Everyone thought that was funny – except me.
* * *
At ten o’clock that night, I was still scrubbing pots. The chefs had gone home and Frank was setting tables.
“Maaaxxxx.”
I looked around.
“Maaaaaxxxxxxx!”
I stopped scrubbing. “What do you want?”
No answer.
The voice came from the pantry. The door was open a little and the light was on.
I pushed the door open further. Suddenly, I felt a cold, eerie breeze on my face.
“Aaaggghh!”
I ran out of the kitchen, smack bang into Uncle Lenny.
“There’s a ghost in the pantry!” I said.
He frowned. “Ghosts? You think this place is haunted?”
“I heard it. Something called me from in there.”
“That pantry is a cold room – a big fridge. Now, pick up these empty cartons and take them out the back.”
“Okay, Uncle Lenny.”
I noticed Frank smirking. I picked up an armful of cartons and took them out the back door.
It sure was dark out there. The dumpster reeked and the hot night made it worse. I jumped on the cartons to flatten them. Stomp! Stomp!
I heard someone or something grunting. It came from the dumpster.
“Frank, is that you?”
No answer.
I threw the flattened boxes in the dumpster. A shadowy figure stood up.
“Help!” I ran back inside. I was puffing.
I was glad when Dad turned up to take me home.
* * *
I turned up early for my second night’s work. Maybe I’d get extra money if I worked harder. I grabbed some cutlery and set a table. Then I went into the kitchen to wash lettuce.
Frank was there.
“You’re back.” he said, grinning. “Chef’s got a job for you.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Prawns,” said the chef. He handed me some gloves and a box filled with prawns. “Ever shelled prawns before?”
“No,” I said, grimacing. I saw hundreds of tiny black eyes, long whiskers and pointy legs.
He showed me how to shell a prawn. Yuck!
I shelled about ten prawns. There had to be an easier way.
I grabbed a meat mallet and gave a prawn an almighty whack. Everything came off and I took out the squashed prawn meat and put it on the platter. I took another prawn – whack! And another – whack!
“What are you doing?” yelled the chef. “You can’t do that!”
“What’s going on?” said Uncle Lenny.
The chef picked up a flat prawn with two fingers. “This is what’s going on,” he said.
I ended up shelling hundreds of prawns. I hate prawns!
* * *
Later that night, Frank got ready to leave.
“Don’t forget to take these boxes out to the dumpster,” he said with a wink.
Sure, I thought. He’ll play another trick like last night.
I grabbed the bag of prawn shells and went out the back. I heard scratching sounds inside the dumpster.
“Now it’s your turn, Frank!” I reached up and emptied the prawn stuff into the dumpster.
A dirty looking figure covered in smelly prawn shells stood up. It wasn’t Frank – it was a horrible thing and it was looking right at me!
I ran back inside to tell Uncle Lenny. “There’s a ghost in the dumpster!”
Uncle Lenny laughed. His big belly wobbled until I thought it would knock me over.
“You have a wild imagination. First the cool room and now the dumpster. What next?”
I started to wonder if I really had seen anything. Maybe I was overtired. Maybe I had imagined everything. If I worked really hard, I wouldn’t have time to worry about ghosts.
* * *
The next night, I ripped into lettuces like you wouldn’t believe. I shelled those prawns like lightning. Uncle Lenny was so pleased with my amazing work that he took some boxes out the back instead of asking me to do it.
It was a super busy Saturday night. Frank was too busy waiting on tables to bother me.
Next, I became a sugar duster. The chef let me sift icing sugar all over trays filled with shortbreads. A promotion – surely they wouldn’t ask me to take rubbish out the back now.
Uncle Lenny gave me another important job – a great job. I had to look after the front desk and watch the telephone for half an hour while he went out. Me! Answering the phone – this was fun.
I thought I’d better practice.
“Good evening. Welcome to Lenny’s Tavern.”
“No mucking around with the phone. Wait until it rings before you pick it up, okay,” said Uncle Lenny. “I’ll be back soon.”
After ten minutes, not one call. Another ten minutes passed and still nothing.
When Uncle Lenny came back, he looked angry. He stomped over to the desk.
“What have you done to the phone? I’ve tried to ring here for the last twenty minutes.” He looked at the phone. “It’s off the hook!”
“Sorry.”
Uncle Lenny suddenly looked bigger and uglier than ever. “There’s probably a huge pile of plates that need scraping. Maybe you could do that.”
“Sure,” I said, and hurried to the kitchen.
“Max. Take this bag of rubbish out the back right away,” said the chef.
I was too scared to say no. I’d rather face the dumpster ghost than Uncle Lenny.
I pushed open the heavy door and tiptoed over to the dumpster. I threw the bag in then ran back to the door. It was shut!
I banged on the door but nobody came. I walked down the alley. I heard a shuffling sound following me. A shuffling ghost couldn’t be all that bad. I could outrun it.
Step, step, I went.
Shuffle, shuffle, it went.
Step, step, step.
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.
I turned to face the creature. “Aaggghhh!” I screamed.
Shuffle, plop!
I’d scared the shuffler to death! It fell backwards onto a pile of newspapers.
I leaned over the fallen creature. It was a poor old street man. He was filthy and hairy.
“Are you all right?” I said.
He opened one eye. “So, you’re just a kid. Were you stealing my scraps?”
“No, of course not. Are you the one I’ve seen in the dumpster?”
“Yeah, I’m Arthur. I live around the corner and I’ve claimed that dumpster as me own. Some good scraps go in there, ’cept the other night I got clobbered with prawn shells.”
“Sorry about that,” I said. “Are you hungry?”
“Too right.”
“Wait here,” I said.
“Sure. I’ve cancelled me appointment with the Queen, so I’m free.”
I raced inside the restaurant.
“Well, where have you been?” said Uncle Lenny.
“I got locked outside. Then I met this poor, old street guy. Can I give him some food?”
“Just get back to work,” said Uncle Lenny.
“I quit. I’d like my pay please.”
“You quit! Hah! No pay for you.”
“Okay, but I’m taking this.” I grabbed a plate of food from Frank’s tray and ran outside.
Uncle Lenny took off after me.
Uncle Lenny found me out the back with Arthur.
“You gave up your pay for this guy?” said Uncle Lenny.
Arthur looked up from his plate and patted my shoulder. “Much obliged, young fella. Wish I could pay you back.”
“You can’t stay out here, Max. Come inside. I’m calling your father.”
“But what about Arthur?”
“Don’t worry, young fella,” said Arthur. “Now you know where I live, you can drop by anytime.”
Dad arrived.
“I know what happened. Uncle Lenny is coming to the h
ouse to see you tomorrow. You can explain your behaviour then.”
* * *
The next day, Uncle Lenny arrived in his big black van. I went outside.
“So, what have you got to say for yourself?” said Uncle Lenny.
“I just wanted to help that poor, old bloke.”
“I’ve got something that I want you to take care of.”
Could it be a box of prawns that needed shelling? Or maybe it was a crate of lettuces to wash.
I looked inside his van and there was the coolest bike I’d ever seen. “Wow! You mean that’s for me.”
“You might need a bit more practice to work in my restaurant but you’re a good kid. And we’re going to look after Arthur too. So, see you tonight?” said Uncle Lenny.
I was disappointed. “More work?”
Uncle Lenny laughed. “You and your family are our guests for dinner. It’s seafood night.”
“Thanks, but if it’s okay, we’ll come tomorrow night instead.”
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The Acacia Park Girls’ Treehouse Club
Joanne Pummer
They never found out who built the wooden platform in a big gum tree in the bush, but Abbey and Lara played on it nearly every day. Their Dad carried over a ladder from their house across the road. He climbed up and checked it out. He stomped on the platform and tried to rock from side to side.
“Safe as houses,” he announced.
A year later, the platform had morphed into a treehouse.
Madeline was given a rope ladder for Christmas, Beck’s dad, with the help of Katelyn’s mum, had built the walls and Taylor’s Uncle Tim come up with some tin for the roof. So many people had given them old furniture, they couldn’t fit it all in and had to give some back.
The girls were sprawled in the dappled shade of the treehouse, one day, listening to the chatter of rainbow lorikeets, the squawk of white cockatoos and wind chimes playing music in the sea breeze, when Madeline said, “This is perfect for a girls’ clubhouse.”
The others looked up.
“Yeah,” they said at once, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Why didn’t we think of it before?” said Taylor.
That’s how the “Acacia Park Girls’ Treehouse Club” came to be.
* * *
The boys were outraged.
“You can’t own a treehouse,” said Taylor’s brother, Kyle.
“Yeah,” said his friend Jacob. “This is public bushland and that tree belongs to everybody.”
“What gives you the right to say the treehouse is just for girls?” Kyle demanded.
“I’m glad you asked,” said Lara.
“My dad built it,” said Beck.
“And my mum helped him,” said Katelyn.
“The rope ladder belongs to me,” said Madeline.
“And my Uncle Tim put the roof up,” said Taylor.
“And did I mention the ladder is mine?” said Madeline.
“Now, if there are no more questions, we have a club meeting to attend,” said Lara, linking arms with her friends and flouncing off.
The boys didn’t give up that easily.
Sometimes they tiptoed through the bush, dashing from tree to tree, or going into commando crouch behind bushes, peeping around, looking for a signal from Kyle. When they were close enough, Kyle gave the signal and they appeared out of their hiding places and snuck towards the treehouse.
But the girls were always on the alert and, when they heard the crunch of dry leaves, they pulled the ladder up.
The boys didn’t know that Katelyn was a keen bird watcher and she wore her dad’s binoculars around her neck all the time. She wore them to see birds flitting between distant leaves, but she could see boys flitting between distant tree trunks just as well.
The boys changed tactics, sometimes.
Instead of creeping up, they’d do a crazy-brave charge through the bush, roaring and yelling like Viking warriors, hoping to take the girls by surprise. If the ladder was pulled up, some of them tried to climb the tree, but the girls always had a stash of water balloons ready. Boys heads were easy targets. The girls never missed.
* * *
The first thing on the girls’ agenda was to make up the club rules. It was Taylor’s job to write the rules on a chart, because she had the neatest printing. She brought the chart along to show the other girls and to stick it up with blu-tack.
“Listen up,” said Taylor, unrolling the chart. She waited a minute for a couple of kookaburras to stop cackling.
“ACACIA PARK GIRLS’ TREEHOUSE CLUB RULES,” she said, pointing with a ruler. “NO BOYS.”
“Well obviously,” Beck said. “Like, you can’t have boys in a club called a ‘Girls’ Treehouse Club’.”
“NO LITTLE KIDS,” said Taylor.
They’d decided this after Madeline’s little sister, Joanna, had followed Madeline up the rope ladder. It wouldn’t have happened if she’d kept looking up, but as soon as she looked down to put her chubby little foot on the third rung, she got scared. She raised her head and howled.
Madeline tried to help, but she had to climb over Joanna to get to her. Katelyn was coming along behind. She grabbed Joanna and tried to carry her down. But Joanna’s fingers were gripping the rope so tightly, Katelyn had to hold her with one hand and uncoil her fingers, one at a time, with the other.
It took ages.
“NO ANIMALS,” said Taylor.
Lara had decided, one day, to show the treehouse to her cat, Minx. The girls should have realised there’d be a problem when Minx put his paws on the windowsill to look at the birds. It wasn’t really a window, it was just a square hole cut into the wall. It didn’t have any glass.
The cat was mesmerized. His head moved up and down, from side to side with every move the birds made. When any bird came close, he tried to bat it with his paw. When it was time to go home, Lara called him and he appeared with a rainbow lorikeet in his mouth.
Katelyn screamed. “Oh My God!”
Lara shook her finger. “You bad cat!”
“Der, Lara,” said Taylor. “Didn’t anyone tell you cats eat birds?”
“And a treehouse is, like, cat foodie heaven,” said Beck.
Abbey bent down and eyeballed Minx. “You’re cruel!” she said.
“It’s not his fault,” said Lara.
“No, it’s your fault for bringing him up here,” said Madeline.
The cat dropped the dead bird at Lara’s feet.
“A present for you,” said Beck.
That was too much for Lara. Her bottom lip quivered when she picked up Minx, and disappeared down the ladder.
“I suppose we should give it a burial, or something,” Beck said, frowning at the dead bird.
“NO ADULTS,” said Taylor.
They decided on this rule because of Madeline’s Auntie Jenny. She and Uncle Brad visited one day and Madeline told them about the treehouse. Auntie Jenny wanted to look at it and Madeline went with her.
“It’s gorgeous,” Auntie Jenny said when she saw the treehouse and she started to climb the ladder. She was halfway up when the ladder broke.
She landed on her fat bottom in a wattle bush and her face came to rest in a bed of white everlastings. Madeline knew she wasn’t hurt, because she lay in the bush laughing. When Madeline helped her up, she brushed herself down with the back of her hand, and wandered around picking fluffy, red gum blossoms.
“Gorgeous,” she said.
Taylor wanted to write NO FAT AUNTIES in the club rules, but Abbey told her that Auntie Jenny was Madeline’s favourite Auntie, so Taylor had to write NO ADULTS instead.
“NO MOBILE PHONES,” said Taylor.
The girls decided to ban mobile phones after many meetings and a few arguments.
“What if there was some emergency and your family wanted to get in touch with you,” said Katelyn.
“I don’t want to be mean,” said Beck, �
�but why would anyone call a twelve year old kid if they had an emergency? Superman, yes. Or Batman, maybe.”
“Or the police,” said Taylor.
“Or the fire brigade,” said Abbey.
“Well obviously,” said Beck, “if there was, like, a fire or something.”
They stopped arguing when they heard the tinkling tune of ‘Greensleeves’. It wasn’t Mr Whippy. It was Lara’s phone.
Lara snatched up the mobile in her lap. “Oh, sweet!” she said holding up the phone showing everyone a photo of her mum with their new puppy.
Madeline banged the gavel in the table. “Abbey! Did you just send that photo to Lara?”
“Yes,” said Abbey. “Mum just sent it to me.”
“We’re at a meeting!” said Beck. “I don’t want to be mean, but we’ve all seen Tippy heaps of times.”
“Yesssss!” hissed Taylor, punching the air.
They looked at her.
“I just vaporised the Warrior Queen,” she said.
“Are you playing a game, Taylor?” Madeline asked.
“Yeah, you should try it. It’s unreal.”
Madeline banged the gavel again. “The meeting’s closed!”
“I didn’t mean an emergency,” said Katelyn. “I meant, what if your family had to go somewhere while you were at a meeting and when you got home there was no one there and you got worried – that’s all.”
“They could leave a note,” said Beck as she pushed past her and climbed down the ladder.
* * *
The members of the ACACIA PARK GIRLS’ TREEHOUSE CLUB decided to have a Christmas party. It would take place at 12 noon on the Saturday before Christmas. Each girl wrote her name on the grey, scratched blackboard in the corner and, next to her name, what she’d bring to the party. They’d written chocolate crackles, chips, pizza, fairy cakes, brownies, sausage rolls and a big bottle of Fanta.
“Mum will go ballistic if we don’t have healthy food,” said Katelyn.
Madeline changed the ‘Fanta’ to ‘Orange Juice’. “Anything else?”
“And Mum said we shouldn’t use non disposable styrofoam cups.”
“Do you want to bring the glasses and take them home and wash them, Katelyn?”
“Okay.”
“Too easy,” said Madeline.
Short Tales 2 Page 3
