by Sally Gould
Harry screwed up his face in pain. I wished it'd been me who fell and broke my leg. He was so little. He closed his eyes and slept for ages.
It was so boring just sitting and waiting and trying not to think about bad stuff - like maybe we wouldn't get rescued and we'd be on the top of this great big rock all night, just us and the evil spirits. The sun belted down on my back and I just knew I'd be red and sore tomorrow. I listened out for the sound of people, but all I could hear was the wind. And my stomach rumbling. I remembered I hadn't eaten lunch and suddenly I felt starved again.
Harry just kept sleeping, and when the sun got low in the sky he got goose bumps, so I covered him with my surf jacket. For a while I thought about leaving him and climbing down to get help. But there was no way I could leave him and, anyway, it was too late because it was getting dark real quick.
Where were they? What were Mom and Dad thinking? It's so nice and quiet without Max! If he hasn't turned up by the morning, we better look for him. I tried to list the fifty US states in my head, but it seemed like a stupid thing to do now.
Harry opened his eyes again. He hadn't seemed to realize that he'd been asleep for hours. "Max," he whispered, "do you believe in God?"
I knew I was older and I was meant to give a real smart answer, but it was a hard question. "Sometimes," I replied.
I know you're thinking, Geez, Max, that's a dumb answer, but it isn't really. It means sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. So, my mind is open. It's like having an each-way bet on the Melbourne Cup. That's smart.
"I believe in God," Harry said. "Tyson says everything's random. A big accident. I don't believe him. God made this rock and everything. God made the stars. See," he said, pointing to the sky, "you just have to look at those stars and you know there's a God."
"Yeah, I guess. Maybe God made the stars so we can see when it's dark." It didn't seem like a good time to say that meant God also made crocs and they sure aren't pretty like stars. And it definitely wasn't a good time to say I really liked Charlie's idea about aliens giving Earth people stuff. Like Uluru. And if aliens gave us Uluru, they might have stuck sparklers in the sky just to make the view from Earth look good. Who really knew? Only God, I guess. And that's only if there really was a God.
"Look!" Harry pointed to the sky again.
A shooting star sailed across the sky. "Wow!"
"See?" he said. "That's God telling us we'll be okay."
"Yep," I said to be agreeable. I would've preferred the ranger to turn up, but that was the next best thing. I rubbed my arms; I was beginning to go numb.
We didn't say anything for a while. I don't know what Harry was thinking, but I knew what I was thinking. God, if we're going to be okay, please don't drag it out. Harry is in lots of pain, even though he's not complaining. It's freezing. I want to go home.
But no one came. The quietness was weird. It was so quiet I could hear Harry breathing.
Eventually, Harry said, "Max, do you have a super power?"
I laughed. "I'd like to. Dad reckons I've got a super power for getting into trouble. I guess that isn't really a super power. It'd be great to make myself invisible when I'm about to get into trouble."
"But then Charlie would get the blame."
That sounded good to me. I laughed as I thought of all the jokes I could play at school if I could make myself invisible. When Mr. Connor filled up the board with writing and expected us to copy it down, I could rub out the writing as he went. I could kick goals in soccer and no one would ever see me coming. I could change the total point score in House competitions, so Yarra House could win the House Shield every year. I had this feeling that Harry would think I wanted to use my super power for evil, so I decided not to share this with him.
Instead, I asked, "Have you got a super power?"
He thought about it for a while before he replied, "Yeah, I've got the best super power."
"Really?" Already I knew it wasn't going to be that great. If he could make himself invisible or fly, or if his body could heal itself, I would've already known about it.
"I always find special people. Like my best friend, Luke. I know what he's thinking and he knows what I'm thinking. We don't even need to talk."
That didn't sound like a super power to me, but I didn't say so. "And who else is special?"
"There's my teacher, Miss Johnson; the girl who lives up the road, Amy; my swimming teacher, Clare; and David, he looks after us. They're all special. My mom says I have a magic touch for finding special people."
"You're lucky," I said. "I wish I had that many special people."
Harry's voice sounded sad again. "I wish my mom was here."
I reached over and squeezed his hand.
"Max," he said, "I found you too. Except for Luke, you're the most special."
"Thanks, Harry." I didn't want to get all mushy, but I just had to say, "I think you find special people because you're so special yourself."
Just then I realized that there was a loud noise and it was getting louder. I looked around, but couldn't see anything. A chill shot through my body. Evil spirits? Did spirits make that kind of noise?
Just then a gigantic monster rose up above the edge of Uluru. Bright lights shone down onto us. An alien spaceship! Every hair on my skin shot up. I screamed. Then Harry screamed.
First I noticed the blades spinning and then I noticed the shape.
"A chopper!" I shouted. Of course, Harry couldn't hear me because the noise drowned out my voice.
But Harry must've figured it out, because he raised his head and smiled at me. The wind nearly blew us off Uluru, but I didn't care.
The chopper landed and a minute later, two rescuers ran over to us with a stretcher. They both checked Harry and his leg.
"Are you okay?" a lady in uniform said to me as the man with her looked after Harry.
"Am now," I replied. I didn't say, What took you so long? But she gave me the answer.
"Your parents," she said to Harry and me, "have spent the last three hours on a wild goose chase."
"What?" I imagined them searching all over Uluru, but being too dumb to find us.
"Two different lots of people said they saw the two of you coming down. It turned out there were two other boys. They looked nothing like you two, except the older boy was wearing a Manchester United shirt."
"So they did miss us?"
She laughed. "After we realized you were probably up here we had to get permission from the Aboriginal owners to land the chopper on Uluru at night. They think the mamu, the evil spirits, come out at night. But because you were kids, they let us. They didn't want you all alone with the mamu."
Far out! There really were evil spirits. "Lucky for us," I replied.
She returned my bloodied shirt. "You did a brilliant job, you know. You stopped the bleeding and elevated his leg. That splint isn't too bad, either. He's going to be fine." She patted me on the back. "You're a hero."
I smiled my real humble smile. This time I was the hero.
"Ever been in a chopper?" she asked.
I shook my head.
I walked next to Harry as he was taken on the stretcher over to the chopper.
"Told you everything was going to be okay," he said to me.
"You were right."
I got to sit next to the pilot. A few minutes later, we rose straight up into the air. Through the chopper windows I could see Uluru below and the stars all around us. There were millions of them. It was magic.
Wow. Now I was a hero like Charlie and I'd done two things that he hadn't done. I'd climbed to the top of Uluru and I'd flown in a chopper. And, of course, I'd escaped death four times.
Other books by Sally Gould:
Book 1 of The Max Books
Max's Revenge: A wedding, a party and a plate of dog food stew
Max's Revenge
1. THE WEDDING
Dad cut the engine, jerked on the handbrake and turned round. "These are the rules," he said, looking from me to Cha
rlie and back to me. "You're both to be quiet, still and polite." His voice deepened. "At all times."
"Yes, Dad," we answered like a pair of robots.
"This is Sophie and Dan's special day—"
"Daniel," I interrupted, "Sophie wants everyone to call him Daniel."
Dad glared at me. "He's my brother and I'll call him what I want."
Another point to me. Charlie and me were having a competition to see how many times we could annoy Dad without getting into serious trouble. So far I was winning three to one.
"I don't want either of you ruining their special day because you have the attention span of two year olds." He stared at us as though that would make his message sink in. "Okay, Charlie?"
"Yes, Dad."
"And Max, absolutely no trouble today!"
"Yes, Dad." I tugged my collar. The tie was choking me and I felt stupid. I could see myself in the rear-vision mirror; I looked like a shrunken version of Dad going to work. "It would be easier to be quiet and still if I didn't have to wear this tie."
"The tie stays on," Mom said, without looking up from the murder mystery she was reading.
After she'd read to the end of the page, we were allowed to get out of the car and hang out at the front of the stone church with everyone else. There were heaps of people. People I'd never seen before. All the guys wore suits, which made me feel less stupid. And there were heaps of gorgeous girls with long shiny hair and suntans. Dan and Sophie had lived in London for years and years, so how did they know all these people?
The four of us stood in a circle looking at each other because we didn't seem to know anyone else. Mom smiled. "The sunshine is lovely," she said.
"Beautiful," replied Dad, returning her smile.
My parents were weird. Actually, weddings were weird. For months everyone had carried on like Dan was a prince and Sophie was a princess just because they were getting married. But they'd been living together in a little flat in London for ages, so it was like they were married anyway. How did dressing up and going to church change anything?
And Mom and Nanna couldn't wait until Sophie had a baby. Once Mom told me babies are hard work. She said, when I was a baby I never slept and I cried all the time. So why did Mom and Nanna want Sophie to have a baby so much? Maybe they didn't really like her.
I shrugged. Who knew? I just hoped this day and night would go real fast. Now that I wasn't the pageboy I might die of boredom.
A woman wearing a large hat with feathers on it came up to us. She said to Mom and Dad, "I'm Sophie's mother." Mom introduced Charlie and me. Sophie's mother patted me on the head and whispered, "You would've made a very handsome pageboy."
I smiled, but inside I was mad because I'd wanted to be the pageboy. I wanted to be standing near Dan when the minister said, Now you may kiss the bride. I wanted my face in a wedding photo on their mantelpiece. I wanted the guests to tell me how handsome I was.
And I wanted to do something that Charlie hadn't done. He'd never been a pageboy. And now he was too old, so he never would be. Charlie had always been the chosen one. He was captain of his soccer team again. When he was in grade six he was captain of Yarra house. And last week the girls in his class voted him as the boy they'd most like to kiss. It sucked.
Dan had called me from London to ask, Would you do me the honor of being my pageboy? I pretended to think about it for a minute, before I said, Yep. I even went to get my suit fitted. But three weeks before the wedding, Dan came over to our place and said, Sorry sport, Sophie has changed her mind. You'll find women do that.
I decided I didn't like Sophie and I didn't want Dan to marry her. Even though I'd seen her photo and she had beautiful green eyes and smooth skin. Then a week later I met her when we had a barbeque at Nanna's place. As soon as Sophie saw me, her hand went over her glossy pink lips and she said, Oh, you're so cute and just the right age. You would've looked perfect with Lucy. She seemed really upset that she'd made a mistake, so, being the kind, generous person I am, I forgave her.
I knew then that something fishy was going on. All I found out was that I'd lost my place in the team to a five year old named Hamish (tell me, what sort of pageboy is named Hamish?), who was Sophie's twenty-third cousin or something. But why? Someone must've told her I wasn't cute enough. Who would've said that?
As Sophie's mom told Mom all about Sophie's Italian handmade beaded silk shoes, Nanna arrived. She wanted to know the color of the bridesmaids' dresses. Mom thought they were lilac and Sophie's mom thought they were lavender.
Aunt Evil (as Charlie and me call her) turned up. She parked in the loading zone out the front of the church, probably so everyone could check out her red Mercedes sports car. She came over and Charlie and me stood back while everyone kissed everyone else like they hadn't seen each other since Christmas (and not two weeks ago at Nanna's place).
Charlie kicked a stone in my direction. Dad spun round to see if we were doing anything we shouldn't be. I stood on the stone and gave him a blank look. So far I'd made a good impression. I'd been quiet and still, just like Dad had told me to be. I wouldn't kick the stone back to Charlie. I'd let Charlie suffer.
Everyone turned to look at me.
"I didn't do anything," I said.
Then Sophie's mom stepped back and wrapped her arm round me, squeezing me like I was a plastic duck that spurted water out its mouth. Geez, I'd only just met her! "Avril," she said, "I think he's lovely and he seems perfectly behaved."
Aunt Evil laughed nervously. "Trust me," she replied, "he's programmed to make trouble."
"Oh, he's a good boy," said good old Nanna.
I glared at my evil aunt. She looked guilty and turned away. So it was Aunt Evil who told Sophie that I was too naughty! My heart thumped like I'd just run a hundred-metre race. I wanted revenge, but I wouldn't do anything yet. I'd wait. I'd wait until the right moment. Then I'd get revenge on my evil aunt.
To buy Max's Revenge please go to my Smashwords author page:
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Book 3 of The Max Books
The Venetian Job: Bad guys and action - Max's Italian holiday
Mafia Encounter
1. SICILY
My friends would be doing math at this time of the day, but I wasn't because I was in Italy. Sicily, to be exact. We were driving along a four-lane highway where almost every car was speeding. Dad was biting his bottom lip, because he was concentrating hard.
Charlie had stuck his head outside the car window to record crazy drivers, so he could show his friends when he got home. Cars whizzed past us so fast it felt like we weren't moving. And the crazy drivers seemed to think no matter what they did, everyone else would get out of their way.
Mom stopped reading her murder mystery and stared out the front window at Mount Etna. Even though it was March, the top of it was covered in snow. Mom loved mountains. That was why we were in Sicily, because she'd always wanted to see Mount Etna.
Charlie sat back, put his phone down and leaned across the back seat of the car. Nudging me, he whispered, "I bet you we're related to Mr. Mafia."
"Who?" I hated when Charlie did that. When he says something as though I should know what he's talking about, but I don't know, so I've got to ask him what he means and then I sound dumb and he sounds smart.
"A mafia boss; an old guy who wears a black suit and black sunglasses and who has bodyguards. He'd live in an enormous house and be driven around in a big black car, and if anyone does the wrong thing to his family, they'd better watch out." Charlie gave me that smug look he gives when he's showing off how much he knows.
I nodded as though I knew exactly what he meant. And I sort of did. There were mafia guys at home. They were bad; I knew that. A bit bad was okay, but I wouldn't want to be related to anyone real bad.
Not that I believed Charlie. Mom wouldn't have brought us to Sicily if we were related to a mafia boss. I didn't think she would, anyway.
"It makes sense," whispered Charlie. "T
hat's why we've started this holiday in Sicily. To meet Mr. Mafia and the rest of the family."
I swallowed. Real casual, I asked, "Mom, are you related to a mafia boss?"
She took her eyes off Mount Etna to turn round and glare at me. Then she glared at Charlie as if to say, Don't scare your younger brother!
He fiddled with his phone. "It seemed a reasonable deduction since we've come to Italy to meet your relatives and Sicily is the first place we've come to."
"We've come to Italy for a holiday, not just to meet my relatives. And most Sicilians aren't in the mafia."
I nodded as though she'd convinced me. When she turned round to the front, Charlie and me looked at each other. We each knew what the other was thinking. She was lying. We could tell because she didn't look into our eyes. That meant one thing. Her relatives lived in Sicily. Did that mean her grandfather or uncle or someone was Mr. Mafia? Maybe; maybe not.
Suddenly Tom Tom, our satellite navigator, got real excited. In his robotic-newsreader voice, he said, "Bear right, then go through the roundabout, second exit, then go straight ahead for two hundred metres, stay in the right lane, then turn right."
"WHAT?" yelled Dad. "That can't be right!"
Charlie sniggered and Mom quickly opened her book and began to read. I stated the obvious: "Tom Tom is always right." We'd been using him for less than a week and it was already like he was part of the family. He loved disagreeing with Dad.
Dad shook his head.
"Wow," yelled Charlie, "check out the Ferrari!"
I turned round to see a bright yellow Ferrari flash past us. A second later a car horn let out a long, loud, scary sound. Then brakes screeched. Dad, who had been following Tom Tom's instructions, yelled out something I'm not allowed to say before he did a massive swerve. Charlie and me got flung sideways. A moment later we realized we'd nearly been hit by a car coming toward us.