by Adam Wallace
Jamie Brown is NOT Rich
ADAM WALLACE
FORD ST
Jamie Brown is NOT Rich
Adam Wallace
Jamie Brown and his family have no money. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada. Nix. Nachos. Then, when a letter from the mysterious Barnaby Von Barnabus arrives, everything changes.
The question is ... can the Browns handle their newfound fortune? Only time, and maybe the words in this book, will tell. When Jamie Brown and his family move from the poor streets of the Hovel to snobby Snootyville, classes clash with hilarious results.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Adam Wallace is a qualified civil engineer and primary school teacher. He doesn’t do either of these things now because writing books for younger readers is much more fun and there are fewer reports to write.
Adam was never as poor as Jamie Brown is in this book, but one time he was sort of low on money so had rice with Vegemite in it for dinner. It tasted disgusting, and he never did it again.
Jamie Brown Is Rich is the first book Adam has fully illustrated.
ALSO BY ADAM WALLACE
Better Out Than In
Better Out Than In Number Twos
The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee
Pete McGee: Dawn of the Zombie Knights
Pete McGee and the Master of Darkness
How to Draw a UFO Dog
How to Draw a Balloon Kangaroo
How to Draw a Skateboard Gorilla
How to Draw a Ziggin’ and Zaggin’ Dragon
How to Draw a Bum Cat
And 9 other How to Draw books as well!
For the real-life Jamie Brown: one of the
coolest kids I know.
First published by Ford Street Publishing,
an imprint of Hybrid Publishers,
PO Box 52, Ormond VIC 3204
Melbourne Victoria Australia
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
This publication is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process without prior written permission from the publisher.
Requests and enquiries concerning reproduction should be addressed to Ford Street Publishing Pty Ltd, 2 Ford Street, Clifton Hill VIC 3068.
www.fordstreetpublishing.com
First published 2014
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Author: Wallace, Adam, 1972- author.
Title: Jamie Brown is not rich / Adam Wallace.
ISBN: 978-1-925000-73-3 (ebook)
Target Audience: For primary school age.
Subjects: Wealth — Juvenile fiction.
Families — Juvenile fiction.
Life change events — Juvenile fiction.
Dewey Number: A823.4
Text, Illustrations & Mistakes copyright © Adam Wallace
Mr Wallace’s makeup & photography by Giselle
Production layout, page numbers and drop cap on P26: Grant Gittus
No animals were harmed in the production of this book.
May contain nuts.
Printed in China by Tingleman Pty Ltd
Electronic Version by Baen Books
www.baen.com
CHAPTER 1
GREETINGS
Hi! I’m Jamie Brown. This is my family.
JAMIE BROWN
SKILLS: Mini golf,
imagining things, creating
TOP FIVE lists, circus skills,
card tricks, having FUN!
MARCUS BROWN
(My dad)
SKILLS: Fixing things,
acting like a kid, organising
street parties, being the
second most welcoming
person ever.
TRACEY BROWN
(My mum)
SKILLS: Making a feast
out of very few ingredients,
fixing clothes, being the most
welcoming person ever.
KATIE BROWN
(My sister)
SKILLS: Burping, eating
bugs, dancing.
So that’s us. We live on Hovel Street, and we live with 20 other families in the Grand Hotel … which isn’t a hotel anymore … and isn’t grand anymore either, so it’s really not a grand hotel, more a grungy, falling-down building.
If you haven’t guessed it, we’re kind of poor. We have one room between all of us, there’s barely any carpet on the floor, and we have to hide at least three times every year when the landlord comes knocking for the overdue rent.
So when I say kind of poor, I mean that if a rich person found some spare money under their couch, and they donated 99% of it to charity, and then they bought some take-away food (which we’ve NEVER done!), and they got some change, and they gave half that change to the hobo on the street, that hobo would have more than what Dad earns working two boring jobs he hates.
Yep, we live on the wrong side of the wrong side of the tracks.
*** This picture is to scale! The cockroaches are huge, and I’m guessing the money bags are too!
The thing is … I don’t care! I know Mum and Dad sometimes talk about how they would love to give me and Katie a better life, and it gets really cold in winter, and we never have a lot of food, but Mum can make a feast out of herbs, a carrot and a banana, and we sit close to stay warm, and it’s all I’ve ever known.
This street. This building. These people.
And they are awesome people.
These are my best friends, the Johnston Triplets. No one on Hovel Street but me can tell them apart, not even their parents! Can YOU spot the difference?
MAXY
SKILLS (left):
Mini-golf,
sultana
catching.
JOHNNY
SKILLS (middle):
Mini-golf,
sultana
catching.
TRAV
SKILLS (right):
Limited.
Very limited.
And this is Mr Kravoski.
MR KRAVOSKI
SKILLS: Circus skills, card tricks, eyebrow wiggling.
His real name is Igor Kravoski, but I call him Mr Kravoski. He’s a bit nutty, but he’s awesome, too. He’s about 100 years old and he uses a walking stick he found on the street and he was in a Russian circus!
‘I was greatest card trickster in world for twenty-one year straight,’ he’d tell me in his Russian accent. ‘Not even Dosdonovic do that. People amaze at my skill. No one guess tricks!’
TOP FIVE REASONS
I BELIEVED HIM
1. He was BRILLIANT at card tricks.
2. He was big and hairy and scary and if you didn’t believe him he would swear at you in Russian.
3. No one on Hovel Street could work out his tricks and they were always amazed at his skill.
4. He taught ME to do his tricks.
5. I wanted to.
He’d done everything in the circus, from card tricks to magic to clowning to trapeze, and he’d loved it all … except when he trained the monkeys back in 1957.
I sit with Mr Kravoski every afternoon after school and he teaches me circus skills. He’s taught me how to juggle and pull hankies out of my ears and do cartwheels and how to make people laugh just by wiggling your eyebrows (and maybe using some fake teeth).
The best things he teaches me, though, are the card tricks, and especially the back of the pants trick, even though I can never get it right.
1. Double up on two cards (in this example, the 2 of hearts). Have one in the pack.
2. Take the spare card and secretly slip it in your target’s pocket.
3. Make sure your card is on top of the pack. Then tell everyone you will attempt an incredi
ble card trick!
4. Tell your target to take the top card, look at it, then replace it into the pack.
5. Shuffle the cards thoroughly, then look through and select any random card. (In this example, the 5 of spades.) Ask ‘Is this your card?’
6. Pretend to be upset when everyone says you suck, then tell your target to check his back pocket.
7. Accept everyone’s compliments!!!
Oooooh, I love this one too.
1. Secretly check the bottom card (in this example, the 3 of clubs).
2. Cut the cards in half (move cards off the top to the side – don’t use a knife).
3. Have your target select a card off either pile, look at it and don’t tell you.
4. Have them replace their card (in this example, the ace of spades) on the pile that doesn’t have your card at the bottom.
5. Place the pile with your card on top of the other pile.
6. Cut the cards a few times. Take cards off the top, place them on the table, then place the other pile on top.
7. One by one place cards off the top of the pack, face up on the table. The card you are looking for will be the one after your card.
8. Accept everyone’s compliments!!!
CHAPTER 2
THERE’S
CHANGE
A-COMIN’
So we live on Hovel Street and we barely get by and we’re always hungry, but we always have heaps of laughs and like I said, it’s all I’ve ever known.
Except then it wasn’t.
I was playing mini-golf with the triplets on the course Dad made for us.
We never play quietly. We yell and make animal noises and put each other off and we swing our putters in the air and yell ‘BUCKITY BUCKITY!’ We don’t even know what that means. Trav just made it up one day and we’ve said it ever since.
It’s a tough course. Only the skilful get through it …
Suddenly, a car beeped its horn. We all spun round. We always hear cars coming, but usually because they’re so old and dodgy – the muffler’ll be busted and the tyres will have no rubber on them and the bumper will be dragging on the ground. Even our car, which Dad has worked on, is super loud because he can’t get good parts. And when I say super loud, I mean if a rocket blasting off met a sonic boom and they got married and had a baby, and that baby grew up and married nails scraping on a blackboard, and they had a baby … that baby screaming would be how loud our car was.
But this car? It was SO quiet! You couldn’t even hear the motor running.
It was shiny, too. Everything in Hovel Street is grey and dirty and dusty. This car made the sun look dull!
We had no idea why it was in Hovel Street, so we ran up to it. It was almost as long as the Grand Hotel, and it glided over the potholes like they weren’t there. We couldn’t see inside because the windows were all dark … but then one slid open.
‘Hello, boys,’ a man said from inside. ‘We’re here to look at your street.’
‘Why?’ asked Trav. ‘It’s like the worst street ever.’
A kid we couldn’t see yelled from in the car. ‘So we can buy the whole street, knock these awful buildings down, build luxury hotels and apartments and shops, and send you rats back to the sewer.’
The man shushed him, the window slid up, and the car drove off … straight over our mini-golf course, smashing the flags.
‘Hey!’ Maxy yelled. ‘Watch it!’
We heard the kid laughing and then the car turned a corner and was gone.
Trav wasn’t happy. He started dancing around.
‘Oooooh, look at me. I’m a dumb rich dorkhead. I’m in a giant car and I can do whatever I want. Watch me headbutt this building. I’m so rich it won’t even hurt.’
He headbutted the building.
He’s not rich.
It hurt.
He knocked himself out.
The others kept talking about the richies, but I was quiet. I know the kid had been mean, but I’d seen the car. I’d seen inside the car. I’d seen the comfy seats without holes and the fridge and the TV and suddenly I didn’t want to be in Hovel Street anymore. I’d seen the light, and the light was fancy and sparkly and rich.
The next day we were throwing sultanas in the air and catching them on our tongues.
It’s not easy.
Only the skilful can do it …
‘JAAAAAAAMMMMMMMIIIIIIEEE!!!’
That was Mum. The triplets oooooooooooooooohed and laughed at me. All that meant was that they spat out sultana bits.
They thought I was in trouble, but I wasn’t worried. Mum hardly ever gets angry, but when she does she has three yelling voices.
There’s the ‘You are in trouble’ voice. Then there’s the ‘You are in BIG trouble, Mister!’ voice. And then, scariest of all, there’s the ‘YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE THAT IF YOU DON’T COME HERE THIS INSTANT MY HEAD WILL EXPLODE AND IF THAT HAPPENS YOU HAD BETTER CLEAN ALL MY BRAINS AND HEAD GUTS OFF THE FLOOR BEFORE YOUR FATHER GETS HOME!!!’ voice.
If my nice, gentle mum uses that voice? I’m in a spot of bother, as rich people might say.
I threw another sultana in the air.
‘JAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMIIIIEEEEE BROWN!’
Uh oh. She used my last name. That was getting close to the ‘YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE THAT IF YOU DON’T COME HERE THIS INSTANT MY HEAD WILL EXPLODE AND IF THAT HAPPENS YOU HAD BETTER CLEAN ALL MY BRAINS AND HEAD GUTS OFF THE FLOOR BEFORE YOUR FATHER GETS HOME!!!’ voice.
I bolted and was home before the sultana hit the ground.
CHAPTER 3
YOU’VE GOT
MAIL
Dad and I arrived home at the same time.
‘JINX!’ yelled Dad. DAMMIT! Now if I spoke before someone said my name he could punch my shoulder.
‘Mum OW!’ I said. Dad had punched my shoulder. Yep, I forget stuff pretty quickly! Dad, unfortunately and especially when it comes to jinxes, doesn’t. Mum went all serious.
‘Marcus, Jamie …’
‘HAHA!’ I laughed, pulling a face at Dad.
Dad groaned. Mum tapped her foot. Like I said, she doesn’t get mad much, but when she does it looks like steam’s about to come out of her ears. I wondered if we could wait her out but she got in first.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know why I called you in?’ she asked.
‘We got an old sewing machine to fix up?’ Dad said.
‘Aliens have invaded and they want to take me to their leader to represent the earth in an intergalactic mini-golf tournament?’ I asked.
‘Burp?’ burped Katie.
We cheered. Katie’s been practising her burping, and that was a good one. Mum sighed and showed us an envelope.
‘We got a letter,’ she said. Dad and I ooooooohed and aaaaaaahed. Katie ate a bug.
Dad and I oooooohed and aaaaaahed some more and bowed to the envelope like we’d never seen a letter before.
We had.
Lots of them, usually about electricity and stuff, and always in lots of pretty colours like red and yellow.
Mum showed us the back of the envelope.
We oooohed and aaaaahed and then oooohed and aaaaahed even louder. Then we stopped, and Dad spoke for both of us.
‘Who’s B. Von Bubblebutt?’
Hahaha. Dad always gets names wrong. Mum rolled her eyes.
‘Barnaby Von Barnabus. His name used to be Barney Brown. Even though he isn’t a lot older than me, he’s actually my great-great-uncle twice removed, and I was his favourite great-great-niece twice removed. He used to babysit me. He did magic too, Jamie, card tricks and all. He was fantastic.’
‘Well then, we have something in common, this Booboo Bonbon guy and me,’ Dad said.
Mum looked at him. I looked at him. Dad sucks at magic.
‘Of course you do, dear,’ Mum said nicely. ‘Anyway, moving on, Barnaby was such a great guy, and then he invented something that changed everybody’s lives … the hand pillow!’
Now we really did oooooh and aaaaaaah.
The is like the greatest invention EVER!!!
So. You know how when you’re half sitting or half lying and you’re sort of leaning on your elbow and resting your chin in your hand? Awesomely comfy, right? Right … until your hand gets pins and needles and your arm goes numb and your wrist feels like it’s locked in that position FOREVER!
