Free Inside the Worm by Robert Swindells Page B

window display, and much else besides. At the foot of the list, in brilliant green, was this:
    SATURDAY MAY 1ST. ON THE FESTIVAL FIELD. A THRILLING RE-ENACTMENT BY CHILDREN OF BOTTOMTOP MIDDLE SCHOOL OF SAINT CERIDWEN’S OWN STORY. SEE THE LEGENDARY CONFRONTATION BETWEEN THE DREADED ELSWORTH WORM AND THE FRAIL MAIDEN. SEE TERRIFIED VILLAGERS AND MARAUDING DANES. SEE CERIDWEN MARTYRED FOR HER FAITH. OUR TOWN HAS SEEN NOTHING LIKE THIS IN A THOUSAND YEARS.
    â€˜Bit over the top, isn’t it?’ said Fliss. ‘People’ll be expecting a Hollywood epic and all they’ll get is us, trolling about like wallies in a bunch of home-made costumes.’
    Vicky chuckled. ‘Doesn’t matter, Fliss. They’ll love it anyway. They always do when kids’re performing. It’s like the infants’ nativity play where someone forgets her lines or bursts out crying or goes wandering offstage looking for Mummy. The teacher’s going ape-shape thinking the whole thing’s ruined, but it isn’t, because the mums and dads think it’s really cute. They’ve seen the play fifty times before anyway, and it’s the things that go wrong that make it interesting.’
    â€˜Hmm.’ Fliss wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘We’re not infants, Vicky. You heard what Mr Hepworth said. The whole town’ll be watching us. It’s the last thing, you see – the climax of the Festival. It’s a big responsibility and it scares me.’
    They moved on, strolling in a great circle round the town centre till they found themselves outside Butterfield’s once more.
    â€˜Another Coke?’ suggested Fliss.
    Vicky shook her head. ‘I’d better go. We’re off somewhere in the car this aft – some garden centre or something, and I’ll have to get changed. What you gonna do – find that lad you fancied?’
    â€˜Which lad?’ Fliss looked indignant. ‘I don’t fancyanyone. I thought I’d walk round the supermarket – get a choc bar or something.’
    Vicky grinned. ‘I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t. You around tomorrow?’
    Fliss shrugged. ‘Dunno. Depends what the wrinklies’re up to. I’ll give you a ring.’
    Vicky departed and Fliss went into Butterfield’s. It was hot and busy and she knew she’d spend half her time being jostled and the other half dodging trolleys, but then nothing’s much fun by yourself and it was too early to go home. If she’d known what was about to happen among those crowded aisles, she’d have gone home anyway.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
    WHILE FLISS AND Vicky were reading the poster outside St Ceridwen’s, Gary and the others were arguing in Trot’s garage, which had become a sort of headquarters for them. This was where they stowed the pieces of the worm, and where they usually met. It was a big garage with plenty of space to spare even when the Trotters’ Astra was in it, as it was now.
    â€˜I still say let’s frighten some people,’ insisted Gary. ‘We all know how great we felt after we did it to old Ackroyd.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Lisa, ‘but that was at night, and in a quiet spot. Going downtown in broad daylight’s another matter. We’d get arrested.’
    â€˜It was you got in trouble for being out late,’countered Trot. ‘So Saturday morning should be just the job, right?’
    â€˜Yes,’ put in Ellie-May, ‘but what about the police, Trot? Wouldn’t we be disturbing the peace or something?’
    â€˜Would we heck! Listen – Gary and me aren’t stupid. We’ve got it all worked out. You know the other week, when the bookshop did that promo on kids’ books?’
    Ellie-May looked at him. ‘Yes – what about it?’
    â€˜Well – they had guys dressed up, didn’t they? There was a bogeyman, a puppy and an owl, all walking up and down the