Jamie Brown Is NOT Rich

by Adam Wallace

  So I danced.

  I pressed more buttons, and eventually, after a light show and rotating floor and more water up my butt, water came out at the perfect temperature from the right place and I had my BEST shower ever … okay, so it was my first shower ever, but it was still AWESOME!

  While I was dancing in the shower, Mum found a tablecloth. She was so happy. Among all these amazing rooms and gadgets and everything else, it was a tablecloth that made Mum happiest.

  Back in Hovel Street, Mum always wanted to be dignified, even if we couldn’t afford the finest things. To her, part of being dignified is covering the table when you eat. The only problem was that we never had a tablecloth, so we used newspapers, sheets – whatever – we never had an uncovered table.

  But now? It may have taken her ten minutes because the table was so huge, but Mum laid the tablecloth with tears in her eyes. It was my favourite new life moment so far.

  Then we ate, which was awesome because we had … yep … you guessed it … TAKE-AWAY FOOD!!! Fish and chips and hamburgers. This was partly because there was no food in the house yet, partly because we could afford it and had never had it before, and partly because we REALLY REALLY wanted it!

  TOP FIVE BEST THINGS

  ABOUT OUR FIRST MEAL OF

  TAKE-AWAY FOOD

  1. It’s greasy and slimy but actually tastes really good!

  2. Mum didn’t have to spend ages cooking and could just relax.

  3. It tasted like the best thing I had ever eaten times 30 billion.

  4. We ate until we were full, and not Hovel Street pretending you’re full so there’s enough for everyone, but actually eaten enough full.

  5. IT IS SOOOOOO TASTY!

  After dinner, it was bedtime. Okay, so it was only 7pm, but I had my very own bedroom and bed and actual proper new mattress and everything. It was so soft. It was like lying on a flock of cotton wool.

  And it was warm.

  So I lay in bed and I slept and I dreamt about pixies and unicorns and that was weird but I figured that was what rich people did.

  CHAPTER 7

  SCHOOL RULES

  I was sooooo nervous on my first day at Snootyville Grammar. To make things worse, I had a new uniform and it was itchy and it was too big in some spots and too tight around my neck and I had to wear a tie and it was just yecccchhhh!

  I was worried about making new friends too … and what if I had to speak in front of people and just said toilet? Oh man, that would be every TOP FIVE worst thing ever!

  I decided to take my cards and do a trick. That would impress everyone and I would feel more comfortable. But Mum said no card tricks allowed – school rules. I could take them but not use them. I groaned, wondering what the point of taking them was.

  ‘Are there any other weird rich school rules?’ I asked.

  ‘No jokes in class.’

  ‘WHAT??? But what if the teacher’s chair makes a fart noise when he sits down?’

  ‘Especially not then. And if he does a real fart, please control your laughter.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, ‘but if this happens …

  Mum laughed.

  ‘Deal,’ she said, then she went serious again. ‘Just be yourself, Jamie. We’re different to these people, but that’s why they’ll love you. Follow their rules, but be yourself. They like money and what it can do, but promise me that you’ll keep quiet, for now, about how rich we are. People will love you for who you are, not for how much money you have.’

  Hmmm. I wasn’t so sure.

  But I promised.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE

  WELCOMING

  COMMITTEE

  I walked to school with Dad. Barnaby had left us two cars in the garage, but Dad made excuses for not driving them. I think he was nervous he’d crash!

  ‘It will give us a chance to see the neighbourhood,’ he said. ‘And we don’t want to cause a scene by having the only fancy car at school.’

  Right.

  We got to school.

  We wouldn’t have caused a scene.

  Every car, and I mean EVERY car, looked like it cost as much as a house … and not some dodgy house either, but a full-on expensive mansion type house!

  As Dad walked with me to the principal’s office, we passed the cleaner in the hall. He stopped mopping when he saw us.

  We said hello back. He went back to his mopping, but as we walked off I noticed him watching us, which was bad for him because he accidentally mopped a kid walking past.

  ‘CAREFUL, YOU HAIRY BEAST!’ screamed the kid.

  I knew that voice! It was the nasty kid from the car on Hovel Street. He stomped off, dripping, and the cleaner winked at me. Hmmmm. Maybe it wasn’t an accident after all.

  We met the principal. He had a monobrow and a wicked comb-over. He introduced himself, but I was so nervous I forgot his name straight away. I’m almost as bad with names as Dad, although where he says them wrong, I just plain forget them.

  So I decided to call him Principal Jefferson.

  He welcomed us to the school and then called up some boys to show me around. Awesome! This was a chance for me to make new friends already. COOL! Then the boys showed up.

  NOT COOL!

  They all looked EXACTLY the same … except for the one with water dripping off his head and a big mop mark on his shirt.

  Principal Jefferson introduced them but they were all Jefferson to me.

  Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, and Jefferson were all niceness in the office, but as soon as we were out of sight on the oval, things changed.

  I wiggled my eyebrows, a sure-fire way to ease the tension.

  My sure-fire back-fired.

  ‘Those baby tricks won’t work here,’ Mop Jefferson sneered. ‘We are the height of sophistication, and only appreciate puns, wordplay, and social class humour that puts down those less worthy than us.’

  I was too stunned to speak. I’d thought there’d be cool kids like the triplets, but these guys weren’t cool at all … they were mean! Was everyone at Snootyville Grammar like this? I realised they were still talking.

  ‘Look at your uniform. It doesn’t even fit!’

  I found my voice.

  ‘We bought a big one so I could grow into it. Mum said that would be smarter and would save money down the track.’

  The Jeffersons just laughed.

  ‘Haw haw, what a peasant tactic. I’d wager you have a cut lunch too!’

  I did have a cut lunch … sandwiches in a brown paper bag with a note from Mum on it. I didn’t want to admit it to the Jeffersons but I was rapt. It was the fanciest school lunch I’d ever had!

  I showed the group. They laughed even harder then went all mean and nasty again.

  They were like four evil talking heads, crowding me, being mean, and I hated that I’d promised Mum I’d keep quiet about our money. That would have shut them up.

  But I had promised, so I said nothing.

  The Jeffersons laughed, took my bag, and threw it in the mud. Then they walked off, just as the cleaner strolled by.

  ‘Why are you even mopping the oval?!?’ Jefferson screamed. ‘Go back to caveman land or wherever it is you came from!’

  He stormed off, the others following. The cleaner winked at me again and walked off, whistling. Either he had a twitch in his eye, or there was something different about him. He seemed poor compared to everyone else, but at the same time he seemed more comfortable with who he was.

  I could worry about that later, though. The bell went and I had to get to class.

  I was sure things would get better there.

  CHAPTER 9

  THINGS

  DIDN’T GET

  BETTER

  First, I got lost, so was late. The teacher-let’s call him, ummm, I dunno, something like, ummm, Mr Jefferson – had no hair, a missing moustache and hadn’t smiled since March 4, 1962.

  He told me to introduce myself to the class.

  Oh no.

  Panic statio
ns.

  All I could see was a blur of Jeffersons, boys and girls, all looking the same. I started to sweat. I opened my mouth and said, in a big voice …

  DAMMIT!!!

  All the kids stared, although one girl giggled. Nasty Jefferson, the mop one, rubbed his chin and looked like he was planning something. Mr Jefferson glared and told me to stop being foolish and sit down.

  He turned to write on the board. I remembered my cards. I got desperate and went for the old card in the pocket trick. I still didn’t have it right. I tried to put the card in his back pocket and he jumped a metre in the air!

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I was nervous and he’d said buttock. Mr Jefferson growled and pointed to my chair. I blushed and sat down in front of the girl who’d giggled. She patted my shoulder.

  ‘Nice start, new kid,’ she whispered. ‘Maybe give him some flowers and a kiss next time.’

  I spun around, thinking she was being mean, but I could tell by her face she was just playing.

  I smiled and turned back around. Mr Jefferson finished writing on the board, told us to answer the questions, and then … disaster!

  No one flinched. Seriously. Were they robots? I couldn’t hold it in, and Mum had said I could make a joke if this happened.

  So I did.

  ‘I’m not sure, butt I think you fell. Man, what a bummer to fall like that. Stinky bum says what?’

  ‘WHAT? screamed Mr Jefferson. I laughed again. Mr Jefferson didn’t think it was funny. He sent me to Principal Jefferson’s office. It had not been a good start to my first day.

  CHAPTER 10

  FITTING IN

  I didn’t get in trouble from Principal Jefferson (at first!). He did tell me I had to learn how to fit in, to be like the other students, to not stand out. That was how things worked at Snootyville Grammar. That was why it ran like a well-oiled machine. To be unique, you must first be like everyone else. He asked me if that made sense.

  It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make dollars. It did make me go cross-eyed trying to work it out, and then I got in trouble for pulling a face.

  He sent me back to class.

  I got lost again.

  I sat under a tree.

  Even with so many people at this school, I already felt lonely. I knew I should try and fit in, but I didn’t want to be like those snooty snobs who thought they were better than everyone else.

  The bell rang and kids poured into the playground. I watched to see what they would play. It was weird. They split into small groups, and then sat playing by themselves. What the …?

  I wandered over and saw some kids with something in their hands.

  ‘Haw haw,’ one kid laughed. ‘That’s what you think!’

  He started pressing buttons. I had no idea who he was talking to or who had thought what.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked a kid who was watching.

  ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ he said in a snobby voice. ‘Are you conversing with me?’

  ‘Sure am, Jefferson. What are they doing?’

  He sniffed. Rich people seem to do that.

  It’s like they’re saying I stink because they’re so rich or something. Well, bad timing, Richie Rich, because sometimes I do stink.

  He recovered though, which was impressive. That had been a silent but deadly.

  ‘They are battling via their smartphones. Where have you been? Under a rock?’

  ‘Haw haw haw,’ some other kids laughed. I swear, they sounded like donkeys when they laughed.

  ‘He most likely has been,’ one kid said. ‘It’s that poor boy. Have you ever played a game, poor boy?’

  ‘Sure have, rich girl,’ I said, with what I thought was a good comeback. Besides, if only he knew how rich I was! ‘I’ve played British Bulldogs. Wanna try it?’

  ‘British Bulldogs? What console?’

  As far as I knew, console was another word for toilet, so THAT was weird.

  ‘Why would you play a game on the toilet? You rich kids are crazy. Anyway, do you want to try it?’

  A few kids shrugged. I took that as a yes! It was time for Hovel Street to meet Snootyville Grammar and tackle it down.

  I gave them a quick rundown of the rules.

  ‘You run to the tree. If I tackle you, you’re in the middle with me. Last one not tackled wins. Got it?’

  They all looked at each other. One kid got his phone out and typed something. Must have been calling his mum. Then he looked at us.

  ‘His rules seem adequate, though it is a violent game known to cause ripped shirts and dirty trousers.’

  He showed us his phone.

  The other Jeffersons gasped. So did I. How awesome was that phone?

  ‘You mean,’ the sniffy Jefferson said, ‘that our uniforms may become dirty or torn? What would Nanny say?’

  I laughed.

  ‘You have a nanny? Does she change your widdle nappy?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘Mother does that … I mean, did that. Grrrr. Let’s play this game. My clothes shall remain clean anyway. No one shall tackle me.’

  I laughed again. That sounded like a challenge! I was from the streets, and I was ready to get down and dirty, which meant Nanny would be busy. They all lined up. I stood 20 metres away.

  The Jeffersons ran. They seriously had spent too long playing games on their phones and toilets and had no idea how to dodge. I lined up Nanny’s boy Jefferson and took him down with a flying tackle.

  He squealed and took a while to get up. I was actually worried I’d hurt him. He stared at me. He stared at the grass stain on his trousers. He stared at me again. Suddenly, his face lit up in a grin.

  ‘THAT … WAS … SUPERB!!! Righto, chaps, let’s have at it. RUN!’

  He had the eye of the tiger. He was pumped. The others ran and we tackled a Jefferson each. I gave them some dodging lessons and we played some brilliant games.

  Then a shout cut us short.

  Yep. It was the nasty Jefferson, and his mates were right there with him.

  ‘What on earth are you chaps doing? Gosh, it looks rather like you are playing some sort of peasant game.’

  Nasty Jefferson seemed to be like the kingpin of the school. I noticed my new friends had gone quiet. Not me though. I grinned at him, my confidence returning after some street games.

  ‘Wanna play, Jefferson?’ I asked. ‘It’s good for what ails ya.’

  ‘Nothing ails me, peasant,’ he said.

  ‘Oh yeah? What about that carrot stuck up your butt?’

  The other kids who’d been playing Bulldogs laughed.

  ‘Haw haw haw.’

  Nasty Jefferson cut them off with a glare.

  ‘You chaps should know better than to fraternise with the help, and you should definitely know better than to guffaw at me. You know how powerful my father is.’

  He kept going.

  ‘Mr Farcelly shall hear of this. The only physical activities allowed are croquet, golf, and rowing, and then only under strict supervision.’

  I groaned and rolled my eyes.

  ‘Oh come on, Richie Rich, you aren’t seriously going to dob us in, are you?’

  ‘I most certainly am,’ he said. ‘Come on chaps, let us inform the Headmaster.’

  And off they went, stepping in time with each other like some big nasty sucky spider. I turned back to the others, expecting the worst but seeing …

  ‘Never fear, old chap,’ said Eye of the Tiger Jefferson. ‘We shall back you up. That was by far the most fun we have ever had at this dreary old school.’

  The others nodded and said, ‘Hear, hear.’ I don’t know why they said it twice, some sort of group stutter, I suppose. Still, I liked the support.

  ‘Thanks, Jefferson,’ I said.

  ‘Harmison,’ he said. ‘My name is Harmison.’

  I smiled at him. Harmison. I could remember that. He was my first real new friend, after all.

  NEW FRIEND NUMBER ONE!

  ‘JAMIE BROWN! Report to the office …
NOW!’

  The loudspeaker wasn’t my friend. I sighed and trudged off, hoping I didn’t get lost.

  CHAPTER 11

  MR FARCELLY

  Mr Farcelly was the principal’s name. I wouldn’t forget it now. When he got angry, I noticed two things. First, he used his own name all the time. Second, two comb-over hairs would escape, and he had to keep on brushing them back into place.

  ‘Mr Farcelly is not happy with your first day, Jamie Brown,’ he said. ‘Mr Farcelly has better things to do. Mr Farcelly sees Jamie Brown’s uniform is a mess and has a hole in the knee.’

  Okay, I made that last one up, but you get the idea.

  ‘Look at Jamie Brown’s uniform. It’s disgraceful. Mr Farcelly thinks Jamie Brown should pick up rubbish in the yard during lunch time.’

  ‘Jamie Brown is sad,’ I said. ‘Jamie Brown would rather play. Jamie Brown was just having some fun.’