You’ve probably worked out that Ben is quite sensitive when it comes to Becky. Well, he did not like what Charlie said, so he said, “Right now my massive problem is you.” Which was a bit harsh.
This got Charlie’s back up, so he put on a whiny-fake-Ben voice and said, “Right now my massive problem is you.”
Ben said, “You’re an idiot, Charlie.”
Charlie pretended to cry and said, “You said I was a hero.”
“You can be both.”
“Shut up, Ben.”
“Shut up, Charlie.”
“Shut up . . .”
They went on for a while telling each other to shut up. They were getting too loud and I was worried that someone might hear, so I said, “Both of you shut up before we end up getting arrested.”
That seemed to do the trick.
But then Ben said, “Someone should arrest Charlie for his horrible breath,” and they were at each other again.
I shouted, really loudly, “Will you two quit yelling?” I may also have stamped my foot for extra effect.
Thankfully, that did shut them up.
But then Charlie said, “Alright, Fred, chill your beans.”
And Ben said, “Yeah, Fred, no need to shout. What’s your problem?”
Which was massively annoying as they were my problem, but I didn’t say anything in case I set them off again. In fact, no one said anything for a while. We just stood there and tried to calm down. I concentrated on the rise and fall of the deck under my feet, wondering whether I should have brought them on my quest to find Alan Froggley. And whether even I should have come on this whole stupid journey.
Then Ben said, “Stars are nice tonight.” Which I think was code for I’m sorry for being a jerk.
And Charlie said, “Sky doesn’t look like this back in Andover.” Which I think was code for I’m equally sorry for being a jerk.
I looked upward. The stars did look especially twinkly. I said, “Do you know we are actually made of stardust? Practically all the elements found on Earth were made in the heart of a star!” Which was not only a really cool fact but also my code for I forgive you both for being total jerks.
“Stardust? I like that,” Charlie said.
Ben said, “I’ve never seen so many stars. Look at that one!”
“That’s not a star, that’s Jupiter,” I told him.
“How can you tell?”
“See how it’s brighter and more disk-shaped.”
“Oh yeah.”
“You know, it’s mainly made of gas.”
Ben said, “A little bit like Charlie then.” Which made us laugh. He wasn’t wrong. Charlie had been releasing some seriously deadly onion farts.
“You can laugh now,” Charlie said. “But you won’t be laughing tonight when I fart on your faces while you’re asleep.”
That shut us up.
“You think we might see a shooting star if we look hard enough?” I asked.
“If we do, what would you wish for?”
It was too big a question to answer, so I said, “For Charlie to stop farting. That or peace on Earth.”
“I’d wish for better friends,” Charlie said and thumped me on the leg, which I guess I deserved. Then he said, “Actually, I’d wish for my mom to stop going on about broccoli and let me indulge in my carnivorous urges.”
Ben didn’t seem to like that idea, as he said, “Out of all the things in the world, that’s what you’d wish for?”
“You remember in third year when some kids got a letter home after we were weighed and measured by the school nurse?”
Ben and I both nodded.
“Well, I got a letter home. And it’s no coincidence that after that Mom put the whole family on her ridiculous “Anderson Healthy Lifestyle Change” and she started buying avocadoes and quinoa in bulk. She thinks I’m too fat.”
“You’re not too fat,” I said. “Just . . . you know . . . sturdy.”
“You think? Sturdy . . . sturdy . . .” Charlie tried the word out. “Yeah, I like that. Makes me sound solid.”
“Another very good description,” I said.
He swiveled around to face Ben. “You know what? You’re right. That wasn’t a great wish. What I really wish is that Mom would realize that I’m happy as I am.”
Ben nodded. “Now that’s an alright kind of wish.”
Nobody said anything for a while.
Then Ben spoke so quietly that I could barely hear him, but I caught what he said. He said, “I’d wish for Becky to disappear and for my mom and dad to get back together.”
“Would that make you happy?” I asked.
“Yeah, it would.”
“Didn’t your parents argue all the time?” It was an innocent question, but it did not go over well.
Ben’s face got all twisted like when he was eating his onion.
“Shut up, Fred. You don’t know anything about my parents.”
I probably should have left it, but I didn’t.
“Don’t tell me to shut up. You shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“No, you shut up.”
We were back to the whole telling-each-other-to-shut-up. Again.
Eventually Ben really lost it. He stood up so that he was looking down at me and shouted, “I’ll tell you to shut up if I want to! You think you know everything—ranting on about your facts all the time. Like anybody cares that onions and garlic are cousins.”
That was too much. People love my facts. I got to my feet and stared him right in the eyes. “Don’t get mad at me because your parents hate each other.”
Even at the time I knew I shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t help myself. It had been a long day and I think I was tired and overly emotional. I guess he was feeling the same, because things quickly got even more out of hand.
Ben stared right back at me. “You think you know everything. But you’re stupid—just like your dad.”
I know! He went there.
And then he went there again. “Oh sorry, I forgot. He’s not your dad, is he?”
That’s when I lost it.
I grabbed him and said, “Say that again.”
Ben laughed and said, “Or what?”
I didn’t actually have an answer, and luckily Charlie pushed himself between us. “Guys, maybe you should calm down. I’ve got a packet of Skittles we could share—”
Ben didn’t break eye contact with me as he said, “Butt out, Charlie.” He knocked the Skittles out of Charlie’s hand and they spilled across the deck.
Charlie did not take too kindly to losing his little taste of the rainbow—he pushed us both and said, “Do not tell me to butt out.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” I said, which seemed to really annoy Charlie.
“That’s typical. Think you can laugh at me and leave me out like always.” He apparently had his own issues he wanted to settle.
“You want to get involved in a fight?” Ben said.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Fine.”
“We’re doing this then, fighting?” I asked. To be one hundred percent honest, I was already beginning to have second thoughts.
Ben poked me in the chest unnecessarily hard. “Yeah, we are.”
I grabbed his T-shirt and said, “Okay then. Prepare to die,” because I thought it sounded threatening.
Charlie wrapped his arms around both of us so tight that we were like a twelve-limbed body with three heads. I didn’t know what to do next. I’d never been in a fight before and I knew Charlie and Ben hadn’t either. So we held on to each other’s T-shirts and kind of pulled and shoved. I don’t know if anyone threw any punches—I suspect not. All we did was stagger from one side of the boat to the other. Until the inevitable happened and we fell in.
12
Charlie Anderson should never be left to do laundry
It’s amazing what an unexpected dip in the sea can do to break the tension. Once we had hauled ourselves back onto Llywelyn-the-G
reat and had caught our breath, all the anger seemed to have drained out of us into the Welsh water.
“That was unexpected,” I said.
“My phone’s dead,” Ben said, trying to turn it off and back on again.
I pulled mine out of my sopping pocket. “Mine too.”
Charlie peered over the side. “Think mine’s still in the sea.”
“What were we doing?” I said. “That was so stupid.”
“I dunno. I felt like I really wanted to fight you.” Ben shook his head to get the water out of his ears.
“Yeah, I thought I wanted to fight you too,” I said.
Ben stopped shaking and looked at me. “I don’t really want to fight you.”
“I don’t really want to fight you either. Friends?”
“Friends.”
It was a nice moment but it was cut short when Charlie stood between us and shook himself like a dog. “I don’t mind what you guys are doing as long as you don’t leave me out.”
“We promise not to leave you out,” I said.
“Good. Or I’ll get you both.” He took his shirt off, wrung it out, and whipped me and then Ben around the legs. He chased us around the boat until we got tired and then we all flopped down on the padded benches.
“What are we going to do now?” Ben asked. “I’m cold. Are you cold?”
I nodded. “I don’t want to stay out here all night.”
“We should go below deck. Keep warm in the cabin.”
“It’s probably locked,” I said.
Charlie tried the handle. “It’s definitely locked.”
“It’s probably not locked locked though.” Before we could stop him, Ben gave the handle a shake, then rammed into the door with his shoulder. There was a splintering sound and the door swung open. “See, not locked locked.”
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Charlie said.
“We’re already trespassing, I didn’t think a little breaking and entering was much different,” Ben said, switching on the light. “We are in a moment of extreme need.”
I looked at Charlie and he sighed and said, “Do you think they have hypoallergenic pillows in prison?”
Despite the threat of a criminal record hovering over our heads, I couldn’t help but feel relieved that we were inside. We started exploring, leaving wet footprints wherever we went. At one end of the boat was a small kitchen area, in the middle section was a tiny table with some seats, and at the other end was the world’s smallest toilet and bunks for sleeping. I told Ben and Charlie not to touch anything. We had to leave everything exactly how we’d found it.
I was so tired, and Ben and Charlie were yawning too, so I suggested we strip off and put on our spare underpants to get ready for bed. We needed to be up early and out of the boat before anyone else was about.
Charlie took our wet clothes—he said he’d found somewhere to dry them out—and then we climbed into the bunks. Ben and I went top-and-tail on the bottom bunk. Charlie had the top one to himself. We should have gone the other way around because Charlie kept farting, but by that point I couldn’t be bothered to move. It wasn’t long before we passed out, either from fatigue or from the toxic fumes of Charlie’s onion-scented butt blasts.
It must have been only a few hours later that I was woken up by a shrill wailing sound. I bolted up, my nose twitching.
Smoke.
It took me a moment to remember where I was and then work out that the boat must be on fire. I shook Charlie and Ben awake.
“Get up. I think the boat is on fire!”
Charlie stretched, rubbed his eyes, and then appeared to remember something and leaped to his feet. “Oh no! I forgot!”
I did NOT like the sound of that. “What did you forget, Charlie?”
He didn’t answer, just ran off in his underpants toward the other end of the boat. Ben and I followed him to the little kitchen area. He opened the sliding door and all this smoke billowed out.
He picked up a kitchen towel and waved it around while saying, “No, no, no, no, no,” like a severely disappointed folk dancer.
“What did you do?” Ben shouted.
“Have you been cooking?” Through the smoke I could make out a pile of something ablaze on the stove top.
I filled up a mug with water from the sink and threw it at the pile. To be honest, it had as much effect as peeing into a volcano. Luckily, Ben grabbed the little fire extinguisher that was attached to the wall, pulled the nozzle, and aimed it at the stove. The small blaze was extinguished, and we spluttered and coughed as even more smoke filled the cabin. The fire alarm was still going so I grabbed the towel from Charlie and tried waving it in front of it. That didn’t do anything so I began pushing the off switch, but it wouldn’t stop.
Charlie yelled helpfully, “Turn it off. Someone’s going to hear us!”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?”
Ben opened the door to let out some of the smoke and I found a wooden spoon in one of the kitchen drawers. I adopted a more aggressive approach and began whacking the alarm with all my strength. It fell from the ceiling onto the floor but the noise got louder if anything.
“Take that!”
WHACK!
“And that!”
WHACK!
“Go on, Fred, smash it!” Charlie yelled.
I really started to pummel the alarm. The white plastic casing cracked, then fell apart, and the alarm emitted its final death wails.
“Finish it off!” Ben shouted.
I brought the spoon down right in the center of the alarm and delivered the killer blow. It let out a final peep and then was quiet. Freddie Yates 1—Smoke Detector 0.
“Enjoy that much?” Ben asked.
I blushed. I had in an angry-fun sort of way. “Well . . . you know.”
“He’s got a kitchen utensil and he’s not afraid to use it,” Charlie laughed.
I poked the smoldering ashes with the spoon. They looked strangely familiar. “What is this stuff?”
Charlie quickly stopped laughing and began shifting his weight from foot to foot in a way that made him look decidedly . . . shifty.
“Charlie?”
“I only meant to warm them up. I didn’t think they’d catch on fire.”
In among the ashes I spotted a charred label with AGE 11–12 YRS printed on it. “Charlie, tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
“It’s our clothes.”
“I said not to tell me that.”
Charlie looked uncomfortable. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“To cook our clothes?” Ben spluttered. “What were you going to do—eat them?”
“There weren’t any flames, the stove has these hot circles, see?”
“Hot circles?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“I was only going to warm them through.”
“Charlie! They were our clothes, not pancakes. We’ve got nothing to wear apart from our underpants! I can’t meet Alan Froggley in my underpants. I just can’t.”
It was then that Ben inexplicably started laughing and I had a serious sense-of-humor failure. “Ben, this isn’t funny!”
“It’s a little funny.”
“No, it’s a disaster.”
“Now you’re being dramatic.”
“Ben, we’re in Wales, in a boat we’ve broken into, that we’ve now set on fire, and we’re practically naked—how is this not a disaster?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Chill, nobody’s died, have they?”
His words seemed to fill the whole cabin.
He looked at me guiltily. “Oh. Sorry. Apart from your Grams. Nobody else has died.”
I just looked at him with my mouth open.
Ben quickly broke eye contact, picked up the bits of alarm, and chucked them in the garbage can. “It’s fine. We’ll think of something.”
I couldn’t see how it was fine. “We’ll need a miracle to get ourselves out of this mess.”
But a miracle did
n’t happen. Not then anyway. In fact, our situation got a whole lot worse.
13
Charlie, Ben, and I find some stuff and do a runner
I was eager to get going on our journey, so while Charlie tried unsuccessfully to clean the smoke stains off the kitchen wall with a toothbrush, Ben and I conducted a search of the boat to find some clothes. The little clock on the kitchen stove told us it was coming up on five in the morning. We needed to be gone by six at the latest to make sure nobody was about.
Ben looked through a tiny cupboard at the back of the boat while I started to look through some drawers. It was when I rifled through the bottom drawer that our journey took a serious turn for the unexpected.
I gasped.
Then I blinked.
Then I rubbed my eyes.
I think I might have done one more gasp and then I slammed the drawer shut.
“Everything alright, Fred?” Ben asked finally.
A funny little squeaky sound came out of my mouth. A noise I haven’t made before or since.
“You okay? What did you find?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t think. My brain was trapped on one image. The image of that Fiona Bruce woman with the lovely set of teeth looking utterly dismayed on the Antiques Roadshow.
“Fred, you gone mute or something?” Ben opened the drawer to take a look. “Very nice but they’re not going to cover much up, are they?”
I managed to squeeze some words out. They were: “Ben, Ben, see? Uh-oh?”
Ben frowned.
Granted, they weren’t the most informative words, so I tried again. “Ben, do you know what these are?”
“Er, yeah. I’m not an idiot. They’re rings. Ugly ones at that.”
It was at this moment that everything got a little crazy. Charlie stumbled into the room doing a weird wobbly scream. His face was white and he was carrying something in his hand. “Guys, guuuuuys! I think you should see this.”
My eyes flew open so wide I thought my eyeballs might fall out.
“Good grief, Charlie! Where did you get that?” Ben shouted.
“In the right-hand cupboard under the sink, next to the fabric softener and in front of the dish soap.”
He was surprisingly precise given the circumstances.
The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates Page 6
