Paul Jennings' Trickiest Stories Read online

  I felt my way carefully forward trying to find the camera. The rock on which I had stood was not a rock at all. It was a smooth type of box with rounded corners. I felt it carefully with my fingers, then I started to grope my way forward. I had to find the camera and the torch but in my heart I knew that it was impossible. They were somewhere among the dragon’s junk. Somewhere under his rotting bones. I knew I would never find either of them in the dark.

  As I started to grope around in the rubbish I bumped into an old oil drum. It clattered down the heap making a terrible clacking as it went.

  Suddenly I felt the damp ground tremble. The noise had loosened the roof of the cave. Pieces of rock and stone started to fall from above. The cave was collapsing. The earth shook as huge boulders fell from the roof above. I had to get out before I was buried alive. I stumbled back through the rubbish to the tunnel and fought my way through the piles of bones. I often hit my head on a rock or slipped on the slimy floor. I could hear an enormous crashing and squelching coming from behind. Suddenly a roaring filled the air and a blast of air sent me skidding down the corkscrew passage. The whole roof of the cavern must have fallen in.

  I skidded down the slippery tube on my backside. The floor was rough and the seat was ripped out of my pants as I tumbled down and down.

  At last I landed upside down at the bottom. I was aching all over and although I couldn’t see anything I knew I must be bleeding.

  A bouncing noise was coming from above. Something was tumbling down after me. Before I could move, a hard, rubbery object crashed into me and knocked me down. It was the smooth box-thing that I had stood on.

  I just sat there in the gurgling water and cried. It had all been in vain. I had seen the remains of the dragon and taken the photo. But the camera and the dragon and his rubbishy treasure were all buried under tonnes of rock. The dragon was gone for ever and so was Grandad’s hope of getting out of the sanatorium. There was no proof that the dragon had ever lived.

  5

  I could feel the box-thing move off down the drain. It was floating. I decided to follow it downstream and I think that it probably saved my life. By following the floating cube I was able to find my way back without a torch.

  At last – wet, cold and miserable – I emerged into the early morning daylight. The whole adventure had been for nothing. Everyone would still think that Grandad was crazy and I was the only one who knew he wasn’t. All I had to show for my efforts was the rubbery cube. I had no proof that a dragon had once lived in the drain.

  I looked at the cube carefully. It looked like a huge dice out of a game of Trivial Pursuit except it had no spots on it. It was heavy and coloured red. I could see it had no lid. It was solid, not hollow. I decided to show it to Grandad.

  I carried the cube back home and had a shower. Mum had gone to work. I got into some clean clothes and went round to the sanatorium. The mean-eyed nurse sat in her glass prison warder’s box at the end of the corridor.

  ‘Well,’ she said sarcastically, ‘Where is your dragon photo?’

  ‘I haven’t got one,’ I said sadly, ‘But I have got this.’ I held up the cube.

  ‘What is it?’ she snapped.

  ‘It’s from the dragon’s cave,’ I said weakly.

  ‘You nasty little boy,’ she replied. ‘Don’t think your lies are going to get the old man out. You make sure that when you leave that smelly box leaves too.’

  I went down to Grandad’s room. His face lit up when he saw me but it soon grew sad as he listened to my story.

  ‘I’m finished, Chris,’ he said. ‘Now I will never be able to prove my story. I’m stuck here for life.’

  We both sat and stared miserably at the cube. Suddenly Grandad sat up in bed. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘I’ve read about something like that in a book.’ He pointed at the cube. ‘I think I know what it is.’ He was smiling.

  As he spoke, I noticed a crack appearing up one side. With a sudden snap the whole thing broke in half and a little dragon jumped out.

  ‘It’s a dragon’s egg,’ shouted Grandad. ‘Dragon’s eggs are cube shaped.’

  The little monster ran straight at my leg, snapping its teeth. It was hungry. I jumped up on the bed with Grandad and we both laughed. Its teeth were sharp.

  The dragon was purple with green teeth. Smoke was coming out of its ears.

  ‘I’m getting out of here,’ said Grandad. ‘They can’t keep me now. We can prove I saw a dragon in the drain. This little fella didn’t come from nowhere. I’m free at last.’

  ‘Hooray,’ I shouted at the top of my voice. ‘It really is a dragon.’

  Just then I heard the clip, clop sound of Nurse Gribble’s shoes. The little dragon stood still and sniffed. He was looking at the door. He could smell food.

  Nurse Gribble stepped into the room and started to speak. ‘There’s no such thing…’ Her voice turned into a shriek as the tiny new-born dragon galloped across the room and clamped its teeth onto her leg. ‘Help,’ she screamed. ‘Help, help. Get it off. Get it off. A horrible little dragon. It’s biting me.’ She hopped from one side of the room to the other with the dragon clinging on to her leg tightly with its teeth. She yelled and screamed and jumped but the dragon would not let go.

  Grandad headed for the door carrying his suitcase.

  Nurse Gribble started to shriek. ‘Don’t go, don’t go. Don’t leave me alone with this dragon.’

  Grandad looked at her. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘There’s no such thing as a dragon.’

  Backward Step

  If you went back in time and stopped your

  grandparents from meeting each other you

  would never have been born. But then if you

  had never been born you wouldn’t be able to go

  back and stop them. Would you?

  ‘John,’ said Mrs Booth to her five-year-old son. ‘You just sit there and watch “Inspector Gadget” on the TV while I go down the street and get some milk. I’ll be back by the time it’s over.’

  ‘I love “Inspector Gadget”,’ said John.

  Mrs Booth reached the front gate and then stopped. She felt a little guilty, leaving her son alone in the house. But she knew he wouldn’t budge. Not for another twenty minutes. Not until the show was over.

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs Booth,’ said a voice.

  She jumped in fright and then stared into the eyes of a teenage boy. He thrust an old exercise book into her hand. ‘Read this. Please, please, please read it.’

  ‘I’m not interested in buying…’ she began to say.

  ‘I’m not selling anything,’ he said. ‘And it’s not a religion. This is important. This can save your life. You’re in great danger. Please read it.’

  ‘Now?’ she said.

  ‘Right away. Please, it’s really important.’

  There was something about the boy. He seemed very nervous. And she felt as if she knew him. The boy’s hands were shaking. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Just for a second.’ She gave a little sigh and opened the old exercise book.

  1

  I am fourteen. Nine years ago I was also fourteen. And nine years before that I was fourteen too.

  It is creepy. It is weird. But I think I have figured it all out. It makes sense to me now. It is the only explanation. No one will believe me, of course. They will just say I am crazy.

  Look – I’ll try and explain it to you as simply as I can. I’ve put one and one together and come up with two. Or should I say I’ve put nine and five together and come up with five.

  No, no, no, that’s just talking in riddles. I’ll start at the beginning. Or is it the end?

  Sorry, there I go again. Look, have you ever wanted strange powers? You know, to be able to fly or read thoughts or be very strong? I’ll bet you think it would be great. But think again. It could be dangerous. You could end up hurting yourself. Like I did.

  I am famous. Yes, there wouldn’t be too many people around here who haven’t heard of me. I’ll bet you think it
would be great to be famous. Pictures in the paper. On television. People wanting your autograph. That sort of thing.

  It’s not really that good. You never know whether people want to be your friend because they like you or because you are well known. And then there are kids who get jealous and give you a hard time and push you around. I would rather be ordinary and have ordinary problems.

  I became famous at five. They called me the boy from nowhere. There was a great fuss. It was in the papers. A five-year-old boy just suddenly appeared sitting in the back seat of the class. Right next to a girl called Sharon Coppersmith.

  That boy was me.

  Sharon Coppersmith screamed and screamed when I arrived. Or appeared. According to her I just popped out of nowhere. One minute the seat was empty. The next minute there was little old me. Five years old, sitting next to her in a history class.

  All the big kids crowded around. They were glad to have something break up the lesson. They laughed and offered me lollies and made a great fuss. The teacher thought that I had wandered in from the street.

  I just looked up and started crying. I was only five but I remember it just like it was yesterday. Who were all these big kids? Where was my mummy? Where was the nice big boy who wanted to help me?

  ‘What’s your name, little fella?’ said the teacher.

  For a while I couldn’t get a word out. I just sat there sobbing. In the end I managed to say, ‘John Boof, Firteen Tower Street, Upwey, seven five four, oh, oh, six two free free.’

  ‘John Booth,’ said the teacher. ‘13 Tower Street Upwey. Phone 754 006233. Well done. Don’t cry, little fella. We’ll have you home in no time.’

  2

  The principal’s office seemed huge. He wore a pair of those little half-moon glasses and kept peeping over them at me while he spoke into the phone. ‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘754 006233. No John Booth? Never heard of him. How long have you lived there? Three years. Well, sorry to have troubled you.’

  I just kept licking the salty tears that were rolling down my cheek and wondering how I got there.

  I had been watching ‘Inspector Gadget’ on television. I remember the man saying something like, ‘a brand new episode’. Then a big boy was talking to me. He just popped out of nowhere. He was nice. I was holding his hand and then ‘poof’, he was gone and there I was sitting in this school-room full of big kids. With everyone looking at me and wondering where I had come from.

  ‘Look,’ said the principal to his secretary. ‘Pop him in your car and see if he can show you where he lives. If he can’t find the place you’ll have to take him to the police station. His parents will come for him sooner or later.’

  I knew that I didn’t have a father. But I didn’t know that my mother had died nine years earlier.

  The secretary was nice. She strapped me into the seat next to her and gave me a little white bag with jelly-beans in it. ‘Don’t worry, love,’ she said, ‘We’ll soon find Mum. You just show me the way to go. All you have to do is point.’

  She drove around for a bit and I thought I recognised some of the houses and places. But they were different. Looking back I can describe it as like being in a dream. The streets were the same but different.

  ‘There,’ I suddenly yelled. It was the water tower. I could see it in the distance. It was right next to our house.

  ‘What?’ said the nice lady. ‘The water tower? You couldn’t live there, love.’

  ‘Neks door,’ I said.

  She smiled. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’

  There was only one house next to the water tower and it was my house. At least it was like my house. It had the same rock chimney and the same fountain in the front yard. But it was painted green instead of blue. And the trees were huge. And the chicken shed had gone. But it was still my house.

  ‘Mummy,’ I shouted. I had never been so happy in my life. I didn’t stop to think that you can’t paint a house in one day. And the trees can’t grow overnight. When you are five you think adults can do anything. I pelted up to the front door and ran inside. Then I just stopped and stared. Our furniture had gone. There was no television. My photo wasn’t on the wall.

  ‘Mummy,’ I screamed. ‘Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.’ I scampered into the kitchen. A very old lady looked down at me. Then she looked at the secretary who had followed me in and started to scream.

  The old lady thought we had come to rob her.

  After all, we had just walked into her house without even knocking.

  3

  Well, after a lot of talking, the secretary managed to calm the old lady down. They had a cup of tea and the old lady gave me some green cordial. ‘Mummy,’ I said. ‘I want my mummy.’ I didn’t know what this old lady was doing in our house. I didn’t know where my toys had gone. I didn’t like the new carpet and the photos of strange people. I wanted everything to be like it was before. I also wanted to go to the toilet.

  I ran upstairs, through the big bedroom and into the little toilet at the back. When I came back I heard the secretary saying, ‘How did he know where to go?’

  The old lady just shook her head. None of us knew what was going on.

  The secretary took me out to the car but I didn’t want to get in. I didn’t want to leave the house that was supposed to be my home. But the secretary was firm and she put me in the front seat. As we drove off she checked the house number. ‘13 Tower Street,’ she said to herself with a puzzled look.

  The police were puzzled too. ‘We’ll look him up on our computer,’ said the sergeant. ‘His parents have probably reported him missing by now.’

  He tapped away for several minutes. Then he scratched his head and just sat there staring at the screen. ‘There is a John Booth missing,’ he said. ‘He disappeared nine years ago, aged five. That would make him fourteen by now.’

  ‘Well, this little boy is not fourteen,’ said the secretary. She squatted down and looked into my eyes. ‘Are you John?’

  ‘I’m five,’ I said.

  The sergeant tapped for a while. ‘The missing boy lived around here,’ he said. ‘13 Tower Street.’ He crouched down and patted me on the head. ‘Where were you when you lost your mum?’ he asked kindly.

  ‘Watching “Inspector Gadget”,’ I said.

  ‘Is that still on?’ said the secretary.

  The sergeant rummaged through a newspaper. ‘No channel has “Inspector Gadget” on,’ he said. ‘Not any time this week.’

  ‘Maybe he’s from another state,’ said the secretary.

  The sergeant went off for a while and the secretary tried to read me a story. But I didn’t want it. I only wanted my mother. Finally the sergeant returned. ‘I rang Channel Two,’ he said. ‘ “Inspector Gadget” is showing in fifteen countries but nowhere in Australia. The nearest place is New Zealand.’

  ‘Maybe he’s a Kiwi,’ said the secretary.

  The sergeant squatted down again. ‘Say fish and chips,’ he said.

  ‘Fish and chips,’ I said.

  ‘Nah,’ said the sergeant. ‘He’s a dinkie di Aussie, aren’t you, mate?’

  I didn’t know what it meant but I nodded anyway.

  After that the secretary left and a policewoman looked after me. Everyone was getting more and more excited. ‘Wait until the papers get hold of this,’ said the sergeant.

  They were looking at an old newspaper. There was a picture of a mangled car. And a picture of a five-year-old me standing in front of the water tower.

  The sergeant shook his head. ‘A kid goes missing nine years ago,’ he said. ‘Then an identical kid turns up today. He says he lives at the same address. He says he has the same name. He knows all about “Inspector Gadget” which hasn’t been shown here for nine years. He is even wearing the same clothes. This boy is the world’s first time traveller. He has jumped forward nine years.’

  There was only one thing they didn’t tell me for a long time. I wanted my mum but they couldn’t go and fetch her. She was killed the day I disappeared. A c
ar knocked her down while she was crossing the road to the milk bar.

  Talk about a fuss. Everyone wanted to see me. Take my photo. People from university wanted to study me. Fortune tellers and mystics claimed they had moved me in time. I was on television all over the world.

  In the end my grandma came and got me. At first I didn’t recognise her because she was much greyer and had more wrinkles. But as soon as she spoke I knew it was her. ‘You’re coming with me, John Boy,’ she said. There was no arguing with that voice. I ran over and hugged and hugged her until my arms ached.

  She tried to stop them taking photos. She tried to keep off the professors and psychics. She tried to give me a normal life. But of course she couldn’t. She was old and she didn’t really want to bring up a child again. ‘Your mother was enough,’ she said. ‘Having a child and looking after it with no father. And now it’s me looking after you.’

  So here I am nine years later. An oddity. Grandma is doing her best. But she is old and tired and we are both unhappy. I have no friends. No mother. No father. I’m famous. Everybody knows me. But nobody likes me. Being famous has mucked up my life.

  Nine years ago I travelled in time. Today I found out that I can do it again.

  4

  I was walking along the street in a sort of a daze. There was a lot of traffic. Trucks, cars, motorbikes. The air was full of fumes and noise. I checked the time on my watch. Four o’clock.

  A huge petrol tanker was bearing down. I didn’t see it. I just stepped out in front of it without looking. There was a squeal of brakes. Blue smoke and a blaring horn. There was no time to get out of the way.

  I knew that I was gone. There was no escape.

  Suddenly, ‘poof’.

  I was lying on a seat on the other side of the road. An old man sitting next to me looked as if a ghost had just appeared in front of him. He screamed and ran off as fast as he could go.