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  ‘Ben Byron,’ I shouted. ‘The bones belong to my great great grandfather without a shirt.’

  I suddenly thought of something – Ben Byron’s shoe had reminded me. Tomorrow was Wednesday; I had to give my History talk at school. I groaned. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep worrying about it. And the more I worried the more nervous I would get. The more nervous I got the worse I would feel. The last time I gave a talk at school I got one out of ten. One out of ten. You couldn’t get much lower than that.

  Then I had an idea – I would take along the shoe. I would tell everyone I had found Ben Byron’s shoe. That would make it interesting. I might even get three out of ten for my talk if I had the shoe. I put the shoe in my sock drawer and took the bag of bones out of the cupboard. I wanted to have a closer look at them.

  I tipped the bones out into a pile on the floor. There were three long bones and a lot of small ones. The sad, lonely feeling came over me once more. I sat down on the bed and looked at the pile of sad bones. Then something happened that gave me a shock. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing – the bones were moving. They were slowly moving around the floor. The bones were creeping around each other like a pile of snakes.

  The bones sorted themselves out. They all fitted together. They formed themselves into a foot and a leg. All the bones were in the right order. I had the skeleton of Ben Byron’s leg.

  The leg didn’t move. It just lay there on the floor. I sat on the bed looking at it for a long time. I can tell you I was scared – very scared. But I couldn’t just leave the leg there; Mum might come in and see it. Anyway it was creepy having the skeleton of someone’s leg lying on your bedroom floor. In the end I jumped up and swept all of the bones back into the bag and threw it into the corner of the room. Then I climbed into bed and put my head under the blanket. I tried to pretend that the bones weren’t there.

  7

  The next day I had to give my talk at school. It went worse than I thought. It was terrible. I stood in front of the class for ages without saying anything; I was so scared that my knees were knocking. The words just wouldn’t come out. ‘What’s up,’ said Sue Featherstone. ‘Haven’t you got any shirts today?’ A big laugh went up.

  I managed to read the whole thing through to the end. I tried not to say anything else. I could feel it building up inside me – it was like a bomb waiting to go off. I kept my mouth closed tight but the words were trying to get out. My cheeks blew out and my face went red. ‘Look at him,’ laughed Sue Featherstone. ‘He’s trying not to say it.’

  It was no good. The words exploded out. ‘Without a shirt.’

  I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed the shoe. ‘This is Ben Byron’s shoe,’ I said. ‘It was washed ashore without a shirt.’

  ‘It is not,’ said Sue Featherstone. ‘It’s an old shoe that you found at the tip.’

  Everything was going wrong. I would probably get nought out of ten for this talk. Then something happened that changed everything. A feeling of sadness swept over me. Everyone in the room felt it – they all felt sad. Then someone screamed. It was the leg – it was standing there at the door. It hopped across the room. My hands were shaking so much that I dropped the shoe. The leg hopped across the platform and into the shoe. It wanted the shoe.

  Sue Featherstone looked at the skeleton leg and started shouting out. ‘Get rid of it. Get rid of the horrible thing.’

  The leg started hopping towards her. It hopped right up onto her desk. She screamed and screamed. Then she ran for the door. Everyone else had the same idea – they all ran for the door at the same time. There was a lot of yelling and pushing. They were all trying to get out of the door at once. They were scared out of their wits.

  The leg bones chased the whole class across the playground and down the street. I have never heard so much yelling and screaming in all my life.

  I was left alone in the classroom with Mr Bush. He just sat there shaking his head. After a while he said, ‘I don’t know how you did it, Brian. But it was a good trick. I give you ten out of ten for that talk. Ten out of ten.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Bush without a shirt,’ I said.

  8

  When I got home from school the leg was waiting for me. It was just standing there in the corner of my room; it didn’t move at all. But it was so sad and it made me sad. I felt as if I were a skeleton myself. I felt as if my bones were being washed away by the waves, as if they were being scattered along a long, sandy beach. I knew that this is what had happened to Ben Byron. His bones had been washed up and scattered along Lady Bay Beach.

  I looked at Shovel. ‘We have to find the rest of the bones,’ I said. ‘This leg will never have peace until all the bones are together again. We have to find the rest of the bones and we have to find them now without a shirt.’

  I took a spade and a sack and walked towards the beach. Shovel came with me and so did the leg. It hopped slowly behind us making a plopping sound as it came. It still had the shoe on. It was lucky that there was no one on the beach – they wouldn’t have believed their eyes if they had seen a boy, a dog and a skeleton leg walking along the beach. I could hardly believe it myself.

  I didn’t know where to start looking. But the leg did. It hopped across the beach and stood still where it wanted us to dig. We spent all afternoon following the leg around and digging holes. In every hole we found some bones. I went as fast as I could; I wanted to get rid of the sad feeling. Tears were running down my face because I was so unhappy. Every time I found some more bones I put them in the sack. The bones were glad to be together; I could tell that. But they were still sad. They would not be happy until I found the last one.

  After a long time I found the last bone. It was the skull. It was in a hole with an old shirt – a very old shirt. I had never seen one like it before. I put the skull and the shirt in the sack. Then I held open the top. The leg hopped into the sack with the other bones.

  9

  The feeling of sadness went as soon as the leg joined the other bones. The bones were happy, I was happy and so was Shovel.

  ‘Now,’ I said to Shovel. ‘We have a job to do. We have to bury all the bones in the same hole without a shirt.’

  I carried the bag of happy bones to a lonely place in the sand dunes, and Shovel and I started to dig a hole. We worked at it for hours and hours. At last it was deep enough. I took the bag of bones and tipped them into the grave. They fell into a pile at the bottom; then they started to move. They slithered around at the bottom of the hole. I should have felt scared but I didn’t. I knew what was happening. The bones were joining up into a skeleton. After a while it was finished. The skeleton was whole. It lay still at the bottom of the grave looking up at me. It didn’t look as if it was at peace. There was something else – it wanted something else. I looked in the sack. The shirt was still there.

  I threw the shirt into the hole. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I won’t bury you without a shirt.’

  The bones started to move for the last time. The skeleton moved onto its side with the shirt under its head. It was in a sleeping position. It was very happy. Music seemed to come up out of the grave – silent music. I could hear it inside my head.

  We filled in the grave and smoothed down the sand. I decided to say a few words; after all, it was a sort of a funeral. I looked out to sea. I could feel tears in my eyes. This is what I said. ‘Here lie the bones of Ben Byron. At peace at last. Beside this beautiful bay.’

  Shovel looked up at me. He seemed to be smiling.

  ‘Hey,’ I yelled. ‘I didn’t mention a shirt. I didn’t say it.’

  And I never did again.

  The Strap-Box Flyer

  Hundreds of people were watching Giffen. They thought he was a bit mad. But they couldn’t stop looking. He was very interesting.

  Giffen went over to his truck and got out a tube of glue. On the tube it said GIFFEN’S GREAT GLUE. IT WILL STICK ANYTHING. Giffen held the glue ove
r his head. ‘This is the best glue in the world,’ he said. ‘It can mend anything that is broken. Who has something that is broken?’

  A small boy came out the front. He held up a bow and arrow. ‘My bow is broken,’ he said. ‘And no one can fix it.’ Giffen took the bow out of the boy’s hand. He put a bit of glue on the broken ends and joined them together. Then he put the arrow in the bow and shot it into the air. The people were surprised. They all clapped and cheered.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ Giffen told them. ‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’ He went over to the back of his truck where he had a big crane. It had a rope on the end of it. Giffen grabbed the rope. He put a dab of glue on the end of it. Then he put the rope onto the roof of the car. ‘This glue can hold up a car,’ he told the crowd. He stepped into his truck and started up the crane. The car was lifted up into the air. The only thing that held the rope onto the car was the glue.

  The crowd thought this was great. No one had ever seen glue like this before. ‘Now,’ said Giffen, ‘who wants to buy some of Giffen’s Great Glue?’

  The crowd rushed forward. Everyone wanted some glue. They couldn’t get it quick enough. They thought it was terrific. ‘Get it while it lasts,’ shouted Giffen. ‘Only ten dollars a tube.’

  Giffen sold two hundred tubes of glue. He made two thousand dollars in one day. The customers took their glue and went home to try it out.

  ‘You fools,’ said Giffen to himself. ‘You will soon find out that the glue stops working after four hours.’

  2

  Miss Tibbs had bought a tube of Giffen’s Great Glue. She was a very old lady. She lived all on her own. Most of her friends were dead. There was no one to help her to fix things up when they got broken. So she was very glad to have the glue.

  Miss Tibbs collected china. She had spent all of her life saving pieces of china. She had plates and cups and saucers from all over the world. She also had little china dolls and toy animals. She had so many pieces that she didn’t know where to put them all. This is why she wanted the glue. She wanted to put up a new shelf.

  As soon as she got home Miss Tibbs went and fetched a piece of wood from the shed in her back garden. Then she put some of Giffen’s Great Glue along the edge of the wood and stuck it onto the wall. It worked well. The shelf was very strong.

  This is wonderful glue,’ she said. ‘It dries straight away.’ Miss Tibbs started to put her china pieces onto the shelf. She decided to put her favourite piece out first. It was a small china horse. She had owned it for many years. It had been given to her by her father before he died. Miss Tibbs loved this horse. She put it in the best spot, right in the middle of the shelf.

  After she had put all of the other pieces out Miss Tibbs sat down and had a rest. She was very tired. She fell asleep in her armchair in front of the fire.

  Four hours later Miss Tibbs was woken up by a loud crash. The glue had stopped working. The shelf had fallen off the wall and all of the china pieces were smashed.

  Miss Tibbs went down onto her hands and knees. She started to pick up all of the broken pieces. Then she remembered her horse. Her precious horse. She looked for it among the bits. She couldn’t find it. Then she found something that made her cry. A leg and a tail and a tiny head. The horse was smashed to pieces.

  Miss Tibbs cried and cried. She got her tube of Giffen’s Great Glue and threw it in the fire. Then she decided that she would go and find Giffen. She would tell him that his glue was no good. She would ask him to pay for the broken china.

  She hurried back to the place where Giffen had been. But he was gone. There was no sign of him. She knew that he would never come back.

  3

  Another person who bought the tube of Giffen’s Great Glue was Scott Bridges. He had bought it to mend his canoe. It had broken in half.

  Scott’s father had told him the canoe could not be repaired. He said that its back was broken. He told Scott to take it to the tip. But now that Scott had a tube of Giffen’s Great Glue he knew that he could fix it.

  The canoe was down at the lake. Scott went down there on his own. He didn’t tell his father where he was going. He pulled the two pieces of the canoe together, and put Giffen’s Great Glue along the join.

  ‘Great,’ yelled Scott. ‘It’s as good as new. This glue is fantastic.’ He pushed the canoe into the water and climbed in. It floated well. It didn’t leak at all. Scott began to paddle out into the middle of the lake. He was very happy. And excited. He paddled off as fast as he could go.

  Scott was not allowed to go out in the canoe without a life jacket. But on this day he had forgotten. All that he could think about was the canoe and Giffen’s Great Glue.

  It was a sunny day and the time passed quickly. Soon four hours had passed. Scott noticed that some water was starting to leak into the canoe. He decided to start paddling for home. But it was too late. The glue had come unstuck. The canoe broke in two and sank.

  The water was icy cold. Scott was frightened. It was a long way to the shore. ‘Help,’ he screamed at the top of his voice. But no one heard him. He was the only person on the lake.

  Scott started to swim to shore. After a little while he began to get tired. His legs hurt and he had a pain in his stomach. His head went under the water. He tried to get back to the top. But it was no use. His lungs filled with water and he sank to the bottom of the lake.

  That night, when Scott did not come home, his father called the police. Divers searched the lake. They found Scott’s body. And the broken canoe. In the bottom of the canoe was a tube of Giffen’s Great Glue.

  4

  Giffen was driving away in his truck. Very fast. He knew that he only had four hours to get away. Then the people who had bought the glue would start looking for him. He knew that they would be mad. He did not want them to catch him.

  He decided to drive to Horsham. That was a long way off. They would not know about Giffen’s Great Glue in Horsham. He could find some more suckers, and make some more money.

  Two days later he arrived in Horsham. He took his truck to the centre of town. Then he put up a sign. The sign said:

  TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS PRIZE

  FOR ANYONE WHO CAN UNSTICK

  GIFFEN’S GREAT GLUE

  Soon two men arrived. They were both riding tractors. One of the men got down from his tractor. He walked over to Giffen and gave him two pieces of rope. ‘Join these up with your glue,’ he said. ‘Then he will pull it apart.’

  Giffen smiled to himself. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it.’ He put a dob of glue on the end of the two pieces of rope. Then he joined them together. The glue stuck fast.

  The men took the rope that had been joined. They tied one end to each of the tractors. Then they started the tractors up. There was a lot of smoke and noise. A crowd started to gather. Everyone thought that the glue would break. But it didn’t. The wheels on the tractors sent up blue smoke. The engines roared. But still the glue held.

  Then there was a loud bang. The engine of one of the tractors had stopped. The other tractor started to drag it along the road. Everyone cheered at the top of their voices.

  ‘Now,’ said Giffen, ‘who will buy my great glue?’

  The crowd pushed forward. Everyone wanted some. The people waved their money. They pushed and shoved. Giffen sold three hundred tubes.

  At last everyone went home. Except one man. A short, bald man with a friendly smile. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to Giffen. ‘But I wonder if you would like to buy something from me?’

  ‘What are you selling?’ said Giffen in a gruff voice.

  ‘A Strap-Box Flyer. It is a small box that will make people fly.’

  5

  Giffen didn’t believe that there was a box that could make someone fly. There was no such thing. This man was trying to fool him. Still, he was interested. It might be a new sort of trick that he could use himself, to make money from the suckers. He looked at his watch. He had to get out of this town before the glue started to come unstuck. He had four ho
urs left. There was plenty of time to talk to the little man.

  ‘Okay,’ said Giffen to the little man. ‘Show me your Strap-Box Flyer.’

  ‘Not here, someone might see us. Come home with me and I will show you how it works.’

  Giffen followed the little man to his house. It was a small cottage. It was very untidy. The grass was long and some of the windows were broken. Inside there was junk everywhere. There were tools, nuts and bolts, machines and bits of wire all over the floor.

  ‘My name is Mr Flint,’ said the little man. ‘But everyone calls me Flinty.’

  ‘I’m in a hurry, Flinty,’ said Giffen. ‘So let me see you do some flying.’

  ‘Very well, very well,’ replied Flinty. He went over to a shelf and took down a small box. Then he lifted up the carpet and pulled out a short strap. It looked like a watch band made out of silver.

  ‘I keep the strap in one place, and the box in another,’ said Flinty. ‘That’s to stop anyone stealing my invention. I have to screw the box onto the strap. It won’t work unless both pieces are screwed together.’

  Flinty fiddled around with the box and the strap. It took a long time. About half an hour. Giffen was getting worried. He did not want to stay much longer. The crowd would be mad when they found out that the glue did not work for long. At last Flinty finished. He had screwed the box onto the strap. He put it onto his arm. It looked just like a wrist watch, only bigger.

  ‘Now,’ said Flinty. ‘Watch this.’ Slowly he rose up off the floor. He went up about ten centimetres.

  Giffen could not believe it. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘How high can you go?’ he asked Flinty.