Paul Jennings' Trickiest Stories

by Paul Jennings

  Eyes Knows

  The people are so far below they look like little pins. I am scared and lonely. If I let go of the ladder I will fall. Down, down, down. Tumbling and turning. I can’t bear to think about it. The wind whistles in my hair. The ladder on the crane reaches up towards the sky. I don’t know whether to go up. Or down. My fingers are cold and numb. Who can help me? Only my little robot man.

  My arm is curled tightly around the ladder but I can just reach him with my hand. I’m scared that I’ll fall. I edge the little robot man out of my pocket with trembling fingers. If I drop him I’ll never know what to do. ‘Little robot man,’ I say. ‘You are my last chance.’ I pull his nose and his eyes begin to spin.

  2

  It is only four hours since my little robot man started telling me what to do. And it is twenty-four hours since Mum and Dad broke my heart. ‘Harry,’ said Dad. ‘We’ve got bad news. Your Mum and I are going to split up. We don’t love each other any more.’ He said a lot of other things but that’s the only bit I remember. I ran to Mum and hugged her. My face made hers all wet. Or was it the other way round?

  Then I ran to Dad and hugged him. He was crying too. ‘What about me?’ I said. ‘What about me?’

  Dad looked at me sadly. ‘You have to choose,’ he said. ‘Mum’s going interstate. You can go with her or stay here with me. We’re not going to force you. It’s up to you. Take a bit of time to think about it. You have to choose.’

  How could I make a choice like that? I felt like a nail between two magnets. One magnet pulling me one way. And one the other. I was stuck in the middle.

  I looked at my parents. I loved them both. I didn’t know what to do. That night there was a terrible storm. I snuggled down inside my blankets. And cried a lot.

  In the morning I started to dress myself. There were two pairs of socks. A green pair and a red pair. I couldn’t make up my mind which to put on. I put out my hand for the green pair but then stopped. It felt wrong. I reached out for the red ones but that wasn’t right either. I couldn’t choose.

  That’s when my little robot man came to the rescue. See, he has two pairs of eyes. They spin like poker machines when you pull his nose. Sometimes the green eyes show and sometimes the red ones. You never know which it’s going to be.

  I took him down from the shelf and pulled his nose. His eyes spun in a blur. Then they stopped. On green. ‘Green eyes – green socks,’ I said. I put on my green socks and finished dressing. Then I ran into the kitchen for breakfast.

  Dad had already gone to work but Mum was still there. ‘Cornflakes or muesli?’ she asked. I looked at both packets. I couldn’t decide. I reached for the cornflakes but changed my mind. I decided on muesli. But that wasn’t right either. What should I do?

  There was a quick way out. I pulled the nose of my little robot man. ‘Green for cornflakes,’ I said. The eyes spun and stopped on red. ‘Muesli it is,’ I shrugged.

  3

  I kissed Mum goodbye, grabbed my little robot man and headed for school. I walked slowly. My feet dragged. I really felt down. Before long I was going to have to choose between Mum and Dad. I just couldn’t do it. Life is full of terrible choices.

  I trudged along, staring at my feet. Suddenly I stopped. There on the footpath was a little furry caterpillar. It was alive, but not moving. It had fallen off the branch of a tree and couldn’t get back. Someone would probably stand on it and squash it. All I had to do was bend down, pick it up and put it back on the tree.

  I didn’t know whether to save the caterpillar or not. I decided to ask my little robot man. I gave his nose a tug and set his eyes spinning. ‘Green for yes, red for no,’ I said. The eyes spun swiftly and then slowed down. They stopped on green. ‘This is your lucky day, caterpillar,’ I said. I gently placed it on a leaf on the tree and it started munching straight away.

  I felt a bit better. I had saved the caterpillar. My little robot man was good at making choices. I turned the corner and saw an amazing sight. My heart failed for a second. About a thousand caterpillars were wriggling helplessly on the footpath. I guessed that the storm must have knocked them all off the trees.

  ‘Do I save them? Yes or no?’ I asked the robot with a trembling voice. The eyes spun. And stopped on green. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The answer is yes. Oh no.’ I crouched down and started to pick up the caterpillars. Down up, down up. Each one clung gratefully to its leaf and started to munch.

  The minutes ticked by. Half an hour passed and I hardly seemed to have saved any of them. I knew I was going to be late for school. My little robot man was getting me into trouble. In the end it took me an hour to put all the caterpillars back on the tree. Every one was munching happily.

  I looked at my watch. I was an hour late for school. Mr Hanson would be peering out of his office. He would pounce like a snake as soon as he saw me crossing the yard. I was in big trouble. I looked at my little robot man. ‘You’ve really done it now,’ I said. ‘That’s the last time I ask you to decide anything.’ The little robot man was bad luck. I could see that now.

  The hairs on the back of my head started to stand up. Someone was watching me. I could just feel it. I looked around and saw her. Mrs Week, a friend of Mum’s. She was on her knees, weeding her garden. She was smiling at me. She called me over with a crooked finger. ‘Wait here,’ she said in a bright voice. She shuffled inside her house and left me standing alone. She took ages and ages. Finally she came back carrying a little envelope.

  ‘I saw you saving those caterpillars,’ she said. ‘What a kind boy. No one else would do such a thing. Here’s a little reward for you.’ She pushed the envelope into my hand.

  Should I take it? Yes or no? I wasn’t sure. So I pulled the nose on my little robot man. Green. The green eyes blinked at me. It was green for yes. Mrs Week was already walking back inside with a big smile on her face. ‘Thanks,’ I yelled. ‘Thanks a million.’

  4

  I hurried towards school. I was going to be later than ever. I tore the top off the envelope and looked inside. I stopped walking. Fifty dollars. There was a fifty-dollar note inside. I couldn’t believe it.

  My little robot man was bringing me incredible luck. Every time I asked it anything it came up with the right answer. Things worked out.

  But what about school? Nothing could save me from the beady eyes of Mr Hanson. Or could it?

  I thought of another question. Something to ask my little robot man. ‘Shall I wag school? Not go at all?’

  I pulled his nose. And his eyes stopped on green. Two green eyes telling me to wag it.

  This was the way to decide things. This was definitely the best method to find out what to do. Everything my little robot man told me to do worked out all right. I slowed down. Some old people were blocking the way. They were waiting outside a take-away hamburger place. A very crabby nurse was bossing them around:

  ‘Don’t block the path,’ she snapped at a poor old lady. ‘Wait here,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll get your salads.’

  ‘Please, nurse,’ said an old man. ‘Can we have a hamburger?’ Their faces lit up. ‘Hamburgers,’ said another old man. ‘Yes, hamburgers.’ They started to chant. ‘Hamburgers, hamburgers, hamburgers.’ Their eyes shone. Their wrinkles cracked into smiles. ‘Hamburgers, hamburgers, hamburgers.’

  ‘Stop this noise at once,’ snapped the nurse. ‘You’ll get what you’re given.’ She was talking to them as if they were little kids. Their smiles fell from their faces like caterpillars dropping off a tree. The nurse walked inside the shop.

  ‘What have you got there?’ said a voice. It was one of the old people. He nodded at my little robot man. He was a nice man. He told me that his name was Fred. He listened carefully while I explained. So did all the others. They gathered around and nodded and chuckled while I told them how the little robot man worked.

  Fred shook his head. ‘I don’t like the sound if it,’ he said. ‘It’s like trusting to luck.’

  But the others were all excited. ‘Try it ou
t,’ said an old man. ‘Yes,’ yelled someone else. ‘Give us a demo.’

  5

  I looked up at the smiling faces. Why not? I took out my fifty dollars. ‘Should I spend this?’ I said aloud. I pulled the nose on the little robot man. His eyes spun. ‘Green,’ I yelled. ‘That means yes.’

  ‘Hamburgers,’ said one crafty old guy with no teeth. ‘Ask it if it wants to buy fifteen hamburgers.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Will I buy fifteen hamburgers? Yes or no?’ I pulled the little robot man’s nose. The eyes turned up red. Toothless was disappointed.

  ‘Twenty,’ he screeched. ‘Ask if it wants twenty hamburgers.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said all the others. ‘Twenty hamburgers. Twenty.’

  I asked the little robot man and this time his eyes turned up green. Everyone cheered. I went into the shop and bought twenty hamburgers. The nurse wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I guess she must have been in the washroom.

  The old folks munched into the hamburgers. They were really hungry. Some of them patted me on the back. I felt good helping all these people and giving them such a good time. Fred wouldn’t take a hamburger. He just shook his head in a kindly sort of way. ‘I’ll wait for the salad,’ he said.

  ‘Try something else,’ said Toothless. ‘Ask it something else.’ He started to get excited. He stared at their bus that was parked by the side of the road. ‘The bus,’ he said. ‘Ask if we should nick the bus.’ They all started to grin wickedly with mouths full of hamburger. ‘The bus,’ they chanted. ‘The bus, the bus, the bus.’

  I wasn’t so sure about this. The nurse was in charge of the bus. But what the heck. ‘Do we take the bus?’ I said to the little robot man. I pulled his nose. His eyes spun. Green. It was green for yes.

  The old people pushed and shoved and scrambled on the bus. ‘Nick the bus,’ they chuckled. ‘Nick the bus.’ I was swept on with the rest.

  Toothless jumped into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. ‘I used to race cars at Phillip Island,’ he chuckled. ‘Five firsts and six seconds. Eleven trophies.’ He let out the clutch and the bus roared off. I looked back and saw the crabby nurse run out from the hamburger joint. She was yelling and waving her fists.

  Everyone cheered and waved back. Some of them made rude signs at her with their fingers. Fred sat at the back looking worried.

  The bus rocketed through the traffic at enormous speed. We were approaching a T-intersection. ‘Which way?’ yelled Toothless. ‘Left or right?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I yelled.

  ‘Ask him,’ screeched Toothless.

  I pulled on the nose. ‘Left,’ I screamed. ‘Yes or no?’

  The eyes rolled. The bus plummeted on. Into the intersection. Cars screeched and swerved. A brick wall seemed to rush towards us. The eyes stopped. Red. ‘Right,’ I yelled. ‘Turn right.’

  Toothless pulled on the wheel. The bus lurched around. The tyres screamed. Blue smoke swirled through the air. We missed the brick wall by about one centimetre. Other drivers sounded their horns. Boy, were they mad. But our passengers cheered and screamed. They were loving every minute of it.

  ‘Put my foot down? Yes or no?’ yelled Toothless. The answer was green. Toothless did as he was told. He stepped on the accelerator. The bus screamed along the road. Suddenly I heard something. A police siren. The police were giving chase.

  ‘Pull over or run for it?’ yelled Toothless.

  ‘Pull over,’ said a voice. It was Fred. He leaned across and pulled out the ignition key. ‘This has gone far enough,’ he said. The bus bumped to a standstill and the old folk got off the bus. They were all still grinning with excitement as the police walked up.

  I edged towards the back of the crowd. ‘Run for it, yes or no?’ I whispered. I pulled the nose and my little robot man’s eyes rolled. Green. I looked for somewhere to run.

  That’s when I saw the crane. With the ladder straight up the side. ‘The crane,’ I whispered again. ‘Yes or no?’ I was hoping it was going to be red. But it wasn’t. The eyes spun to green.

  ‘Give me that,’ said Fred. He took the little robot man from my hands and turned it over. There was a little door on its back. Fred opened the door and started to fiddle around inside. He was doing something to it.

  ‘No,’ I yelled. ‘Give it back.’ I snatched the little robot man from his hands.

  A large policeman yelled at the crowd. ‘Who’s responsible for all this?’ he said in a stern voice.

  There was dead silence. Then Toothless turned around and pointed at me. ‘Him,’ he yelled. ‘Him.’

  I started to run. I belted along the street towards the crane. The police set out after me. And the old folk. And the nurse. ‘Stop,’ they screamed. ‘Stop.’ They yelled and called and stumbled. I fled for my life. Towards the crane.

  I looked up. My legs trembled. My head felt as if it was a ball on the end of a piece of string. I didn’t want to go. But the little robot man had given his orders. I put my foot on the bottom rung. And started climbing. Up, up, up. Hand over foot. Higher and higher. I looked up at the clouds. I dared not stare below.

  6

  So here I am. Stuck halfway up the ladder. I am too scared to go up. And too scared to climb down. The people are like little pins far beneath. I have been here for ages. My hands are getting tired. My feet are numb. If I don’t do something soon I will fall. Over and over and over. Like a caterpillar falling off a leaf. Only no one will pick me up and put me back.

  Someone is starting to climb up. It’s hard to see so far below but I think it is Dad. What if he falls? It will be my fault. I don’t know what to do. I reach for my little robot man and pull his nose. I stare at the eyes as they spin. They stop. ‘Oh no,’ I say. ‘Oh no.’

  I start to climb down to my doom. Slowly. Painfully. One foot after another without looking. I am scared I am going to fall. But I don’t. Finally I get to the bottom and Dad and Mum hug me. The old people all cheer. Fred smiles at me.

  The police are angry. ‘He could have killed himself. Or someone else,’ says the policeman.

  ‘He’s not himself today,’ says Dad. ‘We told him we are getting divorced. He’s upset.’ Mum is crying. We are still crying when we get home.

  I hope that Mum and Dad will change their minds now. And not split up. But they don’t. I still have to choose between them. Will I go interstate with Mum? Or stay with Dad? I sit on my bed and decide to give my little robot man one more go. I pull his nose. ‘Green for Dad,’ I say. The eyes spin. And stop. Just like they did on the crane.

  I toss the little robot man out of the window and walk into the lounge-room. Mum and Dad are sitting there. ‘I’ve made up my mind,’ I yell. ‘You’re getting divorced. Not me. You choose. It’s your problem, not mine.’ They both look at each other. They know I am right.

  7

  So. It all turns out to be not so bad. Mum and Dad split up. But Mum doesn’t go interstate. She rents a house in the next street. Sometimes I stay with her and sometimes I stay with Dad. I can choose whichever I like. If Dad’s in a bad mood I stay with Mum for a couple of days. Then I go back. It could be a lot worse.

  And the little robot man? Some passing kids find him on the footpath. It makes me smile and remember what Fred did. ‘Look at this little robot,’ says one of them. ‘He has got one green eye and one red one.’

  For Ever

  Every kid in the class was laughing at Richard.

  Well, everyone except Tim. He felt more like crying. After all, Richard was his brother.

  Even Ms Fish, the teacher, had to bite her tongue to stop herself chuckling. She stared out of the window, watching Richard leap around in the playground. ‘Tim,’ she said.

  Tim sighed. Then he picked up his crutches and swung his way to the door. Another gale of laughter rocked the room as he left. Richard was at it again. Toilet paper. Why was Richard so mad about toilet paper? Why couldn’t it be newspaper? Or paper bags? Why did it always have to be toilet paper?

  Tod
ay it was worse than usual.

  In the past Richard had wrapped up letter-boxes and sticks and garden spades. But today took the cake. Richard had wrapped himself. He looked like a mummy risen from the dead. Bound head to foot in toilet paper. Loose bits flapped in the breeze as he danced around the playground.

  Tim hobbled across the yard. ‘Come on,’ he said gently to his brother. ‘Come back inside.’

  ‘Aargh, aargh, aargh,’ barked Richard.

  ‘Aargh’ was his only word. If you could call it a word. Richard had never spoken a sensible sentence in his life.

  As Tim approached, Richard pranced around like a dog when someone tries to take a ball from its mouth. He darted in and out – wanting and not wanting to be caught at the same time.

  ‘Oh no,’ Tim said as he saw Richard glance at a nearby gum tree.

  Tim tried to shepherd his brother away. But the crutches and his tired arms slowed him down. In a flash Richard was scrambling up the tree trunk.

  Tim suddenly felt very tired. The crutches chafed his armpits. And his head throbbed. The pain that always gnawed at his chest was worse than ever. He lowered himself to the grass. ‘Please come down, Richard,’ he said. ‘I can’t climb trees.’

  ‘Aargh, aargh, aargh,’ barked Richard.

  Tim looked towards the school. The teachers had agreed to give Richard a trial. Two months to see if they could handle him. If not, he would have to find another school. Tim shook his head. Nobody could handle Richard. Except Tim. He had to think of something. Otherwise there would be a fuss. And Richard wouldn’t be allowed to stay. ‘Come on, Richard,’ he yelled. ‘Please come down.’

  The bell rang and kids started streaming out into the yard. Soon there was a big circle standing around the tree. Laughing, pointing, joking. Richard waved a white toilet roll in one bandaged hand.