the Trunchbull let go of the pigtails and Amanda went sailing like a rocket right over the wire fence of the playground and high up into the sky.
“Well thrown, sir!” someone shouted from across the playground,
and Matilda, who was mesmerised by the whole crazy affair,
saw Amanda Thripp descending in a long graceful parabola on to the playing-field beyond.
She landed on the grass and bounced three times and finally came to rest. Then, amazingly, she sat up.
She looked a trifle dazed and who could blame her, but after a minute or so she was on her feet again and tottering back towards the playground.
The Trunchbull stood in the playground dusting off her hands. “Not bad,” she said, “considering I'm not in strict training.”
“Not bad at all.” Then she strode away. “She's mad,” Hortensia said.
“But don't the parents complain?” Matilda asked. “Would yours?” Hortensia asked. “I know mine wouldn't.”
“She treats the mothers and fathers just the same as the children and they're all scared to death of her.”
“I'll be seeing you some time, you two.” And with that she sauntered away.
Bruce Bogtrotter and the Cake
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