The Bare Bum Gang and the Valley of Doom by Anthony McGowan

Author:Anthony McGowan [Anthony McGowan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781407049922
Publisher: RHCB

Chapter Eleven

THE TEST

It was pitch black. I was in Mrs Cake's front garden.

I was holding the rotten egg.

Dockery and his gang had a supply of rotten eggs that they kept in their den the same way the Bare Bum Gang kept sweets. Dockery had written dates on them in felt tip. Some of them were two years old, which was how you knew they were really, really rotten. Eggs of Mass Destruction, you could call them.

I sneaked up to the front door. I could hear the snickering Dockery and his greasy friends behind the hedge.

I was supposed to throw the Egg of Mass Destruction through Mrs Cake's letter box. I wasn't happy about this, and I knew it was a Bad Thing, but it was the only way I'd be allowed to join the Gang.

I reached the door. I could see some light escaping from between a chink in the curtains, and I could hear the telly. I paused.

'Get on with it, poo-brain,' hissed Dockery from behind me. 'We haven't got all night.'

With my heart in my throat I carefully lifted up the flap. The sound of the telly spilled out. People were laughing. I held the egg up in front of the opening. I felt sick. I felt dirty.

'Come on,' said Dockery, louder this time.

I put the egg through the letter box.

Except that I didn't.

I tried to, but it wouldn't fit. Tap-tap-tap, it went, as the shell clicked against the metal. I was so relieved I could have cheered. It was great. I'd tried to post the egg, but it wouldn't fit. I'd done my best, so they'd have to let me in the Gang, but poor old Mrs Cake wouldn't have stinky egg on her floor.

I let the letter-box flap fall shut. It sounded as loud as an explosion. The next thing I heard was Trixie yapping like a demented yapping machine invented by a mad scientist. Trixie was Mrs Cake's Jack Russell terrier. Her favourite food was children's legs. That's Trixie, I mean, not Mrs Cake, who'd probably never even tasted a child's leg.

I don't know why, but somehow the yapping dog froze me. I just couldn't move. It was as if I'd been zapped with a paralysing ray.

The top half of the door was made of knobbly-wobbly glass, and I could see Trixie jumping up on the inside, her pointy snout snarling and snapping. I suppose you shouldn't really be afraid of a dog that's only a little bit bigger than a rat, but Trixie was definitely scary. After all, quite a few things are small and scary – like scorpions, black widow spiders, evil dwarfs and Brussels sprouts.

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