Okay. This is such a cheap, one-shot story, but somebody had to do

I have, as I suggested on the Nameless thread, combined David and
Chris's years. (Thanks, Imran for responding and not leaving me doing
more evil-minded vandalism to H G Wells, despite my dyslexic
moments... Well, I'm still doing the vandalism, but hey, I've got
*permission*) :-D

All right, waffle over. I have to say it's been a long time since
I've read a story with the narrator in & have only written him briefly
as Tinky-Winky, so if he's all wrong...


TTR/Then Do That Over
First Year Camp

Do I need to say more? There’s trouble, tears, rain, collapsing tents
and children going AWOL.

First Year / Year Seven Camp Log Book

[Day One]

Why a log book for school camp, I hear you ask. I’m still sticking on
the whole question of ‘why school?’ and ‘First year camp?’ And how
come yesterday my biggest problem was avoiding any more embarrassing
cross-dressing incidents during Storytime, while today I woke up to
find I’d been a PE teacher at H G Wells for two years?

When I mentioned this to the secretary, the fearsome Miss Noble, she –
after yelling at me – confessed that her bad mood was due to the fact
that yesterday she’d been planning to get the train out of here and
today she found that she’d had a full time job as school secretary for
the past nine years and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the school
and its pupils. I took her point. Freaky.

Mr Maxil entered before we could go any further into this, wanting to
know what I was doing standing around here talking instead of on the
coach with the first years. I laughed politely at his strange joke
but he merely glared until I realised that he meant it. At the same
time, I was getting odd, fuzzy memories of last year’s trip,
presumably suppressed until now to leave me some shreds of sanity. I
scarpered, leaving our Assistant Head to the mercy of the recently
returned Dr Smythe, who was demanding to know exactly why he’d let a
maths teacher cover her history classes in her absence and that the
wretched man could jolly well go back to counting beans and she would
teach them something other than military history, thank you very much.

“Tudors again?” suggested Maxil acidly.

I don’t like Maxil – no one does – but I don’t envy him.

Anyhow, why the log? OK. First things first, in case this is found
on my mutilated dead body (it’s a strong possibility with this year
group) I’m Fitz Kreiner – yeah, that’s right. Some lunatic author has
decided I’d make a great PE teacher. Could have its compensations,
but best not go there in writing. The idea is to save me the trouble
I had last year when I had to answer a lot of annoying when / where /
what / how questions about the murder / accident / explosion / missing
pupils to the police / A &E / Dr Holloway / Maxil / hysterical
parents. This year should any disasters occur they will be faithfully
recorded here, to the minute -.

First case of coach sickness. Luckily, Miss Maclay is also on the
coach with me, so left clearing up of mess to her womanly sympathy and
magical abilities.

Miss Maclay has gone to sit with John Master and David Doctor. Or
between them, to be precise. Let me explain –

- Look, this writing stuff is hard work. You’re an author. Do your
info-dumping on your own time. Ow -

OK. Just picture the Doctor and Master families? What, you don’t
want to? Well, can’t say I blame you. In my opinion Mr & Mrs
Doctor / Master should have exercised considerably more self-control
once they saw how the first few examples of their progeny turned out,
but no such luck.

Anyway, the youngest brothers – both ten years old, one borderline
sociopathic, the other permanently having to be pulled down off the
ceiling – were felt to be a problem at home alone. So, both being
scarily bright, they passed the entry exam and now next brothers up
Chris and Derek have to put up with them in the same year.

To make matters worse (you were thinking they couldn’t? Ha.) David
seems to imagine that their unique status as the only ten year-olds in
the school should make them best friends. John can’t imagine anything
worse. Need I say more?

Suppose it’s only to be expected that as Chris and Derek both seem
frighteningly normal that the next two would be worse than ever.
Actually, now that I come to think about it, Dr Holloway tells me that
Derek has a dark side, but she’s not sure yet whether it’s genuine
schizophrenia or just another case of inconsistent writing.

Anyway, it’s not my problem. Sure Miss Maclay can cope.

More coach sickness. Stopped the coach and handed round paper bags to
everyone, even those who had been so sure they’d never been travel-
sick in their lives. Thank you very much Mickey Smith and Rose Tyler.

Pretended to be marking homework (yeah, right – for PE) while the
Brigadier pulled a screaming, hysterical John off Miss Maclay, who
found her own way of dealing with David pulling her hair. The
Brigadier, who swapped coaches when we stopped, doesn’t seem to trust
me. He glared as he dumped David next to me and dragged John off to
sit by him at the front. (John instantly became suspiciously
angelic.) What am I supposed to do with the other midget?

What is it with the kid? I swear he hasn’t drawn breath in the last
six minutes. Does he always talk this much?

10.51 On the Coach
by David Doctor

Mr Kreiner said I could keep the log for the journey. It’s been fun
so far except for when John screamed at Miss Maclay. Miss Maclay is
funny. Odd stuff happens when she is around and she said rude things
about Mr Kreiner under her breath. The Brigadier pulled John by the
ear and me by the nose. Wonder if he’s stretched them? Maybe Mr
Kreiner has a ruler so I can check? Oh but I don’t know how long it
was before. Oh well. Wonder what John’s doing? He never wants to do
stuff with me. Mr Kreiner is doodling on a piece of paper. He wrote
PE EXAM in big letters up the top but it isn’t. Rose is in front of
us with Jackie. They’re both puking up into brown bags. Cool. Mr
Kreiner is asking me if I’ve got a paper bag too. He looks a bit
pale. Martha and Donna are behind. Donna says the coach is scrappy
and old and you’d think it’d have more comfy seats and the driver’s
going too slow and the boys are all right pains, especially me and
John and school is rubbish anyway and she hates camping --.

I twisted round in my seat to see what Martha was doing and I fell
off. Mr Kreiner pulled me up and shouted at me. Martha is reading a
book called ‘Inkheart’ and not listening to Donna but Donna is still
talking anyway. Miss Maclay waved at me when I fell out of my seat
but my seatbelt did itself up after that. I like Miss Maclay but my
Dad told me that there was no such thing as magic and Miss Maclay says
there is. Is she lying? Why? One of these days I will find out.

Chris just glared at me from the seat over. He is sitting with Jack.
I wonder if the Brigadier pulled him by both ears.

Saw the sea out of the window and a mountain and a prairie and lots of
little hills and snow. This is not how geography lessons say it ought
to be, but it is weird here at H G Wells. It’s brilliant excellent
awesome amazing fantastic and really really weird. Why doesn’t John
like me? It’s no fun. We like all the same stuff, except for he
keeps killing all the Master family’s pets. Last time when the tabby
kitten went missing Tony beat him up and he had the best black eye
ever but he still wouldn’t play with me he just nicked all my tin

Oh. We’re here --------


The Brigadier has been marching up and down as if he’s the one in
charge here, lecturing the kids on how to put up tents and not let the
school down blah blah blah. Is it possible to let H G Wells down by
bad behaviour?

He particularly reminded the lot of them that the game ‘Killing Jack’
has been absolutely forbidden, as it is Not Funny and has Got To
Stop. Yeah, that’ll do it.

Got my tent up in record time (these light-weight modern things are a
doddle compared to clunky 1960s efforts) and helped Miss Maclay with
hers. These little touches never seem to get me anywhere, worse
luck. The Brig went past and said in a tone I didn’t much like,
“Finally making myself useful, are you?”

Sent David to see Miss Maclay about the bump on his head. Said he was
just helping John put up his tent.

Sent John to see Miss Maclay about the bruise on his face. Said one
of the big boys did it for no reason at all.

Cornered Chris Doctor. Said David was a squirt but he wasn’t doing
anything to John and he’d punch him again if he hit David with a tent
pole like that. At a bit of a loss, as I couldn’t give him a
detention at camp, so sent him to Lethbridge-Stewart. David is by far
the smallest boy in school. He’s annoying, but nobody should be
trying to brain him with a tent pole.

Chris and Derek moaning about their tent being smaller inside than
out. Typical. What did they expect?

Set off on first walk to the nearby castle ruins. Started raining as
soon as we left.

Result! Have already managed to lose David. If we go on like this,
we won’t have any first years left by the time we get back.

Lectured by Brig about responsibilities. Look, he shoved the kid into
the seat next to me on the coach. Was I supposed to know that meant I
was the one who had to watch over him for the rest of the trip?

Mickey fell over and got plastered in mud. Laughed hysterically with
the rest until Miss Maclay gave me a reproachful look. Luckily the
Brig was ahead with Chris, Martha and a party of Ood. Right weirdos
they are.

Not so funny. Idiot Mickey didn’t bother to pack any clean clothes,
as he now tells us. Great. Suggested to Miss Maclay that she do a
spot of washing overnight but she gave me that nervous smile of hers
and said that it would probably be best if I did it.

What am I doing here?

Still no sign of David. Rose has started crying. The rest of the
girls will start soon.

Yep. All but Donna, Cassandra, Francine and Suzy. Mickey’s crying
too, but that’s because he’s a walking mud monster. And because Pete
and Jake keep telling him it’s not mud and are holding their noses at
him. First years.

Apparently no one has seen Chris for the last 20 minutes, either.
Somehow this is also my fault.

Or Jack. Or Derek. You’d think people’d be glad to be rid of them,
but no.

Look, give over. It’s not easy writing and walking at the same time,

Arrived at the ruins of Castle Spellerous. (Don’t ask me. Guess it’s
because this is an educational trip in a weird school outside of
reality). Left the kids clambering over fallen commas and letters and
did some counting.

Put it this way, either my maths is worse than Jackie’s or we’ve
decimated the first year. Now we’re missing John, Rose and several
Daleks. Suggested to the Brigadier that he really should be a bit
more responsible about these things.

Out in the forest, looking for missing kids. Note to self: the
Brigadier does not appreciate sarcasm.

Coaxed Rose down from a tree. Said she climbed it to get a better
view re looking for David. Congratulated her on actually doing some
thinking for once, but honestly. He’s titchy. Climb up a tree and
you might as well look for a bug in barn.

Found Jack sprawled out on a carpet of leaves with an ugly gash across
his forehead. Just as I predicted, someone still thinks ‘Killing
Jack’ isn’t off-limits. Mind you, they’re not generally this good at
it. It usually tends to be more in the way of suicidal dares. (i.e.
‘Jump off the school clock tower, Jack!’ And the crazy kid goes and
does it.)

Jack came round, but wasn’t saying much about the attack. Claimed he
couldn’t remember. Chris appeared at that point, but he wasn’t
telling, either. Said in that case, Chris must have done it and when
we got back he’d be in detention writing so many lines his arm would
fall off. They looked at each other. Knew it wasn’t Chris.

Smugly returned to castle ruins with three of the missing kids
trailing behind me. The Brig had found John, worse luck.

Discovered at that point that Owen, Gwen and Toshiko had now
vanished. Martha claimed to know where they went to and offered to go
and get them, so took her up on it. The Brig then lectured me on the
dangers of letting an 11 year old girl run off alone when we didn’t
know what sort of strangers might be around. Said nobody could be any
weirder than the kids we’d brought with us.

At last. Everyone here in the same place except David. Miss Maclay
took us round the ruins, explaining things to the children. I added
some helpful comments here and there. All relatively peaceful now.

Never any pleasing the Brig. Now he’s been saying that I should have
kept my lurid comments about boiling oil to myself. Reckons we’ll
have trouble tonight. I reckon that goes without saying.

Back at camp. David turned out to have been here all along, being
looked after by Miss Wright, who said she knew she should have come
with us. Odd, but true – stuff like this doesn’t happen so much when
she’s around.

Since I am officially in charge of the tadpole, asked him what exactly

He’s. Still. Talking. I’ll get him to write it here.

17.31 Base Camp
What Happened Today by David Doctor

Mr Kreiner wants me to write what happened. Well, I got lost, but
then I saw the camp so I think I just walked the wrong way. Mr
Kreiner is going purple.

Sent him away before I brained him myself. How do you lose a large
party of noisy children, teachers and aliens two minutes down the

Aliens. Oh [words I’d better not write here]

Think we left several Daleks behind. No one else has noticed. Will
keep quiet.

Remember now that this happened last year. Must be tradition by now.
‘Spect they just go native or something.

Campfire dinner. Do not ask.

Campfire songs. Words fail me again.

Brig packed all the kids off to their tents as soon as it started
getting dark. He has his uses. Miss Maclay kindly reminded me about
Mickey’s muddy clothes.

Went to get them and heard voices from the girls’ tents – one seemed
to be bulging and the rest looked empty. Brought Mickey’s clothes
back and told Miss Maclay. Went to the wash block to wash said filthy
clothes and hung them up. Heard hysterical sobbing from the girls’
loos and told Miss Maclay when I met her coming back. She looks
annoyed. I know – who says boys are worse than girls?

Better check on David.

Met Miss Maclay in the dark, marching Jackie and Rose back to their
tent. Apparently the fuss was all over Gwen telling ghost stories.
Jackie now insists the campsite is haunted and went to hide in the
wash block all night as it was light in there. David actually in tent
and sleeping. Looks about six.

Aargh!!!! David not in tent. Found this out after sleepwalking
incident from girls’ tents. Tish was having a nightmare about
ghosts. Checked on David once more. He had vanished. How? Why?

Do I tell the Brig or just count on David turning up again at some

Miss Maclay and I returned with David, who’d gone off into the woods
with a torch hoping to see badgers or foxes or something and ending up
‘getting lost’. Doesn’t he have any sense of direction? Miss Maclay
thanked me for waking her up with my loud shouting outside her tent.
Something tells me she’s not being sincere.

Narrow escape after dumping David back in tent. Met the Brig who had
been trying to deal with a tearful Owen (severe case of homesickness
and wanting his teddy bear) and wondered what I was doing up. Looked
saintly and said it was one last check to see that everyone was all
right. He went off to his tent, but looked as if he wanted to say
something scathing.

Day Two - Day Three

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