by Ailsa Wild
I know it’s probably faster to take the lift, but I can’t bear to stand still. I pound down the stairs. The stairwell stinks for at least the first four floors. Has someone walked with dog poo on their shoe down every single corridor? Then I realise: of course someone did. Not-John’s dad, with the ‘missing’ notice.
This is another piece of evidence that Mr Hinkenbushel is Not-John’s dad. What am I going to do if he is? I can’t turn Not-John in to his dad if his dad is that horrible.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, the car park is just as creepy as ever, but I can’t care anymore. There’s nobody else here. I cannon between the cars to Not-John’s door and knock, forgetting any secret code.
He looks pleased to see me until he realises I didn’t bring any food.
‘Why did you run away?’ I ask.
‘Because I … my dad … he just … What’s that smell?’
‘Is your dad Mr Hinkenbushel and you ran away because he chained you in a cupboard your whole life?’
‘Um … what are you talking about?’ Not-John is staring at me like I’m crazy.
‘OK fine, I was wrong.’ I’m almost disappointed, but then I realise it’s a good thing Not-John’s dad isn’t that mean. ‘So why did you say it will be worse than jail?’
‘Because it’s a stepmum!’ he wails. ‘My dad’s got a new girlfriend and we’re going to move in with her and my life is OVER.’
I just keep staring at him.
‘What?’ he asks. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You want me to protect you with my life against your stepmum?’
‘Well, I didn’t actually ask –’
‘Have you met my stepfamily?’ I interrupt.
‘Well, yes … but that’s different. You’ve lived together forever, and you never fight,’ Not-John says.
I laugh. ‘Are you kidding?’
I think about the horrible thing I just said to my stepsisters and how Vee betrayed me. But I realise those things aren’t even that important. ‘You have to talk to your dad,’ I say. ‘He’s talked to your grandma. The police are looking for you, and so is everyone in this building.’
Not-John goes pale and looks around the storeroom. ‘I need to get out of here.’
‘Maybe you should talk to your dad,’ I say.
‘He doesn’t care.’
Not-John starts shoving things into his schoolbag. This is not going to plan. If he runs away, where we can’t protect him, anything might happen. I think about his dad, who must be really worried. I remember how scared Alice looked when she heard a child was missing from the building. Not-John’s father must be a million times more scared than that. I suddenly think how sad Mum was when I decided not to go to Geneva, and how much I love her. It gives me an idea.
‘OK, OK,’ I say. ‘New plan. You pack your bag. Wait by the grate. I’ll go outside and signal when it’s safe to leave.’ I pause, making things up. ‘Um, there’s three policemen out there, so you’ll have to wait for me to distract them, and listen carefully for my signal.’
Not-John nods seriously.
I bolt to the lift.
‘Dad, ring Alice,’ I say, as I burst into the kitchen.
‘What? Why?’ Dad asks, turning towards me from where he is sitting with the twins. Jessie is sitting upright and Vee is sprawled back on her chair. They both look sulky, like Dad has been telling them off too.
‘Quick,’ I say. ‘This is important.’
‘But you said –’
‘Dad! Call her!’
He starts rummaging for his phone.
I gesture at Jessie and Vee, pointing downwards and pulling a big anxious face, trying to make them understand how important this is.
Dad has found his phone, but he still isn’t dialling. He’s sitting there, looking at me. No wonder Mum broke up with him. He’s so hopeless.
‘Did Alice take her phone?’ he asks.
The twins chorus, ‘She always takes her phone!’ and I can tell they are on my side, at least for now.
‘What do I say?’ he asks.
‘Argh!’ I snatch the phone and call her myself. ‘Alice, are you still with Not-Jo–the boy’s dad? Yes? OK, meet us down the side of the building in seven minutes. Bring him. It’s important.’ Everyone is staring at me. ‘Come on!’ I say, as I push the phone back at Dad. ‘There’s no time!’
We all run out the door. Vee takes Baby from the rug and Jessie takes the key. Dad just flutters his arms around, saying, ‘What? Who? Why?’ and follows behind us.
It’s dark outside, which I had forgotten about, but luckily there’s a streetlight just where I need it. I lead them to the bit of footpath near Not-John’s secret grate. Then I stand right in front of it. I’ve got about five minutes before Alice turns up with Not-John’s dad. Hopefully I can swing this before then.
‘Um, while we wait, Jessie and Vee, I have to … um … apologise.’
I truly hope this works because it’s really, really embarrassing.
‘I’m sorry I said you were stupid and I didn’t want any of you. Really sorry. It’s not true.’
As I’m speaking, I realise I’m not just doing this to trick Not-John. I’m apologising because I’ve wanted to ever since the mean words burst out of me.
‘I still wish you weren’t such a know-it-all about everything,’ I say to Jessie. But I say it in a light, teasy way.
‘Can’t help being smart,’ she replies.
We look at each other and kind of smile.
I turn to Vee. ‘And I’m still mad at you for laughing while I did the dog poo, and then telling on me like that.’ Then I grin. ‘But, turns out it was a crappy idea.’
Vee cracks a smile. ‘Well, telling on people kind of stinks,’ she says, and now we’re all laughing except Dad, who’s just standing there, holding Baby and looking a bit confused about why we’re out on the street.
‘And you know what?’ I say to my stepsisters. ‘You are a bonus. You’re a crazy-awesome bonus.’ I’m thinking about laughing in the lift and whispering late at night until we have to snort into our pillows. I’m thinking about Vee teaching me bunk-bed tricks and Jessie making us all do hands-on to join the HRC.
I take a deep breath. ‘So I’m not going to call you stepsisters anymore. From now on, you are my bonus sisters.’
It’s just as cheesy as I thought, but no-one is looking at me like I’m an idiot. Jessie hugs me and Vee wraps her arms around from the other side and I’m squished in between them and it’s perfect.
‘What is going on?’ Alice asks.
We pull apart. Alice walks up to us with the tall, scowly man in the neat blue coat. Except he’s not wearing a coat today, he’s wearing a brown knitted jumper.
I realise straight away why I always thought he looked familiar. He looks like Not-John. And he’s got the same sad-angry face that Not-John has so much of the time. This guy is really not Mr Hinkenbushel. I feel desperately awful about keeping our secret from this poor man.
‘Squishy?’ Alice asks.
I look at Not-John’s dad. ‘It’s about your kid,’ I say. ‘Um …’ I cross my fingers, hoping this will work. ‘How do you feel about him being gone?’
I step sideways so that when the man turns towards me, Not-John will be able to see his face from the grate.
Not-John’s dad looks at me like I’m a crazy lady surrounded by a zoo. But he answers my question. ‘I’m … I … he … I’m so afraid for him, I can’t actually think.’ His face is pale and serious with wide eyes. I was right. He looks more than just worried. He looks scared and alone.
There’s a silence and I think maybe I’ve failed. I’m going to have to be tray Not-John after all.
But then the grate behind me rattles and pushes out. There is Not-John’s face at footpath level. He struggles onto his belly, then up and into his dad’s arms.
I watch Not-John’s feet kicking the air as his dad turns him slowly around on the spot, their faces hidden in each other’s shoulders.
<
br /> I feel a big, soft feeling of relief that they are together again.
We did it. Me and my bonus sisters.
We say goodbye to Not-John and his dad in the lift. Not-John tells us his real name but we don’t care.
‘You’ll always be Not-John-Smith to us,’ Vee says.
When the lift opens on our floor, Mr Hinkenbushel is standing in the corridor looking furious.
He growls, ‘What is this awful smell?
‘I don’t know,’ says Jessie. ‘It kinda smells sweet to me.’
Dad gives her a sideways look, but I can tell he’s more laughing than angry.
When the door closes, I ask, ‘Can we watch a movie now because it’s Saturday night?’
‘No,’ Dad says.
‘But you said –’ Jessie starts.
‘It’s ten o’clock at night,’ Dad says.
‘But –’ Vee says.
‘Bed!’ shouts Alice, and we scamper.
I do a quick Running-Cross-Spin-Leap into my bunk and nearly take out the telescope.
‘You know,’ I say, once the lights are off, ‘I reckon Mr Hinkenbushel does keep prisoners chained in his cupboard. We just haven’t discovered them yet.’
About the author and illustrator
Ailsa Wild is an acrobat, whip cracker and teaching artist who ran away from the circus to become a writer. She taught Squishy all her best bunk-bed tricks.
Ben Wood started drawing when he was Baby’s age, and happily drew all over his mum and dad’s walls! Since then, he has never stopped drawing. He has an identical twin and they used to play all kinds of pranks on their younger brother.
Author acknowledgements
Christy and Luke, for writing residencies, bunkbed acrobatics and the day you turned the truck around.
Antoni, Penni, Moreno and the masterclass crew – for showing me what the journey could be. Here’s to epiphanies.
Indira and Devika because she couldn’t be real without you.
Hilary, Marisa, Penny, Sarah and the HGE team for making it happen. What an amazing net to have landed in.
Ben, for bringing them all to life.
Jono, for independence and supporting each other’s dreams.
– Ailsa
Illustrator acknowledgements
Hilary, Marisa, Sarah, and the HGE team for your enthusiasm and spark.
Penny, for being the best! Thanks for inviting me along on this Squish-tastic ride! (And for putting up with all my emails!)
Ailsa, for creating such a fun place for me to play in.
John, for listening to me ramble on and on about Squishy Taylor everyday.
– Ben
Squishy Taylor and the Bonus-Sisters
published in 2016 by
Hardie Grant Egmont
Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street
Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia
www.hardiegrantegmont.com.au
This ebook is also available as a print edition in all good bookstores.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.
A CiP record for this title is available from the National Library of Australia.
eISBN 9781743583968
Text copyright © 2016 Ailsa Wild
Illustrations copyright © 2016 Ben Wood
Series design copyright © 2016 Hardie Grant Egmont
Series design by Stephanie Spartels
Illustrations by Ben Wood
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