Radio Boy
Page 14
Then, when my sister came back from feeding money to her pony, she gave me news that broke my heart.
She came into my bedroom, reeking of hay and pony poop.
‘I know who dobbed you in to Fish Face,’ she said.
‘WHO! Artie or Holly?’ I guessed.
‘No. You won’t like this, but it was Katherine Hamilton, Spike.’
The room was spinning. I played back the memory of her calling the show.
‘You’re the best.’
Then I remembered Holly’s words. ‘She was using you … Like she does everyone.’
‘I-I-I …’ I stammered.
‘I told you she was awful,’ said Amber. ‘She was down the stables, feeding her pony, Katherine Junior, and she saw me and walked right up and told me! She’s evil, Spike. I know you have a crush on her, but you need to know the truth.’
I could hardly speak. ‘Yes, yes, thanks,’ I muttered. Spike or Radio Boy, I meant nothing to Katherine Hamilton. It was over.
After lunch, I was summoned by Dad to the dinner table, where a formal meeting was being held. Mum and Dad sat on one side of the table, me on the other. Like some special trial or hearing was about to take place. Mum had thoughtfully placed a bowl in the middle of the table with some fruit in, which she offered me. ‘Good for your digestion.’
Mum started the proceedings. This was scarier than the interrogation from Mr Harris. You never knew what my mum would come out with from moment to moment, and recent events would have sent her into overdrive.
‘OK, the last twenty-four hours have been very hard on me, Spike. What you did, and your dad let you do …’
MUM SHOT DAD SOME SERIOUS SIDEWAYS STINK EYE AT THIS POINT. The power of the stink eye was ten times that of a laser beam; it froze Dad on the spot.
‘While it was also very impressive, what you did with your show has caused some very serious problems that your dad and I have to deal with. That you will also have to deal with.’
If Mum’s face was an emoji, it would look like this:
‘The good news is that, after some consideration, and talking to the police and Mr Harris, we have reached an agreement where we won’t press charges for breaking and entering, if your radio show is allowed to carry on. Mr Harris has begrudgingly said yes. Well, apparently, he wrote, “Yes, OK,” on a piece of paper as he’s still having trouble talking. He’s going to be on a soup-only diet for the next few weeks. It seems he almost cried when he was told this, as it means no jumbo sausage rolls for a while.’
I started to smile, then immediately stopped when I saw Mum’s face.
Next, it was Dad’s turn to speak at the hearing.
‘We have a few conditions, Spike. One …’
ONE? Gulp. How many would there be? Did I need a pen and paper to make notes?
‘You will return the turntable you “borrowed” to the hospital radio station. Yes, we know all about that little heist, thank you, Spike. That’s who tipped off Mr Harris, by the way, your old colleague Graham the—’
‘Him as well?’
I could just imagine the gnome getting off the phone to Mr Harris, knowing full well that he had just given a bloodthirsty hound my scent. His round gnome belly shaking with sickening laughter as his head wobbled, maybe dislodging a small nesting rodent from his overgrown beard.
‘You will apologise to Graham—’
‘WHAT!’ I yelled, spitting the words out.
‘You will,’ said Mum, calmly. Then she dropped the big one.
‘And you will go and apologise to Mr Harris.’
‘NO! PLEASE, COME ON!’
‘You will or no more radio show. Are we clear?’
‘OK, right.’ Just the very thought of it made me shudder and want to throw up.
‘One last point, and it’s the most important of the lot,’ Mum added. ‘This is all about doing the right thing. In life, we sometimes have to take responsibility for our actions, and that’s a lesson you are learning this weekend. Your two best friends tried to stop you going ahead with the strike idea, and you should’ve listened. You need to make it up with them. Good friends are hard to come by.’
‘Yeah,’ was all I could offer.
‘I don’t know anything about how radio works, but these … customers who listen—’
‘Listeners, Mum, they’re called listeners,’ I interrupted firmly (but very, very gently, given my weak position).
‘Yes, that’s what I meant. Well, just like Artie and Holly, you have to do right by those listeners too. They are your friends, in a way, and when you asked them to take a stand and strike, they did. You need to make your own stand now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think you know.’
And I did.
I texted Artie and Holly.
I posted the same message on the Secret Shed Show website and Facebook. That night, as I headed down to the shed, past the battlefield where Mr Harris and Sensei Terry had fought, I looked back, and I saw Mum and Dad watching me from separate windows. Mum nodded and Dad gave his trademark thumbs-up. I looked towards my sister’s window. Nothing. Then I saw the pony-themed curtains peel back, and her face appeared. She smiled at me. Slightly. It was the best I could hope for from her.
I did all my usual pre-show checks. The voice disguiser on, records cued and ready, mics checked, then as the studio clock struck six I opened the mic and spoke.
‘Hi, this is Radio Boy here on the Secret Shed Show. So, where do I begin? Well, first by doing this …’
I leant over and turned off the voice disguiser.
‘When I started this show, I felt something I’d never felt before in my life. That I was good at something. I’d finally found what I was good at. What I was meant to do. Felt a part of my own gang. Then I got carried away with my new powers. Sorry about that. I hope one day we can have a laugh about it. I thought I could only do this by hiding who I really was, that I was boring and Radio Boy wasn’t. He was a superhero. But I’ve learned something. We all have a superpower in us. You don’t need a cape, just courage. The courage to take a risk, to follow your dream.
‘So …
‘What I want to say is …
‘My name is Spike Hughes, and I’m Radio Boy.’
I played a song. Then another. I was too busy reading messages from listeners that were pouring in. Supporting me for owning up. Tears were flooding my eyes. Happy tears.
Then the shed door opened.
‘You still need a producer?’ asked Holly.
‘You definitely need a head of music,’ said Artie. ‘That last song stank so badly you might want to open a window in here.’
I laughed.
The adventure could carry on.
To be continued …
Thanks for buying my book.1 You should know that if I do, like, make any cash from this I’m going to spend it on:
A new microphone.
Better soundproofing for the shed studio, an upgrade of the egg-box cartons.
A new dog bed for Sherlock.
So thanks. I’ll be honest: writing this book was a massive pain in the backside. It was another one of Mum and Dad’s ‘conditions’ when they said I could carry on with the show.
‘You should write it all down, son, the whole story. One day you’ll forget how it all started,’ said Dad.
If there are any spelling mistakes in this then remember I’M A KID. You see many successful books written by kids? Exactly.
Radio is my thing. Not this. You don’t get to have two superpowers.
If you’ve managed to make it to the end of this book, then I hope that, before you throw it in the bin, you think about what your superpower is. Big, small, weird, odd: doesn’t matter. Fear and doubt kill dreams; don’t let them kill yours. Even if you make a giant fool of yourself like I did, then at least you’ll have a great story to tell people.
Email me if you want at radioboy@ radioboy.co.uk.
I gotta go – I have a radio show to get ready fo
r.
Footnotes
Chapter 29
1 By ‘world’ I mean the headmaster, but to a kid that is the world.
Chapter 30
1 I’ve just checked: this was way back in Chapter 5, so I’ll forgive you if you forgot. I actually like you more for instantly forgetting anything to do with my older sister.
Note from me, the Writer of this, Spike Hughes
1 If you stole this book then I’m telling Sensei Terry on you.
To my wife Sarah. My biggest fan and my biggest critic. For telling me to try harder and for having better ideas than mine.
My daughters Ruby and Lois. The mini-editors of this book. Who would hand me back chapters with notes on them like, ‘I DON’T THINK THIS IS VERY FUNNY,’ and, ‘GIVE UP.’ In all seriousness, you two laughing will always be the greatest sound in the world. Thanks for all your help. – Dad
Rob Biddulph for his amazing illustrations.
Nick Lake. My grown-up Editor. Who said, ‘I just have a few notes’ and sent me a document eleven pages long. Your support and faith from day one helped make this book whatever it is. So if it’s funny, that’s your help, if it tanks, you’re fired. Take your notes with you.
My Harper Heroes: Ann-Janine Murtagh, Kate Clarke, Elorine Grant, Jane Tait, Jo Hardacre, Tanya Brennand-Roper and everyone in the Sales and Marketing teams who has worked so hard to bring Radio Boy to the world.
Melanie and Dylan at Troika. For telling me there might be something in that idea you’ve been boring us with for a few years.
Mr Taggart. Mr Taggart was an actual teacher of mine. He sat me down one day after school and told me to go and do something ‘making people laugh’. This was a big deal for a school loser like me. He set a lightbulb off in me that I will always be thankful for. I never got the chance to say thank you because he passed away. Putting him in this book is a small way of me doing that.
About the Publisher
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United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
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http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
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http://www.harpercollins.com