Nathalia Buttface and the Embarrassing Camp Catastrophe

“I didn’t include you,” said Nat, who totally did include Penny. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for ley lines. It’s like magic energy. This campsite’s built on an ancient burial ground. I read it somewhere. ”

Nat decided she really needed to make better friends.

She watched as Darius, standing on his own, practised his long-distance spitting, and noticed how he was cleverly using the wind to get some curl.

She decided she REALLY needed to make better friends.

Darius grinned at her and she grinned back. Then she remembered she was still cross with him.

She marched up to him, ready for pinching. He backed away.

“It’s so not fair you get a nice chalet, even if you do have to share with that stuck-up Rufus.”

“Not any more,” said Darius. “He left. Said he prefers a yurt.”

“Why don’t you say that too, and I can have your chalet?” said Nat. “It’s only cos of me that we’re here.”

“Get lost,” said Darius. “I don’t prefer a yurt.”

Nat was about to pinch him when she saw Miss Hunny watching. She patted Darius like a dog.

“Nice Darius, good Darius,” she said, remembering she was supposed to be looking after him.

“I’m confused now,” said Darius, who’d been expecting pinching.

He ran off anyway, to be on the safe side.

Mr Bungee was shouting again.

“The team leaders have five minutes to choose their dunny champion,” he said, “so get a move on.”

Nat spent the next five minutes arguing with Penny about how stupid ley lines were, and so she hardly noticed Dad having a long conversation with Darius. She probably should have paid more attention because what happened next took her completely by surprise.

“Nathalia is our dunny champion,” said Miss Hunny. “And it was a fair vote, so don’t start arguing.”

“How did this happen? No one even mentioned me. Have YOU done this, Dad?” she said angrily.

He took her to one side.

“Shush,” he said. “I don’t want Mr Dewdrop from the Nice ’N’ Neat Alliance to think I’m pulling strings for you. It’s not very professional.”

“You haven’t pulled strings. You’ve DROPPED ME IN IT! There’s a massive difference. Why have you done this?” she complained.

“I know you’re always worried about making friends and being popular,” said idiot Dad kindly, “so what better way than by being the class champion?”

“Class DUNNY champion.”

“A winner’s a winner.”

“What if I lose?” she said. “It’ll be my fault my classmates are digging the dunny.”

“Don’t be so negative,” said Dad with his lopsided smile. “Honestly, sometimes I think I’ve got more confidence in you than you do.”

Nat was told to get changed into something “she didn’t mind getting a bit muddy”, which alarmed her. She stomped back to the half-dark yurt and rummaged around in her rucksack in the gloom until she found an old T-shirt and a pair of tracky bottoms.

On her way back down the hill, she began to think. Maybe … just maybe Dad had done her a favour. Perhaps this was her chance to get one over on St Scrofula’s stuck-up school. If she could win … well, maybe her school wouldn’t seem so bad after all.

IF she could win.

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“Can we have the competitors?” said Mr Bungee. “Get a move on. No one wants to be digging a dunny in the dark.”

Nat trudged over to the enthusiastic Kiwi.

Her opponent was Plum, who had actually volunteered herself for the challenge.

“I’m not being big-headed,” said large-bonced Plum, “I just know I’m smart and fast and super able.”

“There you go,” said Dad, “that’s what I call confidence. What a school!”

“Shuddup, Dad,” said Nat.

“There are three rounds,” said Mr Bungee, “so the first girl to win two rounds is the winner.”

“Get on with it,” snapped Nat.

“The first round is a general-knowledge quiz,” said Mr Bungee. “So, what’s the capital of New Zealand?”

“Italy,” guessed Nat, who was pants at geography.

“Wellington,” said Plum.

“Wellington it is,” said Mr Bungee. “And a bloomin’ lovely place it is too, eh?”

The St Scrofula’s kids cheered.

“Next question. Cuddly little koala bears are native to Australia – and they’re the only good thing about the place, if you ask me. Now, what do they eat?”

“Bugs. Or grass or toast,” guessed Nat.

“Wrong.”

“Or milk, fish, bread, eggs, cheese …”

“Way off.”