skies are blue and how the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true, as she was bustled away in an ambulance. Luckily for the principal, the old woman broke his fall and, although somewhat winded and dishevelled, he came away from it with nothing more than a bruised ego, oh, and a ripped tie.

With the impromptu slapstick pantomime out of the way, Mr Ditherington recommenced with the quiz. “My apologies regarding the series of unfortunate events which have befallen us today, this conflation of ill-fated calamity to which you have had to bear witness. These are trying times and it is with a heavy heart that I say that the show must go ahead, time and tide wait for no man, nor woman. Poor old Maude, who’s off to the infirmary now, would have wanted it that way... to be certain... oh Maude! La vie est dure!”

At this stage, the principal became choked up with tears, and once again took off his glasses and dabbed his eye with his handkerchief before continuing. “When sorrows inflict us, they come in multitudes, but nevertheless, all that aside...” he stuttered as he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “To be certain, here we are and life goes on, like an eternal clock ticking away without regret and without remorse, and right now time is ebbing away and we need to get back to the task at hand.”

Mr Ditherington then looked around in a confused manner. “Now, where was I?” he mumbled to himself as he scratched his chin. Savani’s pursed lips and furrowed brow suggested that her patience was wearing thin. Penelope, however, seeing that the principal was in a spot of bother, walked over to him and discreetly whispered in his direction, while at the same time keeping a safe distance so that he didn’t accidently step on her foot as well.

“Ah yes, the final round, most certainly! Thank you my dear,” responded Mr Ditherington as he patted Penelope on the shoulder. She smiled and quickly resumed her place next to Savani while the principal turned to face the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. We are now in the final round of the Great Quiz. There can only be one victorious team. The first team to get an answer incorrect will be eliminated. Let the finals begin!” The crowd responded with a raucous cheer.

After the less than gallant incident with the wrinkled old lady, Mr Ditherington was once again in charge of the proceedings and he didn’t hold back, the barrage of questions came at us thick and fast. Both Barney and Penelope took a back seat while Savani and I battled it out. We were twelve questions into the final and it was neck and neck, there wasn’t a hair’s breadth between us. The questions ranged from biotechnology to linguistics to anatomy to Shakespeare to philosophy to quantum mechanics but neither one of us wavered or faltered. One by one, we fired the answers back at Mr Ditherington with conviction and gusto.

“Lactic acid fermentation!”

“Dialectology!”

“Calcaneal apophysitis!”

“Troilus and Cressida!”

“Thus spoke Zarathustra!”

“Werner Heisenberg!”

This was a battle for the ages, we were like two bloodied warriors slogging it out, who would be the first to succumb? Every correct answer received an enthusiastic round of applause from the audience, who were enthralled and captivated by this most fascinating of spectacles.

I looked across at the crowd, all the seats were full and it was standing room only and, much to my surprise, right there sitting in the front row were my parents. Dad was swatting a bee which had taken a liking to his yellow hat, while Mum was proudly grinning from ear to ear and frantically waving at me. How did my parents find out that I was in the quiz? Seriously, my mum was like the Eye of Sauron and Big Brother rolled into one. Was there anything I could keep secret from her?

As I reluctantly waved back, I was distracted by a lone figure moving amongst the crowd. It was