by Scot Gardner
‘I don’t think we should go back there,’ I said.
Crystal agreed. ‘Those burgers were the best, but yeah, I think I want to go home now.’
Ravi stood. ‘Home is a good idea,’ he said. ‘Which way, best buddy?’
I pointed towards the highway, then towards Maricopa, then I twisted and pointed to the diner and finally, towards the desert.
‘Make up your mind, for goodness sake, or my more than ample brain will short-circuit and you’ll be forced to spoon-feed me for the rest of your days.’
Beyond the smoking diner, I spied an old farmhouse with a rusty ute parked out front and for the second time that hour I was struck by an idea. Another good idea. They were becoming a habit.
‘Come on,’ I said, standing and dusting off my singed jeans. ‘I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.’
‘But I want to go home,’ Crystal said. ‘My mum and dad will be going mental with worry.’
‘It’s on the way home.’
‘But I want to go home now!’
‘There’s food.’
Crystal was suddenly on her feet and striding through the desert.
CHAPTER 27
I FOUND the huge metal pretzel and I found Bobby Robertson under the bonnet of his rusty ute. He didn’t recognise me at first, with my toasted clothes and singed hair, but when he finally saw through the muck on my face, he shook my hand and slapped my shoulder. He invited us all inside and cooked us a big breakfast of sausages, eggs, crispy bacon and toast. And pretzels. Straight ones.
We took it in turns to clean ourselves up in his bathroom and he showed us his impressive collection of abnormal pretzels. When we’d been introduced to Elvis pretzel and the Eiffel pretzel, when we’d marvelled at his Great Barrier pretzel and checked the time on his Rolex pretzel, he offered to drive us to Maricopa.
We rode in the back of the ute. With food in our bellies and the wind in our hair, we were tired but smiling. We bundled ourselves together and hid under a tarp as we rumbled past the diner. There were people and police cars everywhere.
Bobby squinted at me when I jumped to the ground in the carpark at Maricopa station.
‘Your uncle never owned that greasepit, did he?’ he asked, with a wry smile.
I stared at my shoes and shook my head.
‘Doggone! I knew that! There’s been something fishy going on out there for years. Don’t tell me, don’t tell me . . . it was an illegal casino!’
‘Not quite,’ Ravi said. ‘It was . . .’
I slapped my hand over Ravi’s mouth, and nodded to Bobby. ‘More than a casino,’ I said, and winked.
‘You mean they had a distillery there too?’
I was nodding like crazy.
Crystal raised her eyebrows. ‘Gosh, can’t slip anything by Bobby Robertson, can you, John?’
‘You should be a detective,’ I suggested.
He blushed. ‘Shoot, no. Pretzels are my life. Ain’t no room for detectiving.’
Crystal dragged the protesting Ravi to the ticket counter.
I shook the big man’s hand. ‘Thank you for everything.’
He touched the front of his hat. ‘That’s been my pleasure.’
It was Ravi who got us back to Australia.
The attendant at the airport ticket counter had one of those sickly-sweet sing-song voices. ‘Could I see your passport please sir?’
‘Of course,’ Ravi said.
‘Any luggage?’
‘Just these two cases,’ Ravi said. ‘I might need a hand. They’re heavy.’
I collected my bag of clothes from Ravi’s house and almost fell asleep walking home.
‘Here he is!’ Mum sang, as she hugged me. She recoiled. ‘Poo! You stink! How was camp? You look exhausted.’
‘Flubble wubble schwebbit,’ I said. I was so tired my mouth couldn’t form the words.
‘Oh you poor love. Go on, into the shower with you. I’ll make you something to eat, then off you go to bed.’
CHAPTER 28
I BROKE MY RECORD. I slept for seventeen hours and thirty-six minutes. On the Monday when I met up with Crystal and Ravi at school we shared a knowing smile.
We’d done it. Ravi and I hadn’t even been missed. The police had been scouring the countryside (in the wrong country) for Crystal, her parents had been going crazy with worry and then she just walked through the front door.
‘What did you tell them?’ I asked.
‘I told them the truth – that I’d been kidnapped.’
‘You told them everything?’
‘Well, not everything. I told them the kidnappers couldn’t afford to feed me so they let me go.’
We chuckled.
‘Let me be the first to say it,’ Ravi said. ‘You are my hero, John Johnson.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I scoffed. ‘You’re my hero.’
‘Well, you’re my hero too, John,’ Crystal said, and slapped my back. ‘Two out of three people say it, so it must be true. I was kidnapped, don’t you know.’
My face grew hotter than a desert noon and I squirmed but my foot didn’t detach. I composed myself and turned to Crystal.
‘About your foot,’ I whispered.
‘Shhhh!’ she hissed. ‘I don’t want to hear about it again. It’s your foot. Always has been, I bet.’
‘How did . . .?’
Crystal shrugged. ‘Mix-up at the hospital?’
‘I’m glad it was only a foot.’
Crystal shivered. ‘Me too.’
‘Ahem,’ Ravi interrupted. ‘I don’t want to seem like the crybaby, but I don’t like being left out. Would either of you like to swap feet with me?’
I bent and pushed my sock down over my ankle.
‘No! No, John, it was a joke. A funny. You can keep your smelly feet, both of you. And you can keep your freaky, pull-apart, amateur super-hero business to yourselves, too. How come nobody gets my jokes?’
More funny, action-packed stories
When Marcus is woken by a dog doing a poo on his bed, he is understandably upset. And Blacky (the dog) has other surprises in store. Soon Marcus and his friend Dylan are on a mission to rescue God - a sick pygmy bearded dragon - from the local pet shop. But God is expensive and time is running out.
And then there is Rose who thrives on terrorising her little brother. She is the sister from hell, but revenge will be sweet. Or so Marcus thinks.
Hazy Retina was born out of focus, but the Australian Federation of Hero Types thinks he has what it takes to become a superhero. He can’t do it alone, though - first he has to find some equally low-grade superheroes to join his team . . . the OK Team!
‘Congratulations to the author for writing such a good book.’
Mateus, 11
‘Mind-boggling action [and] psychedelic characters . . . I couldn’t stop laughing.’
Georgina, 14