Nathalia Buttface and the Embarrassing Camp Catastrophe. Nigel Smith

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      “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.”

      “Pies. Peanuts. Ready-salted crisps. Sweet popcorn. Chicken nuggets.”

      “Stop guessing.”

      “Eucalyptus leaves,” said Plum smugly.

      “Correct,” said Mr Bungee. “Next question. Who’s the queen of New Zealand?”

      “This isn’t general knowledge,” complained Nat.

      “It’s general knowledge to me,” said Mr Bungee.

      “Is it Kylie?” said Nat.

      “NO. Firstly, Kylie’s a pop princess. Secondly, she’s another Aussie. You’re worse than your father.”

      “It’s actually a really clever question,” said Plum, with a smarmy smile. “You haven’t really got a queen, but because you’re in the Commonwealth, you share ours.”

      “How do you KNOW this stuff?” said Nat, who wanted to throttle her rival.

      “It’s called an education,” said Plum.

      Nat scowled.

      She looked at Dad. He looked impressed.

      “You have to admit it: they’re making us look like idiots, love,” he said.

      “St Scrofula’s wins the first round,” said Mr Bungee, to cheers from one lot of kids and boos from the other.

      “The second round is an eating challenge. First rule of camp survival: you gotta eat.”

      He dangled two fat chilli peppers in front of the girls.

      “We call these the Auckland Bum-burners. They are hot. Hot enough to boil a kiwi’s behind. The first one to eat a whole chilli wins.”

      With relief, Nat saw that Plum looked nervous.

      Nat took a pepper. It almost glowed red in her hand, like an ember from a fire.

      She looked at her classmates. They were all urging her on. If Nat lost this, they would lose the contest. She had no choice. She rammed the thing in her mouth and started chewing.

      It wasn’t too bad for about half a nanosecond.

      Then it was bad. Very bad indeed.

      Nat thought the roof of her mouth was going to erupt through the top of her head. Her tongue felt like a firework and even her teeth rattled.

      “I’M GOING TO DIE AND I’M NOT EVEN JOKING!” she yelled, running around in circles, mouth open, desperately trying to suck in cooling air.

      “WATER, WATER, GIMME WATER!!!!”

      She snatched Penny’s water bottle and took huge gulps.

      “Water makes it worse,” said Mr Bungee, with a nasty grin.

      “AAAAGH, YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME EARLIER!” Nat screamed, running around some more, tongue hanging out like a thirsty dog.

      It took about five minutes for the throbbing pain to die down, and about ten minutes for everyone to stop laughing at her.

      “Did I win?” Nat said finally. Her eyes streamed with tears and she could hardly speak.

      “Course you won,” said Plum in a superior kind of way. “I didn’t do it.”

      “Why not?” asked Nat.

      “Didn’t need to – I was already one up. I’ll wait for the third challenge.”

      “Tiebreaker,” said Mr Bungee. “Winner takes all. Loser takes … a couple of dunny shovels.”

      “Ooooh,” said the watching kids from both schools, who were now all willing their champion to victory. And wishing poo-shaped defeat on their rivals.

      “We think you’re awesome, Plum,” shouted her best friend, a tall girl called Thursday Wonton. “Absolutely amazeballs.”

      “Yay!” cheered the Scrofulas.

      “You’d better win, Buttface,” said Darius helpfully. “You’re unpopular enough as it is.”

      “Yay,” agreed Nat’s class.

      Nat scowled at them.

      Mr Bungee, who was milking the suspense for all it was worth, finally made the announcement they were waiting for.

      “The last challenge is a straightforward race,” he said.

      It was straightforward. Straight and forward through an assault course.

      The huge assault course was already set up in the woods. There were ropes to swing along, a net to crawl under, a pipe to squeeze through, tyres to hop in and out of, and then, finally, a big wooden wall.

      “Best thing is, all the mud will break your fall,” said Mr Bungee, “so you can really go for it. Are you ready?”

      “No. Not really,” said Nat unhappily.

      But Mr Bungee had already raised a whistle to his lips.

      “There’s a bell on a tree at the end of the course,” he said. “The first one to ring it wins.”

      All the kids yelled as he blew for the start of the race.

      Plum was off like a rocket, squishing through the mud.

      The first obstacle was a big net, close to the ground. Nat watched as her rival slid under it with practised ease.

      “You’ve done this before,” said Nat, as she got to the net.

      “Yah, we’ve got our own assault course at school,” said Plum, who was halfway through. “It’s so fun.”

      So fun, yah. The only assault course we’ve got is running past the Year Eleven boys smoking behind the science block, thought Nat grimly, as she dived under the net after her opponent.

      The mud was cold and sticky and soon she was plastered in it. But before Nat could wiggle out the other side, Plum was already whizzing along the monkey bars like, well, like a monkey.

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