Looking for Trouble

by John Marsden

  ‘If it’s your factory,’ he said, ‘why do you have to use a public phone?’

  There was a very very very long silence. Gee it was a long silence. You would have needed a calendar to time it properly. I couldn’t look at Mr Denison. I was watching an ant going across my shoe. He was a brave little ant, the way he struggled across this funny bright-coloured thing that had just appeared in his back yard. Did you know ants can lift ten times their own weight? Mrs Hazell told us that. It’d be the same as me lifting Mr Denison’s car I reckon.

  At last the time came when Mr Denison said something. He gave that little cough again and said. ‘Yes. Well.’ Then he stopped. It was like he couldn’t think of anything to add to that. But just as he opened his mouth to say something else, I heard a sound I recognised. A truck. And not just any truck.

  ‘Dad!’ I yelled.

  And a minute later, the real owner of the factory turned up too. He was the bloke with the beard we’d talked to a couple of weeks back. They told us that when I’d rung the cops the cops had rung Dad, then they’d rung this bloke, the owner. Mr Fraser his name was.

  It all happened pretty quickly after that. Dad told the cops how Mr Denison had cheated him. Mr Fraser went and checked the factory and said Mr Denison had broken the window, and even though the box he was taking had stuff of his own in it, he still had no right to break in like that. Then the police called in on their radio and found that there were a lot of summonses out for Mr Denison, for things like bad debts, and false pretences, and unpaid fines.

  So they put Mr Denison in the back of the police car and drove him to the police station, and we had to follow in Dad’s truck, and Mr Fraser had to follow us, and we all had to make statements and sign them. It was funny, when the policeman read my statement back to me, it didn’t sound like me at all. There was one sentence that said: ‘I then observed the man proceeding around the corner of the building’. I don’t talk like that! But they got all the facts right, so I signed it.

  It took hours, but I’m glad it did because while we were sitting around waiting, Mr Fraser and Dad started chatting. They talked about politics and the economy and all that stuff, and about unemployment and business. Mr Fraser said things had picked up a bit because he’d a concession on his provisional tax payments, whatever that means. Then he looked at Dad and said ‘As a matter of fact, we’ve got so much stuff going out, it’d just about pay us to put someone on’. At first I didn’t realise what he meant, then he said ‘We’re spending a fortune on those big carriers’. Dad was trying to stay calm but I could tell he was excited. He said: ‘Well, if you’re serious, I’ve got the best set of references in the business. If you want, I’ll come and see you tomorrow, and you can have a look at them.’

  So in the end they agreed Dad would go and see Mr Fraser tomorrow about a full-time job. We drove Phil and Luke home, and dropped them off with their bikes, then we came back here, and all the way Dad was singing and talking and telling jokes. He sure was happy.

  Saturday, Apr 4, 4.30 pm

  I’ve taken such a long break from this. I wanted to try some other kinds of writing, so I’ve been doing poems, and a science fiction story. But I thought I’d better do this again, to explain how a few things worked out.

  The other kids can’t believe how much I’ve written. Neither can I really. But I’m a fast writer, always have been, and I like doing it. I got in the habit last year, when Mr Quigley made us do them. Mrs Hazell isn’t so keen, but she lets us write in them when we finish our other work.

  I reckon Mrs Hazell’s a really good teacher. Everyone said how cranky she is, but if you ask me, she’s only cranky if you deserve it. The thing is, she doesn’t hold grudges, and she lets you say what you think, and she doesn’t treat you like you’re still a little Prepsi-Cola, the way some teachers do.

  Terry provokes her, but then Terry would make an onion cry. They ought to name a computer virus after him.

  Well, I was going to say how things were working out, and seeing I’ve started with school I might as well keep going with that. School’s going OK. I’d give it about seven out of ten. Natasha and I aren’t going out any more though. That didn’t last long. It just didn’t work out, but we’re good mates, probably better friends than we were when we were going out. In class I still hang round with Phil and Luke, and out of class too, but I hang round with Mike an awful lot.

  Even so, I don’t think Phil and Mike get on all that well. They’re OK together, but it’s not like they’re best mates, no way. So that’s a bit tricky.

  I reckon Mike really is a good bloke. He’s smart but he’s modest. He’s interesting too. He thinks about a lot of stuff that I’ve never thought about before, like being a vegetarian. He thinks we shouldn’t eat anything we don’t kill ourselves. I see what he means. It’s sort of cheating to have someone else do it for you, so you don’t have to think about how it dies and the blood and everything.

  But I don’t think I’ll ever be a vegetarian.

  Mike’s gone off today, to see his father for the first time since he got locked up. He was really uptight about it. So were Rory and Elissa. You can understand that. I hope it all goes OK. It must be awful, going through those big gates and seeing all the guards and seeing your father in prison uniform. I’ll go round to the Edwards tomorrow I think, take the football, so we can go down to the park and have a kick.

  It made the whole thing with Mr Denison really strange. I’d never thought of crooks having families, but it turned out he didn’t have one, and Dad says he won’t go to prison anyway; just a fine and a community service order, or weekend detention. And a bond. But we didn’t know that when we reported him to the cops. If he’d had a family, and if he got sent to prison I wouldn’t have been too upset, because I wouldn’t know his family. I’ll tell you what’s a bit similar. Mrs Hazell was saying how if a starving family from Africa suddenly appeared on your doorstep you’d rush around getting food for them and doing everything you could. You’d work hard to save their lives. But when they’re far away—in another country—you don’t care as much. It’s like that with the Edwards. They’re sort of on our doorstep. Everyday some crim goes to jail—you read about it in the papers and see it on TV—but you don’t care much and you don’t think about their relatives. But when it’s in your street—well, that’s a different matter.

  One good thing came out of Mr Denison getting arrested though, and that’s the job Dad’s got with Mr Fraser. That was great the way it worked out. He started two weeks ago and he’s really happy. There’ll even be some interstate work, which Dad loves. I think he just likes rolling down the highway with the Macks and the Kennies and Louisvilles, making out he’s the King of the Road, and singing songs like ‘Six Days on the Road and I’m-a-gonna make it home tonight’. The only time he plays country music is when he’s doing interstate trips.

  Still, I like interstate trips too, ’cos if it’s school holidays Jodie and I get to go with him.

  We’re having a meeting of Looking for Trouble tomorrow. There’s still a lot of things we haven’t done, like using invisible ink, or disguises, or secret microphones. But we could get a chance soon. See, I reckon there’s something funny going on at number 88. They had a big shed built there a few weeks ago, about the size of a double garage. It only took them one weekend to put it up, and since then there’s been someone in there every time I’ve been past. You can hear a humming noise, like an electric fan, and you can see the light around the edges of the door. There’s no windows, which I reckon’s suspicious too. What I think is, maybe they’re growing drugs in there.

  I don’t know if Phil and Luke will take it seriously though. They still treat it all as a bit of a joke, even though we caught Mr Denison. Luke wants to rename LFT as Lunatics Fixing Things. Phil wants to call it Let’s Flush Toilets. Me, I want to call it Legendary First Term, because that’s what it’s been.

  Oh yeah, one more thing. I nearly forgot! How could I forget this! It’s the strangest thi
ng of all. Amazingly unbelievably strange. It’s Phil and Helen. Yes, Phil and Helen. Suddenly they’re going out with each other! Now how do you explain that? Life sure is different to computer games. I swear, I’ll never understand it. But I’m having fun trying.

  John Marsden

  Staying Alive in Year 5

  Scott and his friends are simply staying alive in year 5 until their surprising new teacher, Mr Murlin, comes along.

  Boring textbooks go into the bin, eating chocolate in class becomes compulsory and suddenly it’s OK to be weird.

  But Mr Murlin is not popular with everyone …

  Staying Alive in Year 5 is a monster hit for primary school readers from one of Australia’s most popular storytellers, John Marsden.

  ‘children … will relish this book’

  REVIEWPOINT

  ‘ideal reading for children ten and over’

  SUN (MELBOURNE)

  Other books by John Marsden for older readers

  John Marsden

  The Great Gatenby

  Maybe deep down every kid knows his parents want him to be the Pride of the School, the Captain of the Cricket and Tennis and Rowing and Darts and Knitting and anything else that’s going down.

  They don’t want to know that you’ve had more detentions than any other new student in the history of the school, that you’re going out with a girl who doesn’t wear a bra to PE, and that the Head Swimming Coach is some kind of Nazi whose last job was training the shark in Jaws.

  Erle Gatenby has been sent to boarding school to straighten out, but there’s about as much chance of that happening as there is of his giving up smoking … or drinking … or falling through the Art Room roof.

  Erle’s a full tank of petrol and wild, sexy Melanie Tozer is about to light the match.

  John Marsden

  You Make it Happen with Creep Street and Cool School

  If you’re about to enter either of these books, we have a piece of advice for you. BE CAREFUL in there. Be very careful.

  Making the wrong moves can get nasty!

  In CREEP STREET you could find yourself up to your ankles in blood … or with flesh-eating spiders crawling all over you … or with a skeleton stalking you through an attic.

  Is there any escape? IT’S UP TO YOU.

  In COOL SCHOOL, it’s your first day at your new school. By lunchtime you could have gone into the wrong toilets, gatecrashed the staff room, blown up the science block, been hypnotised by the principal, asked for a date, broken every bone in your body.

  IT’S UP TO YOU. You could have become your school’s biggest hero … or its biggest loser …

  YOU MAKE IT HAPPEN.

  John Marsden

  Letters from the Inside

  Dear Tracey

  I don’t know why I’m answering your ad, to be honest. It’s not like I’m into pen pals, but it’s a boring Sunday here, wet, everyone’s out, and I thought it’d be something different …

  Dear Mandy

  Thanks for writing. You write so well, much better than me. I put the ad in for a joke, like a dare, and yours was the only good answer …

  Two teenage girls. An innocent beginning to friendship. Two complete strangers who get to know each other a little better each time a letter is written and answered.

  Mandy has a dog with no name, an older sister, a creepy brother, and some boy problems. Tracey has a horse, two dogs and a cat, an older sister and brother, and a great boyfriend. They both have hopes and fears … and secrets.

  ‘John Marsden’s Letters from the Inside is, in a word, unforgettable. But this epistolary novel deserves more than one word. It is absolutely shattering as it brings to vivid life two teenage girls and then strangles your heart over what happens to their relationship … John Marsden is a major writer who deserves world-wide acclaim’

  ROBERT CORMIER

  John Marsden

  Out of Time

  James reads by his open bedroom window at night. Other lives and other worlds beckon. One of these worlds is conjured by old Mr Woodford, a physicist who looks more like an accountant and who constructs a strange black box.