Curly and the Fent

by Adam Hill

  ‘Aha!’ he screams. ‘A feather! A Fent feather. That’s proof enough.’

  He darts to the window. Uncle Jeffrey lunges for him, but one of the Fents puts a big hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. Mr Green throws himself through the open window and runs off down the street, cackling madly.

  ‘Don’t worry, Billy,’ Mum says. ‘We’ll get your dad back.’

  I look at Billy. I’m not sure he wants him back.

  ‘That’s my friend Curly!’ Pook announces to everyone in the room. ‘I’ve been living in his wardrobe. That’s Curly’s dad, who makes yummy food. And that’s his mum. I don’t like her fruit. And that’s his Uncle Jeffrey. I had a ride in his car.’

  Uncle Jeffrey looks suspicious.

  ‘And that’s Billy. He was mean before, but he’s nice now.’

  Billy hangs his head and stares at the carpet.

  ‘Thank you for looking after Pook,’ his dad says. ‘I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble. He’s very young.’

  ‘Er, no … he’s been, I mean … he’s my friend.’

  ‘I have to go home now, Curly,’ Pook says sadly. ‘Will you miss me?’

  I nod, blinking back tears.

  He grins. ‘Keep your wardrobe door open for me,’ he whispers.

  There is another flash of light, and they all disappear.

  After Pook left, everything changed. First, Mum decided that from now on she’d believe everything I told her. Uncle Jeffrey didn’t think it was a good idea, but Dad had a good laugh about it. Then there was Mr Green. He came back later that night, but he was a different man. I mean, really different. His ears were bigger and hairier and his nose was flatter. He was different on the inside, too. He was kind, and friendly, and fun. In fact, he was less like a human being and more like a Fent. When Billy told me his dad had been playing the rolling game, I wondered whether a Fent feather had other uses besides tickling. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to steal one.

  Billy has changed too. He’s not the school bully any more. He’s my friend. Actually, Chris and I are the only friends he’s got, since no one else believes he’s given up bashing other kids. I like having Billy for a mate, and not only because it means he’s not beating me up any longer. It’s good to have another kid to talk to about the Fents.

  Then there’s Dad’s edible soap. Pook told the Fents all about it, and they asked Dad for a sample. I explained to Dad how it interfered with their magic, so he experimented until he’d fixed the problem. The Fents loved the stuff! Dad offered to give them the recipe, but they said that wasn’t right: Dad had invented it so they couldn’t take it for free – they had to give him something in return. For every batch of soap he gave them, they left a bunch of rocks in his shed. By the time Dad told me and Mum about it, the shed was almost full.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he complained. ‘I don’t want to offend them, but I’m running out of room.’

  ‘What kind of rocks are they, Dad?’

  ‘Heavy ones.’

  ‘All rocks are heavy, Dad. What colour?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. A rock colour, I suppose.’

  Mum and Uncle Jeffrey and I went over to Dad’s place to help him get rid of the rocks. Dad and Uncle Jeffrey had been getting along much better since they teamed up to rescue me. Dad was really happy to see us, and even happier to see Uncle Jeffrey’s new trailer. I could see him calculating how many rocks would fit in it. Uncle Jeffrey knew some people who were landscaping their gardens, so he was going to give them some of the rocks for free. When Dad opened the shed door, rocks spilled out everywhere. Uncle Jeffrey picked up one of the smaller ones and held it to the light. All the colour drained out of his face.

  ‘Jeff?’ Mum asked. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Martin,’ Uncle Jeffrey said in a strange kind of voice. ‘These rocks. They’re gold, Martin. Gold! You’re rich!’

  It’s the noise that wakes me. A noise that doesn’t have any place in a house where everyone is asleep. I open my eyes slowly, straining my ears to catch the sound, but everything is still and quiet. I lie silently for a while, waiting. I can hear Billy’s dad outside playing fetch with Killer, but that’s all. Yawning, I close my eyes again. And that’s when I hear it – ‘BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!’

  It’s coming from outside. I jump out of bed and head for the front door. When I open it I find a giant truck backing into our drive, and Dad sitting on the front lawn wearing a Christmas hat.

  ‘HO! HO! HO!’ he shouts. ‘What did I tell you, Curly? A whole truckload of toys!’

  Mum comes up behind me. ‘Martin, what have you done? I’ll never fit it all in the house!’

  ‘That’s all right, Jane,’ Dad says with a sly smile. ‘I’ve bought you another one. It’s a lot bigger. And it has a swimming pool.’

  Mum stares at him. I don’t think she knows what to say. I wonder if Dad’s bought Uncle Jeffrey something too. In my mind I picture a car yard.

  Dad grins at me. ‘That’s right, Curly!’ he says. ‘That’s dead right! I bought him an entire fleet of cars! Red cars!’

  And that’s when I hear a small voice chirping in my ear. ‘Hehehe. I like red cars, Curly. I like them a lot.’

  The trouble isn’t over yet!

  Keep reading for a special preview

  of book two in the Curly series:

  ‘What are you going to dream tonight, Curly?’

  It’s late. Pook is tucked in his little bed inside my wardrobe, but he still wants to talk!

  ‘I’m not dreaming anything. I’m just sleeping!’

  I spent all day at a community Christmas party, giving away most of the toys Dad had bought me with the money he made from selling his edible soap to the Fents. I’m exhausted from having fun.

  ‘What am I going to dream tonight, then, Curly?’

  ‘How would I know? Go to sleep! Uncle Jeffrey’s picking us up early. Remember?’

  ‘The Red Racer!’ he chirps in delight. The Red Racer is Uncle Jeffrey’s new sports car. ‘I like it, Curly. I like it a lot!’

  ‘I like it too, but it’ll get here faster if you go to sleep!’

  ‘Don’t worry, Curly, I’ll put you in my dream.’

  ‘Okay,’ I mutter, dropping off to sleep. ‘Thanks.’

  I’m hurtling along at breakneck speed in the Red Racer.

  ‘SLOW DOWN!’ I scream at Pook.

  He jerks the steering wheel to the left. We veer off the road, fly down an embankment and race towards a giant gum tree.

  ‘BRAKE!’

  Pook grins. ‘Break what?’

  I fling myself in front of Pook’s feathered feet and slam my hand hard on the brake pedal. The car spins, then somersaults through the air, shuddering to a bone-jarring halt at the base of the tree.

  ‘Curly’s a hero! Curly’s a hero!’ Pook cheers.

  My eyes fly open in shock. I’m tangled in my bed sheets and covered in sweat.

  ‘Did you like it?’ Pook grins, bouncing up and down on my chest. Daylight is pouring in through the window. It’s morning already.

  ‘L-l-like what?’

  ‘The dream I put you in.’

  ‘You did that?’

  He nods. ‘I made you a hero!’

  ‘Don’t ever make me a hero again!’

  ‘Hehehe!’ he laughs, then vanishes into thin air.

  Mum bangs on the door. ‘Uncle Jeffrey will be here soon, boys.’

  I’ve slept in! Unwinding myself from the sheets, I leap out of bed and throw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

  ‘Let’s play Hide and Seek,’ Pook urges, reappearing with my backpack in his hands.

  ‘No!’ I’m still mad about the dream. I grab my backpack off him and shove some clothes inside.

  ‘Just one game,’ he pleads, making his eyes go big.

  I hate it went he does that. I’m weakening already. I suppose it’s too late for breakfast. And he is easy to find.

  ‘Okay,’ I agree.

  I close my ey
es and count to ten. Then I look under my bed, inside my wardrobe and behind my door. No Fent. I’m surprised. They’re his favourite hiding places.

  TOOT! TOOOT!

  That’s Uncle Jeffrey. We don’t have time for games any more.

  ‘I give up, Pook! You win. Where are you?’

  ‘Here!’ he chirps triumphantly, magically appearing before me. ‘I was hiding in the air, Curly!’

  ‘That’s not fair! We agreed, no magic!’

  ‘We only agreed for some games. Not all of them!’

  A lot of things have changed since Pook and I first met, but he’s still really annoying.

  I sling my backpack over my shoulder and tear outside.

  ‘Don’t be mad, Curly!’ he yells, chasing me. ‘It was just a trick.’

  I dodge the kiss Mum tries to plant on my cheek, and leap into the car.

  ‘No feet on the leather seat!’ Uncle Jeffrey growls.

  ‘Have a good time at your grandmother’s, Curly,’ Mum laughs.

  Pook scrambles in on top of me and I shove him over the back. I’m sick of him cheating.

  ‘Is your friend on board?’ Uncle Jeffrey asks, looking around.

  Adults can’t see Fents. And despite everything that’s happened, Uncle Jeffrey’s still not positive they’re real.

  ‘He’s in the back, Uncle Jeffrey.’

  ‘Right, let’s get this little beauty on the road then!’

  The Red Racer’s engine revs loudly. With a sharp squeal of tyres we reverse out of the drive.

  ‘Wheee!’ Pook cries, as he’s flung back in his seat. It’s just as well I’ve taught him to wear a seatbelt.

  We zoom around the corner, but as soon as we’re out of sight of Mum, Uncle Jeffrey slows down.

  ‘That’s called showing off, Curly. Don’t ever let me see you do that when you’re my age!’

  ‘I want to stay with Uncle Jeffrey,’ Pook chirps. ‘He likes tricks!’

  I don’t want to stay with Uncle Jeffrey. Grandma might not have a television set or any computer games, but she’s not even half as grumpy as he is.

  ‘Your dad gave me a message for you, Curly,’ Uncle Jeffrey says, as we turn onto the main highway. ‘He said to tell you that your grandmother has a few things on her mind, so be really, really nice to her.’

  Dad is away at an Inventors convention. He’s trying to sell something called Eternal Oil to the automotive industry.

  ‘What kind of things?’

  ‘Knowing your dad’s side of the family, it could be anything.’

  ‘Anything?’ Pook asks curiously. ‘Any thing?’

  I turn and look at his excited face. He’s right! It could be any thing!

  Maybe Grandma’s won’t be so boring after all!

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Ambelin Kwaymullina was born in 1975 in Perth. She is a Lecturer in the Law School at the University of Western Australia. When she is not teaching and writing she enjoys making jewellery, reading and taking her two dogs Tinsel and Sparky for long, interesting walks.

  Blaze Kwaymullina was born in 1978 in Perth. He is a Lecturer in the School of Indigenous Studies at the University of Western Australia. Blaze is interested in reading, rock climbing, yoga and taking his two dogs Chris and Billy swimming at the local dog beach.

  Ezekiel Kwaymullina was born in 1983 in Perth. He writes full time. Zeke loves beach walking, soccer, basketball, computer games, reading and hanging out with his friends.

  Sally Morgan was born in 1951 in Perth. She works at the School of Indigenous Studies at the University of Western Australia. Sally loves painting pictures, reading, beach walking and collecting junk for car boot sales.

  Ambelin’s picture book Crow and the Waterhole was published in 2007 and The Two-Hearted Numbat by Ambelin and Ezekiel will be published in 2008. Sally has written fiction and non-fiction for children and adults. Her children’s books include Dan’s Grandpa, The Little Brown Dog and The Flying Emu and Other Australian Stories. Her biography, My Place, has also been published in a children’s edition, Sally’s Story. Together with Tjalaminua Mia, Sally and Blaze have edited two collections of non-fiction, Speaking from the Heart: stories of life, family and country and Heartsick for Country: stories of love, spirit and creation.

  Sally, Ambelin, Blaze and Zeke are descendants of the Palkyu people of the Pilbara in the north-west of Western Australia.

  WRITING CURLY AND THE FENT

  Sally, Ambelin, Blaze and Ezekiel enjoy putting their creative skills together to invent wacky ideas for new stories. This involves a great deal of imagining, arguing and playing around with silly thoughts and suggestions, until they find the right one for the right story. They also take notice of their dreams. Sometimes the ideas or images that come to them in dreams are used in their stories. They hope to spend the rest of their lives writing stories that children enjoy reading. They would be very pleased to hear from any children interested in story writing.

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Adam Hill is a Dhungatti Aboriginal descendant. He’s a painter, graphic designer, illustrator and cartoonist. Adam is a multi-award-winner in the medium of acrylic on canvas, and his public artworks and murals have adorned the walls of schools, council structures and shopping malls. Most recently Adam has illustrated Yirra and Her Deadly Dog, Demon by Anita Heiss. Adam is also an accomplished performer of Yidaki (Didgeridoo), and has performed for Nelson Mandela and at the Deadly Awards, the Rugby World Cup opening ceremony and the final of Australian Idol.