Adam Baron - You Won’t Believe This

That took us to lunch. After eating I discussed the Wigan game with Mrs Stebbings, our head dinner lady, who is even madder about Charlton than I am. Get this – her sister knows Jacky Chapman’s dad’s brother’s postman’s daughter! Outside I stood with the others, wondering what we were going to do later, watching the scientists setting up the last experiment of the day on the AstroTurf.

Back in class we started to learn about forces, Jen explaining what made the soap boats move. I asked about helicopters because of Jacky Chapman having his own and she told me all about this thing called ‘lift’. Then we made more boats using other things for power, like birthday candles and rubber bands, and then Jen put some cups and plates from the canteen on a tablecloth. I thought she was going to have her lunch, but as fast as she could she pulled the cloth off, leaving all the cups right there on the table!

‘I am so trying that at home,’ said Marcus Breen.

That took us up to two o’clock. We did a demonstration of our boats to the other kids and then went into their classes to see what they’d been doing. Year 3 had made rockets with balloons. I liked that, but what I was really interested in was Mrs Martin. But again she treated me normally and seemed normal herself. Double phew. After that we went into Year 2, where they’d balanced huge weights on eggs. Year 5 was next. They’d turned their whole classroom into a space station, which was wicked – but you should have SEEN the Year 6 thing.

They’d been working in the hall. After seeing all the other classes, everyone trooped in there. We sat down and looked at Mr Ashe (their teacher). He was sitting on a chair, which was on this circle of wood with red canisters on either side. No one had any idea what it was until the Year 6 scientist stepped forward and pressed a button.

And Mr Ashe lifted off.

A hovercraft! They’d made a real hovercraft! Mr Ashe shot across the hall, spinning round and round, and was about to crash into us when the scientist grabbed him. He spun a few times more and then all the Year 6 kids had a go. Some just lifted off a bit, squealing in excitement and fright before letting themselves down. But Vi and Frieda’s brother Franklin went mad, knocking over two drip buckets and nearly whacking into Mrs Martin, who only escaped by leaping up the wall bars. She wasn’t cross, though. She was really laughing, which made me feel even more relieved.

I looked around at all the kids, whooping and screaming with Mrs Martin, when Franklin whizzed to the other side of the hall. And I asked myself, did it really happen? Did someone really play that trick on her? Everyone looked so happy that I couldn’t believe it. Or if they had then they hadn’t meant anything bad by it. Or – DOH – they couldn’t have known they were Mrs Martin ’s shoes! They just saw random shoes.

That was it, of course!

But it wasn’t long before I realised that I was

If the hovercraft had been the last thing we saw, the day would have been excellent. But once all the Year 6es had had a go we went out to the playground. In front of us was a table. It was covered now with a sheet, though at lunchtime we’d seen what was underneath – a thick plastic chimney with a rocket peeking out. On top was a toy frog called Phil, who was, as Jen now explained, going to fly up to the stars.

‘And he’s really nervous, so can we all give a cheer to encourage him?’

After the yelling had died down, the teachers told us to sit on the AstroTurf. Jen told us all about the chemicals in the bucket that were going to cause the explosion that would launch the rocket, though if you want to know what they were you’d better ask Veronique – the rest of us were arguing about how high Phil the frog would go. Up to the side wall? The back wall? As high as the heath? Maybe we’d lose sight of him and Major Tim Peake would be blinking in amazement to see a stuffed frog go flying past his window. We were still arguing when Jen asked us all for a countdown.

The scientists put plastic glasses on and stood next to the table, facing us.

The teachers stepped to the side and the Reception kids at the front squeezed back.

Jen moved to the side of the playground, where she picked up a little blowtorch and turned it on.

She knelt down and pointed the flame at some powder piled up on a metal tray.

The powder lit up, fizzing and crackling until, like a red mouse, it began to scurry along an open metal pipe towards the table.

When the red mouse was nearly at the table, Jen leapt up, ran towards the table and grabbed hold of the sheet.

The mouse flame climbed up the pipe, spluttering for a second then stopping and making us all think it would go out.

It managed to stay lit, though, going up again as Jen pulled off the sheet to reveal Phil the frog, on his rocket, just about to head up to the …

No—

Not Phil.

Not Phil at all.

WHERE WAS PHIL?

We all stared. The scientists, including Jen, were all looking at us – they weren’t looking behind them at the table. And it was weird, really weird, because Phil the frog certainly wasn’t there. Someone must have taken him off. The rocket was there, and something ELSE was on it.

That was the scientists. They’d shouted it, not us, or not many of us, just a few of the smaller kids. Because we were staring, hardly able to believe what we were seeing, the scientists looking confused too – by our reaction – until one by one they turned their heads, to see what we were looking at. And what we were looking at was their experiment – the bucket, the rocket, and the thing tied to it – though instead of what they thought was tied to it there was something else.