My legs trembled.
The door swung open and Auntie barged in. “Oh, my goodness,” she cried, pulling at her hair. “Now, what’ve you done?”
I froze with my mouth open.
Chapter Seven – Germs
“You little nitwit!” yelled Auntie, holding her forehead. “I can’t leave you alone for one minute. Just look at this mess.”
No way was I hanging around to poo my pants. I jumped off the toilet seat, pushed past her and ran downstairs. Holding my bum, I hurried to the outside dunny.
When I swung the creaky door open, a big stink hit me in the face. Eww! I pinched my nose. I hated that smelly outhouse. It was always full of creepy-crawlers.
My stomach gurgled from the worst bellyache ever. It felt like wild animals were fighting in my tummy. I sat on the loo and rested my feet on a milk crate. But there was no privacy. That grouchy grownup pounded on the door.
“Pollyweena, get out here this instant!” she barked. “I want to talk to you, but I need to use this toilet first. You’ve blocked the other one and the darn plumber can’t come until tomorrow.”
I ignored her and farted real loud. Take that, Auntie!
“Did you hear me?” she bellowed.
“Yeah,” I shouted, then I farted again. “Did ’ya hear that, Auntie? Did ya? I need to use the loo too, ’ya know.”
“This’ll be the last time I’ll ever babysit you!” she yelled. Then she must have gone indoors ’cause the back door slammed.
***
In the middle of the night, I had another tummy ache. That didn’t please Auntie. She had to take me to the outhouse again. When I sat on the loo, my teeth chattered. I nearly froze to death.
Auntie shouted through the door, “Hurry up, Polly! It’s cold out here.”
“Well, guess what?” I hollered. “It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t feed liver to little kids – or make them clean toilets.”
“Just get on with your business,” she said. “You didn’t even eat any liver.”
“I’m trying to do a poo, but you’re bothering me,” I moaned, holding my belly.
When I finally went back to bed, the sun was already peeking in my window. Auntie felt my forehead. “Seems you have a fever,” she said. “No school for you today. I won’t be accused of being a bad babysitter.”
“No way!” I wailed. “I wanna go to school.”
“Too bad,” she said, covering me with a blanket. “That’s what happens to naughty girls who eat other people’s muck. I bet Dirty Gertie McDoodle is sick, too.” On her way out, she turned back. “I’ll bring you water and dry crackers.”
Water and crackers? What sort of breakfast was that? Even prisoners got real food. I sighed and snuggled under my covers. How was I gonna see Gertie? School was the only place I’d ever get to see her until Mum came back. I didn’t ’wanna stay home with that cranky old boiler. I was never going bubblegum hunting, ever again.
I looked for Jenny, but I couldn’t find her. And where was Mange? He usually came up to my room. I got out of bed and shouted down the stairs, “Auntie, where’s Jenny and Mange?”
Auntie came upstairs, carrying a tray. “Get back into bed. This minute!” she demanded. “I’ve put that yappy dog’s outside. I won’t have flea-bitten animals in the house. And I threw that smelly rag you call Jenny in the washing machine. It was full of germs.”
“No, Auntie, no,” I cried. “She’s my baby. Give her back!” Tears filled my eyes.
“Bed!” she repeated.
As I climbed under my doona, I wailed, “But Jenny will drown and get dizzy from spinning. And Mange will be lonely.”
“Tough luck,” she said, setting my breakfast on the dresser. Then she headed out the door.
My lip quivered. I wanted my pals, not dry old crackers. I sniffed and sipped my water. Auntie didn’t even like Mange. I bet she only likes black cats.
When she started banging pots down in the kitchen, I screamed out, “I bet you’re cooking another horrid meal of bats and snails.”
She shouted up the stairs, “Watch it, Polly.”
“Watch what?” I yelled. “There’s no TV in here.”
Auntie left Jenny, hanging on the washing line all week. Her pretty face got all smudged.
Staying home with no one to play with was so boring and poor Mange had to sleep in the shed with the chook poo. Mum wouldn’t do that.
On Saturday morning, I got very excited. I jumped up and down. “Whoopee!” Mum and Dad were coming home. That meant I could play with Gertie again. I did a little jig around the room, then my door opened.
Auntie popped her head in. “Your parents are staying away for another week, so you’ll have to put up with me.”
I gulped. “Why?”
She sighed. “’Cause your grandmother’s sick.”
I frowned. “Can you take me to see her?”
“No, you’ll stay here with me,” she snapped.
But Grandma’s your sister,” I said. “Don’t you want to see her? You could stay and look after her.”
“I wish I could,” said Auntie. “She’d be less trouble than you. But your parents insist on staying, so don’t you dare leave this room until Monday.”
I frowned. Poor sweet Granny was sick, and I was stuck here with her nasty old sister.
On Monday morning, I grabbed my new shoes. Mum bought them before she went to Grandma’s. I put them on and did my happy dance. I spun around real fast. Yippee! Now I could go to school and see Gertie.Grinning, I headed for the bus. Gertie wasn’t there. But when I got to school, she was getting out of her mum’s car. I ran and threw my arms around her. “Oh, Gertie, I’ve missed you!”
Gertie pulled my hands away from her neck. “I’ve missed you too,” she said, “but don’t smother me. I’ve been sick.”
“Me too,” I said.
Just then, Gertie’s mum came running towards us. “Gertie,” she shouted, “I’ve told you – you’re not allowed to play with Polly anymore.” She made squinty-eyes at me before marching back to her car.
Big tears pricked my eyes. I sniffed and looked at Gertie. But she ignored me and waved at her mother.
My shoulders drooped and I trudged across the playground. As I walked into school, Gertie ran up behind me. “Wait,” she shouted.
When I turned around, she was grinning. “Silly,” she said. “I had to fool my mum, didn’t I?”
I giggled. “You should get a big trophy for acting, Gertie.”
She looped arms with me. “At least my mum can’t see us in the classroom. And we can meet in the park after school.”
I smiled. “Auntie’s going home next weekend. Then you can play at my house.”
“And you know what?” said Gertie. “We can ride to the riverbank on my bike and you can sit in my basket again.”
A loud voice boomed behind us.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the bicycle terrorists.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Patting her belt buckle, the headmistress glared at us. “So, you’re the two girls who ran me off the road. Aren’t you?”
Gertie nudged me and gave me her be-quiet look.
“Answer me!” snapped Mrs Godbolt.
With a big gulp, I said, “It … it was an accident.”
“Go to my office!” she ordered, pointing to the door. “Now!”
My tummy shook. I’d forgotten about Cuthbert’s. I held Gertie’s hand and we shuffled into Mrs Godbolt’s room.
Chapter Eight – The Brickfield
Mrs Godbolt pointed to the chairs in front of her desk. “Sit!”
Gertie sat down and grinned. What a weird girl. Why was she smiling? We were in big trouble? I plopped down next to her and chewed my tongue.
The headmistress drummed on her desk with her long red fingernails. “Well,” she said. “What have you got to say for yourselves?”
I peeked out the corner of my eye at Gertie. It was her bicycle, so she should answer.
“Come on!” demanded Mrs Godbolt. “Spit it out! Why were you speeding along the footpath on a bike?” She glared at me as if it was my fault.
I shrugged, kind of nervous and tapped my shoes together.
“Look at me when I’m speaking!” she snapped.
I jerked my head up. My heart started galloping. Mrs Godbolt’s eyes were real scary, so I stared at her ginger hair. It was piled high on her head, and fastened with a red comb. I giggled. The headmistress had a head like a cupcake with a cherry on top.
She banged her hand on the table. “Stop grinning and answer my question!”
I twisted my fingers together. “Um, well. Gertie’s bicycle wouldn’t stop.”
“Why not?” she bellowed.
Gertie shrugged. “’Cause it’s new, and I hadn’t ridden it before. Plus I couldn’t find the brakes.”
Mrs Godbolt stood up and walked around the room. “You should’ve thought about that before riding on the footpath.” She bent over us and shouted, “Shouldn’t you?”
I wrinkled my nose. Her breath smelt like onions.
“I was just practising,” said Gertie.
“Well, practice in your garden next time,” said the headmistress.
Gertie didn’t answer. She just smiled.
Mrs Godbolt sat back in her chair and shook her head. “You didn’t even have the manners to help me pick up my shopping.”
Gertie held out her hands. “But my bike wouldn’t stop.”
“Don’t lie,” said the headmistress. “I saw you in the shop.”
I peeked at Gertie, and she peeked at me.
“Okay,” said Mrs Godbolt. “As a punishment, you can pick rubbish up at playtime and lunchtime. Now go to your classroom. And don’t ever let me catch you doing that again. You could hurt someone.”
I didn’t want to collect rubbish. I wanted to play with Gertie. I scowled and hopped off my chair.
Mrs Godbolt flapped her hand at us. “Off you go. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
We marched out real quick and closed the door. On our way to our classroom, I whispered, “You did so know how to use your brakes, Gertie.”
“Did not,” she said.
“Did so,” I said. “Now we have to collect garbage instead of playing. And it’s all your fault.” Laughing, I pushed her. She was even naughtier than me.
***
Playtime was no fun. Miss Broomhead gave us rubber gloves and a sack. We had to collect all the wrappers that naughty kids had thrown on the ground. It was so boring. And when lunch time came we had to do it again. I hadn’t even done anything wrong. Well, maybe I did disobey Auntie, but I was still cranky at Gertie for getting us into trouble. I scowled at her.
She hugged me. “Guess what?” she said. “After school, I’ll buy us gobstoppers at Cuthbert’s. We’ll take the shortcut instead of catching the bus.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
After school, Gertie and I skipped home along the back streets. When we reached the old housing estate, my mouth dropped open. Instead of buildings, there was a humongous mountain of broken bricks.
I glared at her. “This isn’t a shortcut. It’s a darn brickfield.”
Gertie held her belly and laughed. “There were houses here last week.”
I folded my arms. “It’s not funny. There’s no way to get through. Now, we’ll have to go all the way back. And it’s too late to catch the bus.”
That stupid girl kept giggling. I pushed her arm. “This is another mess you’ve got us into. Now, I’ll be in trouble for being late.”
Gertie wiped her snotty nose with the bottom of her cardigan. “Let’s climb over the bricks.”
“Climb over the bricks?” I said. “That’ll take forever.”
“No, it won’t,” she said, already scrambling up the brick mountain. “Come on.”
I sighed. “Okay, wait for me!”
The bricks were hard to walk on. I held my arms out, but I still tripped. “Ouch!”
We climbed on our hands and knees, going higher and higher. Some bricks were real sharp. They dug into my skin, but I kept moving. I wanted to reach the top before Gertie.
Halfway up, Gertie lost a shoe. When she stopped to get it back, I scrambled past her, shouting, “The last one to the top is a loser.”
“You won’t win,” she said. “Your legs are too short, and you’re a scaredy cat.”
“Am not,” I said, clambering higher. My knees hurt, so I looked down. “Eeeow!” Bright red blood was trickling down my leg. I felt sick. When I turned around, I swayed. Yipes! I felt dizzy. We’d climbed as high as a two-storey building. I gulped.
Gertie came up behind me, rubbing her foot. Her face and uniform were covered in brick dust. “I’ve hurt my ankle,” she moaned.
I pointed to my sore knee. “Look at me.” Then I saw my filthy clothes. “Poo! What am I gonna tell Auntie?” As I sat down for a rest, a sharp brick stabbed me in the bum. “Ouch!” I jumped up.
“Ha-ha-ha,” said Gertie. “You didn’t care when I fell.”
Shaking my fists, I yelled, “You want ’wonna these, Gertie?”
“Your tiny hands couldn’t hurt a bug,” she said, fastening her shoelace.
I sat on a flat rock and patted my wound. “This is all your fault, Gertie. And how’re we gonna get down?”
Gertie just laughed and kept going up the mountain. “Come on, sooky la la,” she shouted.
“I’m no sooky la la,” I said, pulling my hanky out of my pocket. I tied it around my knee to stop the bleeding. It hurt, but I followed Gertie.
“I’ll beat you,” I said, scrabbling past her. When I got to the top, I stood on a flat clump of rubble. Then I shook my fists in the air. “Yay! I’m the king of the mountain!”
“You can be the king, cause I’m the queen,” said Gertie, coming up behind me.
I grinned. “Let’s put a flag up and claim Brickfield Mountain as ours.”
“I’ll use one of my socks,” said Gertie, pulling a shoe off. “Look, it’s got a scab in it.”
Grinning, I took the hanky off my knee, and tied it to a stick. Then I stuck Gertie’s smelly sock on the end. “There! Now we have a flag.”
Gertie giggled. “That’s very colourful.”
We stuck our flag on top of the huge mound of broken bricks. Then we high-fived and jumped up and down. “Yay!” I yelled. “Brickfield Mountain now belongs to us!”
“Whoa!” cried Gertie as the bricks beneath our feet moved.
“Cripes,” I yelled. Then I sat on my bum and moved slowly down the other side of the mountain.
“Hurry up,” said Gertie, crawling passed me.
“You’re only winning ‘cause you’re a daddy-longlegs,” I said.
“At least I’m not a shrimp,” said Gertie.
“Spider,” I said, poking my tongue out.
“Mosquito,” said Gertie.
“Darn it!” I said. “Now I’ve ripped a hole in the back of my knickers.” I looked at my dirty hands. They were scratched and sore. I wished we’d caught the bus.
“Uh-oh,” said Gertie. “We’re in trouble.” She pointed to the street below.
Chapter Nine – Rolled up Carpet
Auntie Mabel stood glaring up at us. Her hands were on her hips and her bottom teeth stuck out like a bull dog.
I glanced about, but there was no escape. “Gertie, “I said. “Coming up here was a stupid idea.”
Gertie shrugged. “At least she’ll help us get down.”
“Help us?” I said. “More like she’ll grab us and bang our heads together.”
Auntie shook her arms in the air. “What’re you doing up there? Come down, this minute!”
I hollered back, “We’re taking a shortcut.”
“Shortcut?” she bellowed, holding up a fist. “I’ll give you a shortcut!”
My heart jumped. Still sitting on my bum, I moved further down. Then my day got even worse. Some kids from our school turned up. They pointed a
t us and laughed.
“Those boys are in our class,” said Gertie.
“Great,” I said. “Now, they’ll see me get busted.” Very embarrassed, I kept going down until I got to the last clump of bricks.
Auntie marched towards me and snatched my backpack. She slung it over her shoulder, then held me under her arm like a rolled up carpet. As she carried me down the street, I kicked my legs and squealed, “Put me down! I’m not a baby!”
My face blushed as my classmates snorted. I held my hands over my butt to hide my tattered underpants. But it was too late. Toby Jug shouted, “Mucky knickers.”
That was not a happy moment. All the kids roared with laughter. Even Gertie was grinning. What sort of friend was she?
Auntie pushed me into the back seat of the car and fastened my seatbelt. “Why can’t you behave, you little moron?” she said. “You’re an embarrassment. I wondered where you were until Toby Jug told me.” She sighed. “And look at the state of your legs.”
“Toby Jug’s a big dobber,” I said, patting at my sore knee. Then I saw my shoes. Yipes! I couldn’t breathe. My shoes! My brand new shoes! They were scuffed and torn. I peeked sideways at Auntie.
Lucky for me, she didn’t notice. She sat in the driver’s seat and frowned at me through the rear-view mirror. An eye twitched. That meant trouble. Maybe she did see my shoes. I held my breath until she started the engine. As she drove off, I blew a big breath.
When we got home, Auntie marched me to the bathroom. As soon as she turned her back, I pulled my shoes off and tossed them in the laundry basket.
“Get in the bath,” she ordered, turning on the taps.
As I climbed in, she poured yellow liquid into the water. “What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s to kill germs,” she said.
I sat in the bath, but my knees stung. “Eeeooww!” I screamed. I tried to get out, but that spiteful woman pushed me back in.
“Stay there,” she snapped. “It’ll only hurt for a minute. You don’t want an infection, do you?”
Pouting, I hugged my legs. My eyes filled with tears. “You’re a big meanie, Auntie,” I said.
She gave me a sponge. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’re the one who climbed onto a demolished building. You and Gertie are stupid girls. You could have fallen off and really hurt yourselves. You’re lucky the police didn’t see you and arrest you for trespassing.”
Star-Crossed Rascals Page 3