Mascot Madness! (9 page)

‘What is it?' asked Jenny.

‘He's got mascot madness,' said Fiona.

‘Mascot madness?' said Newton, turning white. ‘That sounds scary!'

‘It's nothing to be scared of, Newton,' said Fiona. ‘But it is serious. Mascot madness is a medical term for a rare but well-documented condition in which the wearer of a mascot costume begins to identify completely with that costume. The patient forgets who he is and comes to think of the character he is playing as his true identity.'

‘Can we have that again, but in English this time?' said Jack.

‘Simply stated,' said Fiona, ‘Mr Brainfright is no longer himself. He thinks he is a banana.'

‘That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!' said Gretel.

‘No, it's not,' said Fiona, pointing to the page she was reading from. ‘Listen to this: “The effects of mascot madness are very difficult to categorise. They manifest differently in each individual case. For example, Mr Simmons of Central City, who served as a gorilla mascot for the Central City ping pong team, came to identify with his suit so completely that he believed he really was a gorilla.”'

‘Did he recover?' said Jenny.

‘No,' said Fiona, shaking her head. She looked back down at the page. ‘He is now a popular tourist attraction in the gorilla enclosure of the Northwest Zoo. And then there's Mrs Beek of Northwest West West West, who was an eagle mascot for the Northwest West West West netball team. She was cured of her madness after jumping out of a tree in an attempt to fly. It is believed that the shock of the fall snapped her out of it . . .'

‘That's terrible!' said Jenny. ‘The poor woman!'

‘At least she got better,' I pointed out.

‘Yes,' said Fiona solemnly. ‘But it gets worse. “There's the tragic case of Mr White of Central City, who, a mere seven weeks after wearing a shark mascot costume for less than an hour each day, went to his local swimming pool where he attacked several swimmers and—”' Fiona shut the book. ‘I can't read any more,' she said. ‘It's too awful!'

Jack grabbed the book and started flipping through it, no doubt in search of the gruesome details. ‘Are there any pictures?' he asked.

‘Shush!' said Mr Shush. ‘This is a library, not a yelling competition!'

‘I wasn't yelling,' whispered Jack.

‘YES YOU WERE!' yelled Mr Shush.

‘Shush, Mr Shush!' whispered Jack. ‘This is
a library, not a yelling competition.'

‘My point exactly!' said Mr Shush, walking away.

‘Does it say anything in there about how to cure mascot madness?' asked Jenny.

‘Not really,' said Fiona. ‘So little is known about the condition that it's hard to say, but it appears that some people can be snapped out of it by a shock. Others, however—like that poor gorilla man—never come out of it.'

‘Well, we should try shocking Mr Brainfright,' said Jenny. ‘I want the old Mr Brainfright back. He's not as nice as a banana as he was as a human being.'

‘I agree, Jenny,' said Gretel, ‘but I think we should wait until after the athletics competition. It's more important that he remains a banana . . . at least until after that.'

‘But he's not a banana!' said Jenny. ‘He's a human being!'

‘I know that, and you know that,' said Fiona, ‘but he doesn't know that. He thinks he's a banana. And in a very real sense he is—a very good banana—and one that could be crucial to our chances of winning.'

There was a pause.

Fiona looked at us.

We looked at Fiona.

Finally, Jenny spoke. ‘Are you suggesting that we . . . do nothing?'

Fiona shook her head. ‘Not exactly. I certainly think we should do something . . . just not until after the competition.'

Jenny frowned. ‘But . . .'

‘Think about it, Jenny,' said Gretel. ‘If we cure him now, he might not be such an effective mascot—and let's face it, we need all the help we can get.'

‘I want to win the competition as much as everybody else does,' said Jenny, ‘but not at Mr Brainfright's expense.'

‘But it's not like Mr Brainfright is unhappy, Jenny,' I said. ‘I mean, there isn't anything actually wrong with him.'

‘Henry,' said Jenny, ‘there's something wrong with
you
if you can't see the problem here. He thinks he's a banana!'

‘I know that,' I said. ‘All I'm saying is, let's not do anything that we might regret. We can't let Northwest West Academy walk all over us again. Milk! Eggs! What's next? We can't continue living in fear!'

‘Yeah,' said Jack, looking up from the big medical book. ‘It's not hurting anyone to let him think he's a banana for a little while longer. After all, it's not as if he's about to jump into a swimming
pool and start chewing on people's legs.'

‘Jack's right,' said Fiona. ‘The chances of being attacked by a banana are statistically very low . . . and even if you were, you could just squash it with your foot.'

‘Really?' said Newton.

‘Yes, really,' Fiona reassured him.

I could have told Fiona a few home truths about exactly how dangerous that banana suit was, but I didn't want to upset Newton or endanger our bestever chance of beating Northwest West Academy.

Jenny shook her head. ‘I think you're all being really mean,' she said.

‘How about we take a vote on it?' said Fiona. ‘That's the fair way to decide. All in favour of doing nothing, put up your hands.'

Fiona put up her hand.

I put up my hand.

Jack put up his hand.

Gretel put up her hand.

Newton looked worried, and then put up his hand.

Jenny gathered her books, stood up, and went and sat at another table.

The next morning I was in the schoolyard, waiting for Jenny to arrive. After our library session she had refused to talk to any of the gang for the rest of the day.

As she came in the gate, she saw me, then turned away and hurried off in the other direction.

‘Jenny,' I called after her. ‘Wait! I want to talk to you!'

She kept on walking—only faster.

I ran after her and put my hand on her shoulder.

She stopped.

‘What do you want, Henry?' she asked.

‘I just wanted to apologise,' I said. ‘I know how you feel about Mr Brainfright.'

‘Do you?' she said. ‘Then why didn't you vote to try to help him?'

‘Because there are other issues at stake here,' I said.

‘What?' said Jenny impatiently. ‘That you need somebody dancing around in a banana costume to make you believe in yourself?'

‘No,' I said. ‘But—'

Suddenly Newton, Jack and Gretel yelled at us from the other side of the yard. ‘Henry! Jenny! Watch out! They're coming!'

We didn't have to ask who they meant. We could already smell the choking fumes and hear the horn of the bus as it roared towards the school.

‘Nobody move!' said Jenny.

‘Are you crazy?' I said.

‘No,' she said, walking towards the front of the school. ‘Come with me.'

‘Jenny?' I said, wondering if mascot madness was contagious. ‘Are you feeling all right?'

‘Never better,' she said. ‘Come on!'

Jenny ran to the fence, right beside the road.

The Northwest West Academy bus was coming!

My instinct was to run . . . but I couldn't. Not with Jenny out there. Reluctantly, I ran after her.

The bus was loud now. We could hear the Northwest West students yelling at us. Their taunts were mostly unintelligible, but I heard the word ‘LOSERS' loud and clear.

I looked around.

Jenny and I were flanked by Newton, Gretel and Jack. The rest of the students had ducked for cover.

Troy Gurgling leaned out of the bus window and yelled ‘Fire!', and the attack began.

Red objects flew out of the bus windows.

Tomatoes!

Then, to my utter surprise, I flung out my arms and caught a tomato in each hand. I wasn't the
only one. Jack, Jenny, Gretel and Newton each caught a couple as well.

There was a moment when everything seemed to stop.

The yelling from the bus stopped.

We froze, our hands full of tomatoes.

‘Let's go!' yelled Jenny.

We went.

We sprinted out the school gate, up the road, and after the bus.

The surprised faces of Troy Gurgling and other Northwest West Academy students were pressed against the back window of the bus. And instead of yelling at us about what losers we were, they were yelling at their bus driver to go faster.

Their surprise was only exceeded by ours.

We could hardly believe how effortlessly we were gaining on the bus. Running had always seemed hard work, but now it was as easy as if we were being blown along by the wind.

When we got close to the bus, Jenny gave the command to launch our tomatoes.

‘Fire!' she shouted.

We fired—the first wave from our right hands, the second wave from our left.

The back window of the Northwest West Academy bus was covered in the red splodge of squashed tomatoes.

‘See you tomorrow!' yelled Jack, as we slowed down and watched the bus speed away.

‘That was fun!' said Newton, walking slightly taller than I'd ever seen him.

I nodded. ‘You can say that again.' I looked across at Jenny. ‘You were right,' I said. ‘We can do it on our own, banana or no.'

She just smiled.

As we walked back into the schoolyard, the rest of the Northwest Southeast Central School students gave us a rousing cheer.

‘Well, I'll be darned,' said Mr Grunt. ‘Way to go, kids! Looks like my cutting-edge training is finally paying off. Took a few years, but it's definitely working.'

We looked at each other and grinned.

We knew the truth. It was nothing to do with Mr Grunt's training—it was the Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence that was finally paying off.

Mr Grunt was the happiest I'd ever seen him. ‘I knew, of course, that prolonged exposure to an expert athlete like myself would have to affect your performance sooner or later. After all, how could you watch me for all this time and not learn anything? It's ridiculous!'

‘It's not watching you that's made us better,' said Jack, unable to endure Mr Grunt's boasting a moment longer. ‘It's Mr Brainfright.'

‘You think having a banana mascot has made you better at sports?' snorted Mr Grunt.

‘Not just the mascotting,' said Gretel. ‘It's the visualisations.'

‘What?!' spat Mr Grunt.

‘We've been training in our minds,' said Fiona.

‘That's preposterous,' said Mr Grunt. ‘The mind has nothing to do with sport. And I should know.' He leaned down and yelled into Fiona's face: ‘NO PAIN, NO GAIN!'