Just Crazy (12 page)

I lose control and it hits the ground, spilling rubbish everywhere.

I can't believe what I'm seeing.

Half of the stuff from our garage is lying on the road. Mum and Dad must have had another cleanout. I hate it when they do that. They've thrown out some really good stuff. And some of it's mine. My old floaties. A house I made out of matchsticks. And my electric racing car set! I know the controls are missing, pieces of the track are broken and the cars have lost all their wheels, but that's no reason to throw out a perfectly good electric racing car set!

I'd better check there's nothing else of mine in there. I stand the bin up and look inside.

Oh no. I don't believe it!

She's chucked away the most valuable thing I own in the world — my faithful bath and shower companion — my rubber duck! I can see it's little yellow beak peaking out from under the rubbish.

I look up.

The rubbish truck is about halfway along the street. I've got just enough time to get my duck and then scram.

‘Don't worry!' I say. ‘I'll save you!'

I lean down into the bin, but I can't reach. It's right at the bottom.

I have to lean over further.

Uh-oh.

Too far!

I fall into the bin, headfirst into something squishy and smelly. It doesn't taste too good, either.

And what's worse, I can't move.

I can't get up.

The roaring of the truck is getting louder.

I kick my legs to try to make the bin fall over so I can wriggle out.

But my kicking is useless.

All it does is make the lid of the bin fall shut on top of me.

Now I'm trapped.

And nobody knows I'm in here!

The truck is right beside me. I can hear it. I feel the bin roll off the nature strip and land on the road with a bump. I think it's being put on the tray. I'm rising into the air. It's just
like being in an elevator except much smellier.

I'm yelling my head off but it's no use. They can't hear me above the noise of the truck.

I clutch my duck. The bin tips upside down and we are dumped into the back of the truck with all the other rubbish.

The stink!

The stench!

The horror!

This has got to be the most disgusting thing that's ever happened to me.

I'm being churned around with all the rubbish. I try to scream but I get a mouthful of used tissues. Everything is a blur as bin after bin of fresh rotting rubbish is dumped on top of me. Mouldy vegetables, putrid fish and disposable nappies . . . I come face to face with a dead cat, but only for a moment — the churning just won't stop. Every time I catch my breath and work my way to the top of the pile a new bin-load knocks me down and the churning continues.

I've got to get out of here!

I've saved the neighbourhood, but I'm going to die!

I'll get bubonic plague.

I think I can feel it coming on already.

Dad's right.

There is nothing funny about being up to your knees in rubbish — and when it's over your head it's even unfunnier.

What a pity I won't live to tell him that.

Because I can't fight it anymore.

I'm going to die, suffocated in rubbish.

I press my rubber duck to my chest, close my eyes and prepare for the end.

That's weird.

Everything has gone quiet.

The churning has stopped.

Maybe there's still hope.

I dig my way up out of the rubbish towards the light.

I push my head through a load of mouldy bread, empty dog food cans and used kitty litter.

But I don't care. I can see the sky!

I raise my duck above my head.

‘We're going to make it,' I say.

My duck quacks with joy.

I squirm and wriggle the rest of my body out from under the rubbish until I'm sitting on top of it all.

I wipe the slime from my eyes and look around.

We're travelling along a main road. The truck is obviously full and they're heading back to the tip to empty it. I've got to get out before that happens. I don't want to spend the rest of my life as landfill.

We pull up at a set of traffic lights.

This is my chance to escape.

I climb down over the back of the truck onto the platform, and just as the truck starts moving again, I jump clear. I hit the ground running, trip and roll into the gutter.

Ouch.

It hurts, but it's better than being in a rubbish truck any day.

‘Are you all right?' says a voice.

A beautiful voice.

The voice of an angel.

I must be dead.

The bubonic plague got me after all and I've gone to Heaven.

But there's something familiar about that voice.

I open my eyes.

It's Lisa.

Lisa Mackney looking down at me.

‘Andy?' she says.

‘Lisa?' I say. ‘When did you die?'

‘Die?' she says. ‘What are you talking about? We arranged to meet, remember?'

I sit up.

I look around.

This is not Heaven. This is Hell.

I'm outside the park.

Right where I said I would meet Lisa.

I'm right on time, but everything else is wrong. As wrong as it possibly could be.

There she is looking clean and fresh and princess-like, her soft hair shining in the morning sun. And here am I, sitting in the gutter in my pyjamas covered in rubbish, surrounded by flies, clutching my rubber duck.

‘I should have known you weren't serious,' she says, pinching her nose and backing away from me. ‘I should have known it was all a joke.'

‘No, it wasn't!' I say, getting up and stepping towards her. A big slimy chunk of maggot-infested meat slides off my shoulder and plops onto the ground in front of her.

She puts her hand over her mouth and takes another step back.

‘Keep away from me!' she says. ‘You . . . you . . . you stink!'

I step towards her — kitty litter, cigarette butts and broken egg shells fall from my clothes and hair as I move.

She turns and runs.

I watch her. The girl I love. Running away from me in disgust.

What was supposed to be the best morning of my life has turned out to be the worst.

And the worst thing about it is that she's never going to want to kiss me now. All that practice on the mirror for nothing.

But at least I got the rubbish out. At least the neighbourhood is safe once more from the bubonic plague.

There's no telling how many lives I've saved.

Not to mention my rubber duck.

Perhaps all is not lost, after all.

I'm going to go home, cut this stupid string off my finger and have a long shower. A really long shower. I might even use some more of that air freshener — it was pretty strong. Then I'll go to school and explain everything to Lisa.

I'm sure she'll understand. In fact, I can see it now.