The Colossal Camera Calamity by Anonymous Page A

(My guess is they invented shoelaces in 1684.) Basically, I was stupid for a fraction of a second and … FLASH. I guess I should be grateful I’m not bald.
    And this one here, from three years ago, is everyone’s favourite. It’s an oldie but a goodie. This one will never go out of style.
    No, I’m not picking my nose. Really, I’m not. It just looks that way. I don’t pick my nose – at least not when anyone’s looking and certainly not when someone is taking my picture. This one was the photographer’s fault. He told me to “look smart”, so I struck a smart-guy pose.
    I put my hand on my chin, like I was thinking about black holes or something, and I guess my index finger decided it would point towards my brain … by way of my right nostril. With this photo, you get the impression that I’m thinking really hard about bogeys.
    I could take you through the rest of the shelf, but it’s pointless.
    Year in, year out, I take a ridiculous photo. My parents then frame it and put on the shelf. My family laughs at me. Everyone who comes to our flat laughs at me. And every day, as I leave for school, the last thing I see is a shelf of reminders that I can’t do anything right.
    In eight hundred years, when they’re studying what I was like as a kid – because I plan to be the first man to live on Mars and also to hold most major Martian sporting records – they’ll find these pictures and the future will laugh at me too.
    Then they’ll find Emily’s perfect pictures, and they’ll think she was the really significant one in the Zipzer family. And then they’ll form a religion based on Emily and her teachings, and they’ll worship the lizard, and the future will be ruined for ever.
    I didn’t want that happen this year. Do you hear that, ghosts of school photos past?

CHAPTER THREE
    Three weeks earlier…
    “Hank, stop ogling your photos and come for breakfast,” my mum yelled at me.
    I took one final look at the top of my head, then flashed my camera-ready smile at the family as I headed over to the table.
    “Who is this child?” my mum asked.
    “No idea,” my dad said. “He must have broken in during the night.”
    Emily also piped up. “Your photo’s not going to look anything like you.”
    “Good,” I said, sitting down.
    Mum had gone all out for breakfast: fried eggs, fried bread, beans, bangers and mushrooms. It looked very tasty … and very
drippy
. This breakfast was a full-body stain waiting to happen. I stared at the heaped plate of food, scanning for just one tasty morsel I could nibble safely.
    “Aren’t you eating?” Mum asked.
    I scooched my chair back about a metre from the table, leaned all the way forward and puckered out my lips, trying to reach just a tiny bite of the egg on my fork with my elastic lips. It was a very awkward position, and all my muscles were shaking, but I couldn’t risk dropping anything on my uniform. My lips could feel the heat of the eggs, and then—
    Emily kicked my leg.
    I dropped the fork, nearly falling backwards to avoid it hitting my leg.
    “I was so close.” I sighed.
    “Just try to eat like a human being and you’ll get some egg next time,” my dad said.
    “I think he was trying out his new pose for this year’s photo,” Emily said.
    “He looked like a monkey.” My mum laughed. “Like a baboon.”
    “Baboons aren’t monkeys. They belong to the ape family, Mum,” Emily said. “Which reminds me. I’ve been shortlisted for a summer course at the Institute for Scientific Excellence. My final interview is today.”
    “That’s brilliant,” my mum said. “I’ll test you on some science thingies. Hmmm.” She drummed her fingers. “OK, got a good one for you. What does H 2 0 stand for?”
    Emily dabbed her lips with her napkin. “The covalent bond between hydrogen and oxygen.”
    “Er … wrong answer.” My mum winked at me. “But here’s a hint: it comes out of a tap. This is
fun
!”
    Emily just stared at my mum with her