Матильда
Bruce Bogtrotter and the Cake
Hefinishedthisonequickerthantheothertwoandwhenthatwasdoneheimmediatelypickeduptheknifeandcutthenextslice.Insomepeculiarwayheseemedtobegettingintohisstride.
Matilda,watchingclosely,sawnosignsofdistressintheboyyet.Ifanything,heseemedtobegatheringconfidenceashewentalong."He’sdoingwell,"shewhisperedtoLavender."He’llbesicksoon,"Lavenderwhisperedback."It’sgoingtobehorrid."
WhenBruceBogtrotterhadeatenhiswaythroughhalfoftheentireenormouscake,hepausedforjustacoupleofsecondsandtookseveraldeepbreaths.
TheTrunchbullstoodwithhandsonhips,glaringathim.
"Getonwithit!"sheshouted."Eatitup!"
SuddenlytheboyletoutagiganticbelchwhichrolledaroundtheAssemblyHalllikethunder.Manyoftheaudiencebegantogiggle.
"Silence!"shoutedtheTrunchbull.
Theboycuthimselfanotherthicksliceandstartedeatingitfast.Therewerestillnosignsofflaggingorgivingup.Hecertainlydidnotlookasthoughhewasabouttostopandcryout,"Ican’t,Ican’teatanymore!I’mgoingtobesick!"Hewasstillinthererunning.
Andnowasubtlechangewascomingoverthetwohundredandfiftywatchingchildrenintheaudience.Earlieron,theyhadsensedimpendingdisaster.Theyhadpreparedthemselvesforanunpleasantsceneinwhichthewretchedboy,stuffedtothegillswithchocolatecake,wouldhavetosurrenderandbegformercyandthentheywouldhavewatchedthetriumphantTrunchbullforcingmoreandstillmorecakeintothemouthofthegaspingboy.
