Chapter 3

New week, new me.

That was what Courtney was hoping. She had survived being with Mrs Grungle for an entire week. It had been difficult, but somehow she’d managed it. That meant she could do it again. The day had already been going well, so she hoped this would continue.

“Everyone, gather around now!” The tyrant called, and none of the students needed to be told twice. They all rushed to the mat. It was no longer a competition. It was a matter of survival. If you didn’t get to it in a timely fashion, Mrs Grungle would get angry at you. That was something the kids had learnt the hard way.

No one wanted to be banished to the timeout chair, a lone chair that sat in the corner of the room. Being banished to that spot was not just shameful; it meant you were cut off from everyone else. Isolated.

Courtney found a spot on the mat. Leah and Sarah sat on either side of her.

“It’s story time,” Mrs Grungle barked, as she slid her bony finger down beside her chair and scooped up a hardcover book.

Jack quickly raised his hand. Courtney couldn’t help but admire how brave he was for daring to ask a question of Mrs Grungle.

“Yes, Jack?”

“I don’t know that book. What is it called?” He asked.

It was only then that Courtney realised that he was right. It was a new book that none of the students had ever seen before. Miss Whittle had already read every book on the shelf, which meant this one must have been brought in by Mrs Grungle herself.

“It is called ‘The Monster and the Little Girl’,” she explained, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

Why was Mrs Grungle reading a book about monsters? There could only be one reason. Because she was a monster herself. And the little girl? Obviously, Courtney was a little girl. It must be a story about them. A threat to her.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She found a beautiful grassy hill, and the girl really liked this hill. She could play with balls, fly a kite and play all day. It was her secret hiding spot.” Mrs Grungle paused reading the book, setting it on her lap. “Who here has a secret hideout?”

The kids all glanced at one another, but before any of them could be first, Courtney raised her hand. Slowly, the other students also raised their hands. Courtney stuck her tongue out at Jack, having beaten him this time. His face was slightly red, clearly annoyed that she had beaten him.

Mrs Grungle looked up to the flickering light in the ceiling.

“Ah, so you all have secret hideouts.” Her head snapped around to look at them, and Courtney instantly realised it was a mistake admitting she had a secret hiding spot. “I wonder where they are.”

The students all retracted their hands quicker than they had raised them.

“Well, let’s get back to the story,” she continued, although the malice of her words remained. “One day, the girl was coming back from her secret spot and saw a lost sheep.”

“Do you all see the sheep?” All the kids nodded without saying a word. Perhaps fearful of how Mrs Grungle would twist their words against them like she had the secret hideouts.

“The sheep asked the girl, ‘I am looking for a grassy hill to eat all the delicious grass. You wouldn’t happen to know where it would be?’ The girl thought about the grassy hill that she had been playing on before. She didn’t want to share the hill with the sheep, so she said, ‘It’s over that way.’ Pointing to the dark swampland.”

Mrs Grungle once again set the book down.

Courtney could feel her heart rate begin to pick up.

“Did she tell the truth?” Mrs Grungle asked.

Nobody said anything.

Mrs Grungle was clearly not satisfied with the lack of participation. A vein became visible on her forehead. She raised her bony fingers and pointed at Leah.

“Leah! Did she tell the truth?”

Leah jumped. Courtney felt bad for her, but knew if she said anything, she would become the focus of the attention. This was how Mrs Grungle broke the students. She tore them apart by pinning them against each other.

“No, Mrs Grungle,” Leah replied. Her face was pale, her eyes fixated on a carpet stain.

“That’s right.” She picked up the book again. “The girl lied to the sheep. She was naughty. The following day, when she was going back to her secret spot, a strange monster appeared. The little girl was not happy to have to share her hill.” Mrs Grungle turned the page and used the time to ask the class a question. “Who would want to share their hiding spot with a monster?”

Courtney shook her head. Mrs Grungle inviting herself into her secret hideout was the last thing she wanted.

Mrs Grungle's eyes gazed down at the page. A fixation that was unsettling to Courtney. She had never seen Mrs Grungle look like this.

“‘Are there any sheep here?’” Mrs Grungle paused.

Sudden.

Too sudden.

Especially considering how recently she had asked something of the class.

A cruel smile played on her lips. “Were there any sheep there?”

A shiver ran down Courtney’s spine as the class responded, “No!”

Why was she asking something so obvious?

Was she taunting them?

“No, that’s right, there were no sheep.” Mrs Grungle locked eyes with Courtney, and in that moment, it was as if the rest of the world faded into nothingness. Her piercing jade eyes were so menacing that Courtney felt as if she was going to throw up. “‘Good, I am the Gribble Groble, and I hate sheep. I only eat children.’”

Courtney now knew why Mrs Grungle stared directly at her.

It was a message.

A warning.

Not to intervene.

“Since there were no sheep, the Gribble Groble gobbled up the naughty little girl.” Mrs Grungle paused before reading the last words. “The End.”

A few of the children began to cry. This was not like any of the storybooks the children had read before. Stories always had a happy ending.

“What is the message of the story?” Mrs Grungle asked, although none of the children wanted to answer. They were still traumatised by the ending.

Mrs Grungle’s eyes flickered through the shaking children, as if seeking prey to be sacrificed.

Her eyes held on to Courtney. Petrifying her with fear.

“How about you, Courtney?”

She had to answer. But her mouth was struggling to form words. The other children all turned their heads to look at her, which only added further pressure. She had to answer.

“Sheep are good?” she replied, although she wasn’t certain of her own answer.

“No!” Mrs Grungle screeched, causing all the kids to jump. Mrs Grungle, realising she startled the students, took a moment to breathe. “I’m sorry for startling you. The moral of the story is that you should always tell the truth. So don’t lie or the Gribble Groble will eat you up.”

The way she reacted to her mention of sheep and her insistence on telling the truth only further cemented Courtney’s belief that Mrs Grungle was a monster. The book was a warning to her. Just as she saw that Mrs Grungle was a monster, Mrs Grungle was aware that Courtney knew.

Mrs Grungle was not the Gribble Groble.

She was the Gribble Grungle.

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End of Chapter 3