by Adam Wallace
‘Well, Jamie Brown will follow Mr Farcelly’s rules. Jamie Brown will have the fun Mr Farcelly prescribes.’
In other words, I thought …
‘Mr Farcelly’s school runs like a well-oiled machine only because Mr Farcelly is in charge. Mr Farcelly is a well-oiled machine. Does Jamie Brown understand?’
‘Jamie Brown does,’ I said.
TOP FIVE WEIRDEST
CONVERSATIONS
I’VE EVER HAD
1. This one
2. This one
3. This one
4. This one
5. The time I … oh no … wait …
THIS ONE!
Jamie Brown hung his head, walked out of Mr Farcelly’s office, and went to class.
CHAPTER 12
A NEW FRIEND
… AND A NEW
ENEMY
I picked up rubbish at lunchtime. It was pretty easy. Seriously, there was less rubbish in the whole school than there was in the spare lot on Hovel Street … and less flies too!
The girl who spoke to me in class ran over and said hi.
‘Hi, Jefferson,’ I said.
‘Who’s Jefferson?’
I told her I was calling everyone Jefferson. Their names were just too confusing and everyone looked the same. She laughed and called me weird – fair call – and said her name was actually Dakota.
‘Well, new kid,’ she said, ‘good luck with the Jeffersons, you’ll need it. They won’t make things easy for you. They think they rule the school, and they hate new things.’
No kidding. She ran off to do a lunchtime dance class.
‘Seeya, Jefferson,’ she called, and then she was gone.
Dakota. I made sure to remember it.
NEW FRIEND NUMBER TWO!
Mr Farcelly came over at the end of lunch to check on me. I was still trying to remember Dakota’s name by repeating it over and over.
‘Has Jamie Brown learnt his lesson?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Dakota,’ I said.
Whoops!
‘Mr Farcelly! I mean, yes, Mr Farcelly!’
‘Hmmm,’ he said, which was a weird growl grumble sound, then he walked off and I was on my own again.
Until the hairy cleaner came over.
‘Picking up rubbish, huh?’ he asked.
Wow. Top obvious comment of the day? THAT ONE! I nodded. His voice didn’t sound all posh like the richies, it was more husky. Sort of like Batman. OMG! My school cleaner is Batman!
Anyway. All the rich kids said stuff as they passed us, putting him down. Some of them picked on me too, saying poor people stick together, things like that. He ignored them, so I did too. He took my rubbish bag off me and I went to class.
‘I’ll be seeing you, Jamie Brown,’ he said as I walked off. Woah! How did he know my name? I spun around, but he was walking off, twirling his mop, and as he passed Nasty Jefferson he mopped him right down his back.
The cleaner grunted like a caveman then walked off, whistling and twirling his mop.
I smiled. There was something about him that impressed me. Nasty Jefferson caught me staring.
‘Stop staring, peasant! You won’t last any longer than him. You’ll make a fool of yourself soon enough. I shall make sure of that!’
He walked off. There was nothing about him that impressed me.
The rest of the day passed quickly. I saw Dakota again in class (she waved and pulled a face at me … she’s funny!)
… and then the day was done and Dad was there to walk me home.
Dad had spent the day dropping invites for our housewarming party into people’s letterboxes. He figured it would be a good way to meet the locals, and that maybe some kids from school might come, too.
I gagged at the thought of Nasty Jefferson being in my house, but a party sounded like fun … sort of like an upmarket Hovel Street street party, and they were always awesome!
After we got home, I changed into comfy clothes, grabbed my bike, and went for a ride. It was really weird. After school on Hovel Street, kids would be everywhere. I’d learn with Mr Kravoski then play something – anything – with the triplets outside until it got dark.
Here, I saw through some windows, kids were inside playing on computers or watching TV. The streets were like a ghost town, but with no ghosts, which is good, because …
TOP FIVE THINGS I AM
SCARED OF
1. Ghosts
2. Ghosts on bicycles
3. Evil monkeys
(Thanks, Mr Kravoski.)
4. Evil ghost monkeys on bicycles
5. Getting my head stuck up an elephant’s butt.
Okay, I know, there’s a pretty low chance of any of those things happening, but that’s why they’re scary … the element of surprise!
Anyway, I rode past all the fancy mansions, and then there was one that was a little bit different. It was smaller, and less fancy, less show-offy, I guess. It was still perfectly neat and well-looked-after, but it was just different.
I wondered who lived there.
I got a glimpse of a face at the window, but then the curtains closed. I wasn’t totally convinced it wasn’t a ghost monkey, so I rode home, fast.
I would find out who lived there soon enough.
CHAPTER 13
SCHOOL
DAY 2
School was not good! Mum had sewn a patch over the hole in my trousers, which the Nasty Jeffersons thought was hilarious.
Fair call.
Then, just before lunch, Mr Jefferson read out the names of kids who would represent the school at Academic Challenge, and MY NAME GOT CALLED OUT!
Nasty Jefferson and his mates, too. I didn’t even know what Academic Challenge was!
I asked Harmison at lunch time. He said it was this big competition where teams of four from different schools go on a quiz show. They battle to the final, and the winning team gets a trophy and credit for the school and there were huge crowds and TV and interviews and it was in three weeks time!
Oh, this was bad. This was bad times infinity squared plus 3 times 8 minus 7.
How did my name get on the stupid team anyway?
I had my suspicions.
CHAPTER 14
CROWKAY
After lunch, we played croquet for sports.
First off, you say croquet like crowkay … okay? I thought you said it crockett, but you don’t … it’s crowkay.
So that’s how I’ll write it from now on, so it’s easier. Crowkay, just like you say it.
Crowkay’s kind of weird. Mr Jefferson said you have to be quiet all the time. Always quiet, except for polite applause after a nice shot. I wanted the old days of mini-golf with the triplets, where it would be whoop whoop and raa raa and buckity buckity and animal noises and FUN!
Snootyville Grammar is so rich it has its own crowkay field … and tennis courts … and swimming pool … and golf course … and rowing river … and toilets … well, I guess most schools have toilets. Hovel Central didn’t though, we had to run 3kms to the public toilets at the shops and if we didn’t make it, well, behind a tree would have to do!
Not surprisingly, I had never played crowkay before. I could see all these hoops stuck in the ground and coloured balls and sledgehammer-looking things.
I was with Harmison and the other British Bulldogs crew.
‘How do you play?’ I asked them.
‘Well,’ Harmison said. ‘The object of crowkay is to use a mallet to knock your ball through the hoops in the correct order, and finally tap your ball into the centre peg. You may even knock your opponent’s ball out of the way.’
I laughed and forgot Mr Jefferson’s rules.
Like I said, I forget things pretty quickly.
‘Sounds like FUN! Watch this!’
I grabbed a crowkay sledgehammer, walked up to a ball, yelled out ‘Buckity Buckity!’ wound up, and whacked the ball towards a hoop. It went straight through then smashed into Mr Jefferson’s right ankle.
He yelped and
grabbed it.
‘BROWN!’ he yelled, hopping around. I got in trouble, and was only allowed to watch for a while.
Then I was back in the game.
I didn’t mean to break the rules again, but the sitting around and the being quiet and the blah blah blah boring had made me edgy.
I smiled at Harmison.
‘This game would be heaps more fun if we played it like it was mini-golf back in the Hovel. Check it out.’
Nasty Jefferson was lining up his shot. He did like a billion practise swings. I walked over to him.
‘Jolly good show, old chap,’ I said. ‘Best of luck thwacking your balls, what ho the diddly oh.’
He glared at me.
‘Quiet, peasant, and watch how we do things in Snootyville.’
I smiled and stepped away, hands behind my back. He pulled back his sledgehammer. He paused. I stepped behind him and went from innocent …
… to a putting-off SUPERSTAR!
Nasty Jefferson squealed, jumped, swung the sledgehammer, the ball flew sideways and smashed into Mr Jefferson’s left ankle!
He yelped and grabbed it.
‘BROWN!’
I was finally having fun though, and couldn’t stop. I grabbed Nasty Jefferson’s sledgehammer, swung it around my head and whacked a ball through a hoop. My team cheered. Then I whacked Nasty Jefferson’s ball away. They cheered again. I yelled out for them to join me, and they did …
It was so awesome. We were whacking balls and yelling buckity buckity and Mr Jefferson was yelling for us to stop and Nasty Jefferson was sitting on the ground crying out for us to be gentlemen and all the girls except for Dakota were hiding behind a wall.
There were balls flying everywhere. Mr Jefferson got hit on the ankles 29 times.
Finally, we gently tapped our balls into the centre peg and stopped, out of breath. I ran past my teammates, holding my hand up for high fives, but none of them knew what I was doing, so we just shook hands.
Baby steps …
Then Mr Jefferson limped over.
He looked angry.
Okay, he looked the same as always, but he was always angry!
‘BROWN!’ he yelled.
Uh-oh. Could be trouble.
‘Look at this court!’
He pointed. I looked. He glared. I was worried.
‘You and your team sit over there. You are banned from this court. Leave now. I will see you, as the ringleader, in detention after school.’
He pointed again to where we should sit. I looked again. He glared again. We went and sat down.
I took a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry, you guys,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to make things fun. I keep getting you in trouble.’
Harmison laughed.
‘Haw haw, don’t be sorry, Brown,’ he said. ‘For starters, you are the only one receiving detention, and for seconds, if British Bulldogs was fun, this was fun times twenty! ’
‘Is that a lot?’ I asked. My brain couldn’t be bothered doing maths. He patted my shoulder.
‘You are going to be a lamb to the slaughter at Academic Challenge, old chap. Perhaps you should lay low and follow our rules for a time. However, when you are willing to show us this mini-golf of yours, whatever that may be, we are aching to play it.’
The others agreed. Harmison had made me feel better again. He was a good guy.
*This isn’t what he actually said, but he may as well have.
CHAPTER 15
DETENTION
Detention sucks.
That is all.
CHAPTER 16
THE
HOUSEWARMING
Mum and Dad weren’t too happy that I’d already had a detention, but luckily for me they were distracted by the housewarming party. They bought heaps of food and Mum went to town, cooking up a feast using ingredients she could only dream about on Hovel Street.
Dad had almost figured out all the buttons for lights and music and everything else, and I could tell they were massively excited.
Then, it was time, and the party was a disaster … almost.
We had said 6pm on the invite, but by seven no one had turned up.
Then the doorbell rang.
‘Ah, of course,’ Dad said. ‘Rich people like to be fashionably late!’
He leapt off the couch and did a little dance. Then he ran to the front door and pressed a button to start the music. No music came on. We opened the door and saw this.
Behind Nasty Jefferson, his dad, and the security guy were all the Nasty Jeffersons from school, their parents, and the other security guys. They were soaked, and not happy.
‘Whoops,’ said Dad. ‘Sorry. Still working out the buttons. Welcome though. It’s fantastic to see you all here!’
Nasty Jefferson’s dad spoke. He had seemed kind of okay in his fancy car on Hovel Street, but we were on his turf now.
‘Your little welcome sprinkle has only served to remind us that you are not one of us. Once a peasant, always a peasant. We don’t know who you robbed to be able to afford to come here, but we know the trash pile you came from.’
Nasty Jefferson laughed. ‘Haw, haw, and don’t worry about your friends, peasant,’ he said to me. ‘They don’t actually like you. Even that odd Dakota girl sees you as something different, something unusual. You’re like a museum exhibit, like when I stare at a dinosaur, but …’
I cut him off.
‘A dinosaur butt? You stare at a dinosaur butt? Dude, that’s gross!’
He stuttered and stammered and tried to come back at me, but he had nothing, so he turned to his dad, who patted his shoulder and glared some more.
‘Enjoy your “party” by yourselves. No one will attend. They have been warned of the effect to their reputations. You people are like stray dogs, and I am the wolf, but …’
I cut him off too.
‘You’re the wolf butt? Dude, you stink!’
He went bright red, which made me think he was a baboon butt, not a wolf butt.
‘SECURITY!’ he yelled. ‘I would like to report a disturbance! Loud music being played after seven! Apprehend them.’
He walked away, the others following, while the security guys held us in a NORTH AMERICAN ARMPIT CLENCH (in other words, a tickle torture!) and told us to turn down the music.
They let us go, left, and we were all alone again.
We rubbed our tender armpits and went inside. I could tell Dad was really upset that no one was coming. Mum put an arm around him.
‘I’m sorry, honey. We can still have a party. Just us.’
Dad didn’t cheer up.
‘No! I don’t get it. What did we ever do to them except try and be nice?’
‘They just don’t like change,’ Mum said. ‘They don’t like people who are different, or who haven’t been rich as long as they have, or who don’t fit in with all their rules.’
She looked at me as she said that last bit, eyebrows raised. I shrugged. Dad still looked sad. I looked sad. Mum looked sad. Katie ate a bug.
Then the doorbell rang again.
I leapt off the couch.
‘I’ll get it, Dad, and if it’s those Nasty Jeffersons again, they’ll get the soaking of a lifetime.’
I ran to the door, pressed a button to turn on the lights, actually turned on the music, and when I opened the door, this is what I saw.
Seriously! She was in this pose. Her mum and dad were there, too. I hoped they were actually guests.
‘Are you here to tell us you aren’t coming?’ I asked sadly. Dakota just laughed.
‘Pfffft, that boring old trick? No way! We’re here because you’re my friend and because WE LOVE PARTIES! Look. We even brought games.’
I looked. She was telling the truth.
‘Dad,’ I yelled, and then Dakota pushed past me into the house. I closed the door after her parents and ran in. You should have seen Dad’s face light up.
He didn’t need a huge crowd, just people who wanted to be there, for real.
> They only stayed for an hour, but they stayed even though they were risking their reputation. The adults all chatted and Katie burped and we played Heads Up and we laughed heaps and Dakota taught Katie how to dance.
TOP FIVE THINGS I LEARNT
ABOUT DAKOTA
1. She loves dancing.
2. She likes crowkay (only after she played it with me!).
3. She laughs a lot and tells great jokes.
4. She’s really clever and says it’s stupid that Academic Challenge is only for boys and that she wanted to be on the team.
5. She LOVES dancing.
Then they left.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ Mum said. ‘We know you were asked not to.’
Dakota’s dad laughed. ‘Pishaw, it’s about time someone stood up to those bullies. If you ever need support, we’re in your corner. Thank you for having us.’
They walked towards their car.
