The Girl With Death Breath and Other Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls (3 page)

Poor Bulldog. He checked his shorts, looked around, checked them again, and then just stood there. And went red. And then dark red and then purple.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so embarrassed as Bulldog did that hot, smelly, excellent morning.

Well, Rob was right. Bulldog never hurt anyone after that. For a while we had the feeling he wanted to, but he was too scared of what Rob might do next.

These days, Bulldog's not a bad kid. But do you know what? On really hot mornings he checks his bike seat, just in case. I've seen him. But I'd never let him know, of course. And you know what else? I check mine too.

Early one morning, Steven Everett checked his watch, quietly slipped into the clothes he'd laid out the night before, grabbed the bag he'd had packed for a week, brushed his teeth, tiptoed into the kitchen and wrote the following note:

Dear Mum, Dad and Anthony,

I'm going. I don't know where but I'm going. When you said the other night that I'm useless, I thought, well, that's it. I've always known how you think Anthony is so good at everything and I'm such a loser and it's so easy to see that you love him and you don't love me.

There must be somewhere I can live where everyone doesn't make me feel like an idiot. Don't worry about me being hungry or anything because I pinched fifty bucks from your purse. Don't worry about Woofer being lost either. I'm taking him with me. At least for now I'll be out of your way.

Forever.

   Goodbye,
       Steven

Steven started to cry but there was no way he was changing his mind. So he sneaked out of the kitchen window, crept up to Woofer's kennel and whispered, ‘You ready?'

He let Woofer lick away some tears and took one last look at the house in which he had lived for all of his eleven years. Then he set off down the road.

Steven knew exactly what he would do. Catch a train into the city and just hang around for a while. Until he got himself together. Then he'd find a job, get married and have kids – kids who felt loved.

It didn't take long for Steven to realise that running away wasn't as easy as it sounded.

‘No dogs on the train, kid,' said the station master.

‘But how am I going to get to the city?' asked Steven.

‘Ever heard of walking?' said the jerk station master. ‘Either that or you could let the dog play on the tracks for a while. The seven thirty-three's not that far away.'

As the station master turned away, laughing, Woofer peed on his leg.

So, Steven and Woofer did walk. The whole way. Eleven kilometres to the city in the rain.

‘Why didn't I bring a coat?' Steven muttered. ‘And some food. Everything's so expensive. All I've done is buy a bit of lunch, some dry food for Woof and a few lollies and the money's half gone.Well, a fair few lollies, really, but a bloke gets hungry.'

At last, Steven and Woofer reached the middle of the city.Which was a bit of a worry, really, because once you're standing in the middle, it's hard to think where else to go. It was getting dark, so no good looking for a job until the next day. And it was getting cold, too. Poor old Woofer was a bit scared.

‘Don't you worry, Woof,' said Steven. ‘You'll be right with me. We'll stick together, OK, Woof?'

Steven would never admit it to Woof, but he was scared too. And cold and wet. Woofer didn't look all that flash either. Time to find somewhere to sleep.

Steven had read in the papers that some poor street kids have to sleep under bridges. With newspapers for blankets. But he didn't fancy that too much – especially when the kids he saw under one bridge looked pretty tough.

So, Steven and Woofer walked. Anywhere, everywhere, just to keep warm, until finally, Steven's little legs just wouldn't take him any further. He lay down in a park, cuddled into Woofer and fell into a long, shivery sleep.

People saw them still huddled up together the next morning, and of course they called the police. It wasn't very long at all before Steven was back home again. As quickly as his big adventure had started, it was over.

But it ended just as it had begun. With a note. From his brother Anthony, hidden under his pillow.

This is what it said:

DEAR STEVE,

BECAUSE I'M YOUR BROTHER AND A BOY, I CAN'T SAY MUSHY STUFF TO YOU SO I DECIDED TO WRITE IT DOWN. YOU KNOW HOW MUM AND DAD SAID THEY MISSED YOU REALLY BADLY? WELL, I DON'T KNOW WHETHER YOU BELIEVE THEM OR NOT, BUT THEY DID.

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? I MISSED YOU TOO. WORSE THAN YOU'D EVER BELIEVE. YOU'RE THE BEST BROTHER A KID COULD HAVE.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S STUPID? I ALWAYS THOUGHT YOU WERE MUM AND DAD'S FAVOURITE. NOT ME. EVERYONE LIKES YOU, STEVE. EXACTLY AS YOU ARE. BUT ME, I'VE GOT TO TRY ALL THE TIME. I'VE GOT TO MAKE PEOPLE LIKE ME. BY BEING GOOD AT THINGS. YOU KNOW, FOOTY AND SCHOOLWORK AND STUFF.

YOU'RE THE LUCKY ONE. I'D DO ANYTHING TO SWAP. I'VE ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT SECRETLY MUM AND DAD RECKON I'M THE LOSER. THAT'S WHY THEY SAY NICE THINGS WHEN I DO WELL. TO BUILD ME UP.

DON'T EVER RUN AWAY AGAIN, STEVE, I COULDN'T STAND IT. YOU'RE THE ONLY REAL FRIEND I'VE GOT.

    
ANTHONY

Steven tiptoed to his brother's room and whispered, ‘You awake?'

‘Yeah,' said Anthony.

‘Thanks for the letter,' said Steven.

‘That's OK,' Anthony said.

‘I am your friend,' said Steven. ‘Always. And you know how true friends should be able to say anything to each other?'

‘Yeah,' said Anthony.

‘If I'm the only real friend you've got,' said Steve, smiling, ‘then you're a total loser.'

‘OK,'
said Mr Jenkins,‘I want you all to write a story, no more than a page, on what you did during the holidays.'

‘What if I don't feel like it?' said Anne Spinks.

‘I beg your pardon?' said Mr Jenkins, more than a little surprised.

‘I don't want to do your stupid story,' said Anne.

Mr Jenkins couldn't believe his ears. Anne Spinks was by no means the best-behaved student in class, but she had never been downright rude before.

‘What has got into you?' asked Mr Jenkins.

‘I should be asking what has got into you,' said Anne. ‘
A monkey?'

‘Right, that's enough!' yelled Mr Jenkins. ‘Stand outside!'

‘No,' said Anne.

‘What?' thundered Mr Jenkins.

‘No,' repeated Anne. ‘N-O, no!'

Poor Mr Jenkins. He knew he couldn't lay a hand on Anne. He wasn't allowed. Much as he might have wanted to drag her into the corner for time-out, he knew there was no way. And to add to his problem, Anne knew it too.

She'd heard her parents talking about school the night before and how it must be so hard for teachers now that the strap isn't allowed.

‘In fact,' said her mum, ‘about the only thing poor teachers can do these days is expel kids. Kick them out.'

‘So they can be naughty all over again at some other school,' grumbled her dad.

For some reason, Anne Spinks had been feeling bored lately.
Terribly bored.
But hearing her parents' little chat gave her an idea. Suddenly, Anne Spinks didn't feel bored at all.

‘All right, Anne,' said Mr Jenkins. ‘There are two ways we can handle this. You can explain to me what's going on, or you can sit there until lunchtime and wait for Mrs Noakes to speak to you.'

‘Principals don't scare me,' said Anne, rolling her eyes.

‘We'll see about that,' said Mr Jenkins, ‘because the next step, young lady, is a call to your parents.'

‘Don't let me keep you,' said Anne. ‘There's a phone in the staff room.'

The other kids didn't know what to think.

‘This is awesome,' said Paul Ngu.

‘You're an idiot,' said Jessica Wright. ‘Mr Jenkins is the best teacher we've ever had and you're just behaving like a jerk.'

‘I'm bored,' said Anne.

‘Not bored,' said Tessa James. ‘Boring.'

The principal did speak to Anne and so did her parents. But it didn't do any good.

‘I want a change,' said Anne.

‘Is it the schoolwork?' asked her parents. ‘Is it too easy?'

‘Maybe,' said Anne with a shrug. ‘I just need something different.'

Between you and me, what Anne really needed was a good smack on the bum. Although I shouldn't be saying that anymore, should I? Let's just say that Anne was far too spoilt.

So, the next day, Anne was at it again. She sneaked into the principal's office, grabbed the microphone and said over the loudspeaker:

‘Mr Jenkins drinks and smokes,
And does loud burps with
other blokes.'

Next she poured Clag all over Tessa James's lunch, and finally she wrote something very rude on the blackboard. I can't tell you what it was, but Mr Jenkins wasn't very happy. Not at all.