 
# WHAT AN ADVENTURE!

## Short Stories for Boys and Girls

### Edited by Lynn Fowler
This book is © copyright 2019 Birdcatcher Books, and each story herein is © copyright to its author. Except for fair use for reviews, no part of this collection may be used in any way without express written consent from both the author and the publisher.

Published in Australia 2019 by Birdcatcher Books. http://birdcatcherbooks.com

Cover adapted from an image by <https://pixabay.com/users/free-photos-242387/>

WHAT AN ADVENTURE contains the best entries from the 2019 Adventure Stories For Children Competition run by Birdcatcher Books.

This book is dedicated to boys and girls of all ages who love an adventure, and who understand that you can have one while sitting in a comfy chair in your own home.

## CONTENTS

STOWAWAYS by Christine Johnson

COOROONYA COBBERS AND THE CATTLE THIEVES by Christine Johnson

MONKEY MAYHEM by Denise Doraisamy

LITTLE LUCY LEFT BEHIND by Denise Doraisamy

MINT SAUCE ANYONE? by Heather MacKenzie

THE SHORT CUT by Irene Swadling

FINDING TREASURE by Jacqueline Greig

LOST by Jenny Woolsey

MRS UMBRIEL by Jo Withers

THICK AS A BRICK by Laura Brown

DOGNAPPERS INC. by Maggie Brooke

THE LOST FROGS' HOME by Mary Ann Napper

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY by Melanie Cranenburg

PROMISE by Myra Koch

SHADY by Paula Wilson

SOOOO HOT by Paula Wilson

OLD RUSTY by Paula Wilson

BEAUTY IN THE RAIN by Sharon Sandy

BENJAMIN'S SECRET WEAPON by Sharyn Abdullah

REEF RAIDERS by Sue Kingham

THE SILVER LINING by Virginia Suckling

SEA CHANGE FOR SAMANTHA by Virginia Suckling

MR COOK'S STAMPS by Carol Pring

# STOWAWAYS

## Christine Johnson

#### "Stowaways" received an honourable mention in the 2019 Adventure Stories for Children Competition

##### CHRISTINE JOHNSON

Christine Johnson has always enjoyed reading and writing. One of her favourite books remains a copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales given to her as a child. In her school holidays she was a regular visitor to her local library, taking out and reading four books a day. She started writing poems and stories when she was 10 years old. Today she likes to write for both adults and young readers. She especially likes stories set in the past.

##### STOWAWAYS

Will drew his knees up to his chin, enjoying the rare feeling of freedom Sunday brought to his busy life. Mr Hunt, his employer, observed the Sabbath and Will took full advantage of his one day off. On this fine sunlit morning in 1892, it seemed to him impossible that anyone should be unhappy.  
Not that he disliked work. He knew he was fortunate to be an apprentice to Mr Hunt, the cobbler. Since Pa died, Will's Ma had enough on her plate bringing up five children. His older sister looked after the younger ones while their Ma collected and did washing daily. The tuppence Mr Hunt paid Will helped keep the family afloat.

Still, he was quick to get away on Sunday, climb to his favourite spot and seat himself on a large rock sheltered by gums. From here he could look down to a clear view of the harbour leading into Circular Quay with its sparkling blue water and an endless stream of shipping coming and going.

"Oh, to be a sailor and travel to faraway places," he murmured.

The town clung to the hillside. Dwellings, like the shanty where Will lived, scattered higgledy-piggledy wherever a flat piece of ground occurred. But it was the endless bustle of the horseshoe-shaped body of water below that excited him. Jetties jutted out over it to receive the chugging steamers and ferries with their passengers. A backdrop of tall stone commercial buildings fronted the harbour. These warehouses stored exotic cargo waiting to load aboard what attracted Will's eye more than anything - the massive and majestic sailing ships that arrived and took off from the port. These vessels stirred his imagination; carried his dreams of adventures at sea with them.

Today, however, was no time for daydreaming. There, at the very end of the Quay, stood an immense square-rigged ship in dock.

"What a beauty!"

Able to roam where he liked, Will sprang to his feet determined to make his way down the hill for a closer look. He strolled the harbour on a Sunday whenever a ship came in, hoping to hear real-life adventures talked about by sailors and passengers. The waterfront street was always busy. Will longed to let the sea blow into his face smelling fresh and strong. By the time he reached the wharf he was walking at such a pace he looked as if he wanted to break into a run. A familiar voice stopped him.

"Will!"

It was his friend, Anna, a thin girl with bird-like shoulders. Will often stopped to chat with her on a Sunday. She traded from a basket at the bottom of the steps outside The Royal Harbour Hotel. Anna made a meagre living, making little posies and displaying them in her basket, hoping to catch the eye of customers coming and going from the big building. The Hotel had an air of prosperity and respectability. Many well-dressed ladies and gentlemen who stayed there were waiting to board the vast sailing ships Will found so breath-taking.

"Anna! You've seen the ship?"

She looked up at him, smiling. "The Clarence? Yes."

Anna wore her hair pinned up under a crushed hat. Worn laced boots peeked out from under her patched skirt. But despite her frail looks, she was a tough creature whose little hands were always busy, her hazel eyes on the alert. She pointed to the fashionable women carrying parasols to shade them from the sun as they paraded, gloved hands on the arms of their suited partners.

"Onlookers will cram the docks by the time The Clarence departs."

"Today!" Will's voice throbbed with excitement. "We'll be able to watch her lift anchor."

"I suppose."

Rather than sounding eager, Anna sighed. Her eyes drifted towards the two footmen in long-tailed green jackets with gold braid and buttons who hovered outside The Royal Harbour Hotel, like frogs with serious faces. They always looked down their noses at Anna, warning her not to approach the polished glass doors. Ready to spring forward, they stood stiff and straight. As those staying at the Hotel approached, they would step forward to pull the door open, making entry effortless. The interior of The Royal Harbour Hotel gleamed and glinted. Thick carpet kept the footfall of all who stepped inside silent.

Seeing the worried look on Anna's face, Will sat beside her. "What is it?"

She whispered, "Yesterday a lady staying at the Hotel reported something missing. A silver locket. I think I know who took it."

Anna glanced again at one footman.

"Him?"

"Shh!" She nodded. "And a maid who cleans the rooms. She brought him something. He slipped away, and I saw him exchange it with a scoundrel-looking sailor outside the pub along the Quay. Later, the footman returned and gave the maid coins."

"How do you know it was a locket taken?"

"The lady has been staying three days at the Hotel. So kind, buying my flowers every day. She travelled all this way over the seas to see her sister. The lady showed me her locket on day one and told me it was a loving, farewell gift."

Will wondered what Mr Hunt, the cobbler and his wise employer, would recommend.

"Tell the Hotel manager."

"Those footmen would never let me inside," Anna said.

"Inform the constabulary?"

"You think they would believe me, a flower-girl?"

"Well then, tell the locket lady herself," Will advised. "You called her kind. She'll listen."

"I thought of that," Anna said. "But when I arrived first thing this morning one carter told me they'd transported her luggage to the pier and that she climbed the gangplank soon after."

Will gasped. "She's a passenger, onboard The Clarence?"

Anna nodded. Will's face lit up. He jumped to his feet. "Then we've no time to lose! Come on!"

Anna, startled, hung back. "What are you thinking?"

"First, we have to be sure this sailor you saw dealing with the footman is a crewman aboard The Clarence."

Now Anna stood, took up her basket and drew Will away from the Hotel.

"Keep your voice down," she warned, "the footman might hear."

Will linked his arm in hers and walked towards the pub, his manner urgent.

"The sailor. You'd know him again?"

"Yes."

"Then check inside. If he's there, find out if he sails with The Clarence."

Anna stopped. Close to the pub now, they could hear the harsh racket spilling out onto the street. This was no decent place but somewhere ruffians gathered.

"Go in there?" Anna asked, wide-eyed.

"You want to help the locket lady, don't you?"

At that, Anna squared her thin shoulders. Her flower basket held as a shield, she stepped into the pub.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, she looked around. Crude, broad-shouldered men loafed, drinking and laughing, packing the place to the rafters. She edged and squeezed her way through them. It was easy to identify the man. With a reddened scar on his cheek and horrible tattoos covering both arms he was hard to miss. Anna, nervous, approached him.

"Excuse me, sir."

Summoning courage she tugged at his jacket. His eyes glinted down at her.

"What?"

Unprepared, Anna lifted her basket and blurted, "Flowers for your sweetheart, before you sail?"

He flung back his head and laughed aloud before draining his tankard. "There's no sweetheart, nor any female will be sorry to see me board The Clarence."

Relieved she'd gained the information Will wanted Anna turned to go, but the sailor's rough hand flashed out to grip her wrist.

"You want to be careful, hanging around sailors," he warned, "you being so pretty-like."

"Pretty?" Anna blushed. His grasp hurt her. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Well think about it now. It's my view you're making a mistake coming into a low place like this." He sneered. "Be off with you quick smart!"

He flung her hand aside. Anna's heart beat like a heavy bell as she escaped from the pub.

"Well?" Will asked, waiting for her outside.

"It's him and he's one of the crew. But I don't see how we can help the lady before The Clarence sails."

"Well I do. Report him to the Captain. He will know what to do."

Shocked, Anna replied, "We can't do that! Go aboard a ship? We're not passengers!"

But Will skipped on the spot, delighted with a scheme allowing his feet to touch the deck of a sailing ship at last. He outlined his plan, drawing Anna closer to The Clarence and finding a spot on the wharf to hide her basket. Taking her hand, he led her to the second gangplank at the back of the ship where luggage, cargo and livestock was still being loaded. When an opportunity arose, he helped Anna hide her thin frame between two big trunks on a trolley being heaved aboard. He took a risk and ducked between two horses while a sailor, distracted, struggled to lead an excitable third animal up-front. Once onboard, Will and Anna crept to a stand of wooden barrels, squeezing inside the narrow space left between them. All around, equipment and heavy baggage was being manhandled and stowed in readiness for sailing.

Will whispered, "This is the main deck."

"Where will we find the Captain?" Anna's voice was low, but urgent. "And the lady?"

Will pointed upwards. "At the back, close to the helm. And they keep quarterdeck for higher-paying passengers. She's likely to be there."

Anna groaned. "How will we ever reach them?"

Will and Anna peered out from their hiding place. The deck was clearing. Crew men pulled up the gangplank at the ship's rear. A last few stragglers climbed the front gangplank. Officers paced. Their faces turned upwards judging whether the wind was fair for standing out of the harbour. Mast men, who earlier climbed the rigging, balanced aloft, prepared for making sail. Anna prodded Will, about to insist he do something but she found herself grabbed by her ankle. Dragged from her hiding place she kicked and struggled as coarse hands hauled her out and up.

"Ha! What have we here?"

It was the scarred sailor, smirking at her.

"Didn't I tell you sailors were trouble?" His eyes narrowed as he looked between the barrels, spying Will crawling out.

"And not one rat, but two."

"Let her go!" Will cried.

"I'll do so," the sailor grinned. "Overboard with the both of you!"

He clamped his muscled arms around their waists, lifting their feet clear of the deck. Will and Anna thrashed and fought as he lumbered towards the side of the ship facing the ocean.

A deep voice boomed. "What is going on? Stop!"

The sailor turned. A mean flash of anger crossed his puckered face as a uniformed man in a striking hat made his way down the steep steps from the upper deck. Besides his hat Will noticed the polished silver buckles on the man's fine leather shoes. A measured stride brought him across the deck where he took up a firm position, hands clasped behind his back.

The Captain looked at Will and Anna, his mouth a hard line and brow furrowed.

"Stowaways, Captain," the sailor growled, still holding them fast.

"We are not!" said Will, forcing himself to meet the Captain's hard eyes, searching for a chink of kindness.

"Put them down," the Captain ordered.

Hostile, the sailor dropped them and stepped back. Anna, shaken, fell to her knees. The Captain's mouth tightened. Then his features softened. He bent forward and helped her up. Stepped back and indicated the two of them with an exasperated wave of his hand.

"Well, on the brink of sailing what are we to do with you young stowaways?"

Will started to argue but Anna was looking beyond the Captain. Passengers had gathered at the rail on the quarterdeck. A gleam of hope edged into her heart.

"It's the kind lady Will! Captain, may we seek her help?"

Moments later the second officer guided the lady down the stairs to join them. Her smile confirmed she recognised Anna, the flower-girl. Between them, Anna and Will explained what they suspected about the theft of her locket. Upon the Captain's command the second officer called across two crew members to search the pockets of the scar-cheeked sailor who had received the stolen goods. Sure enough, wrapped in a stained cloth, they found the precious item and marched him away, cursing, to place him in irons.

"Oh, thank you!" the lady exclaimed, fastening the ornament around her neck.

She stepped forward, opened her reticule and from her purse gave Will and Anna a shilling each.

"No, I insist! And I shall write to the Hotel manager about dishonest staff."

She turned to the Captain. "These young ones are not stowaways. Maybe they have enjoyed the adventure of visiting your splendid ship but then, who would not?" Her smile was persuasive. "They have done me such a kindness. Forgive them. Return them to shore and the whole matter will be over."

Will and Anna stepped ashore to see the gangplank drawn up behind them.

Onboard, the Captain's voice rang out, "Up anchor!"

A second voice barked "Heave around!"

A band of sailors strained against the capstan's rigged bars in strenuous step, walking in a circle to haul in the thick ropes. The Clarence lurched as her mooring surrendered its grip on the seabed.

"Anchor aweigh!"

The massive chunk of iron cleared the water to appear, dripping, at the ship's side. As The Clarence slid into the stream, all around Will and Anna hats lifted, handkerchiefs waved and a long-continued shout reverberated from the shore.

"Safe voyage! Bless you all!"

"Hurrah!" Will and Anna cheered.

The airstream pulled strong, towing the vessel along, filling the hoisted triangular jibs and fore staysails. The ship turned, navigating the wind's passage, picking up speed. As a stronger gust blew, they heard commands aimed high at men overhead.

"Let fall! Sheet home! Hoist away topsails!"

The ship's top and mainsails unfurled. In one splendid instant, fluttering, they bellied out into stout roundness. A creature impatient to be free, The Clarence plunged and heaved. She heeled, was away.

One by one the crowd of spectators drifted off talking about how impressive it was to see such a sight. Will sauntered along with Anna to recover her flower basket. They said little. Both of them felt they had done a good deed. They couldn't help thinking about the difference a whole shilling would make, if only for a short time, in their hard-working lives.

"See you next Sunday Will," Anna said when they reached the end of the Quay

"See you Anna."

Will started to climb the hill, making his way back home. He whistled as he went, imagining Ma's joy when he drew the shining coin out of his pocket and placed it on the table before her. The events of this Sunday afternoon, he thought, went to prove that wonderful things happened in life.

# COOROONYA COBBERS AND THE CATTLE THIEVES

## Christine Johnson

##### COOROONYA COBBERS AND THE CATTLE THIEVES

James pressed his cheek to the train window. Outside, the bush flew by. He'd been away for a whole year but it felt much longer. After spending his first three terms in a city boarding school, the old gum trees stretching their branches towards the tracks offered a warm welcome home. Excitement grew in him as the train approached the Wattle Creek Bridge. The creek was a place he remembered exploring often with his country friends before going away. Thirteen years old now, he recalled enjoying seeing the trees turning from green to gold, hearing the birds piping in the turn of the year.

With a pang he thought back to his homesickness arriving at his new school. It had taken time to make new friends. His parents, Ben and Margaret Russell, were pioneers of the local district and James was their only child and son. They wanted the best for him. He knew that. Although leaving everything was difficult, he had worked hard at his new school and gained good marks. But he'd missed breathing fresh bush air.

The train was slowing, coming around the last bend to draw alongside the long country platform. The station sign 'Toorangi' marked the spot. As the train came to a halt, he thought of the summer holidays that lay ahead. A return to home made him happier than anything else.

"James!"

Out on the platform he looked around, almost startled by the sudden greeting. A tall man with a tanned furrowed face and wide smile strode towards him; at his heels, a tail-wagging kelpie.

"Dad!"

"Welcome home. My, how you've grown!"

They embraced before James ducked down.

"Ralphie! Good boy."

One sniff and Ralph remembered him. With a swift bark he circled James then ran ahead along the platform, leading the way to the old ute. Luggage secured in the back, the dog sprang into the vehicle alongside it. Perched upright on his back legs his tongue lolled out in happy anticipation of the free and windswept ride home. James climbed in the front alongside his Dad and they were away.

Unlike the endless city suburbs James had passed through on his train ride, it took only moments to pass through the small country town. There was the Milk Bar. The old pub on the corner contained the usual chatter of voices and smell of beer. In a flash they passed the Soldiers' Memorial. Before he knew it, the old ute had left the town behind.

Smooth road became corrugated. His Dad gripped the steering wheel and James bounced on the bench seat as they passed through open country. He'd almost forgotten how bone-rattling the track could be.

One after another they passed familiar landmarks. A derelict hut, relic of the earliest white pioneers. An old wide-based gum tree with a cave-like cavity in it. His Mum had told him they called this a 'birthing tree.' Sacred to the true and original owners of this land, a place where women would shelter to give birth to their babies. At last, having followed the road, winding here and turning there, James saw the group of buildings ahead. This was Cooroonya Station. This was home.  
They were now passing cows. James had grown up with cows. His Dad had invested time, sweat and muscle building up a sizeable herd. Breeding reliable stock, he was proud of his animals, knew every one by name. Family, farm and cows – that was Ben Russell's life. It surprised James then when his Dad saw a huddle of cows coming up ahead, frowned, and pulled over. He saw the look of concern on his Dad's face deepen. Eyes narrowing, his Dad scanned the animals where they stood. He took a quick mental tally.

"Not again."

"What?"

"It's a pity you need to know this on your first day back," his Dad said, "but there has been some trouble for us and other local stations."

"Trouble?"

"Villains, cattle thieves, wouldn't know a cow if it kicked them," he scoffed, "except for the profit they can make, stealing them and selling them on."

"You mean, someone has taken some of our cows?"

"I can't be sure, but I'd say there were more in this paddock earlier."

His Dad sighed. He started up the ute again. He summoned up a smile.

"Let's keep this between you and me for now. Your Mum has planned a fine meal. The last thing we need is to spoil that."

Delighted to see him, James' Mum kissed and hugged him. Food, laughter and happy conversation filled the family reunion. James ducked away to the stables to see the horses, in particular Pluto the dark stallion his parents had given him once he was old enough to ride.

"How I've missed you," James said as Pluto nudged against him.

The animal shook out his mane and nodded as if in agreement.

"Tomorrow, I'll saddle up and we'll go visiting."

James crossed the yard, the chickens ruffling their feathers and parting, clucking, to let him and Ralphie through. The kelpie by now had adopted the old routine and stuck to his heels, shadowing him everywhere.

James ended his day back in his old room. Snug in bed, all memories of homesickness fell away. He closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep.

The next morning, after listening to the magpies' dawn song, he nodded off again until the aroma of bacon and eggs had him pulling on jeans and shirt to join his Mum in the kitchen. His Dad had already left and was hard at work.

"Checking on a favourite from the herd. She gave birth to a calf last week," his Mum explained. "Wobbled on its legs at first, but soon feeding well and finding its way."

"Is it okay if I ride Pluto over to the Wolden's? Catch up with Sam and Billy?"

His Mum smiled. "The Cooroonya Cobbers reunited. I'll pack some food while you saddle up. Maybe you can picnic by the creek."

Mr and Mrs Wolden were neighbours. Wattle Creek wandered along as a border between their land and Cooroonya Station. James and Sam – Samantha - attended the small local school before the transfer to boarding school divided them. A country upbringing allowed boy and girl to be best mates. Prior to going away James had spent most of his spare time with Sam. She matched him riding, climbing, exploring. James was almost sorry when Billy, Sam's younger brother, reached an age where he wanted to accompany them. But Sam took control, keeping a careful eye, making sure nobody felt left out.

James set out on Pluto, urging him straight for a kilometre across the flat, then among trees again. Crossing the shallow waters of Wattle Creek James turned Pluto onto a shortcut he knew would end at the Wolden's place.

He saw Samantha before she saw him. There she was, long plaits tied back, astride her mare Jade. Under her capable command the animal paced around a fenced ring, first one way and then turning to retrace elegant steps. Billy perched on the top bar of the fence, watching.

"Sam! Billy!"

By the time Pluto reached the fence Billy, waving, had jumped down. Sam's arrival was slower. Her cheeks flushed, she allowed Jade to make a graceful move across the ring.

"Whoa." Patting the mare's neck, she looked at James.

"Well, hello there."

For the first time James felt a shyness rising in him as he repeated her name.

"Hello Sam."

"Back for the school holidays?"

She sounded calm, more formal than he recollected. That, or just older. He remembered again the year apart.

"How's the new school?"

"Good. I mean, fine." Her blue eyes fixed on his. "I missed you," he blurted.

Sam's laugh was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

"Silly! What did you expect? But we've weeks to catch up and have fun."

"Starting with a picnic by the creek?" James suggested.

Billy ran off to saddle the smaller pony, Toby, he was learning to manage. James watched Sam stride off after her brother to supervise. It occurred to him. He had never noticed before, given her bush-boy ways, how pretty she was.

After that the days flew by. If James wasn't busy around Cooroonya Station helping his Mum or Dad, he was out and about enjoying escapades with Sam and Billy. Sam and James exchanged books and stories about how they had filled their months apart. Yarned away the hours until James felt their old friendship was firmer than ever. It was Sam who came up with a new plan.

"Let's spend a night away, camping. We can pack the tents and ride the horses out."

"A night under the stars. Stargazing!" Billy enthused.

"And Ralphie could come. Be on guard," James said. "I'll ask Dad."

James returned to the homestead eager to share news of this latest adventure with his parents. As he entered the kitchen an air of gloom hung over Margaret and Ben Russell.

"What's the matter?"

"More of the herd missing, that's what."

"Including the cow," his Mum added, "the one with the calf. Missing, leaving the little one miserable with nothing to feed on."

James had seen both the cow, with her distinctive markings, and her calf since returning to the homestead. It was clear his Dad was proud of the animal, like all the others he put so much energy into breeding.

"Have you told the police?"

His Dad nodded. "But what can they do if someone takes our stock, smuggles them over the border interstate? Poor animals, they're likely to end up in some backyard slaughterhouse, minced up and made into showground patties."

Despite their sadness, James' parents told him the last thing they wanted was to spoil his holiday.

"You, Sam and Billy must go camping."

His Mum added, "As long as you no further out than Joe Wilson's, round the back of Stony Hill. He has his truck and the telephone, just in case."

James' Dad agreed. "He never locks his door, so you can go right in and rouse him if you need to."

James, Sam and Billy spent the next two days planning their night in the bush. James drove out with his Dad in the old ute and met Joe Wilson. He provided information about where a good spot to set up camp might be.

"Lyre-bird Gully, I call it. Pairs of bush pheasants build their nests there."

James, Sam and Billy set out in high spirits early Saturday morning. Ralphie kept up, sometimes running ahead, sometimes sniffing off along a detour. By mid-afternoon they had arrived, unloaded and refreshed the horses and set up the two tents.

They explored the Gully, splendid with tree ferns. Late in the day, they collected up kindling to build a small campfire. They had come prepared with an old pan to sizzle sausages and fry eggs, eating them with fresh bread. James' Mum had packed a lemon cake and muffins. It was dark by the time their feast was over and the stars were shining overhead.

They stretched out, lying looking upwards. Ralphie snoozed alongside them.

"Look," Billy said. He started to count. "One, two, three...see, there! The Southern Cross."

"And a new moon," said Sam.

"Fifty cents for the first to see a shooting star," offered James.

They were all intent, scanning the sky, when Ralphie sat up, his ears pricked. He sniffed the night air. Restless, he jumped up and padded off deeper into the dark of the Gully. Within seconds he was back even more agitated. James stood, puzzled.

"What is it boy?"

Sam, sitting up, said, "He can hear something. Listen."

Billy scrambled closer. The darkness crowded in around them. Then, cutting through it, they all heard a distant sound, a low rumbling coming closer. James nodded.

"It's the other side of Stony Hill. If we climb the rocks at the end of the Gully, we'll have a better view."

"Grab our torches," Sam told Billy.

Within minutes they were on their way, Ralphie leading. By torchlight they climbed the boulders making up Stony Hill. As they approached the top, the rumbling became louder. Strong headlights cut through the night's blackness. Below them they saw a massive cattle truck bouncing its way along a bumpy track. Two men stepped forward, showing where it should turn off the track and stop. As the huge vehicle swung around the lights lit up a makeshift campsite and something else. James gasped.

Herded into a rough-built enclosure, a huddle of cows stood waiting. They made uneasy sounds, trapped as they bumped against each other. Even at a distance, James was sure one animal was the calf's mother stolen from Cooroonya Station.

"The cattle thieves," he whispered.

He, Sam and Billy watched a muscular man jump down from the truck's cabin. He stretched, then reaching back into the vehicle tossed cans of beer to his companions before getting one for himself.

"Celebrating their stealing," Sam said.

Ralphie growled. James placed a warning hand on the kelpie's back.

"Steady, we need a plan."

Billy piped up, worried. "But we can't stop them. Can we?"

James and Sam exchanged a glance. Billy had a point.

"No," said Sam, firm, "but we can let others know who can."

In quick sentences she and James outlined a strategy. Sam and Billy would stay with Ralph on guard while James rode back to Joe Wilson's place.

"I'll call Dad. He'll know what to do."

He raced away. The minutes ticked by as Sam and Billy hid, keeping an eye. The thieves appeared in no hurry to load up their illegal cargo. Lolling about, laughing and drinking, their loud, gruff voices punctured the night. At last the truck driver stood, moving towards the back of his vehicle.

"Oh no," wailed Billy. "The ramp. They're loading!"

A sudden noise behind them caused him and Sam to swing around. Ralph sprang up, tail wagging.

"James!" Sam said, relieved.

"It's okay," he answered with a grin. "My Dad and yours, with Joe Wilson and other locals have surrounded Stony Hill. They've let the Toorangi police know and they're setting up a road block where this track meets the town road. There's no way that cattle truck will get out."

The Cooroonya Cobbers breathed a sigh of relief. They sat in the darkness under the stars watching the cattle thieves struggling to direct the cows out of the enclosure and into the vehicle. The desperate animals kicked and twisted, not happy to be bullied.

"All that dishonest effort for nothing," said Sam, laughing.

"Serves them right," said Billy.

"Don't understand the value of a good cattle dog, eh, Ralphie?" James added.

One thing for sure, he thought. This is a night the district will celebrate. Cooroonya Cobbers conquer the cattle thieves. And what a ripping tale to tell my city friends once I make that return journey back to school!

# MONKEY MAYHEM

## Denise Doraisamy

#### "Monkey Mayhem" received an honourable mention in the 2019 Adventure Stories for Children Competition.

##### DENISE DORAISAMY

Denise Doraisamy is a primary school teacher who travelled the world and fell in love with Africa, India and many other places.

Her children's stories are designed to encourage reluctant readers by using real adventures.

"I believe people should be encouraged to interact with life as it is – to feel at home in reality. I want my readers to take a break from their computer games, and 'virtual worlds', and gain experience in the real world so they can embrace the future with confidence."

Denise can be contacted on her website at:

www.kidsandadultkidsbooks.com

Or

www.actionbooks.com.au

##### MONKEY MAYHEM

Thump. Thump.

Someone banged on the back door, so I opened it.

"The monkeys are coming! The monkeys are coming," yelled Mrs Singh. She was the lady next door. Her face was red and scary looking. With her trembling hands she made big waving circles – she was hyped.

"But we're new to India and Mum's out shopping with my little sister. What are we supposed to do?"

"Shut the windows and doors," she flapped her hands even faster, "or the monkeys will get inside and wreck everything."

"Okay, thanks for telling us," and almost before I'd finished saying this, she raced off – crazy. She acted like she had a bee under her sari.

I was too hot to worry about monkeys, so Jack and I went back to playing with our video games. It would be neat seeing monkeys swing through the trees anyway. We hadn't seen any close up because we'd only been living in India for six months.

Just before lunch, Jack and I heard a bang. We looked up at the same time. We did heaps of stuff at the same time. I suppose it's because we're twins.

"What was th—" Jack said.

"Sounds like glass smashing. Kitchen – quick!"

We pushed and shoved each other as we ran. At the kitchen doorway, I skidded to a halt.

"OH NO! Monkeys."

There were six of them.

One was bouncing on the kitchen bench with the rice tin on its head – rice everywhere. Another one was smashing dishes in the sink. Tins of flour were knocked over and flour was stuck to everything. Smashed eggs dribbled down cupboard doors. Pieces of half-eaten fruit were squashed on the floor and bananas stuck out of strange places.

"What? Oh no. Yuck, look at their fur Jack, it's covered in flour and egg. It's sticking like glue." Jack's mouth dropped open and then he tapped me on the shoulder and pointed.

"Mum's going to be real angry – look"

I spun around. They'd ripped the curtains and one was eating Mum's tapestry. Jack giggled and pointed again.

That's when I saw the bin and what was sticking out of it.

"No! Not my favourite clock." I'd brought this from Australia. It was trashed. Hands bent, glass broken, face and numbers picked off and lying on the floor. I almost burst into tears, instead I flipped into anger.

"Get out. Get out you stinking rotten animals," I yelled.

They looked up. Seeing me waving my hands wildly, they raced for the window. Jumping over each other, they scrambled out.

I stood there with my heart hammering in my ears. Jack and I stared at each other.

"What do we do now? What will we tell Mum?" Jack asked.

A frown wrinkled his face and then he started making his melt-down sounds. Jack put his hands over his ears and started to spin. He does this when he gets too excited. Jack's got Asperger's.

I wanted to hide. I knew we'd be in big trouble when Mum found out we hadn't listened to Mrs Singh's warning.

Then a crash came from my bedroom.

"Oh no, not there too!"

We pounded up the stairs, two and three at a time, pushing and pulling each other as we ran into our bedroom. A monkey had my watch in its mouth. It took one look at us and leaped out of the window.

"Drop that!" I yelled as I chased after it. But like a magic trick, the monkey and my watch vanished up the tree.

That's when we heard squealing from other rooms.

"Jack, go check the other bedrooms. I'll do the bathroom."

But Jack was too excited and scared, he just followed me.

We sped around the house, shooing the monkeys out and slamming windows shut.

After the monkeys were out, we sat on the top step to catch our breath. I was worried and angry at the same time. They'd trashed our house.

"Jack, I'm going into the back yard to chase them away. I don't want them coming back.

"Careful, Bro!" Jack was wearing his worried look now and his hands were flapping.

"I will. Don't worry." I said and patted him on the shoulder.

Full of anger, I marched outside to the big Suporta tree where the monkeys were sitting. They'd nicked heaps of stuff from inside. I could see Mum's hairbrush, Dad's socks and Jana's runners.

When I looked into the high branches, I saw some of the mother monkeys had babies. The little ones were cute, hiding under their mothers' bellies. At least that part was nice.  
Without warning, a bull monkey, big as a Labrador dog, jumped out of the tree. He stood on his back legs in front of me and opened his mouth wide. Two fangs jutted out. They were dirty green. He puffed his dead-mouse breath into my face. The pong was barf strength.

I wanted to scream but I didn't have time. The bull monkey tried to bite me. I jumped back. He missed. Jack ran up behind me and handed me the broom from against the wall.

"Hit him Bro. Push him back. Hit him, quick."

"I'm trying to," I said as I swung the broom around and around, but the monkey kept coming. He darted under my broom and tried to grab my face with his leathery hands. His arms stretched towards me, like ... like they were made of rubber or something. Those horrible, hairy arms just kept coming.

I screamed at him, swinging the broom wild like. I swiped at his legs trying to keep him back but he fought harder. He almost clawed my face with his nails, when a mother monkey, high in the tree, shrieked.

Bull monkey looked up. I leapt forward, smashing the broom into his legs with all my strength. He let out a furious booming sound, spun around and dashed up the tree.

"Quick, Jack. Get back inside. Now." Jack was standing by the wall shaking.

We dashed inside to the kitchen and safety, then watched the monkeys through the kitchen window. I was shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"There's the bull monkey. He's sitting with the rest. Can you see him?" Jack said.

I nodded. I was too shaky to speak or do anything else.

"He's vicious: horrible, horrible, hate him, hate him," Jack said as he circled about, hopping from one foot to the other.

Big bull monkey watched us through the window. He snarled at me, lips curled over his ugly teeth. A shiver ran down my back. Jack pulled a face at him now that we were safe inside the kitchen.

"Come on Jack, let's check all those windows again." We charged through the house, making sure the locks were tight.

As we came back towards the kitchen, we stopped dead. By the side of Jana's toy box, a small monkey was trying to hide. Its teeth were chattering like a mini jackhammer. The monkey was so scared, it was peeing all over the floor.

"What do we do now Bro?" Jack asked, starting to giggle.

I was hot and angry at the mess we'd have to clean up. I scowled at the small monkey. I didn't know what to do first; clean up or shoo it out.

"I don't know. Let's get a drink and then we can think about how to get it out."

We went into the messed-up kitchen and I slurped a drink of water. I took a couple of gulps and threw the rest over my shoulder. The kids at school showed me this trick of throwing water. It's an Indian way of cooling things down because it's so hot here. The water splashed on the monkey. It screamed as if I'd cut off its head.

Wow!

Monkeys HATE water.

"Gee Bro, did you see that? Did you see? Did you see? Unreal!" Jack said, jumping up and down on the spot.

"You bet I did. I think we've got a monkey cure."

I was so excited I hugged Jack. Together we shooed the left-over monkey out the kitchen window then I filled a bucket with water. I grabbed the small red jug and went outside.

The monkeys watched me. They were still sitting in the tree. Three of them grew bold and started climbing down. When they were close, I threw a jug of water into each of their faces.

Squealing and leaping over each other in horror, they bolted up the tree again. Jack danced about and I laughed out loud. Those that were wet stayed up high making awful high-pitched screams.

"Watch out. One on your left," yelled Jack from the kitchen window.

A brave monkey had made his move. He raced down the tree, straight at me, teeth bared. I didn't move, only my heart raced and knees knocked. When he was close, I threw a dipper of water straight into his face. He did a back flip and shot up the tree, squealing. When another one tried, I held my little red jug up. As soon as he saw that, he turned and raced up the tree.  
I didn't need water in the jug now; they feared the sight of it. I  
waved the jug at them a few more times. Finally, the big bull monkey stretched tall and boomed out his command to the troop.

Chattering and calling to each other, they swung through the tree behind him. The mother monkeys held their babies tight to their bellies with one hand, as they ran along jumping from one branch to the next.

They threw down our things as they ran. Jack's thong, my watch, Dad's tie – heaps of stuff.

Within minutes the troop had gone. Jack and I collected the stolen items and went inside – super-buzzed.

I now hated monkeys but despite that, we laughed while we cleaned up the mess – we'd won.

As soon as Mum came home, we told her all about the damage the monkeys had caused. She hardly believed us until she saw the kitchen. She cried when she saw her favourite tapestry in shreds.

I decided not to tell Mum, about our monkey cure because she might tell Mrs Singh next door. Jack agreed. He usually does what I tell him; he's good like that. It's probably because I am older. I was born four minutes before him.

The monkeys didn't visit us again that season. Whenever they came to our neighbourhood, they skipped our house and smashed and stole from everyone else instead.

Mrs Singh was surprised at this, so was Mum. They asked us if we knew why they caused trouble for the neighbours but didn't bother us.

I shrugged and said nothing, trying to look innocent. Jack shook his head and looked down at his feet but then he started flapping his hands. He gave us away doing that.

Mum stared at me, head tilted in that accusing way she does when she doesn't believe me. I still said nothing. I was scared because someone might discover I'd messed with the monkeys and monkeys are sacred in India.

Some things are best kept secret I reckon. I'm glad Jack agrees with me – for now.

# LITTLE LUCY LEFT BEHIND

## Denise Doraisamay

##### LITTLE LUCY LEFT BEHIND

My calf is called Lucy and she was born at a very bad moment.

As soon as she burst into the world her mother and all the other cows were moved to a field far away. But the farmer didn't notice Lucy because she was so small, so Lucy was left behind.

I found her. She was lying in the long grass, all wet and slimy and struggling for air. Her mouth and nose were covered with sticky stuff from being born. Quickly I took off my tee shirt and cleaned her face. Lucy breathed better straight away.

She had big brown eyes with long curled up lashes sticking far out. I thought she looked beautiful, that's why I called her Lucy. That name makes me think of sunshine and butterflies but I don't know why.

Lucy hadn't stood up yet, so I helped her when she tried because new-born animals that run, always try to stand as soon as possible. She struggled hard but her legs were like jelly – all wobbly.

She fell down again and again, her legs going every which way. After six hours she could do it by herself, but she had lots of trouble. She kept looking at me with those big eyes saying:  
"Where am I? What am I supposed to do? I feel all alone and scared," well, that's what I reckon they were saying anyway.

That's when I told her:

"Lucy I'll be your mum and take good care of you until you're all grown up." Then I put my arms around her neck and cuddled her close. From that minute onwards, I became her surrogate mum.

I left Lucy in the grass and went up to the neighbour's house where Mr Brown lived. He owned all the cattle on my father's land. I asked him to drive down on his tractor and bring Lucy up in the trailer. He didn't know he had an orphaned new-born calf.

Lucy and I sat together in the trailer and were rolled and jolted all the way up to his house.

That trailer was very old and rusty but I couldn't have carried Lucy. Although she was small, she weighed as much as me, even though she was only about ten hours old.

When we arrived in the house yard, I helped Lucy into the back of farmer Brown's car. He gave Lucy and me a lift to my place, which was down the road a bit. I sat on the back seat and Lucy sat neatly in the boot. I tied the boot lid up with a piece of string and held it through the open window. I didn't want the boot to accidentally shut because she might suffocate.

In case Lucy tried to climb out while the car was travelling, I tied her front legs together. She was so new and unsure about what she should or shouldn't do, she just sat there. That was very lucky for both of us.

When I arrived home, I led her to our shed and made a playpen for her out of four hay bales.

Once Lucy was curled up tight and cozy, I went inside and asked Mum for some warm milk and a baby's bottle so I could feed her.

I fed her every six hours day and night for the first week. Because she didn't get her mother's proper first milk, she could get sick so that's why I fed her often.

I climbed out of bed at midnight to feed her and on school days I came home at lunchtime to give her the bottle of milk. After a week of this, I was tired and cranky but I couldn't stop. Lucy needed me. If I was going to be her mum, I had to do it right because she had nobody else in the whole world to care for her.

From the beginning I thought Lucy was strange. She limped and was way too wobbly. By the fourth day after being born she should have been walking and running normally. But for those first two weeks she went around all shaky, as if her legs were made of spaghetti. That's when I decided to call the vet.  
I asked Dad's permission and when he agreed, I took all my savings from my bank account and phoned the vet. It would cost a lot of money but I'd been saving all year for a special video game. That didn't seem important now but Lucy was.

The vet's news wasn't good.

"Lucy has a brain injury, probably from a difficult birth", the vet said. "I'm afraid there's not much we can do about it. Perhaps it will get better with time but there is no way of knowing. Sorry."

So, Lucy was not only an orphan but she had a handicap too. This meant that I loved her even more.

Now she was very special.

This problem didn't worry Lucy one bit.

Every day before and after school we played just like best friends do. She would run behind me in her funny wobbly way.

I laughed and rolled on the grass and she would hold her tail high and kick out her legs.

Sometimes she fell over; we both did – Lucy running on her spaghetti legs and me on mine. I'd laugh and laugh and she would suck my fingers and toes and sometimes my clothes. When we sat together, I stroked her. She loved that. And when she sucked my toes it tickled lots. I nearly cried from laughing so much.

I taught Lucy some tricks. To 'come quickly to me', the meaning of the word 'wait' and to 'lift each of her legs high one at a time' when I asked her to. This is hard to do normally but especially hard if you have a brain injury.

She learnt all these tricks in two languages, English and in my other language, Tamil. She was very smart. It didn't matter that she couldn't walk well. I didn't care and she didn't either.  
When she was three months old our school had a pet's day. This is when all the kids bring their favourite pets along. I told the teacher about Lucy and she was allowed to come, even though she was much bigger than the dogs, cats, ferrets and budgies the other kids were bringing.

Friday was the special day and it was instead of having sport. I washed and brushed Lucy and put a little plait in the bottom of her tail. Then I wove green ribbons into it. I put her orange collar on and I thought she looked great.

Dad drove us to school and when we arrived, I chained Lucy to the fence. She looked scared. She'd never seen so many different animals and people before.

I booked her in for the tricks and the parade, and then I sat with her. If you stroke her neck and speak softly, she feels safe, so I stroked and stroked. Tim my friend helped me. Lucy soon stopped shaking and ate some grass and sandwiches. I'd packed her favourite ones – jam and peanut butter and of course her bottle of milk.

The competition for the animal tricks started. Dogs stood on their back legs, ferrets ran around circuits and budgies dived through hoops. Parrots whistled tunes and a cat climbed up a pole. A black and white dog bounced up and down like a ball and a gold fish tried to blow bubbles but couldn't. I think it had stage fright.

But when everyone saw Lucy come to me with only a hand signal then stop and wait when I asked her to, they were amazed. When I told her to lift each of her legs high, one at a time and in two different languages, everyone cheered.

We won first prize. I was so happy I thought I'd burst.

After lunch, Lucy and I led the parade around the oval. She wore the blue ribbon around her neck and she was smiling. Even Tim agreed with me about that.

I decided to give Lucy a winner's party.

Joe, Tim and Anne, would you like to come to Lucy's winning party?"

"You bet," they all said at once.

I even invited Lucy's friend, Speckles the hen. She's one of Lucy's best friends and they hang out together when I'm at school.

Then there's our dog Fred. He teases Lucy. I found him one day swinging off her tail just like he does to Mum's washing on the line. Lucy went round and round and tried to fling him off but she just got dizzy and fell over. Finally, Fred let go and went and dug some holes. He can come if he behaves himself. I'll invite Jane my sister too. She sometimes reads to Lucy to keep her company.

"Let's make a cake, Jane. Lucy loves cake and we'll have milk to drink. Even Speckles loves milk and cake. Will you help me make it and put icing on the top?"

"Sure, what colour icing do you want?"

"Blue because that's a first prize colour and can you put a butterfly on it? This has to be special. It's Lucy's first party and do you think I should buy her a present?"

"Yes. What about a new collar, a green one?"

"Yeah – sharp idea. Thanks, Sis."

It's great having a winning pet with the same problem as me. We understand each other properly.

# MINT SAUCE, ANYONE?

## Heather MacKenzie

##### HEATHER MACKENZIE

I love to read, I love to write. Stories walk around in my head at the oddest of times. Some are shy and have to be coaxed, occasionally some fight to fall out on the page and I have to run to keep up with the words. Everyone has the words of a story or poetry in them. Reading and learning new things are the happiest of gifts. Gardening comes a close second.

##### MINT SAUCE, ANYONE?

Mum was "You've done what? How does anyone lose a whole sheep, David?"

Dad was "Whadda ya mean you've lost me sheep, Davo?"

My little sister was, once she stopped rolling on the floor laughing, "I thought it was bad when you lost your school bag, your hat, your footy but this is the best EVER."

"I just took her to school for this project – 'Alternative Energy.' She was going to be a lawnmower. Ring the Police, Dad."

"And say what? My ding brained twelve-year-old has lost me sheep? AARGH!"

"Don't shout, George," said my Mum.

"I'm not shouting. Give me the phone, what's the number for the local cop station? How do you put this thing on speaker? Hello, hello, are you there?"

"Good afternoon, Dingwall Police Station."

"Emma's missing! You have to find her."

"Calm down, Sir. Full name?

"George – er – Egbert – Swinson."

"George E-g-g-b-e-r-t.."

"No, no just the one g."

"Yes, G-e-o-r-g-e with one g..."

"No in the Egg bit."

"Right. Never mind. What's the missing person's name?"

"I told ya. Emma."

"Emma Swinson. And how old is Emma?"

"How old? I don't know. I didn't ask for her birth date when I bought her. She's probably about three I suppose."

"You say you bought her, Sir?"

"Yes, yes. Cost me $50. You have to do something quick. You don't understand. She's special is our Emma."

Mum tried to break in with "George, tell him she's a..."

Kayla tugged at his arm, "Dad tell them Emma is..."

"Sshhh everyone. I'm handling this," Dad bellowed.

"Let me get this straight, Sir. You're ringing to report your daughter Emma missing. Emma is three and you 'bought her' for $50? And now you've 'lost' her? Sir, can I just have your address and we'll have someone there very, very quickly."

"Daughter? Daughter? No Kyla is here. It was my brain-dead son, Davo, who did it. He lost Emma. At school!"

"Your son took your daughter to school?"

"Yes. No. Look officer, you're not listening, Emma is a sheep."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone then:

"Sir, you have phoned the Police. Perhaps you should call the local animal shelter."

"Yes, but they won't go looking for her. Can't you put out a bolero or something?"

"You'd like me to put on a shrunken jumper. Woollen, I suppose!"

"No, no. You know the 'Be on the lookout' thingy they do on telly."

"For a sheep? You want me to apply the resources of the Police Department for your lost sheep? Perhaps we could call in the Police helicopter and get sniffer dogs out on the ground?"

"Could you? That would be great. She quite likes dogs. The kids taught her to bark at the German Shepherd next door. Silly sook is terrified of her."

"No, Sir. I was joking, Sir! Are you sure you're not? Perhaps you've had a bit to drink as well?"

"No, this is serious."

"So is police business, Sir. Look give me a, aahh, give me a description. I'll ask the local car to keep an eye out. Other than barking like a dog any identifying features, um, collar or anything?"

"Pink."

"A pink collar...."

"No, her hooves. They're pink."

"You painted your sheep's hooves pink?"

"No, not me. What do you think I am, weird? No, my daughter painted them with her nail polish. Wasted a whole bottle and who do you think pays for that, hey?"

"Okaaay. Colour of sheep other than hooves?"

"Well, she's sheep coloured. I dunno."

"Sir, sheep do come in more than one colour. White. Brown. Black face. White face."

"No, she's quite ordinary."

"Right, a barking sheep called Emma with pink painted hooves but quite ordinary. Yes, of course. We'll let you know."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When will you let us know?"

"When we know something."

"Look, this is serious. What if she's been kidnapped?"

"Kid.... ha ha ha...so she's a goat not a sheep?"

"What?"

"KID-napped!"

"Look, don't we get a Family Liaison Officer or something?"

More muffled snorts and laughing...Dad must have been put on speakerphone at the other end of the phone.

"Look, Sir, even for a pink-toed sheep we don't provide FLOs. You've been watching too many cop shows on TV!"

"But what if she has been kidnapped, what if there's a demand?"

"Well, Sir, if someone does phone a demand...."

"...or it might be a ransom note."

"...or you get a ransom note...."

"Yes?"

"Please do let us know." Click.

"He's hung up on me," Dad said in an outraged voice.

"Well, George, what do you expect? You sound a few sandwiches short of a picnic ringing up to report your sheep has been kidnapped," Mum said while she kept on chopping up the vegetables for tea.

"What else am I going to do, woman?"

"Get out there and look for her, take Davo and Kyla with you."

"Right, we'll go out looking. You stay here in case there's a phone call."

"What, you think Emma's going to 'phone home' like ET?"

"No, you stupid woman. The KIDNAPPER."

"George, don't shout, there is no kidnapper. Emma's just wandered off. She's not the brightest ball of wool in the basket despite what you think of her."

"You've never appreciated her finer points have you? Let's go kids. Davo, where did you last see her?"

"Don't call me Davo and she was eating grass on the school oval last time I saw her but then she wandered off."

"Right, now we have to be smart about this. We have to think like a sheep."

"But Dad, Mum always says sheep are dumb. If we think like a sheep won't we be thinking dumb?"

"Don't be smart with me Davo, you're in a world of trouble as it is."

"Don't call me.... oh, never mind. We can follow her messages."

"What messages? She can't text us, you idiot!"

"George! Davo...David is not stupid. He means the little piles of messages Emma's always leaving all over the lawn which, by the way I notice you always forget to pick up and I end up having to do it when we agreed..."

"Okay, okay. I'll go to the school oval. Kyla and Davo go down to the shopping mall, see if anyone has seen her. No wait. Kyla you stay here and do up posters with a photo of Emma and say there'll be a reward if she's returned unharmed."

"Sure Dad. Um...how about something like 'Reward offered for return of sheep. Must be whole, no lamb chops need apply'."

"Don't be smart with me young lady. What are you standing there for Davo, let's go." Dad ran out of the room.

"Don't call me Davo," I yelled after him. "I'm off down the shops Mum, I'll text if I find her."

"You do that David. Kyla you stay here, forget the posters, do us a favour and get on the neighbourhood Facebook page. See if you can track Emma down that way. I can see I'll get no help with making tea as usual."

I jumped on my bike and took to head to the shops. As I came out of the front gate, I could see Dad going the other way towards the school. For some reason he had grabbed Kyla's old bike Mum had put out the front to sell.

It wasn't just that the bike was pink and had purple streamers coming out of the handles that made him look strange but the bike was a few sizes too small for Dad and his knees were up around his ears as he pedalled furiously. He looked like some sort of crazy stick insect on a lollipop. Mum had taped a sign to the back of the seat "$25 or nearest offer."

I was glad I was going in the opposite direction.

Between us Dad and I searched the neighbourhood without any luck until it got dark then we both gave up and came home around the same time. It was touching to see how upset Dad was as he hobbled from the bike. He always made out he wasn't sentimental about things but now he'd really blown his cover. He was a real softy underneath.

When we got inside Mum was calmly setting out plates of food on the kitchen table and Kyla was, as usual, buried in her laptop, buds in ears, mouth flapping silently open and shut like a fish as she sang along to some stupid boy band song. Girls!

Dad fell onto the couch beside her and said,"No luck, we looked everywhere, we couldn't find her. I think we'll have to face the awful truth. Emma is gone!"

"Emma?" Mum said. "She's out the back eating those cabbage seedlings you put in last week."

"What! How did she get back home? Why didn't you let me know?"

"George, that's the first bit of real exercise you've done for years. Thought it would do you good to get some. You're getting too fat, you look like Pudding Man. You should do that every night," Mum said while calmly getting a bottle of something out of the pantry.

"That is not fat," Dad roared back as he sucked his belly in. "It's all muscle, just redistributing itself."

"Yes, I can see it's all re-distributed over the top of your belt like a lava flow."

Dad levered himself up off the couch and said "Never mind that, how did Emma come home?"

Kyla piped up "I did what Mum suggested. Tracked her on Facebook. There was a picture of her outside the florist shop. She was eating all the gum leaves out of the bunches of flowers in the buckets. Then she went to the bakery, they got a good shot of her helping herself to the bread rack. She must have gone to the Kebab Shop too. There's a cool photo of her stamping her feet at Kamal, the owner. He looked scared stiff. He was waving his apron at her."

"Yes," Mum said. "Emma left a real trail of destruction down the shopping strip. But all's well that ends well, as they say."

Dad gave a huge sigh and said "You're right. Emma's back home safe and sound, that's all that matters isn't it?"

"No, George, that's not what I meant. Emma's got a job."

"A what?" Dad yelled.

"Don't yell, George. That shop where they sell wool and macramé stuff. Called KnitWit, Knits and Knots... something like that. Emma wandered in there. The owner brought her back after seeing Kyla's post on Facebook and she's asked if they can borrow Emma for a knitting promotion at the shop next weekend. I said yes, of course, and her usual fee was $100 and you wouldn't believe it but the woman agreed straight away. Emma's made quite a name for herself around the neighbourhood. Probably should have asked for more, I suppose. Never mind. Tea's ready, Kyla put away that tablet, David wash your hands and sit down."

"Okay," I said really relieved now that Emma was back home. "Great work Kyla. What's for tea, Mum?"

"Your father's favourite. Lamb chops. Who wants mint sauce on theirs?"

# THE SHORT CUT

## Irene Swadling

##### IRENE SWADLING

Irene Swadling has had a life long interest in books, both reading and writing. During the years of parenting, library work, teaching at many levels she had many opportunities for storytelling, creating plays, poems, and operettas for children to perform. Her first published story was in a School Journal. Most of her writing has been for pleasure, fitted in between a busy life style.

Her love of birds, bush, walking and singing are ongoing interests. Born in Wellington, she is enjoying living in the Porirua City area.

##### THE SHORT CUT

"Look up!" William exclaimed, coming out of the bush. "That hill is almost on top of us."

"That's the Crow's Nest."

William watched his dad get his breath back.

He looked up at the steep, grassy slopes.

"Can we climb up there, Dad? I see a track and those rocky bits look fun."

"No, this is far enough."

"Please," begged William.

"Not today," said Dad firmly.

"Why not?" asked William.

"We don't have time," Dad replied.

William walked along the track anyway. He gazed up at the Crow's Nest. He noticed a little dip in the middle of the high peak. He would love to sit there.

"We could climb it today, Dad." William called back. "No wind and blue sky!" William longed to take advantage of this calm winter's day that followed days of a winter southerly storm.

"Not today."

William kicked unhappily at a tuft of grass.

The sheep track wandered off. William used tufts of grass as steps to climb up toward the ridge. It was steep.

"I can't see the Crow's Nest now," called William.

"Hold your horses." Dad called back. "Come down."

"Soon," called William.

William went on. He scrambled over a rocky outcrop, slipped and slid up steep clay, then danced along an easy bit.

William looked back down. Dad was coming!

William looked up. "I can see the Crow's Nest again. It doesn't look any closer,"

His dad caught up.

William gazed down at the bush. It seemed a long way below.

"Dad," he said suddenly. "We've got visitors coming. Mum said not to be late."

"That's right! That's why I said, 'Not today!'"

"Oh help! It'll be my fault if we're late," said William. "I'll tell Mum."

"Just hurry," snapped Dad, starting back down.

"Will we be in time?" panted William as he hurried down after Dad.

"I hope so," his father replied. He turned to the left.

"That's not the way!" cried William.

"Should be quicker," said Dad. "The bush is right below us."

"No, Dad!" cried William. "Not a short cut!"

"William," his father said sharply. "Follow me. We're late."

"Now we're done for," William muttered.

"We'll follow this stream," said Dad.

Stream! thought William. A tiny trickle, it ran between gorse and bracken before disappearing into the dark bush.

William knew what was in the bush! Under the canopy of tall trees, smaller trees grew. Ferns pushed up and vines twisted and hung from larger trees. Black rocks, half hidden under rotting leaves, waited to trip you.

"It's only a trickle, Dad."

"It will grow," said Dad, pushing on.

Brown bracken scratched Williams legs. Prickly green gorse grew close together. He wished he'd worn jeans instead of shorts. William had to push past the sharp spikes. Matted grass hid patches of bog. One foot went into the mud.

"Look at my shoe. I hate this," he wailed.

"Just follow me," his father said firmly.

They were under the trees now. A little sunlight still came through. They walked quickly beside the stream. Suddenly the stream dropped away in a waterfall.

"I'm not going down there," said William, looking at the black, slippery rocks.

"No," Dad agreed. "We'll go right, then drop down."

They pushed through scratchy bushes. William stubbed his toe against a hidden rock.

"Ow! That hurt," he exclaimed. His sneakers gave him little protection.

The bush thickened. Green ferns pushed upward. William ducked under a thick black vine. "It's like a rope gone hard," thought William.

William grabbed Dad's hand as his feet slipped on wet, decaying leaves.

A fantail flitted along with them but William took no notice. He was angry. Dad shouldn't make him do this. They ducked and dived, clambered and crawled round fallen logs. They clung to tree ferns as they worked their way across the sloping forest floor.

"Where's the stream, Dad?" demanded William.

"Not here. That stream was too steep", explained Dad. "Give me your hand."

"Dad, don't pull!" cried William.

He felt his heart beating. He tried to keep on his feet as Dad hurried him down. Branches grabbed his jersey. Ferns tangled round his legs. Overhead trees grew together and blocked out the light.

"Dad, I'm going to fall!" cried William. "Stop, Dad, stop! Now there's bush lawyer."

William was almost crying.

"Stand still," said Dad. He pulled the prickly vine off William's jersey. With Dad's help William clambered over a fallen tree. It was rotting. Fungi, small ferns and moss made it slippery. They struggled on.

"Daylight! I can see daylight!" cheered Dad.

William and Dad stumbled out of the dim bush onto a sunlit track.

William stood still. He was panting and angry. He looked at the track. A look of horror crossed his face.

"This isn't the main track, Dad," he cried fiercely. "Where are we?"

Then William began beating Dad with his fists.

"Hey, slow down," said Dad. "I'm sorry. Looks like we're back on the track up."

"Now we're really late," said William. "It's your fault, Dad. Your short cut's really messed us up"

William turned and ran madly down the track.

"I hate it when Mum gets mad. I hate it when Mum gets mad," he said as he ran.

He could just hear Mum saying, "And where have you two been?" He'd tell her. He'd tell her. "Dad made me take a short cut," he'd say.

"Why did you take a short cut?" Mum would ask.

William almost stopped running. Why did they take a short cut? He remembered! It wasn't Dad's fault at all! Dad had said, "Hold your horses. Come down" and he hadn't.

William and his father jogged all the way home.

"Hallo! We're back," called Dad.

William leant against the kitchen door frame. He looked at his muddy shoes and scratched legs. He brushed some twigs from his damp hair. He listened anxiously.

"Where on earth have you two been?" he heard his Mum exclaim. "Where's William?"

"Here," said William.

"So where have you been?" asked Mum.

"Well, I wanted to go up the Crow's Nest," William began.

"The Crow's Nest!" said Mum. "No wonder you're late! My goodness. Look at you. I suppose you took a short cut again!"

"We tried," said William. "But it was too steep."

"Your Dad will never learn! You've got five minutes to clean up," said Mum. "You might need another short cut."

As William hurried away he heard his mother mutter, "Short cuts, short cuts, short cuts!" Then he heard a burst of laughter. Yes, laughter! It was okay after all.

# FINDING TREASURE

## Jacqueline Greig

#### "Finding Treasure" won Second Prize in the 2019 Adventure Stories for Children Competition.

##### JACQUELINE GREIG

Having spent most of her life reading books and stories to her own children, Jacqueline decided to write stories for Australian children that are set in this wonderful country. Jacqueline lives near the bush with her three, nearly grown up, boys. They enjoy the company of many beautiful birds, some very naughty cockatoos, and a wallaby who never allows himself to be patted. When it rains heavily they have to rescue turtles from the road and take them back to the safety of the creek. She hopes one day to write a book about the children in the story Finding Treasure.

##### FINDING TREASURE

Charlie and Samuel picked their way through the scrub, following the narrow path created by swamp wallabies that each night hopped down to the creek. The afternoon heat, thick with the scent of eucalypts, hung over the boys as they walked careful steps to avoid the sharp-leaved grass trees that dotted the bush, rough and black stumped. Charlie was swinging a stick, now and then smacking it against a tree trunk with a satisfying thwack. Samuel trailed behind, wishing he'd worn his boots because there might be a snake sleeping on the rocks or path. Slung across his back were the water bottle and provisions. His dad had told him always to go into the bush prepared, which meant enough food so you didn't go hungry.

"Are you sure this is the way?"

"Yep, I checked the map about ten times," replied Charlie pushing his way through the prickles of a wait-a-while cane and releasing the whip-thin branches so they zinged back past Samuel.

Above the boys a group of cockatoos threaded across the sky, their black wing beats carrying them in higher and higher and their eerie calls echoing into the bush below. Samuel half-believed those fearsome calls were the screams of Nazgul, echoing like angry music in his ears. No, Lord of the Rings was only a story! But, what was that rustle in the scrub? A dingo or even a Tasmanian tiger? He'd read a book that said Tasmanian tigers weren't extinct after all. Why didn't Charlie hear the danger? Fear washed over Samuel like a wave sucking him into a rip. He believed he could smell evil hanging in the air. He could almost touch it! Right there, ready to pounce!

"Charlie," the words rasped out of him.

"What?" Charlie swung round.

"There!" Samuel pointed.

The rattling, scraping noise grew louder and from the tangled bush it appeared - black and yellow and prickly... An echidna waddled, sedate and solid, across their path.

"Yeah, it's an old echidna," said Charlie

"Can we stop and eat something?" Samuel said, controlling the fast running of his heart, as the cockatoos flapped heavily away over the horizon and the echidna burrowed its way into the bush.

"Okay, what've you got?" asked Charlie flopping onto the ground with his stick next to him.

"Sour squirms," Samuel said, offering Charlie the half empty packet, "and chips." He tore open the box.

"I'm really hungry," said Charlie.

"P'raps we should keep some," said Samuel as he eyed the rapid disappearance of the squirms

"Why?"

"I don't know - emergencies."

"Nah, once we have the treasure we're gonna buy anything we like."

"But, the emergency might happen here, not at the shops," Samuel pointed out.

Charlie turned his bold eyes on Samuel. "Echidnas are not emergencies," he said.

Samuel looked into the bush where bell birds were pinging and a fairy wren came dancing down to show off his bright spring coat of blue before disappearing back into the canopy to find his family.

I wish I could go home too, thought Samuel. I must be brave!

Charlie got up, and Samuel followed but his eyes scanned the bush for every movement and his ears followed the slightest sound.

The intent eyes that watched the boys remained unseen.

In the distance the rusted skeleton of an old mine poppet head loomed above the she-oaks. A late afternoon breeze had scudded in from the mountains and was tossing about the leaves of the trees which whispered in a secretive, hushing way as the wind rustled through them. The path the boys were following narrowed into the distance through the scrub where a fence rose up, high and strong, with a curl of rusty barbed wire snaking along its top.

"See," said Samuel, touching the cold metal of the fence with cautious fingers. We can't get in."

"Yes we can, I know where. C'mon."

Charlie pushed through the undergrowth and ran his stick along the fence so it clanged and rattled. Where the land sloped down to the dry creek bed the fence had fallen over and the boys stepped easily onto the old mine site.

"D'you think they panned for gold here?" Samuel asked, imagining the diggers swirling their pans in the creek when it was flowing.

"I guess," said Charlie. "My mum says there's ghosts of old miners here."

"I don't want to see one."

"They only come out after dark, ghosts do," Charlie proclaimed.

"Oh," said Samuel, though he wasn't sure Charlie was correct about that.

The poppet head, closed years ago, was rusted red and it creaked and groaned in the wind. Cables still connected the great wheels at the top to machinery at the bottom and a corrugated shack sat at the base below the main platform. The walls of the shack had caved in and the rising wind was buffeting them back and forth in a way that made the iron screech.

"I don't think we should go there," Samuel said.

"C'mon, don't chicken out now; we just need to go inside that hut over the mine shaft. That's where the map says the treasure is."

They crossed grass that twisted yellow and dry in the wind and stepped over ground cracked into deep furrows by years of drought. The shack stood slanted and defiant against the elements. Samuel saw it was dark-cold inside.

"Let's look inside," said Charlie.

Samuel hung back, his heart beating like a drum and his mind grasping about for a reason not to go in. Then he had to, because as Charlie stepped inside, the earth started to slip and he clutched at Samuel's arm. With a howl of terror the two boys disappeared into the darkness of the earth below them.

***

Their vantage point had been carefully selected to keep them concealed. But, when Mia saw her brother swallowed into the earth, she and Tyna burst from the scrub and tore across the grass towards the poppet head in terror.

"Stop Tyna, stop!" yelled Mia when they neared the mine shaft. "The ground'll collapse. We'll fall in there too."

"What do we do?" Tyna slowed and then stopped as her eyes caught Mia's fear filled ones.

"Charlie! Samuel!" Mia yelled, louder than she'd ever heard her voice before. The words echoed, blown back by the wind. The boys either didn't hear or couldn't answer.

"We need help," cried Mia. "Run, run back to town!"

They sprinted past the collapsed fence and along the path that zig-zagged through the scrub. Birds flapped noisily away in alarm and the wait-a while canes snagged at their clothes and scraped their skin into sharp, red welts.

We should have told, thought Mia. There's going to be huge trouble! Her breath burned as she tried to gulp enough air. Behind her Tyna panted and ran with heavy steps. Mia knew the path was nearing the road. She remembered it had curved up a hill just here by the burnt out tree stump and she heard a car rattling along the furrows of the dirt road.

Her legs wouldn't listen.

Faster! Faster!

The girls raced out onto the road but the passing Ute was already a swirl of dust in the distance. The driver didn't glance into his rear view mirror and didn't glimpse the girls jumping and waving frantically.

Gasping to catch their breath the girls jogged along the road and finally slowed to a walk at the tin-roofed miner's cottages that marked the edge of town. The deserted main street lay, wide and sleeping, in the afternoon sun and the dust-red ute which had passed them was parked across the road from the pub. Mia and Tyna sped up, past Mrs McKenzie's fashion shop where the faded dresses had lived forever on the mannequins, past the automatic bank teller machine that blinked its blind red eye at them, and past the coffee shop where the plastic blue and white table cloths made a deserted, slapping sound in the wind.

So many times Mia had systematically counted the 430 steps from the end of the street to the soldier at the foot of the cenotaph by the police station, but today the numbers flew through her head unbidden. Mia knew the police station, which stood broad and reassuring at the end of the street, would be open. Seeing its beckoning light she grabbed Tyna's arm and they dashed up the steps, hearing their footsteps loud and echoey between the buildings.

Sergeant Peters took in at the two breathless girls who banged through the door of his quiet Sunday afternoon. He was a large and generally silent man, the star fullback of Tulli Creek's occasional footy team, who reserved his gentle smile for special occasions.

"Charlie and Samuel," the words tumbled out of Mia.

"Fell into the mine," added Tyna, struggling for breath.

"The old poppet head," said Mia. "I should have told Mum they were going there, but I didn't," she trailed off in a small voice.

The policeman didn't ask questions, he picked up the phone and dialled the help he needed; skinny Sargeant Baxter who had just arrived as Tulli Creek's new policeman, brusque Constable Smith who was probably out feeding orphaned lambs right now, and the members of the bush fire brigade whose dinners would be left to turn cold that night.

Mia and Tyna sat, quiet as two baby possums, on the hard police station bench waiting and waiting to see if Charlie and Samuel were going to be okay. The girls were still sitting there when their parents came to fetch them home.

***

The bedroom ceiling felt as if it was pressing down on her. Mia closed her eyes and told herself to think sleepy thoughts, but they kept running away from her like unruly sheep. Thoughts swirling back to the police station. The worried green of Mum's eyes and the deep brown of Tyna's questioning eyes. The revolving reds and blues of the police and fire engine lights. Uniformed men and women who came in collecting ropes, and ladders, and shovels. She pushed the noisy pictures from her head and looked out at the dark world beyond her bedroom window where an owl in the dark shadowed gum tree was calling over and over with a limpid "choo-chuk".

A soft knock sounded on her bedroom door and a thin line of light reached out and spread wide over the floor as the handle dipped and the door swung quietly open.

"Mia," whispered her mother. "Are you awake?"

Mia sat up in bed, her heart pattering in her chest.

"Yes!"

Mum moved silently across the floor and sat next to her.

"It's okay honey. They've found Samuel and Charlie. They are at the hospital now with Dad and Charlie's parents. Samuel broke his foot when he fell, but the doctors and nurses say he and Charlie are going to be fine."

Mum's arms were around her, rocking her close and tight. The warmth of the hug and the sweet, reassuring scent of her mother flowed between them and slowed Mia's running heart.

"We should have told you," Mia's words muffled into the woollen jumper her mother was wearing. "We should have told you they were planning to find the treasure on their silly old map."

Mum stroked Mia's hair and when she spoke her words fell soft and warm. "You and Tyna ran a very long way. You did your best to tell the police. That was a strong and brave thing to do."

Time ticked through the silence until Mia felt sleep pulling her away and she curled up in her bed as Mum's footsteps sounded soft over the floor and the shaft of light disappeared with the door closing.

Outside the owl stopped calling and flew away on graceful, silent wings.

# LOST

## Jenny Woolsey

##### JENNY WOOLSEY

Jenny Woolsey is weirdly wonderful! She writes stories about being different and speaks about how being weird is great. Jenny lives north of Brisbane, Australia. She has three wonderful children and a fluffy dog she loves to cuddle.

##### LOST

"Scopey where are you?" I yelled, trying to see around the mass of palm trees.

Woof. Woof.

"Scopey come boy, come here." I patted my knees and bent down as my pet dog raced towards me, knocking me over backward, then slathering my face with sloppy salivary licks.

I pushed him off, stood up, grabbed the long lead which dragged on the dry crunchy leaf litter, and caught my breath. It had been an exhausting search.

"Why didn't you come when I called you back at the campsite? You are a naughty boy. Now we have to go home."

I glanced at my watch. It read 3:07. I spun in a circle looking for the track, but all I saw were palm trees, vines, strangler figs and ferns. I must have left the narrow-beaten dirt track without realising it. My stomach flip-flopped. I looked around again. Nope. Nothing.

Scopey scratched about in the scattered leaves. Wouldn't he know the way home? He was a clever dog.

I tightened the lead around my wrist and clipped up the press studs on my bomber jacket. "Scopey, go home."

My Mastiff Cross's ears pricked, his large dark brown eyes caught mine, but his feet stayed planted where they were.

"Scopey...go...home." I tugged on the lead again, then I tugged even harder like I was playing tug-of-war. He was being stubborn, as he could be, and this wasn't the time for it. I sucked in the damp earthy air and it filled my nostrils. I had to get him to move but he was too big and heavy to push or carry, and we couldn't stay here, as no one would realise we were missing. Mum would be thinking I was down at the creek building rock dams or skimming rocks, or in another friend's tent playing a board game or UNO. If Scopey hadn't taken off after that deer that's where I'd be.

"Mum!" I yelled. "Dad! Help!"

There was no answer. I noticed a bluish-black brush turkey with its red neck and head, rummaging among the leaves nearby. Scopey saw it too; stood up, growled, then took a few steps towards the bird which scurried off. I smiled. This was what I needed.

"Good boy. Go home." Scopey put his black nose down like a Bloodhound, as if he finally understood, and trotted off. I felt better, jogging to keep up with him.

After a few minutes of traipsing through ferns and pushing small fronds away from in front of my face, I was certain Scopey knew where he was going.

"Hey, Scopey let's pretend I'm Jane and you're Cheetah. Let's go in search of Tarzan."

I swung from a strong vine that was strung between two trees, I beat my chest and yodelled 'Aaaaaaaaa', then laughed.

Around me nothing looked familiar – just trees and more trees, ferns, vines and strangler figs but I trusted my pet who I loved with all my heart.

I checked my watch. It read 3:25. It was fun being Jane. I jumped over fallen trees, bounded off tree stumps and swung on thick vines. I was the queen of the jungle. 'Aaaaaaaaa.'

Above the sound of the wind in the treetops, I thought I heard a faint rushing sound. The sound grew louder and louder the closer we got.

***

"Now which way do we go, Scopey?"

He stood in the crystal clear water which was halfway up his legs. He sniffed, then licked the water, droplets falling from his jowls back to the creek. Little silvery fish darted around him as if they were playing tag.  
This had to be the creek that wandered past the Burama camping ground where we were camping.

"Which way Scopey?"

He raised his head then took off to the left. The lead jolted and I stumbled after him.

"Good boy, go home."

I jogged over the damp mud and small water-worn rocks, the water trickling beside us. I looked for another vine to swing on. Scopey pattered out in front of me through the tall grass that lined the bank.

He suddenly stopped; his left leg cocked in mid-air. Ahead of us, a black snake lay across a large flat rock that rose out of the water and was halfway up the bank. Its flat head was raised, and its forked tongue flickered at us.

I wrapped the lead around my wrist three times and whispered, "Stay."

I stood still and held my breath. The snake started to slither towards us.

My eyes opened wide. Scopey growled and pulled on the lead. I held it with both hands and he let out a gunshot of a bark.

The snake reared up ready to strike and Scopey growled louder, pulling harder on the lead. I held on as tight as I was able to, my hands burning from the canvas strap.

"No, Scopey!" I yelled.

Sheer pain ripped through my hand, I dropped my arm and instinctively released my fingers, the lead dropping to the grass. Scopey leapt at the snake.

"No, Scopey!" I screamed.

Like a slow-motion video, I watched my dog take a nip at the snake as it flipped and slipped into the creek. I grabbed the lead, my breaths coming out short and quick.

That had been so close.

I watched the ripples carefully as I walked; I didn't want another encounter with a snake.

Around a bend, a mosaic of grey glittery boulders appeared. Dad said they were from a volcano millions of years ago. Scopey bounded up and I clambered after him, up and over, thankful I was wearing my sneakers which had tread on them.

Some of the rocks were bigger than Scopey and I needed to use my hands to pull myself up them, positioning my feet in cracks and gaps. On the other side of the larger ones, I would slide down on my bum, until my feet hit the smaller rocks, which I could jump off.

I noticed that the shadows were deepening. It was 5:00. No more games. Mum would be expecting me soon for dinner. The rule was that I had to be home by six. Thinking about dinner made my stomach growl. It had been a long time since lunch. This was taking longer than I thought it would. It hadn't taken that long to find Scopey.

Beyond the boulders, Scopey stopped at a small frothy rapid, the water tumbled over shiny dark rocks. He slurped at the water. Dad had also said the water was safe to drink where the water was swiftly moving. "Good idea boy." I cupped my hands, filling them, and lifted the water to my mouth. It was cold and I drank some more.

We continued on, striding past more rapids which raced between and over smaller rocks. Leaves floated past like speedboats. Scopey jumped and I climbed, over moss-covered tree trunks that had fallen across the creek. The water was dark green and I couldn't see the bottom.

Whack!

A burst of pain shot into my knee as I landed on it, my free arm stretched out in front of me on the creek bank.

"Owwww!"

Scopey licked at my face as I tried to sit up.

"Stop," I grimaced at him.

I slowly stood and noticed the root I'd tripped over. My knee ached, and my hands stung. They were grazed and dirty. I hobbled over to the water and washed them. Scope drank the splashes and shoved his head into my hands. "Yes, I'm okay boy."

As I straightened up, I could make out a paddock or something behind the trees on the opposite bank. Maybe up further we could get across so I could have a better look.

I rubbed my knee and limped on, Scopey in front, his nose down sniffing.

"Don't pull so hard," I told him, wincing.

Cockatoos boisterously squawked and flew in their flocks overhead as they did before sunset. Time was running out; I didn't have a torch.

The burbling sound of a tractor came from the paddock I had seen. It wasn't close but that meant a person was nearby. I stared at the creek. Could I swim across it with Scopey? No, it was too cold for swimming. I kept going and around a bend in the creek a large tree had fallen across it. This was perfect.  
I didn't want to let Scopey go, so held the end of the lead loosely in my hand and climbed carefully up onto the trunk. My knee ached as I bent it and my grazed hands were sore on the rough bark. Moss covered a lot of the tree so I stood up on a bare patch. I brought up my arms to shoulder height like I'd seen the Olympic gymnasts do on the beam. I wobbled with my sore knee, and stopped, finding my balance. I moved my left foot out in front of me, then my right and inched my way across. Scopey jumped into the water and swam beside me. Left foot, right foot, left foot.

Yank went the lead! Splash!

Down I slipped, into the murky green, my feet searching frantically for the bottom. I thrust myself upwards as the blood pounded in my head. Spluttering, my head bobbed above the freezing water and I took some strokes towards the other side. It was hard in my thick bomber jacket. I kicked my legs, and my jeans and sneakers filled with water, becoming heavy like dumbbell weights.

"Ahhhh!"

As I yelled, I swallowed more water. I tried to keep swimming but the weight of my clothes dragged my head under. I struggled to push my mouth up to breathe, my arms flailing around me. Absolute terror engulfed me. I gulped the air and tried to kick some more, but I couldn't. Something like the tentacles of an octopus had wrapped itself around my legs and the more I kicked the more it tightened. I was pulled down, down, down...

***

"Emma. Em."

Was someone calling my name?

My eyes, as heavy as sandbags, dragged themselves open. Bright light hit my irises and I closed them again, wincing.

"She's okay," a wobbly familiar voice said, "Thank goodness."

"Mum?" I opened my eyes again. The bright light had moved.

I lifted my shoulders up. "Don't move darling," a stranger told me, and I fell back.

I must have drifted off, as I woke again to the sound of beeping. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was lying in a strange bed, in a stark room with blue curtains to my side. I hadn't been here before, but I guessed it was a hospital.\

"Hi Emma," said the lady standing next to me. "How are you?"

"Um, I have a headache," I said, reaching my hand up to my forehead.

"I'll get you something for that. I'm Sue and I'm your nurse for today. Do you know where you are?"

"Err, a hospital?"

"Yes, that's right." She poured me a glass of water from the plastic jug on the side table. "Merrivale Hospital. Your parents have just popped out to get some lunch and then they'll be back. I'll go get you some Panadol."

She disappeared from my view. I surveyed the room. I was here by myself. The bed beside me must be empty as I couldn't hear any noise. There was a picture of a rainforest on the wall opposite, with a deer drinking from a creek. I shivered, as a vision flashed before my eyes. I knew why I was here! I had nearly drowned.

"Oh Em, you're awake!" Mum's voice brought me back to the present.

She leant over and kissed my forehead.

Dad then bent down and cuddled me. "How are you feeling Princess?"

"Okay. What happened? I don't really remember."

"Scopey came to the caravan just before dinner time without you. We noticed he had his lead on and Dad asked around if anyone had seen you, but nobody had," Mum answered.

"Scopey ran off in the direction of the creek, so we followed him," Dad said, pulling a chair over to sit on.

"And he took us to you," Mum said, moving a stray strand of hair from my face. "Thankfully you weren't far down the creek and the ambulance could get to you. You had some hyperthermia and lots of water in your lungs."

"The paramedics thought Scopey had pulled you from the creek as you had large holes torn on both of your jacket sleeves," Dad said.

"I dd-don't know. He was running after a deer, so I chased him, and we got lost. We had to cross the creek and I fell in the water."

"Is that what happened?" Mum asked. "Well, maybe I shouldn't give him the treats I got him for rescuing you."

I grinned. "You can give me the treats instead."

"I don't think you want the doggie bones, but you might like these," Dad said, taking a bag of my favourite lollies from his pocket.

"Yes, please!" I squealed.

# MRS UMBRIEL

## Jo Withers

##### JO WITHERS

Jo Withers writes poetry and short stories for children and adults. She is also author of the middle-grade adventure novel _'5 Simple Steps to Saving Planet Earth.'_ Jo's loves hot chips and iced tea and her favourite word is 'wobble.'

##### MRS UMBRIEL

August 23rd

I can't believe it's the last week of the summer holidays, they've gone so quickly!

I'll finally finish building the treehouse tomorrow and Mum said one night I can even sleep in it (if it's not raining and my allergies are under control).

Days until school \- 8

_August 24th_

I did it. The treehouse is finished. Mum gave me a little table and chairs to put inside and I made a wooden sign for the door that said, "Kids Only – Keep Out."

Tomorrow, I'm going to take books and a radio and spend the entire day up there.

Days until school \- 7

_August 25th_

Relaxed in the treehouse all morning and Mum packed me a picnic, so I didn't even need to come down for lunch.

From the treehouse I can see right into old Mrs Umbriel's garden next door. I hadn't seen it in years because the fence is so high. In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw Mrs Umbriel either. The garden looks really creepy, all gnarly weeds and weird looking plants.

Her curtains have strange patterns on like stars and squiggly comets and they were closed even though it was the middle of the day.

And there were five dresses on the washing line and each one was long and purple.

It's such a weird looking house for an old lady.

Days until school – 6

_August 26th_

The dresses have gone and there is now a row of purple pants and cardigans on the washing line. She must be eighty years old – what's with all the purple clothes?

Also, when did she hang the washing out? I was in the treehouse at 8a.m. and it was hanging there already. Does she sleep all day and only come out at night?

I'm going to ask Mum if I can sleep in the treehouse tomorrow, so I can keep the area under surveillance.

Days until school – 5

_August 27th_

Equipment – sleeping bag, pillow, torch, hamper with snacks, binoculars, diary to record sightings, glow in the dark pen.

7:30 – Surveillance begins.

8:30 – No sightings, (ate far too many biscuits waiting for something to happen).

9:30p.m. – The door to the garden just opened and a small purple figure came out. Guess it must be Mrs Umbriel, but I can't tell because she's wearing a hat and thick goggly glasses. She's also carrying a big tube on legs (which I think is a telescope). With the bug-eyed goggles and the extra legs, she looks like a giant purple insect!

She put the telescope shaped thing down and pulled a huge radio from her pocket. She pressed a big button on the side and it started to make a buzzing sound. Mrs Umbriel pressed the button again and said something into the radio in her small, crackly voice. Next, all these odd high-pitched noises came out, like someone was playing an out-of-tune guitar and then someone started to speak back loudly in a funny foreign accent. I've heard people on T.V. from India and Japan, but I've never heard anyone talk like this. They sounded like they were from another planet! Then, Mrs Umbriel started to speak back in the alien language while staring through her telescope!  
This is not normal little old lady behaviour! I'm telling Mum tomorrow!

Days until school – 4

August 28th

Tried to tell Mum that Mrs Umbriel is contacting aliens over lasagne at lunch, but she looked at me like I was the weird one! She said Mrs Umbriel is eccentric (whatever that means) not extra-terrestrial.

Days until school – 3

_August 29th_

3a.m.!!

Woke up and heard strange sounds coming from Mrs Umbriel's house. For a few minutes there were loud, high-pitched wailing noises, and then all these lights started flashing. They cast reflections around my bedroom walls as though a big blue disco light was rotating in my room. It sounded like a spaceship was trying to land! This is all Mrs Umbriel's fault - I bet she contacted aliens with her radio and massive telescope thing and now they've come to visit! I pulled the covers tight over my head in case they decided to drop in here too.

8a.m.

I guess I must have fallen asleep because when I woke it was morning and the lights and sounds had stopped.  
Mum was in the living room looking tired. I started to say, "I heard spaceship noises coming from..." but she shook her head and said, "Not now," then gave me this weird look.

Days until school – 2

_August 30th_

Mum came to find me in the treehouse this afternoon (completely ignoring the "kids only" rule). She looked serious and sad. She asked me to help her make cupcakes because we're going to visit Mrs Umbriel tomorrow! She said she wants me to be on my best behaviour.

I opened my mouth to argue but I could tell from the look on her face there was no point.

Days until school – 1

August 31st

Visit to Mrs Umbriel's house!

The space curtains were still closed, and it looked like no-one was home.

Mum said Mrs Umbriel was resting upstairs (probably because she's up all night chatting to aliens) so she used her spare key.

The hallway was filled with silver space junk. There were bits and pieces of weird machinery everywhere and photos on the walls of people standing beside rocket ships or holding glowing rocks. It made me nervous and I stood so close to Mum that I trod on her big toe.

Mum started to climb the stairs and I followed right behind her.

At the top of the stairs, Mum knocked on a door and we entered the room. Inside, the room smelt like cinnamon donuts and it looked more like a child's bedroom than an old lady's. There was astronaut wallpaper, a rocket shaped table lamp and a duvet covered in constellations. Underneath the covers was Mrs Umbriel, star-streaked blanket pulled up to her chin so that her tiny face looked like it was framed inside the universe. She looked at me with her big blue eyes, bright and wide like flying saucers.

Mum put the cupcakes on the bedside table.

"Mrs Umbriel was taken to hospital two nights ago," she said, turning to face me, "she fell over carrying her telescope after her nightly sky watch. The sounds and lights you heard were from the ambulance."

Well, that made me feel really silly! But what Mum said next made me want to hide with shame - she just came right out and told Mrs Umbriel that I thought it was a spaceship and that she'd been trying to contact aliens!

Mrs Umbriel's face stretched in all directions! Her eyebrows went up in surprise, then her mouth strained from ear to ear and she started to laugh, a tiny tinkly sound that felt fresh as new rain.

"I was speaking to a space station in Russia to give them the co-ordinates for a new star I'd discovered," she said softly, "I watch the constellations every night. My husband and I were astronauts, it makes me feel close to him again."

I looked at Mum and she was pulling the weird sucked-in face she does when she's trying not to cry at movies.

"I'm afraid I miss him very much. For years we travelled through space together. When he was gone I realised I have very little connection to people on Earth. The only time I'm really happy is at night when I'm staring at the stars."

* * *

September 15th

Sorry I haven't written for so long.

First week back at school we got a solar system project, so I've been around at Mrs Umbriel's every evening. She knows so much about space; the teacher will think I'm a genius.  
Also, for my birthday next month, Mrs Umbriel is going to get up during the day and Mum's going to take us to the planetarium. It's going to be the best birthday ever and I can't believe I get to spend it with a real-life astronaut!

# THICK AS A BRICK

## Laura Brown

##### LAURA BROWN

I live in Maitland with my cat, husband, three children, aquatic snails, clam and six fish (in order of furriness).

I write lots of stories. Most of them are short like this. One is a lot longer. I've called it _Ruby and the Butt-Head Thief_ , but I might change my mind before it's published.

I like exploring Australia, and other countries. When I'm not doing that, I love eating my daughter's delicious cooking.

Stories are amazing. That means you are amazing for reading them. So keep reading (it makes you even smarter than you already are) and keep being amazing too.

I'll have some more stories out there for you soon.

##### THICK AS A BRICK

"You're not poking around Dumbo's old joint. Do I make myself clear?"

"Why not?" I glare at Dad. "You let me do it every other time."

"He's a dropkick. Not like the other farmhands. Who knows what he's left. Look for those keys you lost instead!" Dad slams the door behind him. A second later the door opens and his head pokes through. "And don't forget to feed the dogs."

I sigh. Why does he keep reminding me about the jeep keys? Making me feel bad won't help find them. I turn back to the TV. The Grand Prix winners are spraying each other with champagne. It is all over. I flick it off and get up. Dad is wrong about Dumbo. He'd spent fifteen minutes searching the paddock with me when I'd realised the keys were missing. We'd chatted about sheep dog trials and breeding. He'd listened to everything I said. Not like dad.

Dad drives off, leaving a cloud of dust. Finally the grump was gone. I can do what I want.

***

The dark clouds have multiplied, reminding me of the mould on my forgotten sandwich last holidays. I hope the rain holds off until I'm done. The door to Dumbo's is unlocked. Dad was right about one thing. Dumbo was useless with security, gates unlatched, vehicles unlocked, you name it. Still, Dad was too harsh. He has a thing against guys with long hair.

He's only been gone five days, but already the place smells musty. I collect a black beanie, a Swiss army knife and twenty five cents. The rest is junk. Maybe I'd find more if I looked harder, but I'd better feed the dogs before the rain hits.

***

As the rain gets worse I pull the beanie over my head and break into a run. The shed stinks like diesel, dust and dung. I grab a can of cola from the fridge and crack it open. It tingles down my throat and into my guts. Ahhhh. I grab a can of Sprite and stuff it in my backpack for later. Time to feed those dogs. I turn, and see the jeep with the motorboat hooked on behind. My gut twists. I have to find those keys...

Then I remember. A few hours before I'd realised the keys were missing, I'd gone to the boat to borrow a towel.

I pull myself up, lower myself into the boat and search. No keys. I enter the cabin and check inside the bench seats and on the floor. No keys.

Tyres grind on the gravel outside the shed. A door slams. Then another. That's weird. Dad's not due back for a while.

"Catch ya, Jonno!"

Who's Jonno?

The engine revs and gravel sprays. Over the pounding of my heart, I hear a car drive away.

My stomach churns. Shouldn't have sculled that cola. I lean on one of the seats and peek around the side of the curtain.

"Hey hey! What've we got here?" a man says.

"You little ripper, two for the price of one!" The second voice is gravelly. My sweat turns cold.

"Hey Tank! C'mere!"

A muscly skin head in a tank top swaggers past. "It's good to go. What're we waiting for?"

An electronic chirp is accompanied by two flashes of the jeep's tail light. They've got the keys! Tank gets in the passenger door. Who's the other guy? As the boat lurches backwards I grab onto the seat to avoid being thrown about.

The boat rumbles along the dirt track. Outside it's drizzling, and the farm appears to vibrate sickeningly. I turn from the window. For the first time, tagging along with dad while he votes seems appealing. Too late.

A few minutes later we turn a corner and I fly forward, landing awkwardly on my arm. The wheels crunch on the gravel, slowing until we stop. Dogs are barking on the other side so I stumble to the opposite seat and peer out the side of the curtain.

A man in wearing a cap and all black strides over towards Roxy. He squats down, his baggy jeans so low that I can see the top five centimetres of his grey jocks. He holds out his hand. Roxy leans forward in her basket, sniffs it, then allows him to pat her head. Bite him Roxy! He's stealing our jeep. The man turns, displaying big stretchers in his floppy ears. My breath catches. It's Dumbo! He must have had a haircut. He points to the bins, saying something I can't hear.

Tank goes to the food bin and scoops out some dog food. As he fills their bowls, the dogs eat and the barking fades away. Once Roxy's eating, Tank picks up her water bowl and heads back towards the car.

Clank. My heart is gripped by a rabbit snare. Thud. The boat shakes. Somehow I force my legs into action. Years of playing hide and seek pay off as I flip up my hinged bench and climb inside. I lower the seat over my head and crouch in the darkness, my heart booming in my ears.

"Yep. Got it," Tank grunts.

Another thud, and the boat shakes, more gently this time.

"I'll take her in; you pass me the water in a sec." Dumbo orders. Hearing his familiar voice, I kick myself for not recognising it earlier.

Click. The cabin door's opening. Oh no! I left my backpack on the other seat. Hope it doesn't make him suss. I control my breathing, terrified he'll hear me. At least I didn't leave the beanie lying around...

Roxy whimpers. From my hiding place his footsteps down the stairs are thunderous.

"It's okay girl. Just going for a little ride, you're safe here."

Don't lift up the seat. Don't lift up the seat.

Whumph. Creaking.

I hold my breath. Stay where you are Roxy. Don't sniff me out. Stay in your basket.

Thump, thump. "Water."

Thunk. "Awwww. Jeez! Ow, stupid boat." I smile, picturing Tank whacking his head on the beam.

Footsteps.

A tinny sound on the floor.

The stairs creak as the footsteps retreat. The door clicks shut.

I let out my breath. The boat shudders. Roxy whimpers.

The jeep engine starts and we lurch forward. I slowly lift the seat above my head. Roxy yaps. I get out to soothe her.

Why would he...? My stomach flips as I remember how interested Dumbo had been when I'd told him about the prizes Roxy had won. Dread floods my body. I hope I'm wrong, but I've got a bad feeling that Dumbo wants to sell the pups! Dad was right. Dumbo is a dropkick. That time he'd pretended to help me look for the keys, he must have had them in his pocket. Or maybe that's when he'd found them. And I'd thought we were friends! I'm the real Dumbo. Thick as a brick.

I pick up Mickey, his soft, warm body curls up against my hoodie. Roxy's microchipped, so Dumbo can't sell her, but the pups aren't. If he sells them, it'll be hard to prove they're ours. Poor Roxy. Maybe they only brought her to feed her pups until they're sold. What will they do with her afterwards? What will they do to me? I shiver and snuggle Mickey tighter. Puppy smell has never been so comforting.

***

The boat rattles violently. We turn a corner and the vibrations stop. I lean back and glance outside. We've left the farm and hit the bitumen road. I'm hot and clammy. On the farm there was a chance dad would come back and find us. Now the chances of anyone helping us were smaller than Mickey's claw.

Roxy shakily stands and steps out of her basket. She looks around the cabin, then walks over near the door and scratches.

"No girl. We're stuck."

She looks at me in protest, then lifts her leg and wees on the door.

"Roxy, noooooo," I return Mickey to his basket and look for something to clean up her mess. There's nothing.

11:10. Thirty five minutes since we left the farm. We pass a telegraph pole with a poster, Vote 1 – Farmers, Shooters and Fishers Party. We hit a bump, and the ache in my bladder intensifies. Maybe I should just pee on the door like Roxy.

As we slow down I peek out the window. A petrol station. BP. It's packed. Everyone's out voting. Despite the crowd, I recognise nobody. Where are we? I pick my way around Roxy's basket and peek out the other window. Mt Panorama. Bathurst. I feel like I've swallowed a bowling ball. Dad's in Orange.

The jeep doors slam and I jump. Tank gets out and starts filling the jeep with diesel.

Good, time to think. Do I get out and tell someone? What if they don't believe me? What if Dumbo and Tank drive off? I look at Roxy and her pups. I can't let them down.

Thud! The boat shakes. Oh, heck! Dumbo.

I cast my eye over the cabin, searching for something useful. Anything... The door opens. My heart is catapulted into my throat. My backpack! I unzip it and grab my can of Sprite. Dumbo bursts in and his mouth opens. I shake the can so fast my bicep aches.

"What the -" he stares at me then slips on Roxy's puddle of wee, grabbing onto the door frame for support.  
I pull back the tab, cover the hole and spray him in the eyes shaking as I go, like the grand prix drivers did.

Dumbo covers his face and staggers back. I move forward, forcing him out of the cabin and back against the bow. The can empties. I throw it at his face and climb over the side of the boat. The opposite side to Tank. My legs jar as I land on the concrete and the army knife in my pocket jabs into me on impact, but I manage to stand up.

Dumbo looks down at me over the side of the boat. Roxy barks aggressively and he turns back to her. I seize the opportunity, pull out the knife and jab it in the back tyre of the jeep. I push it in as far as I can. I hope it's enough. Then I sprint around the back of the boat, and head for the shop, dodging people, cars and hoses. I worry about Roxy, but I'm pretty sure she won't abandon her pups to explore a noisy, crowded petrol station.

As I burst into the shop everyone stares at me. The cashier, a solid woman who reminds me Tuckshop Tanya takes a breath so deep she nearly bursts a button on the front of her shirt. She doesn't drop her gaze.

I charge towards the counter. "Call the police. The men in that jeep have stolen it. They've also got our boat and dogs."

She draws her mostly pencilled on eyebrows together and wrinkles her nose slightly. Why isn't she doing anything.

"Out there!" I point towards the jeep.

Tuckshop Tanya raises her eyebrows.

"Can you please call the cops?"

"I've already called them love, they'll be here any minute. You might want to take your beanie off before they arrive." She taps a notice on the counter that has symbols of a helmet, a beanie, sunglasses and a balaclava all in red circles with a line through the middle.

"Oh, right." I take off the beanie and glance out the window. The jeep takes off but is stopped from entering the road due to all the traffic.

Tuckshop Tanya huffs. "They haven't paid for their fuel!" She looks at me, then back at the window, her brows furrowed so close together they almost looked like one long, thin snake. She chews her lip. "Excuse me," she exits the counter and I follow her outside.

A police car pulls into the station. Two officers get out. One stands outside the car scanning the petrol station, while the other makes his way towards us

Tuskshop Tanya wastes no time. "Those ones in that jeep haven't paid." She barks "and apparently the vehicle's stolen from this one " she adds as an afterthought, cocking her head towards me.

"Stop the silver jeep near the road, suspected stolen vehicle, unpaid fuel" the officer says into his two-way. He turns back to me. "I'll check the ownership of the vehicles. You'll need to accompany me to my vehicle while I do so."

The screeching of tyres followed by a crash pulls my eyes back to the road. The jeep has pulled out into the traffic and the boat has been T-boned by an oncoming car.

"My dogs are in there. Can we see if they're okay?"

The officer looks at me like my face has turned green, "Better keep you out of harm's way for now." as walk with him to the car Roxy sees me and barks enthusiastically, jumping up and down. Phew.

Once the officer performs the vehicle check, confirming both belong to my dad, I start filling him in on what happened. He interrupts when I get tell him about our journey from the farm. "You do know that it's illegal to ride in a towed boat on a public road?"

I gasp, "You're gonna charge me?"

"Legally the driver of a vehicle is responsible for the safety and law abiding of under-age passengers," He winks.

The other officer returns and opens the door and I see she is a young woman. She's holding Roxy. "I've called for back-up. This road will take some clearing. Can you check the boat for puppies? These guys have admitted they're in there. She turns back to Dumbo and Tank, and I can't help giving them a grin and a wave.

"Sure Sarah. Let me know if you need a hand." He turns to me, "so this is your dog?"

"Yeah, Roxy."

He glances at the name tag. "Yep, you know her name. How about you come with me to get those pups? Let's leave her in here while we do it. He puts Roxy in the back seat. Then he shakes his head. "Why wouldn't you take off the collar if you were stealing someone's dog?

# DOGNAPPERS INC.

## Maggie Brooke

##### MAGGIE BROOKE

Maggie Brooke is a writer who earns her living as a midwife. Her two children are grown and gone. She lives in Queensland with her dog and cat. And computer.

www.maggiebrooke11.com;

www.maggiebrooke11.webs.com

##### DOGNAPPERS INC.

"Denzel! Jordan's run away and it's all your fault."

"Grrr. He's not even my dog. How's it my fault?"

"You came in last and you obviously didn't shut the gate properly." Emilie crossed her arms and frowned.

"Denzel, it looks like this is your responsibility so you'd better get out and start looking for him," Aunt Stephanie said.

"And don't forget your hat."

"Grrr." Denzel glared at Emilie from behind her mum's back. Simply because he was the oldest, the adults tried to make him responsible for everyone and everything that happened, even though he was only twelve. Alyssa was eleven-and-three-quarters but did she ever get blamed? And Emilie, ten-years-old, was bossier than either of their mums.

Cramming a cap over his black hair, he slammed out the door and down to the guilty gate, just in time to see Jordan's long tail disappear down Stuart Street. He smiled. Alyssa and Emilie often joked that their dog had a girlfriend around the corner on Stuart. Too easy.

"Hey, Denzel, wait up!" Kayden ran down the footpath. "I'm coming with you." He was eight and hated being left out of things, being treated like the baby.

The brothers set off in hot pursuit of the naughty canine. Sure enough, just around the corner, Jordan, a lanky greyhound, was sniffing through a fence at a poncy poodle. Stuart was a busy street with four lanes where a dog could get quickly smashed so, not wanting to spook him, they approached cautiously. Denzel whistled and Jordan looked up, tail wagging in excitement.

"Stop, Jordan, it's us!" Kayden shouted whereupon the dog, obviously thinking this was a game, loped off in the opposite direction.

"Kay-den!" Denzel growled, giving chase and wondering how in the world he was going to outrun a greyhound.

Jordan raced across the street, through the traffic, somehow avoiding being smashed, and into a large park. The boys, of course, had to stop at the lights, which were just turning red. Denzel was tempted to risk it and dash across on yellow but knew he had to hold Kayden's hand. That's where Alyssa and Emilie caught up with them.

"Thought we might as well help," Alyssa shrugged. "Like you said, he is our dog."

"Cheers. He might actually come when you call."

While waiting, they watched Jordan lift his leg against a climbing frame while mothers shook their heads in disapproval.

"Sooo glad he's not my dog," murmured Denzel.

They watched him lick the face of a screaming toddler, mothers looking crankier by the moment, searching for the park patrol. Then two people came out from under the trees.  
The tall woman wore a blue shirt and cap, both with an embroidered logo. She went to speak to the mums. Her partner, a small, bearded man holding a rope, walked over to Jordan. The dog was easy to catch because he was squatting to... Oh, pul-eeeze no!

The green man flashed with a 'ding-ding-ding' and the four children ran into the park at last. Denzel sprinted after the couple who were disappearing into the trees with the dog-on-a-rope. Alyssa rushed over to the cranky mums, shouting,

"Where are those people taking our dog?"

"Your dog?"

"Are they the park patrol?" asked Emilie.

"If he is your dog you shouldn't let him run loose."

"He got out by accident," Kayden explained. "We're trying to catch him to take him home where he belongs."

"He was trying to bite my little boy!"

"As if." Alyssa rolled her eyes. "He was licking you son; giving him doggie kisses."

"Nonetheless..."

"Hey guys, over here! I've found something!" Glad to leave the cranky-mums-and-toddlers group, the three joined Denzel under the trees.

"What's up?" Emilie asked. "You know dad's going to kill us if the dogcatcher gets Jordan. The fine is like four hundred dollars."

"Good news and bad." Her cousin held up a blue cap that had a logo. "There won't be a fine because that woman wasn't from the park patrol, she was from Freddie's Fish Café. But here's the bad news – it looks like they've stolen your dog!"

"Stolen? Oh, no!" Kayden's eyes filled with tears. "Jordan's been dognapped!"

"We should call the police. Alyssa has her phone," Emilie said.

"Hang on a minute." Alyssa held up her phone, running fingers across the screen. "Yeah, here it is. A lot of people on Facebook have been complaining about dogs disappearing and they don't think the police are taking it seriously."

"Grrr," Denzel growled, eyes narrowing. "I take it very serious and I am going to find Jordan and get him back. Who's with me?"

"Is it dangerous?" asked Kayden.

"Dunno. Probably."

"I don't want him to stay dognapped. He'll be scared."

"We should call the police," Emilie said again.

"And tell them what? Let's find him first."

Alyssa wrapped her arm around Kayden's shoulder. "Don't worry, cuz, we'll look after you."

"Then let's go. They were headed toward the duckpond."

The kids took off through the trees, jumping over roots and bouncing over fallen branches, but when they got to the water's edge, the culprits had vanished.

"We can't see from down here. We need to get higher."

Denzel took a running leap at the lower branches of a giant fig tree and soon all four were straddling limbs, brushing off green ants and searching the lagoon and its banks.

"We have to get higher still," Alyssa said. "There'll be a good view if you can get above the leaves, Denzel."

"You mean a good view of the ground when I come crashing down. Those branches are very thin."

"Kayden doesn't weigh much."

"Thanks for nothing, cuz!"

"You can do it, bro. We'll catch you on the way down."

Kayden looked up, looked down, looked up again. "I hope you enjoy being an only child, bro. Here goes nothing!" Like a monkey, nimble Kayden scrambled to the top branch.

"I see them! They're on the left side of the lagoon but they're headed toward a van."

"Emilie, you stay here 'til Kayden's down. Alyssa and me'll try to stop them."

They hit the ground running and soon spotted their quarry. Jordan gave his would-be rescuers a couple more minutes when he refused to get into the yellow panel van and Denzel got close enough to get the rego before it peeled away in a cloud of dirt and gravel.

Alyssa typed '719RSK' into her phone while waiting for the other two to catch up. Kayden had a few new scrapes and scratches but nothing was broken.

"They may be gone but we're not giving up," Denzel announced. "How about a spot of lunch at Freddie's Fish Café?"

Alyssa Googled the address which was only a few blocks away.

"It must not be very good," Emilie remarked once they found it. "Only one customer?"

"I hope they don't serve dog," Denzel joked and received a hard thump from Alyssa.

"Sooo not funny!"

Denzel peered through the window and recognised that single customer as the man who'd taken Jordan. Alarmed, he dropped to a crouch, hunkering down below the window frame. "That's our guy!" he whispered.

"Why are you hiding?" Alyssa asked. "He never even saw us."

Now embarrassed, Denzel fiddled with his shoelace. "Um, came untied."

"Hey look," Emilie called out. "He can help us." Across the street, coming out of a coffee shop was a policeman holding a takeaway cup in each hand. "Officer, officer, we need your help!" She beckoned madly.

Handing the cups to someone inside a car, the policeman manoeuvred his way through traffic.

'What's up, little girl?"

"That man inside that café there stole our dog." The others agreed loudly.

"Whoa, now. That's a very serious accusation. What say we go inside and talk to him?"

The customer attempted a smile as the group approached but broken teeth and a tea-stained beard ruined the effect.

"G'day, officer, are you collecting for street kids?"

"Grrr." Denzel's eyebrows came down hard as his fists tightened.

"These children here say you took their dog."

"Me? When? I been here all morning. Ask Molly, the waitress. I've been trying to chat her up." The tall woman chose that moment to walk through the kitchen door.

"That's his accomplice. I have the proof right here." Denzel held up the blue cap.

"Thanks, kid." The woman took it from him. "I lost that last week. What's this about a dog? What are you accusing Bo of?"

"We have the van rego." Alyssa pulled out her phone and began scrolling.

"Hang on," the policeman said. "Did you get this story off Facebook?"

In the end, the policeman refused to believe hot, sweaty, scratched-up kids over 'responsible' adults so the four found themselves standing on the footpath, watching their last hope drive away. Emilie cried and Kayden sniffed. Denzel growled. He'd show them 'responsible'.

"I am going to investigate. Who's with me?"

Emilie's tears stopped and Kayden wiped his hand across his nose. "Where do we start?"

"We find that van. Let's check around the back."

Scrambling over fences and through dustbins, they finally found the yellow panel van in the alley behind Freddie's. Denzel dashed to open the back door and there was Jordan, tied to a metal bar. As the boy climbed in to untie him, the dog barked happily – and very loudly – and Denzel heard the clatter of dishes and doors from inside the café. Someone was coming!

"Quick! Hide!" he cried but, instead of scattering behind the dumpsters, all three jumped into the van, pulling the door shut behind them. He heard Molly shouting at Bo as they got into the front seat.

"That was too close. We'll have to shift the mongrels tonight."

"But they wanted fifty and we've only got forty-two so far."

"Well, the buyers can go jump in a lake. If we get caught, they'll get nothing and forty-two's a heck of a lot better than nothing!"

Kayden was trying to untie Jordan so they could all get away when the worst possible thing happened – the engine started and the van was moving! Four kids were being kidnapped as well!

"Where do you think they're taking us?" Emilie quivered.

"Nobody panic. I'll figure something out." Denzel was glad of the darkness so the others couldn't see how truly terrified he was.

They travelled first on smooth city streets but, after a while, they were bumping so badly that their bums would surely be bruised. Ages passed before the van pulled to a stop. The four huddled together in a corner, longing for release but fearing discovery. The dog, untied, was the first to react when the back door was wrenched open. With a joyful bark, he leapt for freedom, knocking Bo to the ground.

"What the...? How'd he get lose?"

Jordan's barking set off a symphony of yelps, barks and howls from what sounded like a hundred dogs as Bo and Molly chased the greyhound. Creeping cautiously to the opening, Denzel saw that they were parked beside a large barn, where all the noise was coming from. No other building in sight.

"Hey, Alyssa, have you got any reception?"

She shook her head. "Only one bar and it's flickering."

"Give it here. Sometimes height helps. I'll stand on top of the van."

"No, Denzel, they'll see you!" Kayden cried.

"And they'll also see cop cars if I can make a call."

Jumping to the ground, he ran to the front of the van, got onto the bonnet then scrambled to the top and lay flat. The bar stopped flickering. He took a deep breath and stood tall, reaching up. Two bars. Would that be enough?

Trembling with fear, Denzel activated the GPS and dialled triple-0. Just as the operator answered, he heard shouting. He had been seen.

Molly ran toward him swinging a cricket bat and Bo stopped only long enough to pick up an axe.

"Police!" Denzel yelled into the phone. "I don't know where I am but you gotta find me. They're trying to kill me!"

"I'm connecting you now," the operator said. "Don't hang up."

"As if!" thought Denzel. The barking grew louder. "Please help us. We're just kids and one guy's got an axe."

Before he could say anything else, Molly was on the bonnet and swinging the bat at his legs, He dodged a blow then threw the phone with all his might onto the barn roof, praying the line would stay open. If the cops could pick up its signal...

Turning, he launched himself at the woman, knocking her off balance and they both fell to the ground. There was a loud crack and she screamed as her knee buckled under her. Picking up the bat, Denzel turned to face the axe. Fortunately, Bo dropped his weapon and ran to Molly's side.

"You little rat." He looked up at the boy. "Don't just stand there, help me get her into the van. She needs a hospital!"

Panic gripped Denzel's chest. Even if the police had tracked his call, they could be miles away. He couldn't let Bo drive off, who knew where, with his best buds trapped inside. His thoughts were totally scrambled as the woman screamed, the dogs howled and adrenalin shot through his veins. He only knew one thing – his brother and cousins were his responsibility and he wasn't going to let them down.

"Listen, mister," he stalled. "I don't know how to help her. I'd probably make her worse. We don't to first aid until next term."

Bo thrust a fist into his face. "Then get them other kids to give you a hand. I bet they're hiding in the back, eh?" He strode over, yanked open the door, and everything happened at once.

Alyssa, Emilie and Kayden burst from the van, tackling Bo as Denzel grabbed him from behind. Kayden still clutched Jordan's rope and their kidnapper was soon tied up. Denzel was pulling the last knot tight when they heard the sirens. The cousins high-fived and Jordan leapt into the middle, tongue drooling and tail wagging. Denzel grabbed his collar and didn't let go.

Alyssa's Facebook/Live feed (with plenty of selfies of the four heroes) went viral. Forty-two dogs slept in their own homes that night. Aunt Stephanie and the boys' mother were totally cranky mums and almost killed their children with hugs and kisses.

# THE LOST FROGS' HOME

## Mary Ann Napper

##### MARY ANN NAPPER

Mary Ann Napper has eleven grandchildren — that's a lot of Grandparent Days to attend every year! Her three rules of life are: EAT a piece of chocolate cake every day; TELL everyone your grandchild can do no wrong and NEVER tire of hugs and kisses. Mary Ann likes to buys cool books for her grandchildren and is never too tired to answer questions over and over. Mary Ann loves to write adventure stories about space, robots, woolly mammoths and dinosaurs.

www.maryannnapper.com.au

##### THE LOST FROGS' HOME

Frogs found in banana boxes transported from Queensland were taken to the Amphibian Research Centre. Sam called it, 'the lost frogs' home.'

Sam's friend, Charlie was a new boy in year six. Charlie's eyes were the size of fifty cent coins behind the thick lenses of his black round spectacles. The bullies called him mean names like 'nerd' and 'bug-eyes' and barred him from their games. Charlie was sad and lonely. He hated his new school.

"Back off!" Sam yelled, "or I'll report you to Mr Thomson."

Sam was the school captain. He was the tallest in his class and their best basketball player.

The bullies were not going to mess with him.

"I've got a pet frog," Charlie told Sam, "his name's bug-eyes too."

Sam invited Charlie to visit 'the lost frogs' home.' "My dad works there. He's a herpetologist. He knows lots of stuff about frogs and reptiles," said Sam.

After school Sam and Charlie caught the bus to 'the lost frogs' home.' Charlie followed Sam around to the back door.

"What's that noise?" asked Charlie pointing to an old tin shed.

"Aah, just crickets. Dad feeds 'em to the frogs," Sam explained in a loud voice as he opened the shed door to the noise of overwhelming chirps. They shrugged off their school bags and headed straight to the Tropical Room.

"Phew — it's hot and dark," said Charlie wiping the sweat from his face, "and it smells off in here like stinky cheese."

"Yeah, you get used to it," said Sam, "the temperature's controlled so the frogs think they're home, y'know in their habitat."

Sam pointed to a tank in the centre of the room, "Let's check out the tadpoles."

"They look more like fish than google-eyed frogs," said Charlie, "Do they eat crickets too?"

"Nah, they eat stuff like lettuce, spinach and flake fish food; has to be flake Dad reckons, dunno why."

Several large fish tanks were stacked on shelves along the wall. Sam took Charlie over to look at a tank full of tiny frogs, the size of a thumb.

"Oh cool! What are those little guys called?" asked Charlie.

"They're spotted tree frogs," said Sam's dad, popping his head around the door.

"Hi, Dad, this is my friend, Charlie."

"Hullo, Charlie," said Sam's dad, giving him a firm and friendly handshake. They leant forward to peer at the tiny frogs.

"They've got yellow, warty bellies," said Charlie, "and their back legs are orange underneath."

"Where did you find these, Dad?"

"They were in a stream near the top of Mt. Bogong in the Kosciuszko National Park. They happen to be the last army of spotted tree frogs found in the wild," said Sam's dad, "the problem is they're all females. If I don't find some male frogs their future will be grim."

"Can I come with you on your next field trip, Dad?"

"Me too?" asked Charlie.

"I'll ask your Mum, Charlie. I'm planning to go in the October school holidays."

It was three weeks until the end of the school term. Sam and Charlie counted down the sleeps. The last few days seemed the longest before the school holidays finally arrived.

"Mum stuffed my backpack with warm clothes and I've got my toothbrush, hat, sun cream and insect spray," said Charlie.

"Here's a spare torch, Charlie, you'll need it."

They rummaged in the Esky to see what Sam's dad had packed in zip lock bags.

"Wow! Look Sam, we've got dried fruit, nuts and lots of biscuits."

"Yummy," said Sam, licking his lips, "marshmallows and chocolate bars too."

They stashed their gear into the Jeep and were off. The drive was long and boring. The boys sat on the edge of their seats jiggling knees and drumming fingers. They played 'I Spy' and Charlie kept asking, "Are we there yet?" Finally Sam's dad stopped the Jeep and wound down the windows.

"That's Mt. Bogong over there, boys."

"Are we going up to that snow?" Sam asked.

"Not quite to the top, but almost."

"Really!" laughed Sam, punching Charlie.

"Wow!" said Charlie.

Sam's dad drove onto a dirt road. They wound up their windows to avoid breathing in the billowing dust. The Jeep dipped and swayed from left to right before it stopped in front of a large boulder.

"This is it, boys. We walk the rest of the way."

They grabbed their gear and set out into the bush. Sam's dad led them through dense Snow Gums and long grasses until they came to a stream bubbling over smooth pebbles. The aroma of minty eucalypts crept into their noses.

"We'll set up camp here, boys."

Sam and Charlie pitched their tent in the sombre light of the late afternoon. They collected firewood and helped Sam's dad to build a campfire. Sulphur-crested cockatoos swooped above them in screeching spirals making them feel jumpy.

"I've made damper before," said Sam, "you mix flour with salt and water and shape the glug into a ball. That's it. Then you put it in the camp oven."

Sam's dad covered the lid with hot coals to create an even heat. Twenty minutes later the damper was cooked, crunchy on the outside and fluffy in the middle. They savoured mouthfuls of warm damper dripping with butter and Golden Syrup.

The evening plunged into darkness and stars twinkled through the treetops. Flames from the fire threw enough heat to keep them warm despite the evening chill. Sam and Charlie toasted marshmallows while Sam's dad told scary stories about ghosts and monsters.

"It's time to roll out your sleeping bags, boys. We've a long hike tomorrow and you needto get some rest."

They snuggled into their camp beds. In the glow of their torch lights they made crazy shapes with their fingers on the tent's walls. At some stage they fell asleep listening to the grunts of possums, the 'Tu-whit' and 'Tu-whoo' of a pair of tawny frogmouths and the soothing splash of water in the stream.

Early next morning, Sam's dad cooked bacon and eggs.

"This is delicious," said Charlie, "much better than at home."

After breakfast, they stuffed their packs with supplies and set off. A thick carpet of feathery-fingered gum leaves covered the steep track that wound its way alongside the mountain stream. The crunch of their footsteps and the sharp crack-like calls of whip birds disturbed the silence. They chatted about school and other stuff.

"What are you gunna be when you leave school, Charlie?"

"Well, for a long time I wanted to be a doctor. But now I think I'll be a lawyer."

"You're a study geek," laughed Sam.

"What do you want to be, Sam?"

"I dunno, maybe I'll be a chef and be famous for my dampers or a herpetologist like Dad."

Sam snapped off a twitch of slender gum leaves to keep the insects at bay. That's when he saw it. Up ahead a black snake basked on a rock heated by the sun.

"Look out, Charlie, snake!"

Sam froze. Charlie stepped backwards and tripped over a tree root. He screamed and fell into a mulch of leaves. The snake slid from the rock and slithered towards them.

"It won't bite if we don't threaten it," Sam whispered, "at least that's what Dad says. He says snakes are more scared of us than we are of them."

They stood like statues, rooted to the ground. Sweat trickled down their backs. After what seemed like forever the snake turned and skittered away into the long grass. Sam's dad raced back down the track to see what the fuss was about.

"Hey, Dad, we saw a black snake!"

"It was as long as Sam," said Charlie.

"Where is it now?"

"Over there in the long grass," Sam pointed.

"Are you okay, Charlie?" asked Sam's dad.

"Yeah, I think so," said Charlie. He groped for his spectacles in the mulch and wiped them clean with his sleeve, "Gosh! That was close. I thought I was gunna die."

"You're lucky to see such a beautiful reptile in its habitat," said Graham.

"I don't feel lucky," said Sam.

"Me neither," said Charlie.

"From now on you'd better stick close to me," said Sam's dad.

"My knees are like jelly," said Sam as they continued their trek.

An hour later they arrived at the site where the army of spotted tree frogs had been found.

"Have a look for them in the stream," said Sam's dad, "like the snake you saw, frogs also like to warm themselves on the rocks."

Sam and Charlie slipped off their joggers, rolled up their jeans and swished their feet in the icy water before wading into the swift flowing stream.

"Check under those small rocks, Charlie. There could be eggs there. That's if the trout haven't found them."

"What do they look like?" asked Charlie.

"If you see a clump of squishy balls of jelly with black dots inside, that's them."

"Mind the slippery rocks," Sam's dad shouted moments before Sam fell into the frigid water.

"Help me!" Sam yelled, "my leg's stuck in the rock!"

"Oh no!" cried Charlie. Sam was being swallowed up by the fast flowing water filled with particles of rock and soil.

Charlie dragged a large tree branch into the water, "Hold onto this, Sam, while I get your dad."

Sam coughed and spluttered. Tears flowed down his cheeks. His dad released his leg and carried him onto dry land. Sam shuddered like he was half frozen to death. His dad wrapped a towel around him. Luckily Sam had dry clothes in his backpack.

"You'll live, Mate. Your cuts are superficial," said Sam's dad.

He applied antiseptic cream to the grazes and wrapped Sam's leg in a crepe bandage.

For three days they had hiked up and down the mountain. There was little time left and still no sighting of a spotted tree frog. On their last night they slumped around the campfire staring in silence at the glowing embers. Not even a scavenger hunt or chocolate bar could lift their spirits.

"Warrk, cruk, cruk, cruk."

"What was that!" yelled Charlie, jumping up and knocking over the dinner plates.

"Shhh, boys, keep very quiet."

They sat still, hardly breathing.

"There it is again," said Charlie.

"It came from over there," Sam whispered, "near that rock."

Sam's dad shone his torch towards the sound. Stunned by the light, a small frog stared at them with bulging eyes.

"Here, Sam, fix my torch on it while I fetch a net."

Sam's dad crept towards the frog. He placed the net over the frog and reached down to pick it up between his thumb and forefinger. Then he cradled it in cupped hands.

"It's too scared to move," said Sam.

"Like me when I saw that snake," said Charlie.

Sam's dad examined the frog in the torchlight.

"It's a spotted tree frog, and it's a boy," he gasped swallowing a shout of glee.

A moment of stunned silence was followed by whoops of laughter and beaming smiles.

The frog was placed in a bucket with water, rocks and reeds from the stream.

"Let's put some mesh on top, Dad, so he can't escape."

"Good thinking, Sam. Then he can breathe too," said Charlie.

Next morning, they packed up and stashed their gear into the Jeep. Sam carried the bucket, careful not to slosh it from side to side. Sam's dad drove straight to the Veterinary Clinic where the frog was examined and declared to be fit and healthy.

At 'the lost frogs' home' Charlie gave the glass jar to Sam after Sam jumped from the Jeep. Sam carried the boy frog passed the chirping crickets and into the Tropical Room where his dad placed the frog into the tank with the girl frogs.

"We'll leave them to get to know each other," said Sam's dad.

A week later, Sam and Charlie were interviewed by a local television presenter and a newspaper reporter. Sam's dad posted pictures on Facebook and a video on YouTube. When Sam and Charlie returned to school, they were heroes. Their friends wanted to hear about their lucky escape from a deadly snake, Sam almost drowning and especially about catching a rare spotted tree frog to save the species.

Charlie wasn't bullied anymore by his classmates. He was no longer sad and lonely and liked his new school. Sam had not been afraid to defend and befriend Charlie.

"Being kind to a kid doesn't make me a hero, but it sure feels good," he told his Dad.

# THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

## Melanie Cranenburg

#### "The One That Got Away" received an honourable mention in the 2019 Adventure Stories for Children Competition.

##### MELANIE CRANENBURG

Melanie Cranenburgh is a teacher from Western Australia. She spent much of her childhood preoccupied with nature.

Melanie is still passionate about the environment and, through her writing, hopes to inspire others to appreciate it, too.

##### THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

"Heya, Uncle Gary- bet you a free movie ticket that I'm gonna hook the first one!"

"Nah buddy, you're dreamin! And jus' for the record, hookin' one doesn't guarantee you'll land it...So Cal, my boy, ya better put ya money where ya mouth is an' make sure it's hooked AND landed, if ya want it to count. I'm just givin' ya plenty o' notice that I'll be takin' a front row seat to that new Jaxon T what's-his-name film coming out next week. Cheers for that! Hoo-hooo!"

Uncle Gary's laugh was the sort that made others laugh. It had a high pitch like a crazy clown's laugh. And the funniest thing of all? Gary naïvely thought people were laughing at his humour, not at his actual laugh!

"Oh and ya better go an' wash ya face real well before we get goin'."

"What for- we're only going fishing?" Callan was confused.

"'Cause you'll scare the fish away with that one! Yeh-heee!"

Callan rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sometimes, his uncle behaved more like a silly kid than an adult. At least that's what he'd overheard his mum telling a friend of hers, once.

Callan's mum was Gary's older sister, by seven years. He'd lived with his sister and nephew since his motorbike accident; a really bad one. He was in a coma for weeks. And by the time he'd been released from the hospital, he had nowhere to stay because he hadn't been able to pay his rent. So, he came to stay with Callan and his mum for a while; till he could get "back on his feet, again", as Callan's mum put it.

Four years on, Gary was still with them. But as it turned out, he helped around the house a fair bit, so Callan's mum didn't mind that she had "an extra mouth to feed".

At times, uncle and nephew drove each other bonkers, with their bickering and teasing. Yet each of them would 'have the other's back', in a heartbeat.

"Ok, Cal. Final checks on gear: Rods an' tackle?"

"Check."

"Landing net?"

"Check."

"Bait?"

"Umm...just getting it now...Check."

"Water bottles?"

"Check."

"Inflatable dinghy?"

"Yep. Saw it in the car, earlier. Check."

"Then wha'd are we waitin' for?"

"What about the First Aid kit?"

Gary tapped his head, embarrassed. "Arggh, that's right... Lucky I reminded you, ay?"

They parked the station wagon further down from the main carpark, under some gum trees with low hanging branches that served as a shady umbrella for the car. Returning to a non-air-conditioned car, parked in thirty-something degree heat, didn't seem too appealing to them, so the extra half hour walk to the river was considered worth the effort. Having bird droppings and gum nuts scattered over the vehicle seemed a small price to pay for getting some 'natural' cooling.

They hid the car keys under a rock, loaded themselves like a couple of packhorses, balanced the inflatable rubber dinghy on their heads, and headed to the river.

"Awesome, we've got the place to ourselves!"

Gary smiled at his nephew. "For now, at least."

This particular part of the Canning River was a favourite for swimmers, boaties, anglers, and other water enthusiasts. Every now and then, the mechanical drone of dirt bikes could be heard in the scrubland that edged the river. A twenty-minute drive from the city centre, this part of the river wasn't as salty as 'regular' seawater- and the further down-river you went, the fresher it became.

Out here, you could catch river prawns, black bream, flathead and tailor- some days were more promising than others.

"Hey Cal, keep an eye out for dolphins!"

"Oh yeah! Uncle, did you know that there are people who can actually tell which dolphins are which, just from the cuts and markings found on their dorsal fins?"

"How d'you know that?"

"We had a wildlife group come to school and talk to us about it."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. And there's even an app you can download if you want to go dolphin spotting!"

"Sounds pretty cool. Maybe if your mum gets you a phone for your thirteenth birthday, next year, you could sign up?"

Cal grinned at the thought of this. It bugged him that so many of his friends had mobile phones and he didn't. But his mum had made it very clear to him that she didn't think he was old enough, or responsible enough, to have one of his own, just yet.

They hauled the yellow and blue dinghy containing the gear into the water, jumped in and pushed off from the bank. It glided and rippled over the glassy, tea coloured water, causing a nearby team of waterfowl to bob in its wake. Their excited honks, coos and whistles brought the river to life.

The intrepid fishermen paddled to a narrow section of the river, which would have been no more than three or four bus lengths from one bank to the other. There were plenty of tall, scraggly trees lining the banks, casting huge shadows over the water. This looked like the ideal spot for black bream.

Catching these fish was a test in skill, perseverance and determination: you needed to cast in just the right spot, amidst the shadows, whilst dodging potential snags from roots or submerged logs. And it certainly helped if you had some strong fishing line and sturdy tackle...

"I reckon this's where I'll win my movie ticket from you, young Cal, hee-heee!"

"Pffft...what ev-aah, old man- bring it on!" He challenged his uncle, playfully.

The two of them tried very hard to restrain their hysterics, shushing each other between stifled sniggers, whilst trying to keep the dinghy steady.

The black bream is considered to be cautious fish; nothing like 'blowies' who virtually threw themselves onto bare hooks, at times! Gary called black bream "e-lu-sive" and was convinced that catching them was "a work of art". Callan figured this probably meant it was something that took skill and talent and was beautiful to watch.

The fishing companions, painstakingly, cast and trawled as they tried different bait: bloodworms, river prawns, coloured lures of various shapes, sizes and textures.

An hour had passed and, in that time, there had been several nibbles, a couple of unsuccessful strikes, and a near miss involving a hook and the inflatable dinghy. Apart from that, not much action, really.

Suddenly, the tip of Gary's rod bent forwards like an inverted horseshoe. He let the line run for several seconds before slowly winding it in...pausing...then winding in slowly... and pausing again...till he felt the line go tight, again.

"Woo-hooo! I think we're on! I'm seeing a relaxing night at the cinemas coming up...", Gary teased.

"Hold your horses, Uncle- you have to land it, first, remember?" Callan laughed.

Gary kept the tension on his line steady as he reeled in slowly. He wanted to ensure the fish was firmly hooked onto his lure.

Suddenly, he couldn't wind it any further without the rod tip bending and springing back. It was stuck.

"Wouldn't ya know, it's snagged!" Gary whined as he pulled his rod in various directions, trying to loosen the snag.

Callan sniggered in mock-sympathy: "Aww, what a shame! You've lost it, now, for sure."

"All's not lost yet, little mate. That's one of m'best lures-cost me twenty bucks, a couple years back. There's no way I'm gonna donate that one to the river!"

And before Callan knew what was happening, Gary had slid over the sides of the dinghy and was breast-stroking his way in the direction of the snag.

"Lucky you didn't bring the car keys with you- or we might've been walking home...", he called out to him.

Gary raised an arm and gave a thumbs-up sign. Then, he duck-dived into the murky water.

He was gone for several minutes; popping up, occasionally, to suck in a lungful of air, before disappearing again.

Callan scanned the water, intently; his eyes constantly searching for movement or bubbles.

Suddenly, an arm speared through the surface of the water; it was clutching something fluorescent orange and yellow, about the size of a mini frankfurter. The arm belonged to Gary and he held up his precious lure, triumphantly.

"You did it, Uncle Gary! You rescued it! High five!"

Gary spat out a mouthful of river and started swimming to the dinghy.

He was only a few metres from it when he called out, "Wha' the...?!" Something in the water had bumped against him.

"Wossup?"

"Dunno. I think... maybe a dolphin or a dugong just swam past and knocked me. Felt bigger than a fish."

Callan's face had turned pale.

"Uncle...quick! Get outa the water...NOW...! HURRY UP! DO IT!

As Callan screamed the words, there was just enough time for Gary to lunge his upper body back into the safety of the dinghy, before a bluish-grey mass broke the surface of the water and clamped down onto Gary's right foot.

Callan screamed and pointed: "SH-A-A-A-R-R-K!"

Gary jerked and twisted his body, in an attempt to wrestle his foot from the mouth of the fish.

"Hang on, tight, Cal! Keep away from the sides!"

It seemed like forever, but the battle between man and beast only lasted a few minutes.

Gary managed to chase the shark away by smacking it on the snout, several times, with an oar.

"FAR OUT! That was un-bel-ee-va-ble! Did that happen, for real?" Callan stared at the river, on the brink of tears, while his uncle- still wet- comforted him.

He explained to his nephew that the metre-long shark was most likely a juvenile Bull shark. They often found their way from the sea, into rivers and estuaries where the water wasn't even salty. He said that Bulls were known to be aggressive and had attacked people in less than two feet of water!

"Wow- that's pretty scary stuff. And yet, Great Whites get a bad rap..."

His Uncle hugged and reassured him. "Yup. They do. But, thankfully, we had luck on our side, today, matey... Still can't believe it; of all things, it chose to chomp on my prosthetic foot. If it had grabbed my other one, well... I'd ha' been in big trouble...Hoo-hooo!"

Gary's lower right leg- below the knee- had been so badly injured in the motorbike crash, that it had to be amputated.

Some time later, his insurance money helped to pay for a prosthetic leg and foot- so he could walk again.

"Now, young Cal... when we get back home, I think we both deserve a night at the movies. What ya reckon?"

# PROMISE

## Myra Koch

##### MYRA KOCH

Myra Koch lives on a sailing boat with yellow and orange sails. She snorkels with turtles and Nemo fishes; dolphins play around the bow of her boat. When the season is right she sees whales breaching nearby.

Some of Myra's adult and children's short stories have been noticed in competitions in Australia and US and published online and in anthologies.

Her land base is in Sydney.

##### PROMISE

Jack was walking the beach with his Pop. The sun, like a huge glittering ball high above, was casting scorching rays all around. Hot sand was burning Jack's bare feet so every now and then he skipped to the water to cool them off until he resolved to wade through the shallows. Soon he felt little fishes nibbling at his ankles and miniature crabs pinching his toes. Behind him, Pop was shuffling along giving commentary on the surroundings when suddenly he stopped and alerted Jack to look in front of them. All Jack could see were some marks in the sand, like an elongated letter C, starting at the water's edge, going all the way to the dune, curving there and coming back to the water. "What a big deal," he thought, "perhaps someone has been playing in the sand." He sighed, knowing that Pop would certainly have another lecture to give.

That was Jack's Pop. Pushing seventy, tall, with his long silvery hair tied in a ponytail, wrinkly weather-beaten face shaded by a well-worn Akubra, short greyish beard and piercing blue eyes whose gaze there was no escaping. Pop would not usually talk much unless he started explaining something when there was no stopping him.

Jack, on the other hand, at age ten, was the smallest boy in his class, pale, with curly brown hair falling over green eyes. He was teased at school for his stature, his neatness and even his name. What's wrong with wanting things to be tidy and orderly? His name, however, he disliked for being too old fashioned and unavoidably associated with "Jack and Jill ...'' Why couldn't he have one of those cool names like other boys: Hunter, Jett or Finn?

He did not really know his Pop, had seen him only at a few Christmas dinners, could not even remember getting any presents from him. Except for that one time when Pop took him to the Aquarium. Jack had to admit that he had loved it, he has never before seen small blue and yellow fish, turtles, little penguins and large crocodiles seemingly half asleep. He still shrinks from images of sharks swimming in the tank above his head.

And now suddenly Jack was thrust into a small sailing boat, on which this distant Pop lived, for the whole of summer instead of being on a road trip with his parents like every other summer holiday. Jack did not like boats, they were cramped and had a fishy smell about them. He disliked fishing even more. As for sailing, it made him seasick. And any time Jack wanted to play computer games, Pop grumbled: "Not enough juice in the batteries to charge the computer so often." It was going to be a long, long and sad summer.

Only a few weeks ago, just when the school finished, came as a bombshell that wretched announcement—his parents were separating. Jack was stunned, speechless, confused, then a torrent of tears followed. He could not comprehend why they were not staying together. Haven't they promised to care for each other and for him?

They have been a happy little family. Or so he thought. Mum was at home with him, and since he started school, she got a part-time job. Dad was hardly seen during the week, but he never failed to take Jack to soccer practice on Saturday mornings. Sundays were mostly reserved for picnics or drives out of town.

"Would he like to live with Mummy and spend time with Daddy on the weekend or perhaps live with Mummy one week and with Daddy the next or they could get a small cottage and Mummy would live with Jack one week and Daddy the next — what would he prefer?" Didn't they realise that none of these made any sense? Jack, of course, wanted them to stay together, all three of them.

What would happen to his school, his soccer training ...? Questions were rushing through his head, tumbling over each other and Jack was unable to formulate them fully, so he just stood there in disbelief and cried silently. His parents reassured him that they loved him, it had nothing to do with him, adults sometimes do not like each other any more. Christmas was ruined, and presents were no consolation to Jack.

Staring at the tracks in the sand and waiting for Pop's inevitable explanation, Jack was thinking about Mum and Dad. He missed them terribly. He felt tears crowding his eyes, but he checked himself, he would not cry in front of Pop.

Without noticing it, Jack warmed up to his Pop and got used to gentle rolling of the little sloop in the light breeze, had grown fond of their evenings spent in the cockpit, listening to Pop's hoarse voice recounting his sailing adventures while watching the starlit skies. At times Jack felt as if he could touch the stars, so low they appeared. He did not like it, though, when Pop woke him up early one morning to watch the sunrise. Jack always slept late at home and often ate breakfast on the drive to school. Even on camping trips, he would not wake up early. Sunsets he had seen, and the moon rising from the pitch-black nights, but not a sunrise. So he rubbed his sleepy eyes and blinked at the milky sky.

"You woke me up for this?"

"Wait, wait for it."

Little by little, the sky turned pink, then the sun rose above the horizon and soon the whole sky was bathed in red light. Jack stood in awe of the brilliance he had never seen before.

"Did you know ..."

"No, I didn't."

"Don't interrupt Jack, it's rude."

"Sorry, Pops."

"As I was saying, did you know the meaning of the red sky? There is an old sailors' rhyme: 'Red sky at night is a sailor's delight, red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.' We better check the weather forecast."

"Did you know?" Pop started, and this time, Jack knew better than to say anything, so he only rolled his eyes and bit his tongue. Oblivious, Pop continued. "Did you know there were only seven marine turtles species in the whole world and six of them can be found in the reef waters here? These tracks you are looking at are indeed the sign of sea turtles nesting. Their nesting season begins sometime in November and baby turtles start to hatch in January."

Jack's interest at once awakened by the mention of baby turtles. However, he could not discern anything except those tracks in the sand. Where exactly were the eggs? Where were the turtles now?

As if reading his mind, Pop carried on: "Turtles dig a large hole with all four flippers then with just hind flippers they form sort of a chamber in which to lay eggs and afterwards cover the nest with sand to protect them. They only come at night."

"Can we come to watch them?"

"Well, we just might catch a sight of the hatchlings on our way back from The Islands."

"Oh, please Pops, I'd like to see them."

"OK, then."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

In his excitement, Jack grabbed Pop's hand. Pop hid a smile in his beard. They resumed their walk on the beach.

# SHADY

## Paula Wilson

#### "Shady" won first prize in the 2019 Adventure Stories for Children Competition.

##### PAULA WILSON

Paula Wilson spends a lot of her time traveling around in her caravan living a gypsy life. She chases adventures which become stories for everyone to read. Paula has been published in a number of anthologies and in the NSW Schools Magazines.

##### SHADY

"Okay Shady we've worked hard so let's do this." I ruffle Shady's ears and give him a hug.

The loud speaker splutters and a voice blares throughout the show grounds. "The next contestant is Allie Richardson and Shady."

I whisper in his ear, "Come on," and run out on to the arena, Shady obediently follows on my heel. Applause erupts from the stands. I can see mum and dad jumping up and down, and waving their arms. Most of my class are also there being just as silly. I look down at Shady and remind him, "Just ignore them."

The speaker starts up again, "Shady is a two year old kelpie competing for the first time in working dog trials. It is also Allie's first appearance and they are the youngest competitors we've had in eight years. They come from Doonadon." The voice pauses for a second before adding, "You can start when you are ready Allie."

I kneel down. "Okay boy, you know what to do." We have been practicing for weeks on an obstacle course I built in the back paddock. I stand and say "Go." Together we run to the tunnel. He drops low and is through it in seconds. "Good boy," I tell him as we continue to the high jump.  
It's higher than me, but that's cool Shady can jump like superman.

"Up," I tell him. He jumps alright. Straight up. And into my arms. I stagger backwards a couple of steps before toppling onto my back. I looked up as his large wet tongue slobbers all over my face.

"Get off Shady," I say through clenched teeth. The crowd begins to laugh and I can feel heat rising up my neck into my face. I know I'm all red with embarrassment and there's no way I can stop it. I push Shady off and clamber to my feet.

I point to the fence again. "Jump." He looks at me, at the fence and leaps back into my arms. I stagger again but manage to stay on my feet. The crowd is going wild. They cheer, clap and laugh. I want Shady to dig a hole so I can crawl into it. Dad kept telling me to stop lifting him up and carry him around as a pup. He'd say "he's a working dog not a play thing." Maybe Dad was right.

"Woof." Shady shakes his tail madly.

"No. No woofing," I say. "You've got to jump. This is our last chance." He does a circle, looks towards the stands. Turns back to the jump and leaps. Up, up and over.

I run to the other side. "Good boy. Now let's get through the maze."

So Shady's got to find his way through a maze made of hay bales stacked four high. I had watched the other dogs do it. They had no problems, neither should Shady. We've been practising and got his time to under a thirty seconds. This was our chance to catch up. Shady doesn't wait for my command, he's off into the maze, so I run straight to the exit. As I turn a flash of chocolate brown leaps onto the top row of bales and speeds along them to the end.

"No, no, no," I call out as he propels himself off the last bale and I'm flat on my back again with his tongue all over my face.

"Now that's an intelligent dog," comes over the loud speaker as I get another lick. I want to go now. I want to run away and hide. I look towards the stands. Mum and dad are on their feet clapping. Dad waves his hand for me to keep going. I look along the rows of seats; other people are copying him, waving me on. Oh what the heck. Might as well finish now, there's only the sheep to do.

Five sheep bunch together in the shade of an old willow tree on the boundary of the arena. Shady and I run to the gated area where we have to herd them. I open the gate and say to Shady, "Go get them." He instantly drops low and moves forward, his belly just touches the short cut grass. He takes a few steps. Drops. A few more steps. Drops. So far so good. The sheep start to fidget as he gets closer. Shady moves to his right keeping them between him and the fence. He slips in behind them and they run towards me. He's doing good. Real good. A few other dogs had herded the sheep deep into the arena which gave them more chance to escape.

A young sheep breaks away and runs towards the middle of the arena. Shady is on it in a flash, he comes around from behind, nips at its back heel, pushes the sheep to join the others. He barks orders at them reinforced by nips and nudges. And then he's herding them through the gate. Before I can think about what could go wrong I shut the gate and punch the air.

"Way to go..." I don't finish the sentence, I watch Shady leap over the fence and land amongst the sheep. The terrified animals back away as he goes to each one and plasters a lick up their long black faces. Oh no that's the loss of more points. We will be so far behind we won't even be at the start.  
"Get outta there Shady," I yell. His tail stops wagging and he hangs his head. Crawls under the bottom rail and drops down at my side.

"Thank you Allie and Shady for a most... most entertaining performance," a voice laughs over the speakers. Clapping erupts from the stands. How can they clap, it was a complete disaster?

"Come on you," I say to Shady as I walk off the arena.

There's a group of people hanging around the entrance. Wonder what's going on? I put my head down and walk on through, just wanting to go home. Dad was right. You shouldn't play games with working dogs and treat them like pets. I look down at Shady bouncing along next to me. No more cuddles for you.

"Allie, can we talk to you?" A voice calls.

I look up to find those waiting people now crowded around us.

"You guys were fantastic, definitely the crowd favourite." A reporter sticks a microphone in my face.

"Errr... We came in last."

"Yes but everyone loved you."

"Did they?" I thought about all the clapping, all the cheering. "Suppose they did." I smile.

"Can we have your photo for the newspaper?" A woman asks.

"Sure. Why not?" I say, after all there's no way it could get any worse. Shady gets up to join me in the limelight. Stretches. And pees on the reporters foot, just as the cameras flash.

# SOOOO HOT

## Paula Wilson

#### "Soooo Hot" received an honourable mention in the 2019 Adventure Stories for Children Competition.

##### SOOOO HOT

It's sooo hot. Birds are going to fall out of the sky. The trees are going to burst into flames all by themselves. I'm going to melt and soak into the dirt. Even the butterflies have stopped fluttering around in the sun. Azza and I are lying under the big old gum tree out the back of Nan and Pa's house. A butterfly settles on my knee, gently moving its wings. I watch it through squinted eyes. It's all so quiet.

"Hey wanna go swimming?"

I jump and the butterfly is gone. I fling my arm out and smack Azza in the stomach.

"Ow Em, whatcha do that for?"

"You frightened the butterfly."

"Oh... Well what say we go swimming?"

"Too hot. Reckon if I move I'll turn to dust." I can see myself forming a pile of dust and getting blown away in the wind.

"Ahh come on Em, it won't take long to get to the dam."

"There's not enough water in it.' The dam is almost dry, all that is left is sludgy, brown mud."

"Nah, down the back dam."

"We don't have a back dam." Sometimes I wonder about Azza. He's been coming to my Nan and Pa's with me every summer holidays for the last four years and here he is talking about a back dam we don't have.

"Nah. Grover's back dam." Now I know he's mad. There's no way I'm going on Grover's land. They say last time someone did he shot the tyres of their ute out. And all they were doing was having a picnic.

"No way. He'll shoot us."

"Chicken, cluck, cluck, cluck." Azza squirms around on his back, hands stuck under his armpits, arms flapping like a deranged chook.

"Idiot." I whack him again.

"He's gone to Melbourne and his dam's full."

"Yeah, who says?"

"Your Pa." Well that must be right then. Pa knows everything that's going on in Jilluc. "He reckons there's water in the dam 'cause Grover's been knocking it off from the creek."

"Oh, okay." I drag myself to my feet. We grab a couple of water bottles and trek through the bush towards the back of our land.

It's hotter than I thought. It's sooo hot I'm going to dry up like a snake skin. Except I won't shed my skin, instead my insides will just disappear. I won't even be fertiliser. We climb through the fence and follow a row of gum trees.

"Whats that?" Azza says. There's crazy mooing coming from the dam.

"Sounds like something's wrong, cows don't moo like that."

I start to run, Azza thumps along right behind me. As I get closer I can also hear feeble mooing, almost a cry.

There's a black and white cow at the edge of the dam. She's swaying and taking little steps, her tail slaps from side to side. I look at the dam, a calf is stuck in the middle. Not in water but mud, half way up its body.

"Thought you said he was knocking off water." I jump off the edge and sink ankle deep in the brown, sticky mud. It oozes into my runners.

"Don't Em. You'll get sucked in."

Oh no. I can feel the mud grabbing hold of my ankles. It's going to pull me under and swallow me up. They'll never find me. Got to move, can't stand still. I heave one leg up out of the goo and plop it down in front of me. Then the other. After eight steps I wobble, there's nothing to grab hold of. Nooo, I fall flat on my face. Mud gets in my mouth, ahh yuck. I spit. It tastes disgusting, like something rotten. I spit again.

The calf is in front of me now. It's struggling against the mud and its mooing is getting weaker. I pull myself upright. The mud is deeper here, right up to my knees. Because it is a little wetter I can just drag my legs through it instead of pulling them right out. Three times and I'm at the side of the calf.

I wrap my arms around its neck and talk quietly, "Come on little fella, you'll be right now." As I talk the calf doesn't struggle as much. I try to get it to move, but it's way too weak, it can hardly stand, and its body leans into mine.

"Azza go and get Pa." Azza doesn't move. "Quick I don't know how long I can hold it up."

Azza makes ready to go. "Throw us your water bottle." He turns back and tosses his bottle to me, then the one I dropped when I jumped into the dam. He's a pretty good shot because they both plop into the mud close enough for me to reach them without having to let go of the calf. I pour water into its mouth, it slurps and tries to suck on the bottle. When I look up Azza is gone.

Seems like I've been waiting forever. Luckily the gum trees shade the dam or me and the calf would have been fried by now. I pluck up a water bottle. Empty. Both are empty. If they don't hurry up we're going to die of thirst. The mud will turn solid like concrete and they won't be able to get us out.

Mother cow is still mooing from the edge of the dam. The calf has been silent since I wrapped my arms around its neck. My arms are aching like mad, but I'm scared if I let go the calf will sink right down and disappear.

"Sorry Mum," I call out to the cow. She stops mooing. But not at what I said. Her head turns in the direction of a growling motor coming from over the hill. Oh no it's Mr Grover. A ute pulls up next to the dam. An old man slowly climbs out. I'm dead. He reaches into the back of the ute. He's getting his gun. I'm so dead. I squeeze my eyes closed tight.

"Whatcha doing in there girl?"

He hasn't shot me. I open my eyes to see him standing next to the cow, rope in his hand.

"Reckon we need to get you two out of there." He throws the rope out towards us. "You better stop strangling that there calf."

I look down at my arms. They are tight around the calf's neck. Mr Grover strides back to his ute as I work at unwrapping my arms. Ow, ow oww. Little cramps shoot through them as I stretch out. I grab the rope and start to tie it around the calf's neck.

"You got something against my calf? You'll definitely strangle it doing that." He tosses me a tattered blanket. "Wrap that around it. Now tie the rope, but not too tight."

I do as he says. "Now you're going to have to do some pushing and guiding, I'll pull." So Mr Grover pulls and I push. Just as we manage to get the calf to the edge Azza and Pa come stumbling around the gum trees.

I'm lying in the dried grass. The cow is making a fuss over her calf and Mr Grover is untying the rope. Azza falls on top of me, "You're not dead, you're not dead."

I push him off. "Of course not. He hasn't even got a gun."

Pa is shaking Mr Grover's hand, the calf is drinking milk from its mother. Azza keeps trying to hug me and repeating, "You're not dead." And it's sooo hot the mud is drying all over me. If I don't get home and cleaned up they will be able to stand me up like a statue next to the dam. And butterflies will dance crazy all over my head.

# OLD RUSTY

## Paula Wilson

##### OLD RUSTY

"There's some old dude hanging out by the sheds." Jack hooks his leg around the metal rail of the fence and swings over the top ending up hanging by one leg.

"Look a bit like Father Christmas?" I ask.

"Yeah but a homeless Father Christmas."

"And if you get close he smells like he's been sleeping with the cows," I chuckle.

"Didn't get close enough to find out. Just saw him from my bedroom window." Jack is now hanging from both legs with his hands planted firmly on the ground.

"That's Old Rusty. Dad says he's a Vietnam Vet who just took to the road and wanders around."

Jack pushes his legs up into the air and holds a handstand before landing on his feet. "What's a Vietnam Vet?"

"Don't you know about the soldiers who fought in the war in Vietnam way back in the old days?"

"Nah."

"Well they did and Old Rusty was one of them. People were really mean to them when they came home. Dad says he couldn't handle it so he took to the road. He turns up at different places every now and then. Don't talk to nobody but you know he's there."

"So he just comes here when he feels like it?"

"Every Christmas. Dad says he'd been coming here since he was a kid."

"Why would he come here?" Jack grabs his cap from the dusty ground and sticks it on his head.

"Suppose it's because Mum always leaves out Christmas dinner for him. She puts it in the old fridge in the milking shed."

"Talking about dinner its gotta be lunch time. I'm starving."

We race back to the house and tumble into the kitchen as mum is pulling sausage rolls out of the oven.

"Ahhh sweet." I love sausage rolls and go to grab one.

"Not sweet." Mum turns away before I have a chance. "They're for tonight when the others arrive."

Mum always makes sausage rolls and fruit mince pies for Christmas Eve. Jack's family are coming this year, he's been here all week.

"I'm busy, you guys can get your own lunch. There's plenty of stuff in the fridge."

"Can we slice off some ham?" I ask.

"No."

"No to ham, no to sausage rolls huh we're going to starve," I say.

Mum ignores me, so we make noodles and take them out to the verandah to eat.

"Here you are." I pull two fruit mince pies out of my pocket and hand one to Jack.

"Your mum's going to go ballistic," he says as he takes a bite. "Yum they're good."

Mum makes the best fruit mince pies. Come to think about it she's the only person I know who actually makes them.

"Better than from the supermarket," I say as I try to catch a crumbly bit of pastry before it hits the floor. Anything falls to the floor belongs to the dog. Suzi pounces and grabs the piece of pie mid air.

"So does the old guy have any family?" Jack asks.

"Don't think so."

"You mean he's all alone at Christmas?"

"Not really. He's got us." But I think to myself that's not really true because he doesn't join us.

"It's sad," Jack says.

"Yeah, Mum did try and get him to come and have dinner with us once, but he took off and didn't come back for a year. Think she scared him. So now she just leaves him some shirts with his food."

We sit on the verandah steps for awhile trying to throw stones into an empty bucket.

"I gotta go check something online." Jack jumps up. "Back soon." He wasn't, I don't see him again all afternoon.

"Aaron, you and Jack go and bring the chooks in, we don't want them to be taken by the fox. Wouldn't make a nice start to Christmas if we were to go out to a pile of feathers."

I go into the bedroom. Jack's lying on his stomach on the bed staring at his iPad.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Check this out." He shows me a black and white photo of men squatting in the dirt, they are wearing uniforms, holding rifles and smoking cigarettes. "Wonder if Old Rusty still smokes," he says.

"Dunno."

"You know it was real bad for a lot of the Vietnam Vets. They say they had trouble adjusting when they got back. That people spat on them and everything. No wonder Old Rusty took off."

"Mum wants us to bring the chooks in. There's a fox prowling around."

"Hang on a minute, I'll just swap my runners over." Jack has the coolest pair of runners ever. He got them for his birthday. They are just the best. I've been after a pair but Mum says when I can afford to buy some I can have them. And that ain't happening in a long time. Jack puts on an old pair he wears around the farm.

Later that night we get to eat the sausage rolls and fruit mince pies.

"Okay boys, you only get one pie each," Mum says as she hands the plate around.

"What?" Jack and I say together.

"Well I'm two short. So you two miss out."

"Awhhh..."

"Did you enjoy them?" She laughs.

"Mum..."

We are all sitting around the table ready for Christmas lunch. Mum comes in and says, "Before we start I'm just going to take these down for Old Rusty." Mum picks up a couple of plates and a parcel wrapped in Christmas paper.

"I'll do it." Jack jumps up from the table. He sticks the parcel under his arm and takes the two plates.

"Do you want a hand?"

"No I've got this." He goes through the kitchen and I hear the back door slam. A few minutes later he's back and we are eating.

Christmas day is just the best. Lots of presents, food and fun. In the afternoons we just sort of veg out. Jack and I take awhile to choose which xbox game we are going to play then head off to the bedroom.

"Boys before you start can you go and get the plates from the shed? Old Rusty will be gone by now."

We talk loud all the way to the shed just in case he's still there.

"You go in first," Jack says.

"No you."

"Let's go together." So we go together.

"He's not here."

The empty plates are in the fridge. So are a pair of dusty boots with the soles peeling off and broken laces. Sitting in one of the boots is a handful of yellow wild flowers.

"Wow."

"Why are they there?" It was seriously weird, flowers and boots in the fridge.

"I think it's a Christmas present," Jack says.

"Why?" I shake my head, I'm confused because Old Rusty's never left anything before. I continue, "Mum always gives him shirts so why'd he leave his boots. What's he wearing?"

Jack smiles, looks down at his feet and kicks at a stone with his farm runners. Farm runners? Why's he got his farm runners on?

"Where are your good runners?" I ask.

"Oh you know. It's Christmas. Presents and stuff."

I look at the boots in the fridge, then at Jack. He takes the flowers out of the boot and picks up the plates. "Think your Mum might like these," he says and heads back to the house.

# THE BEAUTY IN THE RAIN

## Sharon Sandy

##### SHARON SANDY

Sharon Sandy works in a primary school as a student wellbeing officer. She is also a mum of 4 grown up boys and a grandma of 3 toddlers. Sharon loves reading, writing and playing with her grandchildren. She also enjoys travelling to faraway places! The best part about working with children is that I get lots of ideas for my writing. Children are such fun!

##### THE BEAUTY IN THE RAIN

"What a day!" Carter muttered to himself as he finally reached his driveway after a long and annoying day at school. Lifting the letterbox lid, to see if there was any mail, he thought about how bad his school day had been. Actually, his day had been bad from the time he opened his eyes really. First of all, he and his mum had slept in. Slept right through both of their alarms.

Carter thought back to their sudden awakening, brought about by the arrival of the flock of corellas, the pink rimmed eye cockatoos that typically, made so much noise and even more mess as they created havoc in the neighbourhood at this time of the year. They would strip the trees of leaves, break off small branches and generally scatter their mess everywhere. wThen there was the poop. Big globs of whitish poop that covered the veranda and the paths up to Carter's house. They pooped on the clean washing on the line and all over his mum's car as well.

Those pesky birds were annoying to Carter. They seemed to terrorise the neighbourhood but this morning at least, both Carter and his mum were thankful for their timely morning arrival. They had descended onto the tin roof of their house, in the dozens, squawking rudely and scurrying about as they did almost every morning around 8.00 am.

Carter and his mum must have opened their eyes at the same time. His mum screeched, louder than any flock of feathered critters. "Carrrrrrrtttttteeeerrrr! It's 8.00 o'clock! We've slept innnnn!" Carter flew out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with both fists and quickly tore open his drawers to pull out his school uniform. He found that drawer empty but for a few loose footy cards and a fidget spinner. "Oh no!" he screamed, remembering that his school clothes were draped over the clotheshorse in the lounge room.

It was only just the beginning of winter but the rain and cold weather had already set in. Carter scrambled around, checking to see how dry his clothes were and was disappointed to find that they weren't at all. Nothing had dried at all in the cold room overnight and there was no time to toss them in the drier. His mum needed to be at work in half an hour and he needed to be fed, clothed, washed (teeth cleaned, hair brushed and all) and out the door in around fifteen minutes if he was to make it to school before the bell.

Somehow, he managed. He grabbed his lunch off the kitchen bench, threw it in his backpack, pulled on his jacket and ran all the way to school. The bell was ringing just as he burst through the gate into the school ground. Sitting around in his wet uniform, Carter's day seemed to go from bad to worse.

His best friend Frankie was away and although he had other friends, Frankie was a great listener and problem solver. He hoped Frankie wasn't sick like so many of the other kids in his class who had coughs and colds but he still felt a little annoyed that she wasn't there to support him. She would have understood about the wet clothes and she wouldn't have laughed at him, like some of the other kids did. She might have come up with an idea that was helpful. He tried to think of what Frankie might have suggested if she had been at school but he couldn't come up with a single idea.

In true bad day order, nothing seemed to go right for Carter at school. He had forgotten to bring his library book to school and it was library day. That meant he was stuck with the same book that he had already read, for another entire week. His water bottle leaked all through his lunchbox, ruining his crunchy peanut butter sandwich and his teacher handed out a maths test he had forgotten to study for. And to top it all off, it rained both at recess and lunchtime, so there was a wet day timetable and he couldn't go outside to play. No opportunity to run around to help the drying process. As the day went on, his clothes dried out somewhat but still, he was forced to endure all that bad stuff in his half-wet clothes.

At least the rain disappeared for the walk home from school. Carter collected the pile of bills from the letterbox, thinking of how his mum wouldn't be happy to see those and walked up the path to his front door. Just out of the corner of his eye, he could see the figure of the next door neighbour's little girl, Abbie. She was poking around among the bushes in her garden, with a big stick. Abbie was six years old and she went to a school for children with disabilities.

Carter averted his eyes. He wasn't being mean. He knew it was not really good manners to ignore Abbie; to pretend not to see her. He actually felt quite bad about it but he didn't much feel like communicating and it was hard to engage with Abbie at the best of times. She talked funny and laughed too loudly and sometimes flapped her hands in front of her. And ... he wanted to get out of those wet clothes!

Abbie called out, an excited jumble of words, tumbling from her mouth. Carter couldn't make much sense of what she was saying but he could hear his name in the jumble. "Carter! Come!" There was a sense of urgency in her voice. He gave her a quick wave as he headed up the steps to his house but then turned back to look at Abbie. She stood looking back at him, pouting and sad.

He softened. Nothing could make his day worse than it already was but he thought he didn't need to spoil Abbie's day too. He turned back and walked over to the little picket fence that divided the two houses and Abbie clapped her hands together excitedly. He knew how happy it made her when he stopped to talk or play with her. Abbie handed him her stick and wandered over to the big old gum tree in her front yard to find another one for herself.

Soon the two of them were poking their long sticks into the bushes, Carter taking his lead from Abbie. Carefully, they poked under leaves and between little branches, working their way to the wet soil beneath, Abbie chattering and breaking into fits of laughter frequently as they went. Carter thought of all the things he could be doing, instead of running around poking holes in wet soil with a little girl, especially one he couldn't understand very well.

He thought he would just give Abbie a few minutes of his time and then he would head back home to change out of his uniform and get himself something to eat; maybe watch a bit of t.v. until his mum arrived home from work. That would make Abbie happy and he wouldn't feel bad for ignoring her.  
As they poked around in the garden, Abbie started to point out some fat, moist worms, making their way out from the deep earth. Carter crouched down to get a closer look. For the first time in his entire life, he really looked at those worms. He watched them as they wriggled out of tiny holes they made in the ground and pushed their way along the top of the soil, inching their way along. They stretched their bodies out, making themselves longer and thinner then contracted, drawing the ends of their bodies forward as they did.

In this manner they moved along quite quickly, before disappearing in to layers of rotted leaf and plant matter, or burrowing back into the ground, the hole closing behind their little wet bodies so that you couldn't see where they had gone. Carter had never known how fascinating worms could be!

His little friend couldn't contain her excitement. "Snail!" she exclaimed as she moved some budding daffodils aside. Carter moved along with her and watched with fascination as the common garden snails, in a range of sizes, slithered slowly along in a little rivulet of running water created by the day's rain. Their little soft heads emerged from inside their shells, tiny and large. He noticed the way they emerged. First the smaller tentacles in front would come out, followed by the two longer ones that sat atop their little slimy heads.

He hadn't expected to be so fascinated by a mini-beast parade but he watched with bated breath as the little creatures made a snaily journey down a well-worn and dampened snaily track. He watched with amusement when Abbie poked a bit too closely with her gum tree stick and some tiny snails nearby, drew their bodies instinctively, back inside their shells.

All of the frustration and anger that Carter had carried throughout the day, started to disappear as he became further engrossed in the world of little critters. With Abbie, he discovered and examined fat slugs that ate holes in the underside of juicy, green leaves and miniscule bugs that flitted from plant to plant. He discovered tiny beetles seeking out and sheltering in the few dry spots underneath the thicker plants and bushes.

He watched spiders fleeing from torn and broken webs, carrying bundles of tiny eggs on their backs, moving quickly on fast little legs, supposedly seeking a safe place to rebuild their spider homes. As they darted this way and that, Abbie chatted and screeched. "This way!" she cried, guiding the busy little mothers away from the stream of water that carried the snail families along.

Carter imagined the spidery group drowning, their tiny eggs floating away, separating and disappearing never to be seen again. He found himself joining Annie in her cries. "No, no! Go back! Go back!" and as if they understood, the group diverted to a higher, drier path and disappeared behind the garden tap. Abbie squealed loudly and clapped her hands together and Carter couldn't help but grin.

As the two of them chased the small critters around in the undergrowth, it started to rain again. It started off slowly at first and then it started to rain more steadily. It didn't bother Annie, who just threw her head back and laughed harder. The rain had really been a source of annoyance to Carter earlier today but strangely, it no longer seemed to bother him. He realised that it was the rain that sustained all of the little critters that brought the garden to life. There was whole new world out there in every garden!

As the rain pelted down, Abbie started to move faster and Carter followed along. Her feet squelched across the wet lawn and her fringed hair stuck to her forehead and dripped down her reddened cheeks. By now, she and Carter were both running around in wet clothes. "Look frog!" she repeated, over and over as they scampered across the soggy ground, to a far corner of the front garden, where a pile of small rocks and pebbles formed a barrier around a little fish pond.

Bending down, Abbie used her stick to dislodge a few of the smaller moss covered rocks, then her small hands to move aside a pile of dampened leaves. "See it!" she squealed. "Frog!" Lenny crouched down and once his eyes had adjusted in the pouring rain, to the darker frog environment, he saw it! The little greyish garden frog, with the wide mouth and the fat belly. He could just make out the stripy black markings on his back. He looked into the murky pond and saw lots of darting tadpoles and more flying bugs that skimmed confidently across the top of the water. As he watched, the little fat frog blinked and seemed to watch back, not bothered at all by the rain or by Carter and Abbie's sudden appearance in his little world.

Carter was amazed at just how much Abbie had shown him and at how much she seemed to know and understand the ecosystem in her front garden. She seemed to know instinctively, where every critter made its home and where those critters might go when they left their home, by choice of by force of nature. She may not have had the ability to talk well and express herself in the same way as many others. She might not have had the ability to carry on a full conversation with Carter and she sometimes flapped her hands when she got excited but Carter realised now that Abbie had a lot to offer the world.

In the space of only around an hour, he had already learnt so much from her. Abbie had taught him that it doesn't matter if you sleep in. It doesn't matter if you have to wear wet clothes on one occasion. It doesn't matter if your best friend is away from school for one day. It doesn't matter if you spill your water on your peanut butter sandwich. Or if you forget to take your library book to school. Or if the teacher gives you a surprise test. And it sure doesn't matter if it rains.

Abbie had shown him something she had discovered quite some time ago, or perhaps she had always known it. She had shown Carter that bad moments pass and that good moments are everywhere, if you only know where to look.

Abbie had shown him the beauty in the rain.

# BENJAMIN'S SECRET WEAPON

## Sharyn Abdullah

##### SHARYN ABDULLAH

Sharyn Abdullah is a former bank officer who just happened to be talking on the phone the day the bank she worked at was robbed.

Luckily nobody was hurt.

Sharyn is a versatile children's author, having published short stories and anthologies in private publications such as _Freo Fred and Other Awesome Tales_ as well as in The School Magazine (part of the NSW Curriculum and Learning Innovation Centre). She has also donated and had stories published with Libary For All Ltd.

She lives in Perth and is a "Nanna" to 6 wonderful grandsons.

##### BENJAMIN'S SECRET WEAPON

Benjamin Harper's father was once a great football player.

His mum won the triathlon when she was in the ninth grade.

His sister, Naomi, was the school's fastest track runner in her age group.

Inside the family games room, one whole wall was dedicated to all the trophies and medals awarded to everyone in the family. Everyone, that is, except Benjamin. Benjamin didn't like playing sport. He preferred to hang out in the garage and play with his chemicals and science kit.

Benjamin couldn't understand why people liked to run around on a field chasing an odd shaped ball that bounced in all directions. Even when they managed to get it, there was a chance of getting thrown to the ground with everyone piling on top.

Benjamin's dad often took him to football games.

"Great tackle," Dad would shout when a player was taken down.

"I hope he's all right," Benjamin would say, and shudder.

"Of course he is son. It's just part of the game."

One day, Benjamin decided to join the local football team even though he'd never been any good at ball games. He thought all his worries would be over. Dad would stop frowning when he saw him in the garage and Naomi would stop calling him a 'geek'. He thought he wouldn't have to do much; just try to mark the ball if it came his way. This didn't happen often as everyone avoided kicking to him.  
One day Benjamin saw a very expensive chemistry kit in his monthly science magazine. It was something he really wanted. He could save up his pocket money but that could take ages. So he asked his dad instead.

"It's a lot of money," said Dad.

"I'll wash your car every week for a year." Benjamin was desperate.

"We could do that but," he paused. "What about...I'll buy it for you, if you kick a goal before the football season finishes."

"Kick a goal!"

"With a bit of practise it won't be hard," said Dad.

Benjamin sighed. How was he going to kick a goal? He had trouble just trying to get the ball to go straight.

Benjamin had a problem.

The next day Benjamin went to football training. He decided to try harder. Maybe if he kicked the ball more often he could get it to go straight.

To warm up the boys all ran around the oval twice. Benjamin's lungs were burning on the last lap. He followed the team over to the centre of the field for some drill practice. Reece kicked the ball to him, but the ball slipped through Benjamin's hands.

"Mark the ball and bring it into your chest," the coach suggested.

Benjamin retrieved the ball. He ran and kicked it hard. The ball hit the side of his football shoe and slewed around.

"Drop the ball onto the tongue area of your boot. Your toe should be pointed where you want the ball to go, and then follow through with your foot," the coach advised Benjamin.

"Practise, practise, practise."

Benjamin sighed. It all sounded so simple. But putting it all together made him confused.

After an hour of training, the session ended. Benjamin's body ached all over. He still had a problem. He still couldn't kick the ball straight. How was he going to kick a goal if the ball wouldn't go straight?

The next day Benjamin took his football to school to practise his kicking. Things still didn't go well. On the way home, he clasped his hand into a fist and punched the ball into the air. The ball hit his knuckles and veered on to the road. His handballing also needed a lot of work.

"Great looking football," said Jessica, a girl from Benjamin's class. She picked the ball up from the road and gave it back to him.

"It belongs to my dad from when he used to play."

"I used to play football. When I tried to enroll again in the team last year, I wasn't allowed. Maybe because the rules are different in that age group. You're allowed to tackle your opponent and they must think girls will get hurt." Jessica shrugged then added, "You must like football a lot."

"Not really. But my dad wants me to play. He was once a great footballer."

"I just watch football on TV now when I'm not at ballet," said Jessica.

"You do ballet?"

"Yes." Jessica pirouetted. "My mum owns the studio." She then jumped into the air, splitting her legs, pointing her toes.

"You point your toes a lot," said Benjamin.

"It makes my legs go straighter."

"My coach told me to point my toes when kicking the football. My kicking is not very good," he said.

"Maybe some ballet lessons will help."

"Ballet is for girls."

"You're wrong. We have boys that like dancing and do ballet in our class." Jessica frowned.

"I bet they get teased a lot," muttered Benjamin.

"No. They're good at what they do. Not everyone can dance," said Jessica. "Anyway if you want to improve your kicking, maybe a few lessons in ballet can help you. You could make it your secret weapon."

"Secret weapon?"

"Sure. Nobody needs to know. How many boys do you know that are footballers and can do ballet?"

"No one from my football team would be seen dead doing ballet," said Benjamin.

"That's because they don't know what special skills are needed to perform ballet. We can start tomorrow if you like. We'll go to the studio early before anyone turns up."

"Are you sure nobody will be there?"

"I usually go in early with Mum to practise, as she always has paperwork to do. She won't mind if I bring a friend."

Benjamin wasn't sure if he wanted to have anything to do with ballet, but if it helped him to kick straighter, a few lessons wouldn't hurt.

The next day Benjamin told his parents he was doing extra practice for football.

"Practice makes perfect." Dad was pleased Benjamin was taking more of an interest in football.

Benjamin's ballet lesson began by training on a bar attached to a wall.

"Hang on to the bar," said Jessica. "You'll be able to learn the positions and not have to worry about your balance."

Benjamin wondered if this was a good idea. His legs were prone to go in all directions no matter how hard he tried.

He hung on to the bar with one hand. He stood next to Jessica and followed the simple movements she showed him.

"Point your toe and try to lift your leg higher," Jessica told him.

Benjamin felt awkward.

"You're doing fine." Jessica never puckered her eyebrows or sighed when Benjamin had trouble getting into position. Instead she smiled. Benjamin relaxed and after a while it became easier.

"You have long arms and legs, and a short torso. Perfect to be a ballet dancer," said Jessica.

"Really," said Benjamin. "I always thought my legs were too long for doing anything."

Every day for two weeks Benjamin went with Jessica to the dance studio to practise his leg swinging, toe pointing and many ballet positions.

Secretly Benjamin enjoyed ballet. Every night inside the bathroom he practised by holding onto the towel rail.

"Ben what are you doing in there?" Benjamin's mother asked.

"Practising my football kicking," he answered.

"I'm not sure what's gotten into that boy,' said Mum to herself and shook her head. "He always seems to be jumping and flitting around these days."

At football practice Benjamin's kicking improved.

"Great kicking. You look like a ballet dancer," his coach joked.

Benjamin held his breath. Everyone would tease him if they knew what he'd been doing the last couple of weeks. He just needed to kick one goal then he'd be able to get his chemistry kit. Life would go back to being normal.

"Ben's doing ballet!" Naomi announced as she burst through the back door into the kitchen, a few days later.

Benjamin choked on his drink.

"What!" said Mum. "Who told you that?"

"It's true. Amy told me in class today. Her sister told her she saw Ben down at the dance studio flinging and pointing his legs around."

"Is this true Ben? I thought you said you were practising your football." Dad's face went pale.

"Er...sort of," said Benjamin. He couldn't find the words to explain how ballet was connected to football.

"It's because he likes Jessica," said Naomi. "That's who he's been hanging around with."

"Jessica's my friend and she's been helping me!" shouted Benjamin.

"I'm going to speak to your football coach and find out what's going on. You can't be a great footballer if you're prancing around somewhere else," said Dad.

"But Dad..." said Benjamin. What if everyone from the team found out what he'd been doing? Life would become a nightmare. Everyone would tease and bully him. He should never have done ballet.

"Go to your room. You shouldn't lie to your parents." Dad shook his head with his disappointed look.

The next day at school Benjamin told Jessica what had happened.

"Why didn't you tell him why you're doing it?" asked Jessica.

"I tried. But I know Dad wouldn't understand about ballet. He isn't into dancing. He has two left feet."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm no good at football. I'm going to quit the team. I'm just no good at sport." Benjamin's shoulders slumped forward.

Jessica smiled. "Yes you are. You're good at ballet. Nobody can do what you've done over the last few weeks without years of practice. You're a natural."

"We're playing the top team on Saturday. It'll be my last game," said Benjamin. His mind was made up.

Saturday arrived quicker than Benjamin wanted it to. The team streamed out of the change room. Benjamin glanced at the parents standing near the sideline. Dad's arms were crossed firmly across his chest and his lips puckered up. He was waiting for Benjamin to do something great.

Benjamin's stomach felt uneasy. He just hoped he didn't throw up.

By the third quarter, he was still sitting on the bench waiting to go on the field.

In the fourth quarter his waiting was over.

"Okay. Look sharp," said the coach.

Benjamin ran to take his position on the field. From the corner of his eye he saw Jessica standing near the side line. She waved.

Within five minutes the opposing team had kicked a goal. They were now five points down.

The coach yelled out, "Read the ball. Stay in front. Get there before your opponent." He was under pressure. He really wanted to win this one.

The ball was returned to the centre square. The umpire threw it up and the ball was knocked to the ground. One of Benjamin's team players grabbed the ball, ran down the middle of the field, and snapped the ball high in the air.

"Ben, in front. This is yours," the coach called out.

For a second Benjamin froze, and then he remembered Jessica's words; "You're a natural." Benjamin ran to get into place as the ball came towards him. He stretched out his arms. He knew he could mark it. The ball landed in his arms. There was no way he was going to lose it now. Benjamin brought the ball into his chest.

The crowd cheered.

"Great mark son. Now kick a goal," Benjamin's dad shouted.

It wasn't over. Benjamin still had to kick the ball. The sick feeling returned to his stomach. Now was not a good time to get jelly legs.

Benjamin took in a deep breath; he stepped back, and lined up with the two middle posts. He was about thirty five metres out.

"You'll never be able to kick that far," said Corey, one of Benjamin's team players. "Kick it to someone else."

Benjamin looked at the distance between him and the goal posts. His heart sank. Corey was right. He'd never kicked that far before.

"You can do it Ben." Benjamin looked over and saw Jessica kicking her leg high and pointing her toe.

An adrenalin rush surged through his body. He kept his eyes on the goal umpire who stood in the middle of the goals. He placed his hands near the top of the laces of the ball and spread them. He raised the ball and released it as his foot left the ground. With a pointed toe and perfect straight leg swing, the ball sailed into the air.

It shot through the two middle posts for a six pointer, a goal. The goal umpire signalled a goal and waved two white flags. The crowd cheered. The players around Benjamin ran up to him and gave a high-five.

"Where did you learn to kick like that?" his team members asked.

"Great goal," Jessica yelled out and gave him the thumbs-up sign.

Benjamin's dad jumped up and down. "Did you see that? My son kicked a goal!"

The siren sounded, ending the game. Benjamin's team had won the game, by one point. The players cheered and patted each other on the back before walking over and shaking hands with the opposition.

The team walked to the sideline.

"Great game guys," said the coach. "Super kick Ben. Not sure what you've been doing to improve your kicking, but keep it up."

Benjamin took a deep breath. "I've been taking ballet lessons to improve my kicking," he blurted out.

The team roared with laughter.

"Only a sissy does ballet," scoffed one of the players.

"Actually the league players do occasionally try different things to improve their kicking and a few ballet lessons are one of them," said the coach.

"No way. You're jiving us."

"No," said the coach. "And in fact I see no reason why you guys can't do a few lessons."

Loud moans rose from the players.

"You can't be serious?"

"Sure I am. Maybe I could even arrange some of the district's players to come along," the coach suggested and threw some of their names around. He winked at Benjamin.

Some of the team members nodded their heads.

"That could be cool."

"Yeah, I don't mind training with them."

Benjamin didn't know any of the district's players name, but knew it would be fun to join them and maybe he'd even think about playing in the team next year. It had been exciting to kick a goal.

Later on, while walking home, Benjamin's dad said, "You were great out there today, Ben. Even if you hadn't kicked a goal, I still would've bought you that chemistry kit for trying. We'll order it tomorrow." He cleared his throat. "And if you really want to do ballet, I'll pay for the lessons."

"Thanks Dad. Jessica said I was good at it. There are others boys there as well. I'll be able to join them."

"A trophy in ballet would be different," said Dad and smiled.

# REEF RAIDERS

## Sue Kingham

##### SUE KINGHAM

Sue Kingham has an adventurous life. Her time is spent writing tales of romance in Ancient Egypt, conjuring up dastardly deeds on the Barrier Reef, and creating scary monsters in outer space. For a break, every Saturday morning she works at the School for Young Writers, in Christchurch, New Zealand. Sue likes nothing better than helping young authors craft their own adventure stories. 

##### REEF RAIDERS

Nathan checked his oxygen gauge. He needed to get back to the surface. Out of the corner of his eye, there was a flash of brown, and a second later a giant sea turtle glided past. When he surfaced, Poppa Jack was peering over the side of the boat. Nathan put his thumbs up and swam over. Scaling the rope ladder, he spat out his mouthpiece, gulped air and spluttered, "Did you see that big turtle?"

"Sure did!" Poppa Jack was grinning from ear to ear. "It's good to see the turtles are still around after last year's poaching. Get any photos?"

"Heaps."

Below deck, Nathan changed out of his wetsuit, pulled on a tee shirt and shorts, and went to join his grandfather at the helm. Poppa Jack was a rugged ex-Navy man who, for six months of the year, lived on his yacht, Reef Knot. During the cyclone season, he travelled or house-sat in Port Douglas where the vessel was moored. It was a comfortable sailboat; complete with two beds, dining area, galley, toilet and shower room. Sharing his grandfather's love of diving on the Great Barrier Reef meant that most school holidays Nathan stayed on board.

The wind picked up on their return to port and Nathan helped Poppa Jack trim the sails. A large powerboat, speeding towards where they had been diving, caught Nathan's eye.

"Someone's in a hurry!"

"Idiots. Bouncing across the water like that! Why go out now? It's gonna be dark soon. Get a shot of the boat with that fancy phone of yours, Nat."

Nathan took a couple of pictures. Through the camera, he saw one of the men had binoculars trained on Reef Knot. The powerboat changed direction and veered towards them.

"It looks like they're coming our way."

"What the ...?" Poppa Jack frowned. "What are they playing at?"

The boat circled the yacht causing huge waves, then roared away. Poppa Jack shook his fist at them. "Don't think you'll get away with this!" Turning to Nathan, he asked, "Did you catch its name?"

Nathan shook his head. "It was painted out, but I got a good look at the guys."

"We'll see what Rick down at the cop shop has to say about this."

Back in port, they went out for burgers. Poppa Jack stood outside to call Rick and Nathan devoured two patties while he waited. When Poppa Jack returned, he was astonished to see Nathan had almost finished. "Steady on mate, or you'll sink when you dive tomorrow."

"These burgers are the best. I could eat another," Nathan mumbled through a mouthful of bread.

"Strewth, teenagers! Okay, I'll get you one to go."

Settled at the table on board Reef Knot with Poppa Jack beside him, Nathan downloaded the photographs from his camera.

"Ripper quality," Poppa Jack said looking at the tropical fish. "I never thought a phone could be an underwater camera."

"Yeah. Awesome isn't it? It takes great shots even in the dark, but that powerboat's blurry."

Poppa Jack sighed. "I told Rick what happened. He's gonna put out a call to ask if anyone else's has had a problem with them. Hopefully, those goons have left the area. What about a night dive tomorrow? The forecast's lookin' beaut'."

Nathan beamed. "Yeah! I'd like to see that big turtle again."

"Okay." Poppa Jack stretched. "I'm done in; I'll secure the tarp to keep out the critters, then I'm off to bed."

Nathan woke with a start because there was a ripping sound above deck. He grabbed his torch and jumped up. Poppa Jack was snoring loudly. Nathan shook him awake and whispered, "Someone's trying to get on board."

"What! Huh?" Jack fumbled for his glasses. Grabbing a torch, he got up and shone it in the direction of the steps. The noise of an engine starting nearby made them both jump. Poppa Jack started towards the steps, then froze. His torch beam had landed on a slithering mass on the top step.

"Strewth. It's a taipan. Keep back. That's one of the most dangerous snakes there is."

Nathan shone his torch in the same direction. In the weak light, he could see the veins pulsating on the side of Poppa Jack's neck. Now under two beams of light, the immense snake drew back looking for shadow.

Nathan's mouth was so dry he could hardly speak. "What should we do?"

"I need to get to the light switch. Then I'll throw a blanket over the snake and push it into a bag." He pointed to some lifejackets stored under the bunk. "Chuck them out and pass me that sack."

Keeping one eye on the top step, Poppa Jack crept over to the galley. He grabbed the long barbeque tongs, then picked up a blanket, and slung it over his shoulder.

Nathan held out the empty sack as Poppa Jack got to the steps. The snake reared up, its yellow underbelly flashing. Poppa Jack hit the light switch. Nathan let out a gasp. The snake was at least a metre in length, its body as thick as a drainpipe.

"It's okay Nat; I've got this" Poppa Jack said in a low tone. He held the blanket in front of him and edged up the steps towards the snake. Pausing, he took a deep breath then cast the blanket over the snake. He guessed where its head would be and forced the tongs down. He shouted, "Pass me the bag!"

Nathan thrust it into his grandfather's hands.

"Gotcha!" Poppa Jack dropped the bag over the writhing blanket and forced the snake inside using the tongs. In one quick movement, he hoisted up the bag and pulled the drawstring shut. The bag convulsed as he held it at arm's length.

"Phew, that was close," Poppa Jack gasped. "How on earth did it get in?"

Nathan went to the top of the steps and peered outside.

"The tarp's been slashed."

His grandfather hung the bag on a hook and went to investigate. He pointed to a screwed-up ball of paper lying on the deck. Nathan flattened it out and read, "KEEP AWAY FROM THE REEF OR ELSE!" His eyes met Poppa Jack's.

"Do you think it was those guys from the powerboat?"

"I'm not sure, but I can't think who else it could be. I'll report it to Rick first thing in the morning. They won't be back tonight. Let's try to get some shuteye."

Neither of them got much sleep. When Nathan did manage to doze, he woke with a start having dreamt the snake had escaped and was heading towards his bunk. It was still dark, and Poppa Jack was propped up in his bunk scrolling through his phone.

"Can't sleep?" Poppa Jack asked.

Nathan grunted in reply then turned over wondering, why do they want us to stay away? The thought kept looping through his mind as he drifted back to sleep.

Rick came on board at first light to take their statements. "Jack this is serious. That snake could have killed you. I'll need the photo of the powerboat."

Nathan pulled out his phone and sent the image to Rick.

Rick's phone pinged. "That sure is a fancy phone you've got there," Rick said. "It makes mine look like a dinosaur." He studied the photograph on the screen. "I see what you mean about the name being wiped. Jack, send me the coordinates of where you were diving, would you?" He put his hand on Poppa Jack's shoulder and said in a low voice, "Best keep your head down mate, these guys are trouble."

Poppa Jack snorted. "Thanks, Rick, but I was in the services. It takes more than a couple of jokers to rattle me."

Rick sucked air through his teeth. "Don't go looking for trouble mate."

As Rick disembarked, carrying the wriggling sack at arm's length, Nathan asked his grandfather, "Does this mean the night dive's off?"

"No way! My bet is they'll keep low for a day or so, but to be safe, we'll take Mick's speedboat. If trouble shows, you can snap some photos, and we'll send them straight back to Rick."

Nathan frowned. "There's no reception out at sea, but the good thing about this phone is it keeps trying to send messages, and they go as soon as there's a signal."

"Sounds good. Now, let's start planning that dive."

The conditions were perfect when they left the port that evening. Mick's speedboat got them there in half the time, and Nathan enjoyed the rush of the wind in his hair. They dropped anchor where they'd seen the turtle the previous day. Poppa Jack set up a spotlight while Nathan changed into his scuba gear and attached fluro sticks to the back of his oxygen tanks so Poppa Jack could track him. After he'd had all his equipment double-checked, Nathan rolled off the side of the boat.

It was Nathan's first night dive. He was amazed by the variety of nocturnal creatures: a black spotted puffer fish came close to check out the light, shrimps, clown fish and lionfish were all caught in the beam of his headtorch. As he suspected, no sea turtles were swimming, so he shone his torch down to the seabed hoping to discover where they slept.

The thump on the back of his head caught him off guard. For a moment, he struggled to breathe. Fortunately, he didn't lose his mouthpiece and was able to swim down behind a large boulder coral. He switched off his head torch and pulled off the fluro sticks in case they gave away his location. His heart was hammering, and he focused on slowing his breathing. He could see a diver moving above him, so he decided to go deeper. Turning, he found himself face to face with a whitetip reef shark. Everything he'd ever read about them being harmless to humans fled from his mind. His hairs stood on end. Seconds felt like hours. He silently prayed for the shark to swim away. When at last it was gone, he decided to risk returning to the boat. The diver had disappeared, but he anxiously scanned the water as he swam back, anticipating another attack at any moment.

Nathan had judged his position well, and when he surfaced, he wasn't far from the boat. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. The spotlight was off. Quietly he climbed on board. Poppa Jack lay unconscious, bound and gagged on the floor. He untied the gag and freed his grandfather's hands.

"Can you hear me?" he asked. Poppa Jack's breathing was laboured. Nathan didn't know anything about Mick's boat, so he knew he couldn't drive it back himself. He looked for the attacker's powerboat and spotted it anchored nearby. He had to get a message to Rick. He checked the signal on his phone. It was too weak to call for help. To get a strong signal the phone had to be closer to shore, so he decided to plant the phone on the other boat. That way, when their boat got near to port, it would send a message to alert Rick. As quietly as he could, he re-entered the water and swam over to the other boat. Stopping about five meters short, he surfaced and watched as two men, one of them the diver who'd hit him, hauled in a large net. He pulled back his wetsuit hood and strained to catch their conversation.

"The boss ain't gonna like it," the larger man said. "Why did ya have to do that to the old fella and the kid? Now we'll have to knock off catching turtles 'till the fuss dies down."

"Shut it! The kid was takin' pictures. I reckon we've got enough to keep the boss sweet. Let's get them into the barrels, then head to Townsville."

Nathan swam around the other side of the boat and pulled himself up. The poachers had their backs to him. He took two photographs of the large barrels and managed a couple of the poachers' backs before he dropped down and pulled up Rick's number. The screen glowed as he typed, Come quick! poachers bashed Poppa @ same reef. They're going 2 Townsville. He attached the pictures, checked the re-dial mode and pulled himself back up to the poachers' boat. Just as he surfaced, a light shone into his eyes, blinding him.

He heard a man shout, "It's the kid. Get him!"

Still dazzled, Nathan dived, hoping he wouldn't bump into the shark. He knew the best place to hide was back at the boulder coral. It was difficult to swim in the dark, but he got there. He watched a torch flash by; then the diver swam away. Nathan guessed he had a few minutes before the diver would return, so he surfaced. The other poacher was busy talking on the radio. Nathan silently pulled himself up, double-checked his phone, slid it under a seat cushion at the back of the boat and slipped back into the sea. As he swam back to his grandfather, all he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears.

Holding Poppa Jack's hand, Nathan lay on the floor of Mick's speedboat and waited for the poachers to leave. Once he knew the coast was clear, he turned on his torch and slid a jacket under his grandfather's head. "Hang in there. Rick'll be here soon," he whispered.

In the hospital waiting room, still shivering from shock, Nathan was glad of the mug of hot chocolate he was nursing.

Rick came in smiling. "It takes more than a bang on the head to keep that ol' bugger down. The doc said he'll be out tomorrow. You can stay with me tonight, mate."

Nathan gave a sigh of relief. "Any news about the poachers?"

"Yep, thanks to you. They were picked up as soon as they hit Townsville."

"Were the turtles okay?"

"Fortunately, they were catching them for private collections, so they weren't injured. They'll be taken straight back to the reef. And don't worry, the Townsville cops will drop your phone back in the morning. I'm going to get one myself. Would you give me a quick lesson on it?"

"Sure, it's easy."

Rick put his hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Jack's sleeping so let's head off. You hungry?"

Nathan hadn't thought about anything other than Poppa Jack's condition, but now that Rick mentioned it his stomach began to growl. "Sure am."

"Could you manage a burger?"

Nathan smiled. "Yup. Maybe even two."

# THE SILVER LINING

## Virginia Suckling

#### "The Silver Lining" received an honourable mention in the 2019 Adventure Stories for Children Competition.

##### VIRGINIA SUCKLING

Virginia Suckling has always been enthralled by adventure stories, reading and writing them, since her primary school days and that I may add, has now been a good few years!

If you love buried treasure, feisty girls and boys, with or without a doggy companion, then she thinks you'll enjoy her stories.

She lives in Napier, in the North Island of New Zealand, with her husband, twin sister and two dogs. She's been on a few escapades herself in Bougainville, South Sudan and even the Northern Territory. Her advice to you is if you get the chance of an adventure, take it. She promises that you won't be disappointed.

##### THE SILVER LINING

"Hey, I need to speak to your Mum, Mrs Sarah Rogers."

The harsh voice shattered Madison's concentration.

She stumbled.

Thump. Thump.

The ball bounced away from Madison, instead of ending up as a perfect shot in a netball hoop. She regained her balance, turned and stared at him through the backyard aluminium fence.

Was he a new lodger? For the past few years they had opened their Sydney home as a Bed-and-Breakfast.

"Why do we have to have people staying here, Mum?"

"We need the money, darling. It's this or staying at Aunt Milly's when I work shifts at the hospital."

Maddie shuddered recalling her previous stayovers. Her tartar of an aunt wouldn't get her onto the school netball team anytime soon. No goal shooting practice. "Homework first, young lady," had been a recurring theme.

"What's your name?" asked the stranger.

"Madison but most people call me Maddie."

"I'm Detective Inspector Duncan Foster from The Rocks Police Station. May I come in, Maddie?"

Madison to you. "I'll get my Mum first."

His eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose. "Young lady, it wasn't a request."

"Come in then." Though her voice sounded huffy, she was intrigued. Wow, what a story to tell Anne, her best friend at school tomorrow.

DI Foster followed her into the spacious farm-style kitchen. He pulled out a wooden chair from under the long oak table and sat down.

Her Mum came through from the laundry, a basket of washing clasped in her arms. "Why didn't you let me know we had a visitor?"

The policeman immediately stood up and took the basket out of her arms. "Hello, Mrs Rogers."

Smarmy. How did he know Mum appreciated good manners?

He sniffed. "Apple and—"

"Cinnamon," said Sarah. "I've baked some muffins for supper tonight."

"Mmm." He sat down again, leaning back in the chair.

Serve him right if he fell backwards. Please tell him there's no vacancy, Mum.

He said, "Mrs Thomas used to live here?"

"Yes. She died six years ago. My Aunt bought the house and I inherited it from her."

"You come from Sydney?"

"Perth."

"Your husband?"

"Died five years ago."

"Did you know Mrs Thomas had a son?"

"No."

He nodded, one hand idly stroking his tow-coloured beard.

"He was in prison."

"Really. What was he in for?"

"Aggravated robbery amongst other things. He's been released, and it's possible he may come back here."

"Surely, he must know about his mother?"

"After his last robbery, the cache of money wasn't recovered. He may have hidden it somewhere in the house. I need to be here."

"As one of my guests?"

"He's a dangerous criminal. I'll be undercover, you understand." His cornflower-blue eyes menaced them with a lengthy gaze.

Sarah said, "Of course."

"Good. Paul Thomas is a handsome chap, about my age and height, with dark hair. Has anybody fitting that description stayed here recently?"

"Yes," said Sarah. "Luke Calder is still here."

"Who?"

"He's an historian writing a book about old Sydney. Luke couldn't possibly be... Why he's..."

Maddie had heard her Mum describe Luke to a friend of hers and it was obvious she liked him. He had lovely hazel eyes and wavy coal-black hair. Maddie liked him too. He treated her as a young lady and didn't talk down to her like some of the boarders.

"I'll get my bags."

On his return, Luke came into the kitchen and gave the detective a brief nod. The men sized each other up. Maddie remembered seeing this happen when Anne's dog had circled another male dog in the park. She sensed they didn't like one another.

When her Mum and DI Foster left the room, Luke beckoned her over.

"Who's that man?"

"He's a new lodger."

"What does he do?"

Maddie shrugged.

He frowned. "What's he like?"

"My Gran would say he'd sour lemon honey."

"Not friendly, eh?"

"He has cold eyes."

Sarah returned downstairs interrupting their conversation.

"Mum, Luke wondered what Mr Foster does."

"He's an IT specialist."

"I don't like him," said Maddie.

Sarah stood up straighter and shook her head. "Just as well you won't see much of him then," she replied.

At school, the next day, Maddie told Anne about the new lodger. "Have a sleepover tonight. Then you'll see what I mean. I'll square it with Mum."

Sarah agreed and Maddie hugged her. "Thanks. Did you know you're only wearing one earring?" She giggled. "Did you forget to put it on?"

Her Mum blushed putting a hand up to her ear. Interesting. Luke walked through the door. Very interesting. She so hoped he wasn't a criminal.

"Are they special, Sarah?" asked Luke.

"Yes. Blue-moonstone. A wedding present from my husband. It must have fallen off in here."

"Okay. Don't worry, we'll look for it." A few moments later, he said, "There it is."

Maddie watched him hunker down. It was lodged in a rut between the old Welsh dresser and the floorboard.

Sarah said, "Be careful. It can easily—"

Thin-lipped, Luke looked up at them both.

Oops, thought Maddie.

"All is not lost," he said, standing up.

"It's gone down there," Sarah wailed, stabbing a finger towards the polished floor. "I'll never find it now."

"I'll go under the house and look for it."

"Will you?" Sarah smiled. "Thanks."

"Where's the access?"

"Outside, on the right of the kitchen door. It's unlocked."

"Okay." Grabbing a Maglite torch from by the back door, he walked outdoors.

Within minutes, he'd returned.

"Gosh, that was quick," said Sarah.

"Sorry, some cockroaches fell on top of me and that's a pet hate of mine."

Maddie drew in a breath. Wimp!

Cross, her Mum said, "I'll look later."

"No. I'll—"

"I'm not afraid of a few cockroaches."

You so are, thought Maddie, wrinkling her nose. What was that smell? Mice and damp earth—both found under an old house.

"Can I help?" Duncan stood in the doorway.

Sarah said, "Possibly—"

Luke replied simultaneously. "I—"

Sarah shushed him and told Duncan about her lost earring.

"No problem." He sneered at the other man. "I'm not afraid of a few insects."

Maddie felt sorry for Luke and then irritated with her Mum who said warmly, "Thank you, Duncan. Whenever it's convenient."

"Now suits me. I'll have that torch." Grabbing it off the table, he strode out the back door.

"I do hope he finds it," said Sarah.

"What's wrong, Luke?" said Maddie. He appeared agitated. He must really hate cockroaches.

"I have to go," he snapped.

Duncan took considerably longer to return than Luke.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he said, brushing a cobweb from his sleeve. "I couldn't find it."

"Oh dear." Her Mum turned towards the sink and brushed a hand across her eyes.

In sympathy, Maddie hugged her.

At dinner that evening, Maddie sat next to Anne and watched the two men ignoring each other, only speaking when Sarah asked them a question. An older couple, on an overnight stay, didn't appear to sense the tension in the room which lessened when Duncan excused himself before dessert and coffee.

The elderly couple moved to the lounge while Maddie observed Luke disappearing outside.

"Come on, Anne," she whispered. "Let's go upstairs. I've got some old clothes and we can go under the house and look for the earring."

After changing, they returned to the dining room. "Can you help me with the dishes, girls? Oh my goodness, why are you dressed in those old clothes?"

"We're going to look for your earring, Mrs Rogers," said Anne.

"No, you're not."

"Dead right," said Luke from the doorway. "Nor you, Sarah."

"I wasn't going to. Duncan said he'd try again later." She peered out of the window. "Tomorrow now as it's dark—"

"Doesn't matter if it's dark or not under a house." Luke moved towards the two girls. "Stay in tonight."

"Okay, Luke." Wimp or not, Maddie did like him. Now he smelled of lemon and spice instead of that awful smell earlier on.

A creaking stair, fourth from the bottom, jolted Maddie awake around two o'clock in the morning. She got out of bed and shook Anne awake. "Someone's downstairs." Dressing quickly, they opened the door and peered along the carpeted landing. All quiet.

Had she imagined it?

They crept downstairs, avoiding the fourth tread. At the kitchen door, with Anne close behind her, Maddie stopped to listen.

Silence.

Was her imagination playing tricks?

Then they heard a scraping sound.

"It's coming from under the Welsh dresser, Maddie," whispered Anne close to her ear. "Someone is under the house. We'd better tell your Mum."

"No. Let's have a look—"

"Maddie! Remember what Mr Calder said."

"And why did he say that? He could have been trying to keep us out the way. Come on." She grabbed the Maglite torch from its clip by the back door. "Hurry up, Anne."

"Why would Mr Calder...? Am I missing something here?"

"Tell you later. Look, we'll have a peep and then get Mum."

Begrudgingly, Anne replied. "Okay."

Tiptoeing through the unlocked kitchen door, they saw the access wedged open.

Maddie went first, kneeling and peering in, concealing the torchlight with one hand. At first, the darkness prevented her from seeing anything until a shovel appeared in front of her face.

"Get back," growled a deep voice.

Heart thumping erratically, Maddie fell back on to Anne, her legs flailing on the uneven courtyard flagstones.

A dirty hand pushed the trapdoor up further. The man scrambled from under the house, keeping the shovel's blade pointing at them. He reached in and pulled out a muddied duffle bag.

Swallowing hard, Maddie found it impossible to say his name. Anne froze. His chuckle mocked their fear.

"Fooled you all, didn't I?"

Grabbing Maddie by the arm, he gestured towards under the house access. "Get in there."

Anne flinched and spluttered, "You...you can't do this."

"Watch me." He tugged Maddie towards him and laughed. "I knew there was a reason why I didn't fill in the hole."

Maddie knew she had to do something. Now. She sagged against Duncan so he lost his balance and then she hit his arm as hard as she could with the heavy torch. Duncan cursed as the shovel flew out of his grip, skittering across the cobbled courtyard to land a few metres away.

"Get help, Anne," she yelled.

Duncan, holding his arm close to his chest, made a grab for the duffle bag with his other hand and started to run to the back gate. Maddie picked up her netball and threw it at his head.

Bullseye!

He staggered, dropping the bag.

Abruptly the chilling atmosphere erupted in a cacophony of yelling, bright lights, and Luke bearing down on them, menace in his posture and handsome features.

Duncan's shoulders sagged, he spat curses, and all sophistication left him like a scared animal abandoning a sinking ship.

Hands pulled Maddie into a firm embrace. "Mum, I was so scared."

"So was I," agreed Anne. "You left a lot out about the lodger, Maddie. Is he a criminal?"

Sarah explained as Paul Thomas, alias DI Duncan Foster, was led away handcuffed. "After you two had gone to bed, Luke came and told me he was a Detective Inspector and knew that Duncan Foster was Paul Thomas. He was waiting for him to make a move." She hugged both girls. "Unfortunately, you found him first. Come on, let's get you into the warmth."

Maddie shivered. As they went inside, she told Anne the rest of the story.

A few minutes later, the two girls were each enveloped in a blanket sitting on the couch in the front room, sipping sweetened tea.

"He showed me an ID photo, Luke," said Sarah.

"A good forgery."

"He said Paul Thomas was dark-haired."

Luke snorted. "Well, he would, wouldn't he?"

"If you weren't here..." Sarah waved her hand in the direction of the girls.

"Don't go there, Sarah. I was always looking out for you. Them."

Maddie said, "Why didn't you let us know who you were?"

"We decided it would go easier for you if Paul turned up. You'd act naturally and not give anything away."

Maddie pulled her blanket tighter. "What would he have done with us?"

Luke shook his head. "We were seconds away. You were safe."

"I thought he was genuinely trying to find my earring," said Sarah.

Luke slid his hand into his inside jacket pocket and held up her blue-moonstone clip-on.

"I found it on the floor. I knew Duncan had overheard our conversation. He couldn't wait to go under the house himself to search for the earring. That gave him away. It was a matter of waiting for him to retrieve the money. I didn't expect Maddie and Anne to—"

"Stick their oar in."

"Exactly."

"I wouldn't have..." Anne was elbowed by Maddie.

"Luke said he was looking out for us." she said. To the detective, she added, "I thought you were a wimp because you were scared of cockroaches. I'm sorry."

Everyone laughed and then Sarah turned to the girls. "Well, I think it's bedtime for you both and this time stay in your beds."

"You were brave girls," said Luke. "But please don't make a habit of tackling criminals on your own."

"Gotcha, Detective Inspector," said Maddie, giggling.

Due to her celebrity status at school the next day, she'd got her a place in the school netball team. The only disappointment was that Luke had left their Bed and Breakfast.

"Why couldn't he stay here, Mum?"

"He must have a house of his own, darling. This was a job for him, remember."

The B&B seemed different from its usual happy atmosphere. Maddie put it down to Luke's absence. She guessed her Mum was missing him as much as she was. At the weekend, while Sarah washed the downstairs windows, Maddie lay under the shadow of a silky oak, reading a book. She was surprised to see Luke drive up in his car and park outside. He waved to her and walked towards Sarah.

Their voices didn't carry so she had no idea what he was saying. When he left, Sarah danced towards her and flopped down.

"You'll never guess what?"

"What?"

"Luke is coming to stay...live here. He has to move out of his flat and he's asked if he could become a lodger again."

Yeah right. "How exciting, Mum. I'm happy for you." The last few nights she'd heard her Mum crying when she thought Maddie was asleep.

"Tonight, I'll cook your favourite meal for us all. Does that sound okay?"

"Yummy!" Pizza and then apple pie with ice-cream. "Luke likes them too."

Maddie enjoyed hearing her mother's carefree laugh. They had a lot to thank Luke for.

She skipped after her Mum into the house. She remembered the old saying they had studied in class a few weeks ago, "every cloud has a silver lining".

How true.

# SEA CHANGE FOR SAMANTHA

## Virginia Suckling

##### SEA CHANGE FOR SAMANTHA

I fell in love with May-Ling at first sight.

I loved her long legs and pretty face. Not everyone thought the same as me. When I took her for a walk, I heard rude comments from some people. "What an ugly dog. What is she?"

Even when I told them she was a year-old part Chinese Crested Hairless dog, it didn't mean much to them. "Crossed with what?" they would say laughing.

No one knew, not even the SPCA but, oh boy, could she run. I bet she could even outrun Isis Holt.

If they thought she was flawed, then I was flawed too. We'd both been born with a handicap; a stutter for me and, in other people's eyes, May-Ling didn't have beauty. Now aged twelve, I know how upsetting teasing can be and to hear cruel remarks. I get it from the children at school and I try not to let it hurt me but sometimes I cry.

By the way, I'm Samantha Danvers. Sam for short.

Mum used to foster SPCA dogs and May-Ling came to us when I was eleven years old. She was one of many and, by far, the most interesting and she didn't move on to another forever home—she stayed.

We became inseparable. Proficient at puppy class, the trainer suggested we enter agility contests. Awesome choice. We won medals!

Taking part in the contests our problems didn't matter—May-Ling wasn't judged on appearance and I didn't have to say anything, except to her.

Because I'm anxious when I speak in front of people, especially the school kids, I cannot stop myself stuttering.

Mum and Dad help. They wait when I say something and don't finish my sentences for me. Once I'm underway, my stuttering gets better. A speech therapist helps me too.

It was a slow process, over a few years and lots of therapy, until one evening my life changed forever.

And May-Ling's.

It was a Friday evening and we'd had tea. I was on my way to the kitchen to get some Oreos with my canine shadow when the doorbell rang. Mr Trent, one of my teachers, stood on the doorstep. "I've come to see your parents."

Uh-oh. What had I done now?

"Don't look so worried. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Samantha, who is it?" My Mum called out from the sitting-room, where her and Dad were watching TV.

"My English teacher, Mr Trent, Mum."

The next minute she'd bustled out to us. "Don't keep him standing outside, darling. Come on in. Would you like a cup of tea? Or maybe coffee?"

"Tea would be most welcome, Mrs Danvers."

"Please call me Louise." Mum left us to go into the kitchen.

Mr Trent followed me into the front room and said 'hello' to my Dad. He sat down in an armchair and they talked of everyday things while Mum made the drinks. I could hear the clatter of mugs and a cupboard opening. May Ling's ears cocked, her dark brown eyes met mine.

Biscuits!

Mum came out a few minutes later carrying the tray which Dad took from her and placed on the table. She served out the mugs and I handed round the biscuits making sure I put them in front of me afterwards. No Oreos unfortunately.

We all sat back and sipped our drinks. I wasn't sure why Mum glared at me as I dunked my gingernut into the tea? Was it only a family custom? I whispered to her that if she'd put out Oreos I wouldn't need to do it. Surreptitiously, I palmed a tiny piece and gave it to May-Ling, earning another glare from Mum.

"What did you want to see us about?" asked my father.

Mr Trent rested his mug on one knee. "This term I'm thinking of putting on a play with my English students. I want to cast Samantha in the leading role."

Mum and Dad looked at each other, eyebrows raised. I knew what they were thinking.

"Why me, Mr Trent?"

He looked me in the eye. "Helen Keller said, 'Life is a daring adventure, or nothing.' She managed a fulfilling life even though she was deaf and blind. She was my role model. I was like you at school, you know. I stuttered terribly but over the years I learnt to control it. A teacher gave me some sound advice—read books and plays aloud. It helped a lot. If you'd like to try acting, I think you'll notice a vast difference. Your speech therapist could help you with your lines."

I shook my head. "I don't think I could do it."

Dad said, "What makes you think she can?"

Mr Trent looked me in the eye again. "Remember when I asked you in class to describe a hobby?"

I remembered it very well. "I wanted to disappear in a puff of smoke."

Mr Trent smiled briefly. "You started off stuttering but by the end you weren't."

"Wasn't I?"

"No. You were so engrossed in telling us about May-Ling and how she'd won the prize in the agility competition that you didn't stutter. That gave me an idea for a short story."

I pursed my lips and thought for a moment. Maybe I could do it. It would be an adventure and I was always up for one of those.

"What is the play about?" asked my Mum.

"I wrote this story several years ago about a girl who was an amputee and won agility competitions with her dog. Listening to Sam gave me the idea to rewrite the story to suit her." He handed me the script.

My father asked, "Don't you think you're putting too much pressure on the girl?"

Mr Trent shrugged. "That's why I'm discussing it with you. That's the last thing I want, but I think she can do it. However, it's your decision and I'll respect that."

Dad turned to me. "Sammy, what do you think?"

"I'd like to give it a go."

"You have your answer, Mr Trent," said Mum. "We're proud of you, darling, and will help any way we can."

The next morning, at school, Mr Trent, stopped me in the corridor. "Have you read the play, Samantha?"

"Yes. It's lovely. Who's going to act the dog role?"

"I was wondering if May-Ling was trained enough to do it."

"Way to go, Mr Trent. She'd be great."

Rehearsals began the following week. The other students couldn't believe their eyes when they saw me walk through the door.

"What are you doing here, Stut...stutt...stuttering Sa...am?" said Gabriel West, a boy a year ahead of me and my nemesis. Others sniggered behind him.

My chest was tight. I couldn't breathe. What was I doing here? I walked up to Mr Trent. "I can't do this."

He stood with his arms crossed. "You haven't auditioned yet." He glanced at Gabriel at the other side of the room. "Don't give them power over you. Ignore him, ignore them all."

Of course, he was right. I nodded and sat down. Kirsty, my best friend, came over and put her arm around me. "You're going to be awesome, Sam. Forget stupid Gabriel and his mates."

"Not easy, Kirsty."

When everyone was gathered in a circle, Mr Trent stood up. "I'm glad to see how many of you have turned up. I know some of you were in last year's production, so you don't need to audition again. The main role is special and needs a special person to play the part. I've chosen Samantha."

"But Mr Trent, she stutt—" Gabriel said, waving the script in the air.

"So does the lead role. Whoever objects had best leave now because I'm not changing my mind. We will use Sam's own dog."

You could have heard a pen drop on the polished wooden floor. Mr Trent looked in Gabriel's direction but spoke to everyone. "Anyone who doubts Samantha's ability should at least give her a chance."

Some of my friends murmured in agreement.

Gabriel looked unconvinced.

I was the last to audition. Everyone stayed, except for a few, and it wasn't to cheer me on.

I walked on stage with clammy hands and a stomach alive with butterflies. Mr Trent sat at the front with an encouraging smile. I had chosen to read a poem about a dog and practised it until I was word perfect. At home. Not in front of a group of kids that wanted me to fail. I opened my mouth and no words came out. I swallowed hard and knew tears were seconds away.

"Come on, Sam, you can do it," yelled Kirsty three rows back from the front.

I closed my eyes blotting out Gabriel and the boys.

"Lo-lo-lone D-d-dog." Oh no! My eyes shot open but then I saw Mum and Dad sitting next to Mr Trent. I stopped and took a deep breath. Dad smiled and then mouthed—you can do it, Sammy. I started again. "Lone Dog by Irene McLeod." Focussing only on the lines, I was word perfect for all three verses.

Applause rang out at the end. Even Gabriel West gave me a brief smile.

Praise indeed.

Then Mr Trent mentioned who would play the boy who befriends the girl—Gabriel West. I swear he went white and looked as if he was going to be sick.

"Not up to it, Gabriel?" said Mr Trent, raising his eyebrows.

What could he say in front of his friends? "Yes, of course I am."

He wasn't the only one with reservations. Playing opposite Gabriel? My elation evaporated but when I looked across at him, he looked as nervous as me. I didn't feel so bad then and I began to look forward to the challenge.

Mum listened to me say my lines every night; the speech therapist each time I saw her. It got easier and I became more confident as I repeated the words.

After the week-four rehearsal, Gabriel was waiting for me by the school gates. No one else was around. No surprise there.

I stopped in front of him. "What is it, Gabriel?"

He shuffled his feet. "I wondered if you'd be able to help me learn my lines."

"Why me? I'm not your favourite person."

He blushed a bright red. "I deserved that and I'm sorry. Since reading this play, I can see how cruel I've been. It started as a joke but—"

"When everyone laughed with you, you couldn't back down."

"That's about it."

We stared at one another for a while.

"So, what's your answer," he said.

"I'll help you."

"Can we do it on the quiet?"

Of course, he wouldn't want his mates to know about it. I felt deflated. "How about we meet tomorrow after school in the park?"

The next day, I told Mum and Dad I would be later than usual. Gabriel was there before me. He got up from the bench and then we sat down with the script between us.

He said, "I thought you might not come."

"I said I would."

He nodded. "I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"I'm dyslexic."

I imagined all sorts of things but not this. "So that's why you asked me."

"Yes. I thought you'd understand. Do you mind?"

I felt shy with his blue-eyed gaze on me. Maybe if we hadn't got off on the wrong foot, we could have become friends. I shrugged. "No. I don't mind."

We went through our lines. He struggled with some words and it gave me a boost to help him out. We decided the next time he'd record me saying his lines and then he could go over them on his own. I think both of us enjoyed the hour we spent together. We walked off in different directions, agreeing to meet in four days.

"Bye. Gabriel."

"My friends call me Gabe. Bye."

I practically danced all the way home. This was a different Gabriel and one I liked.

However, he turned out to be a slow learner. I found it hard to accept he couldn't get it right.

One evening, I mentioned it to Mum. She laughed.

"My dear child, you haven't a clue, have you?"

"What?"

"I think Gabe likes you and he's slow to learn so he'll have to meet you more often."

I didn't know what to think. "You're kidding me."

Mum just smiled.

As the weeks went by, Mr Trent wanted me to get May-Ling to do a small agility course on the stage and I chose a tyre jump, an ordinary jump, the tunnel and a seesaw which agility people called a teeterboard. May-Ling was good at all those things and performed like the star she was.  
Twelve weeks of rehearsals and the first night was to be on a Saturday.

The Friday afternoon before we had a dress rehearsal in front of the school. I went home at lunchtime and brought back May-Ling who pranced around me thinking we were going out for an early walk. I let her off in the park, so it settled her for our arrival at the school hall. She'd done well, as usual, at the last rehearsal and enjoyed the strokes and pats from the cast.  
Mr Trent gave us a quick pep talk before the curtain went up. Mainly, he just asked us to do our best and enjoy ourselves.

And we did.

Our performance was a resounding success. We gave two curtain calls to cheering and wolf-whistles. I hoped it would be like that the following evening.

It was.

I didn't stutter once on stage and I could see Mum and Dad were so proud. May-Ling got an extra treat after the performance. She was awesome.

We even got a write-up in the local newspaper. The whole cast posed for a photo, including May-Ling.

Since that play my life changed at school—all thanks to the encouragement of Mr Trent, my parents and speech therapist.

And I mustn't forget, I also gained a new friend.

Gabriel. Gabe for short.

#  MR COOK'S STAMPS

## Carol Pring

##### MRS COOKS STAMPS

"Stop running and listen! That dog is howling again up in the spooky house. Poor thing! Come on, let's take a look."

Maddy turned up the driveway.

Adam stopped her, "Wait, we can't just go knocking on doors or staring in at windows. We're supposed to be on our weekend training run for the school cross country team, not playing at private detectives!"

Maddy stamped her foot. "You're frightened of the weirdo living there!"

"No I'm not, and he's not weird, just shy, Mum said so. He's called Mr Cook."

She glowered, "You always think you know more than me! Well, it is a weird house, and the dog was howling yesterday too."

The house was set a few hundred metres back from a very quiet road on the edge of town. There were no other houses nearby. "It does look a bit strange, with its odd windows and tower," Adam agreed. "Ssh! I think the howling has stopped."

They listened to the sound of wind in the trees, the birds singing and a sheep bleating.

"Well?" said Maddy.

"Ssh," said Adam. "I thought I heard a cat meowing."

"Yes, I can hear it now, it sounds very unhappy too. Let's investigate." She ran up to the door.

"Wait," called Adam, "what are you going to say? Something like: 'We think you're mistreating your animals. We're school kids, but have decided to pretend we are SPCA Officers today.' Be sensible!"

Maddy stamped her foot again. "You're, so,so ... annoying!"

They heard people shouting. "Quick, move, behind those trees," she said.

"Might be better to leave," said Adam.

"You scared little brother?"

"Course not!"

Just before they reached the trees a slim, grey haired man appeared at a window.

"It's Mr Cook," said Adam.

"Come away from there Cook!" a voice shouted.

They heard a howl and another voice yell, "Want a kick, dog? Move!"

Mr Cook looked up and saw them. As he opened his mouth someone pulled him away from the window.

"I think he was going to shout for help. Did you see that big red mark on his face? It looked like someone had hit him."

Maddy's voice was shaking. "What should we do?" Call the SPCA or the Police?"

"We don't have our phones," said Adam. "We'll have to run back into town, but I'm not sure anyone will believe us. We've got no proof anything is wrong. Dogs howl and cats meow. People fall over and hurt themselves. They also have visitors."

"Do you think everything's okay?"

"No."

"Let's go and knock on the door then," said Maddy and off she went. Adam hesitated and by the time he caught her up she had knocked.

A large man answered. He looked at them, sneezed on his hand then wiped it on his very dirty shirt. "What d'you want?"

It was not a friendly greeting. In the background they saw another man in the hallway.

Maddy smiled sweetly, "Sorry to bother you but our dog has run away. Have you seen him?"

"There's no dogs here except Pip."

"He must be the one we heard howling," said Adam.

"What business is that of yours? You look after your own dog. He's not here, so push off." He slammed the door.

"Let's go home," said Adam.

When they reached home their mother told them not to worry. Mr Cook had told her he needed a wisdom tooth extracted. She said bruising after this was not uncommon. He'd also told her his sons were visiting soon as his 60th birthday was coming up, so it must have been them they'd seen.

"What do you think?" Adam asked Maddy when they were alone again.

"I don't think either of those hulks we saw at the house could be Mr Cook's sons. Not unless he married a very large lady wrestler!"

"That's what I thought, and that mark was on the side of his forehead, not his mouth. I've got one of those feelings, I think Mr Cook is in danger."

"So do I. Let's go back later tonight and have another look, see if we can get some proof."

Their Mum and Dad were going out that night and stopping over at a friend's house, so Aunt Jane was looking after them. She was their Mum's eldest sister. The twins loved her visits because she played games with them, made yummy cakes, and let them stay up late. That night she was surprised to find they were so tired they went to bed early. When she went to bed herself she could see that the lights in their rooms were off, so thought they were asleep. She had no reason to think they'd climbed out of their windows and gone investigating!

At that point they were crouched down behind the hedge at Mr Cook's home, wondering why there was a removal truck parked outside late at night. The two men they had seen earlier were filling it.

"What we should do?" asked Maddy.

"Call the police. We'll take a photo of the registration number. Honest people don't move furniture around at this time of night." But as Adam was about to take his phone out of his pocket a dog ran from the house, and jumped into the back of the truck.

One of the men shouted, "Bryan, that dog's run off. Find it! We don't want it wandering. I've got some poisoned meat."

Maddy and Adam looked at each other in horror.

"Quick into the truck," whispered Maddy. "We'll see if we can rescue it."

But they were barely in the truck when they received another shock. One of the men was dragging Mr Cook towards it.

"Let's hide behind this trunk," whispered Adam.

"Climb in Cook," the man shouted.

The dog moved beside his master and growled at the man.

"Come on Bryan, the dog's here. We'll keep him to make sure Cook behaves. If you make any fuss Cook, we'll put your precious dog Pip in a sack and drop him into the sea."

The door closed. "Hey Pip, good boy," said Mr Cook. "I'll just have a look for that torch."

When he turned on his torch he was astounded to see the children. Pip went up to them wagging his tail.

"How..." he began.

Maddy interrupted, "It's okay we'll explain later, we're going to call the police now."

But Adam looked shocked: "My phone! It's not in my pocket, it must have dropped out. What are we going to do now Mr Cook?"

"First tell me why you're here. You're Liz and Alex's twins aren't you? I've met your Mum and Dad. I'm Don Cook, just call me Don." After they had told him how they got there he said, 'You're very brave. But I wish you'd not done this. If only we had that phone."

"Why have they captured you and your furniture?" asked Maddy.

"Well," said Don, "I used to work with their boss, Phil Grimes. We were antique dealers. The partnership split when I found he was acting dishonestly. I've some stamps that are worth lots of money, I didn't realise how much until I had them valued. He found out and wants them, but I refused to hand them over to his men. So, he suggested they collect me, and the contents of my home, and take us to him. Some of the furniture is valuable and I've some rare books too."

"Why didn't he come himself?" asked Maddy.

"He's hiding somewhere up north. It's not just our Police that are after him. He has connections with an international crime ring. If only I had a few more days."

"That man talked about the sea," said Adam.

"We'll be heading for the ferry," said Don.

"What can we do?" asked Maddy "If we bang on the sides of truck and shout for help the men will hear us too."

"We've got to try and open the back door when the truck stops at a junction or roundabout," said Don.

At each junction and roundabout they tried but failed. Then they reached the highway.

"I can feel a draft," said Adam. "Look there's a gap at the bottom of the left door where it's rusty. Let's try and make it bigger. We could drop things out and leave a trail."

Don examined it. "My camping gear is in the trunk. There's a mallet and tent pegs. We can chip away here, it's so rusty we'll be able to make a bigger hole."

"Then we can drop the pegs out," said Maddy. "They're heavy enough not to blow away. We'll write notes, fold them up, and stick pegs through to hold them."

"Well done you two!" said Don "But we won't drop them yet, it's dark and there's not much traffic around. Better wait. We have to drive through town to get to the port so there will be some street lights on the way." But, he wondered, what chance was there of any one walking around a small town late at night, seeing their call for help then taking action.

Up front an argument had broken out.

"You stupid idiot," Kane was yelling. "I told you to fill up the tank."

"I can't remember everything!" shouted Bryan. "We can get some diesel at the filling station before we get on the ferry."

"The filling station, that's our chance!" said Don. "Let's get those notes written. Hopefully someone will see them and the truck will be stopped before it boards the ferry."

"But it's self service at night," said Adam, "no one will be there."

"We'll have to pray someone is nearby," said Don.

Retired Police inspector James Appleby was having back trouble again. He found walking helpful, so was out with his dog. He saw the removal truck in the filling station and watched a man get out. His face looked familiar, one perhaps from his working days. As the truck left the station he saw things falling out of it. His dog barked, and an answering bark came from the truck. Then he recalled the face. "Kane Jones," he murmured, "one of the Phil Grimes' gang." He bent down and picked up a tent pegs with its note, read it, then took out his phone.

When the truck kept starting then stopping Don and the children knew they were in the ferry queue. They heard the sound of metal underneath the wheels and felt the shake as they boarded. The truck stopped and the men got out and walked upstairs to the passenger area.

"What now?" said Adam.

Don slumped on the floor and put his head in his hands.

"Unfortunately I think they've won. Don't worry, they'll not harm you if I tell them where the stamps are, but there's another young life at stake."

"How?" asked Maddy.

"Those stamps are the only full set of their type left. They're in a bank vault now and due to go to auction in two days. They'll fetch a lot of money. There's a very sick little girl I know whose parents can't afford the special treatment she needs. The money from the sale would have gone to her parents." In the torchlight the children saw the tears in his eyes. They moved over and held his hands.

Shut up on the car deck they didn't hear the helicopter overhead, but they did heard the announcement saying departure was delayed. Then there were footsteps. Somebody banged on the back of the truck and called, "All right in there? We're opening the doors now." Three smiling policemen helped them out.

Up in the passenger area Kane and Bryan were surprised when an announcement advised them to go to the Office. They were even more surprised when they found a Police Armed Offender Squad waiting for them there. Retired Inspector Appleby stood outside enjoying the expression on their faces.

Later that year Don took Maddy and Adam to meet little Alice May. Her treatment had been successful and they made a new friend that day.

