Max's Revenge: A wedding, a party and a plate of dog food stew (The Max Books Book 1)

by Sally Gould

Then I saw red and I realized what I’d done. OH, NO! I WAS DEAD!

  4. THE PARENTS’ HELPLINE

  This isn’t happening, I said to myself. I stood still and watched twenty ice cream-coated hands grab Aunt Evil’s red skirt. All the kids, seeming pleased with themselves, looked over to me. For a nanosecond, Aunt Evil didn’t move and didn’t utter a word. Then she saw their hands and the state of her skirt. She screamed at the top of her voice as though an army of midgets was attacking her.

  I froze.

  Parents grabbed the kids by their wrists and dragged them inside to wash their hands. Aunt Evil wailed about her new skirt. Mom appeared with a damp cloth and tried to clean it.

  No one paid any attention to me. It was probably a good time to disappear, but that would make me look guilty. I picked up the platter of mushed up ice-cream cake and took it into the kitchen.

  Archer’s mom had Archer sitting on the kitchen bench and was cleaning his face and hands. She looked up.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Ryan.”

  “It’s not your fault, Max. You’ve done a wonderful job of entertaining the children. I’m sure they’ve enjoyed your games more than they would’ve enjoyed the pirate’s games.”

  She hadn’t realized it was sort of my fault. Maybe I’d be okay.

  Behind me, I heard Dad’s voice. “Archer,” he said softly, “why did you all hang on to the lady’s skirt?”

  Archer gazed at the floor and mumbled, “Safe place.”

  “Who said it was a safe place?”

  Archer pointed to me.

  “Archer,” I pleaded, “I didn’t say that. I said something red. Like the swing. Remember?”

  He shook his head.

  “And I didn’t tell anyone to get ice-cream cake, did I?”

  His face screwed up and he began to cry. His mom picked him up and cuddled him.

  I felt Dad grab the back of my T-shirt. He pushed me into the laundry and shut the door. The sound and speed of my heartbeat rocketed up to full blast. I wished I were Charlie. One of his alien powers was to disappear. I needed that power right now.

  I held my breath and stood still while Dad looked me up and down like I was the most hopeless son a father could have. I had two choices. I could try to defend myself or I could just take whatever he threw at me. I had a good defense, but I decided it wasn’t worth risking making him angrier.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and said, “Max, what are we going to do with you?”

  What did he want me to say? It’s not me who is the problem. It’s Aunt Evil. If you could arrange for her to get a job promotion to some faraway country, then you wouldn’t need to ask that question.

  He let out a big sigh. “Punishing you doesn’t work.” He held his forehead.

  For a moment I felt sorry for him. Then I remembered that he never listened to my side of the story. He only ever listened to his evil old sister.

  The laundry door opened and Mom stepped in. She whispered, “Avril is still distressed. We should go. I’ll say goodbye to Katherine and meet you at the car.”

  Dad nodded.

  WHAT! We were invited to the party, not Aunt Evil. So why was she staying while we were leaving? She probably wanted to stuff her face. “I have to say goodbye to Archer,” I said.

  “You can phone him tonight,” Dad said as he headed out through the kitchen.

  I huffed and followed him up the hallway.

  A pirate with a fake beard swaggered through the front gate. In a pirate voice he said, “Me hearties, the party can’t be over.”

  I shook my head. “We have to leave early.”

  He messed up my hair. “Never mind, me hearties. We’ll meet again on the high seas.”

  I glared at him. He’d get the money; not me. Now I’d never get that Xbox game. When I reached the sidewalk, I heard all the kids screaming, “The real pirate’s here!” That sucked.

  Dad was silent while we waited in the car for Mom. He must’ve been deciding what my punishment should be. He liked to think about it and try to come up with something new. It was like a game.

  Mom got in the car, turned round to me and gave me a weak smile. That meant she didn’t blame me but there was no way she’d stick up for me against Dad. And I didn’t blame her. She probably knew as well that he was a Nazi in his last life.

  We clicked in our seatbelts and Dad started the car. Mom put on a classical music CD. She only did that when she was stressed.

  “Sorry for embarrassing you,” I said to Mom.

  She turned round. “You did a great job looking after the kids. I don’t know why Avril turned up.”

  Dad hit the steering wheel and exploded, “There’s only one person to blame here. Max told the kids that anything red was the safe place. And the only red thing in the whole backyard was her new skirt.”

  “And the swing,” I added. “I meant the swing.”

  “And I think there were a few red flowers in the garden,” Mom mumbled.

  Good old Mom. “What’s my punishment?” I asked.

  “Punishment!” Dad yelled. “What’s the point? Punishing you doesn’t work.”

  Mom whispered, “Perhaps we should only reward him for good behavior.”

  “We’ve tried that.”

  Yeah, they’d tried that. Once there was a big poster stuck up in the kitchen. It was divided into Charlie’s half and my half. Mom used to give us gold stars when we were good. Charlie always had more stars than me. So, one day, I bought a packet of gold stars at the newsagent. I shouldn’t have stuck on eleven more stars at once.

  We were silent all the way home. But as soon as Dad turned off the car, he said, “I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to call the Parents’ Helpline.”

  Mom looked at him like he’d gone mad. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. But he seemed very pleased with himself.

  “Yes,” he announced, “should’ve done it years ago. How could any parent be expected to cope with such a problem?”

  5. MRS. BRIGHT

  The next night, after dinner, the doorbell rang. I knew who it was. I pretended to go to the upstairs bathroom, but I stayed on the landing and listened. I heard Dad’s heavy footsteps go up the hallway. Mom followed him. The door opened. I heard Dad say, “Mrs. Bright, come in. I’m Robert; this is my wife, Clare.”

  Then I heard Mom say, real casual, “Let’s go in the sitting room.” Mom was so predictable. All afternoon she’d been madly tidying up and cleaning as though Princess Mary was coming for dinner. She’d even polished the kettle. She probably wouldn’t see this woman from the Parents’ Helpline again but, I guess, Mom thought a perfect house meant that she was a perfect mother. At least she would be if she didn’t have a problem son.

  Mrs. Bright replied, “Actually, I’d like to sit at the dining table. If that’s all right with you?”

  “Of course,” said Mom.

  “And Max should join us.”

  I flew into the bathroom, flushed the toilet and came out again.

  “Max,” called Dad.

  I took my time coming down the stairs so I got a good look at Mrs. Bright. She was sitting in Dad’s spot at the head of the table. She looked like a fairy godmother. Her long silver hair was in a loose bun; her glasses sat halfway down her nose. The white lace around the edges of her light-blue dress made her look like she’d been telling parents how to deal with their problem sons for a couple of hundred years.

  She saw me and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Max.”

  “Hello,” I said and sat down next to her. I liked the sound of her voice. It was warm and friendly and reminded me of Nanna. I know if I’m going to like someone by the sound of their voice.

  Dad leaned forward over the table like he couldn’t wait to get on with it. I leaned back in my chair, real casual.

  Mrs. Bright clasped her hands and asked Mom and Dad, “So, you want to discuss parenting techniques?”

  “We’d like your advice,” Dad replied. “We’ve tried every technique in the pa
renting book, but we can’t seem to get through to Max. He always takes things too far.”

  “Any examples?”

  I slid down in my chair.

  Just as I expected, Dad went on and on. He began with dumb things I’d done years ago, when I was little. Little kids do stupid things - that’s normal. Finally, Dad got to things I did this year. Things that showed I had imagination. Then he gave Mrs. Bright a very detailed description of how I’d decorated Aunt Evil’s car at Dan’s wedding and how, yesterday, I’d forced an army of four year olds to attack Aunt Evil with ice-cream cake.

  I didn’t bother to try to defend myself. Mom and Dad can’t see that Aunt Evil is evil. I don’t know why. And if I tried to tell Mrs. Bright my side of the story, Dad would accuse me of CONTRADICTING him. And he hated being contradicted more than he hated me doing stuff, like putting sardines under the hood of Aunt Evil’s red Merc.

  Mrs. Bright smiled at me. “So Max, you’re a normal boy with a tad too much energy. Do you play any sports outside school?”

  In my poor me voice, I replied, “Not when I’m grounded.”

  “Oh.” She took off her glasses and nodded. She said to Mom and Dad, “I don’t think stopping a boy like Max playing sport will help in the long run.”

  Maybe it was good that Dad had called the Parents’ Helpline. Mrs. Bright seemed to understand me. She might be my fairy godmother in disguise.

  She continued, “Sport will channel his excess energy in a positive way. More problems can be created by cooping kids up in the house.”

  I covered my mouth and coughed to hide the grin on my face. I’d be back at swimming training tomorrow.

  “Max,” she said to me, “tell me about your Aunt Avril.”

  “She’s evil,” I replied. “She’s always telling Charlie and me what to do and she loves it when we get in trouble. She told Sophie not to let me be the pageboy at her wedding.”

  Dad interrupted, “Avril didn’t tell you to climb the flagpole outside the church, or wreck her car or incite Archer and his friends to ruin her skirt. You made those choices.”

  “Children don’t tend to like relatives telling them how to behave,” said Mrs. Bright. “Max, that doesn’t excuse the things you’ve done. Now in a minute I’m going to discuss privately with your parents some parenting techniques. First though, you’ve got to understand something very important. Your parents need a break from being parents for a while.”

  What did that mean? Boarding school?

  She asked Mom and Dad, “Do you have a friend or relative who could look after the boys? You need a holiday together - a child-free holiday.”

  In a nanosecond, Mom and Dad went from looking tired and miserable to looking like they’d won the lottery. Their silly grins told me they loved the idea.

  But they’d never been on a holiday without us. They wouldn’t leave us. Would they?

  Dad put his hand over Mom’s hand and squeezed it. Mom looked so relieved she had tears in her eyes.

  I felt sick.

  ***

  At midnight, I crept downstairs with a sleeping bag and my pillow and snuck into the garage. I left the light on because the garage is a bit spooky. I unlocked the Monaro, made myself comfortable across the back seat and breathed in the smell of the car. It reminded me of Uncle Jack.

  If Uncle Jack were alive, he might’ve looked after me and Charlie in the holidays. We could’ve watched him race the Monaro.

  Nanna was the best Nanna, but two weeks of school holidays at her house would be the boringest two weeks ever. And now I’d never get to Chook’s party. I wiped my eyes on the sleeping bag.

  If it wasn’t for Aunt Evil ...

  6. CRICKET

  Nanna was glad we came to stay with her. She needed the company because her Maltese Terrier, Winston, died. He got sick the day Archer had his party and he died at the vet’s the next day. Nanna couldn’t stop crying. Mom said Winston was like Nanna’s baby.

  Now Charlie and me had to look after Nanna. It’s weird the way things happen. It’s like the Universe knew Nanna needed Charlie and me so she’d forget how much she missed Winston. And Mom and Dad needed a holiday by themselves so I got in big trouble (even though I didn’t deserve it) and then we got sent to Nanna’s and Mom and Dad went to Queensland.

  It wasn’t that bad really, except for missing Chook’s party. And I couldn’t talk to Lucy anyway, because she’d gone away to Queensland. And I’d sort of got used to the old-people smell of Nanna’s house.

  Charlie and me had done all these strange things. We went to a hall and watched all these old people do square dancing. Even Nanna danced half the night. The dancing was real complicated, so Charlie and me just watched. Thank God for that. There was heaps of great food, so we stuffed ourselves. Dancing was good for Nanna because it was the first time she forgot about how sad she was.

  We had to do boring things too. Like hang out the washing. That doesn’t sound bad, but have you ever hung out your nanna’s undies?

  And Nanna didn’t have a dishwasher, so we had to wash the dishes in the sink. That sucked. At first we had fights over who washed and who dried, so Nanna made us take it in turns. The first time I got to wash up I chucked soapsuds all over Charlie, so every time we did the dishes we had a water fight. Nanna went outside and watered the pot plants so she didn’t have to listen to us. Afterwards she thanked us for washing the kitchen floor.

  Twice a week, Nanna went to the hairdresser to get her hair done. The first time, before she left, she asked us to wheel the garbage bin out to the street. We had a fight about who was going to do it. Charlie said the person who lost “paper, scissors, rock” had to.

  “NO!” I screamed, “YOU ALWAYS WIN THAT GAME!”

  He laughed at me. “If you take the garbage out, I’ll tell you why I always win.”

  “I know why,” I said. “It’s because you’re half-alien.”

  He looked so shocked, like I’d said something really nasty. I didn’t mean to be nasty. “Well,” I added, “you’ve got alien powers anyway.”

  Charlie stared at me like I was crazy. Then he said, “Just do it and I’ll tell you.”

  I took the garbage out while he sat on the front steps with his arms folded. He had Nanna’s telephone message pad and a pen.

  I sat down facing him.

  “Okay,” he said, “I’m going to write down every move we make. Then you’ll see a pattern.” He drew a line down the middle of the pad and wrote Max on one side and Me on the other.

  We held out our fists and moved them up and down. One, two, three.

  Charlie’s fist was in the shape of a rock.

  My hand was in the shape of scissors.

  “See?” I said.

  We did it another four times. He won every time. What a surprise. Not.

  Charlie showed me the pad. “See the pattern?”

  I didn’t at first. I hate that. When someone tells you to look at something like it’s real obvious. Like an elephant wearing a red vest flying up in the sky. Then I saw what Charlie meant. I clapped my hand over my mouth. Far out! I felt sick in the stomach. What an idiot I’d been. How could I do that every time and not realize I was doing it?

  Charlie laughed his head off. “I had to tell you one day.”

  I studied the pad again, just to make sure. Whatever shape Charlie chose, I chose the same shape the next go. So he always knew what I was going to do. “But how’d you know the first time? You can’t be that lucky.”

  “You do scissors first, every time. I reckon it’s because you like scissors. When you were little you used to steal all the scissors in the house and hide them in a shoe box under your bed.”

  “Oh.” I remembered getting caught stealing a pair of scissors at school. I guess I did sort of like scissors - I don’t know why.

  Charlie still had that stupid grin on his face. Did that mean he wasn’t an alien? It might and it might not. There were still all those other weirdo alien things Charlie did. Like how he’d move o
ne half of his chest up and then the other half. Then he’d keep doing it faster and faster like his chest was doing some crazy alien dance. And how he sensed when Dad was going to kill us and he’d disappear. That was one alien power I wish I had.

  “Let’s play cricket,” said Charlie, standing up.

  I jumped up. “If I can bat first.”

  “You batted first last time.”

  “I just lost ‘paper, scissors, rock’ five times in a row.” I stopped myself saying, ‘Cause you cheated. “I deserve to bat.”

  “Okay, Max. You bat. But when I catch you out, you’re out. Don’t say, That was just a practice.”

  We went round to the backyard and grabbed the bat and ball. The stumps were already set up. Nanna’s backyard was huge, much bigger than at home. We could really whack the ball.

  Charlie rubbed the ball on his leg and made a red mark on his jeans. He thought he was going to be a test cricketer when he left school. I’d show him. I bent my knees and concentrated. Hopeless, Charlie, I thought, before I whacked the ball with all my strength.

  Brilliant. The ball flew over the fence. I didn’t even run. “Six,” I yelled. Then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I gasped. The ball had gone straight into Madge’s dining room window. I heard screams. OH, NO! Madge and the three old ducks she played poker with every afternoon had probably been sitting around her dining table.

  “Max!” Charlie yelled.

  Within a nanosecond, I saw two things that frightened me to death. First, I saw Aunt Evil come out the back door with a bald man in a suit. Then I saw Madge at her broken window with our cricket ball in her hand. She didn’t speak; she just stared. It wasn’t the first time I’d broken one of her windows. No, it was more like the third time. Well, maybe the fourth.

  In slow motion, I saw Madge take her arm back and throw our ball. Before I realized she’d aimed at me, the ball hit me hard on the head. I remember falling.

  7. LEO

  When I woke, I realized I was on Nanna’s sofa and Charlie was sitting on the floor next to me. I felt something cold resting on my forehead.