by Sally Gould
I told my class about being on the police boat, about the big art theft that'd happened at a New Year's Eve party in a palace on the Grand Canal, about The Cursed Mansion, about the movie being filmed in The Cursed Mansion, about Charlie and me meeting the film director and about my bad feeling when I met the first bad guy. Then I told them the details that didn't make sense, like how the guy with the Save the Whales T-shirt had pressed down the corner of a painting and about the strange silver tubes that had been kept hidden.
The whole class seemed to be holding their breath. When I got to the bit about hiding in the storeroom, I noticed looks of disbelief. Then by the time I got to the boat chase, Thomo and Chook were sniggering up the back of the classroom. They reckoned this was one of my 'Max stories'. By the time I'd got to the bit about the reporter and the cameraman, even Mrs. Kingston laughed at me.
When I finished, she said to me, "Great story, Max." Then she turned to the class and asked, "Hands up who thinks that is a TRUE story?"
Not one person put up their hand, not even Mrs. Kingston. Just as I'd hoped.
I picked up the yellow envelope that everyone had probably thought was one of my tricks, and pulled out the newspaper article and the photos showing the handcuffed bad guys, me, Charlie and Santo with a bunch of Carabiniere. I handed the newspaper article to a girl in the class who could read Italian. She read the whole article aloud, while the photos were passed round the class.
Kids squealed, gasped and carried on like pork chops.
Mrs. Kingston came over to me. "Max, are you serious? Is your story really true?"
I couldn't stop grinning. "Yep! Shows that it's always important to take notice of your bad feelings."
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 Charlie 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," Mum 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. Mum 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 Mum and Nanna couldn't wait until Sophie had a baby. Once Mum 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 Mum 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 Mum and Dad, "I'm Sophie's mother." Mum 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 mum told Mum all about Sophie's Italian handmade beaded silk shoes, Nanna arrived. She wanted to know the color of the bridesmaids' dresses. Mum thought they were lilac and Sophie's mum 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 mum 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 2 of The Max Books
Outback Hero: Max conquers outback Australia
Nothing to Fear
1. HOLIDAYS
"Crocodiles!" I jumped off the couch and dropped the remote. "I hate crocodiles. They eat people and they're ugly."
Mom held her forehead and sighed. She thought I was being a pain in the butt. She always did that when she thought I was being a pain in the butt. She did it a lot.
Charlie, who was doing his math homework at the dining table, laughed out loud. I knew he was thinking, Max, go ahead, be a pain in the butt because that always makes me look good.
Mom pulled dead flowers out of the vase as though she was angry with them. "Maaax, we've been planning this holiday for ages. We're going and you'll have a wonderful time."
"I'd rather go to Nanna's," I said. 'She likes me helping her."
"Nanna is going to the Gold Coast—"
"Great ... I'll go to the Gold Coast."
Charlie looked up. I bet he'd rather go to the Gold Coast too.
"You can't," replied Mom. "She's going with her friends. You'd spoil her fun."
I flopped down on the couch. I hated that. I hated being a kid. Always being told what to do and never getting to decide where we'd go for holidays. When I have kids, I'll let them choose where we go for holidays every year. If my kids wanted go to Disneyland ten years in a row, I'd take them.
Mom put the dead flowers in the bin, then came over and sat next to me. She squeezed my hand and whispered, "We'll only see the crocodiles from the safety of a boat. People only die from crocodile attacks because they swim where they shouldn't. They ignore the No Swimming signs."
Could all moms read their kids' minds? My mom just knows when I'm scared of something. I wondered what else she knew. Did she know that I listened to music at night when I was meant to be asleep?
"So it's safe?" I whispered to her.
Charlie called out, "Max, you've got more chance of being killed by lightning than being killed by a crocodile. In Australia last year, ten people died because they were struck by lightning and only one died of a crocodile attack. And if you lived in Africa, you're much more likely to be killed by a lion."
Typical. He was always trying to impress Mom with facts and figures. I told him, "I'd rather be killed by lightning."
"Yeah, being zapped would be electrifying." He stood up and shook like a bolt of electricity had shot through his body.
"Get lost," I said.
"I hope you don't come," he said as he went back to tapping numbers on a calculator and writing down figures. "I'll have the whole back seat of the car to myself. I won't have to share a room. I can watch whatever I want on TV."
I hated the way he could talk and do math as though it was as easy as walking and breathing at the same time.
"That won't happen," said Mom. "Max is coming."
I folded my arms. "You can't force me."
She shook her head as if I were a hopeless case. "You know there's nothing to fear but fear itself."
That was one of her favorite sayings. She said it to me a thousand times a year. She used to say it when I was afraid of the dark, afraid of the invisible monster hiding in my wardrobe and afraid of strange noises at night.
Without looking up, Charlie said, "We should see Kakadu before global warming wrecks it."
Typical. Charlie and Dad reckon we have to see everything before global warming wrecks it. I bet we'll never again have a normal holiday at the beach. Now we have to see stuff. We would've had to gawk at icebergs in Antarctica last summer, but luckily that was too expensive. I said, "I wouldn't want to see Kak-my-du even if it didn't have crocs."
"It's called Kakadu National Park," said Mom. "Thousands of people visit it every year. And I bet most of those people are terrified of crocodiles. But they still want to see them in the wild. And there are lots of walks, swimming holes and waterfalls. The landscape is stunning and there are Aboriginal rock paintings too." She gave me one of her pleading looks. "Max, when you were little, you were so brave."
"WERE BRAVE," Charlie repeated, without looking up.
I yelled, "I'm still brave!"
Mom smiled at me and messed up my hair as if I were five years old.
"Okay, I'll go," I said. I'd show her how brave I was. I decided right then that I wouldn't be afraid of crocs. I'd be brave like Charlie. I was only two and a half years younger than him, so I should be brave like him. And from now on I would be. And even if I wasn't, I'd pretend I was.
To buy Outback Hero please go to my Smashwords author page:
www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sallygould
First chapter of another book by Sally Gould:
Dead Scary
The Ghost who refused to leave
1
'Woodlands' was vintage red brick with big windows and lots of stained glass. The comfy chairs on the front veranda and the garden full of flowers made the house seem more friendly than grand. None of us spoke; we just stared out the car windows as Dad parked out the front. I reckon we still couldn't believe how our lives had changed. Mom's childless-super-rich-computer-software-whiz uncle had died in a plane crash and Mom inherited his whole fortune. For the first time I was happy we didn't have many relatives.
We'd only ever lived in a shoebox stuck in between two other shoeboxes, surrounded by asphalt, with barely a tree in sight. Now we were moving into the home from heaven. Lucky I knew who my friends were; I wouldn't want kids being my friend just so they could swim in my twenty-metre pool, soak in the spa, play tennis and hang out in the games room. I couldn't wait to invite my friends over. They'd probably want to move into one of the spare bedrooms.
Caesar barked when the removals truck beeped as it reversed into our driveway. I opened the car door and turned to Emily. Her pale blue eyes were wide open and she bounced on her seat. Usually she only got this excited the night before Christmas. 'Ready?'
She clung on to her favorite doll and followed me and Caesar to the front door. Emily liked our old shoebox and hadn't wanted to move at first. When she announced at dinner one night that she wasn't moving, Mom looked horrified. So I saved the day by telling her that living in a house with a big backyard would be better when she had her own dog. After that she couldn't wait to move. Problem solved, except Mom didn't want another dog. Mom wasn't impressed.
Dad unlocked the front door and Emily squealed. We raced down the wide hallway to our bedrooms. We'd chosen our rooms, the first time we got to see inside. When I saw it was a choice between unreal and unreal, I let Emily choose. All my clothes would fit into a quarter of the closet space and all my books would take up about ten per cent of the bookcase. I'd have to spread everything out. The desk went the whole way along one wall - who needed a desk that long?
Caesar began to bark like crazy in a room at the front of the house.
Mom called out from the kitchen, 'Adam, find out what's bothering Caesar.'
As soon as I'd sprinted back up the hallway to the study, I could see what was bothering Caesar. I patted him and whispered, 'It's okay.' He stopped barking and began to sniff around the room.
'Hello,' I said to the boy sitting on the bay window seat. He looked about the same age as me.
The boy looked round as if I were talking to someone else. Then, he said, 'Are you talking to me?'
'Who else would I be talking to?' I said telepathically. I communicate with ghosts by thinking the words, instead of saying them aloud. When I was little, I assumed everyone saw and talked to ghosts. Luckily, I worked out before I started school that 'normal' people couldn't see them.
The boy raised his eyebrows and I wondered whether he'd had a conversation with a living person since he died. He whispered, 'Can you see me?'
I nodded. 'My family won't be able to see you. Only me and my Grandpa George see ghosts.' His aura turned orange, which meant I'd irritated him. I see the auras of ghosts too. Tha
t's the energy surrounding the ghost, which changes color depending on the ghost's mood. Even my Grandpa George can't see auras; it's pretty unusual. He reckons for every one hundred people who can see and talk to ghosts, only one of them can see their auras. Grandpa George helped me to work out what the colors meant. What I couldn't work out with this ghost was what I'd said to irritate him.
He let out a big sigh. 'Only my Grandpa George and I can see ghosts. And, actually, Earthbound Spirits is the correct term.' His voice was as posh as.
'Yeah, Earthbound Spirits, ghosts - same thing. You weren't here the first time I came to the house.'
The boy shrugged. 'I must've been out.'
'What's your name?'
'Edward Lawrence. And you are Adam?'
'Castle.'
'Pleased to meet you, Adam. Your gift of sight is extraordinarily good. It's a privilege to meet a member of the Living who can tune in to our frequency.'
I don't like being called a 'member of the Living' - as though we're the weird ones.
'Who knows you have the gift of sight?'
'Only my Grandpa George. He reckons if we told my parents they'd send us to the nut house,' I said as Caesar sniffed Edward's shoe. He shrank back - he obviously didn't like dogs. I asked, 'Why are you wearing a blazer and tie?' I didn't mention his ridiculous-looking shorts.
'Why are you wearing jeans and a dirty T-shirt?' he replied.
When I didn't answer, he said, 'I died in my school uniform. I always remove my cap before teleporting inside.'
Ghosts move from place to place by thinking where they want to be. 'Lucky,' I said. 'My parents wouldn't be happy if the ghost of the house wore a cap inside.'
He rolled his eyes, but I could tell he liked my joke by the pinkish tinge of his aura.
'What's that on the inside of your hands?' I asked.
'Ink. Newspaper ink stained my hands. I used to help out at my father's newspaper office after school.'