Just Stupid! (9 page)

   I’m gagging and coughing, trying to get it out. I’m too young to die.

   ‘It’s the bogeyman!’ screams Jen. ‘He’s under the bed!’

   Craig’s face appears beside me.

   ‘Bogeyboy more like,’ he says. ‘It’s your stupid little brother.’

   He grabs my arm and drags me out.

   But I don’t care. He’s doing me a favour. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get to a hospital before the poison takes effect. Before the convulsions start.

   ‘Andy!’ says Jen.

   I try to stand up. It’s not easy because I’m so stiff from having been cramped under the bed for so long. Or maybe it’s the first sign of the poison setting in. Maybe my whole body will seize up and I won’t be able to move!

   I stagger to the door.

   ‘Stop him!’ says Jen.

   Craig strides across the room. He pushes me away from the door and stands with his back against it.

   ‘Not so fast, buddy,’ he says, rolling up his shirt sleeves. ‘I think we need to have a little talk.’

   Jen gets up from the bed and joins Craig at the door.

   ‘What were you doing under there?’ she says.

   ‘Yeah, you little weirdo!’ says Craig. ‘Explain!’

   ‘I haven’t got time to explain,’ I say. ‘I have to get to the hospital. It’s a matter of life or death.’

   Craig snorts.

   ‘It’s a matter of life or death all right,’ he says, ‘but you won’t need a hospital by the time I’ve finished with you. You’ll be going straight to the morgue!’

   ‘Yeah, you’re in big trouble, Andy,’ says Jen. ‘Wait till I tell Mum and Dad!’

   You do that and I’ll tell them you got home late and you had Craig in your room!’ I say.

   ‘I’ll just deny it,’ says Jen.

   ‘But it’s true!’ I say.

   ‘I know that and you know that,’ says Jen. ‘But who do you think Mum and Dad are going to believe? Me or you?’

   She’s got a point but I don’t care. I don’t
care about anything. I’m going to die.

   ‘Please let me go,’ I beg. ‘I swear I won’t tell anybody anything. Just let me go.’

   Suddenly I feel the most extraordinary sensation at the back of my throat.

   ‘Are you all right, Andy?’ says Jen. ‘You’ve gone green!’

   ‘Probably just another one of his dumb tricks,’ says Craig.

   ‘No,’ says Jen. ‘Look at him. I think there really is something wrong.’

   I can’t speak. I gag and cough. It’s like when you touch the back of your throat to make yourself sick . . . only it’s not me doing the touching. It’s the spider! It’s trying to get out. I gag again. Something flies out of my mouth and lands on the carpet.

   Something wet.

   Something furry.

   Something disgusting.

   We all stare at it. A leg extends from the furry blob—and another and another and another.

   That is truly gross, but better out than in I guess.

   It starts dragging itself across the carpet towards the door. Towards Craig and Jen.

   Jen screams. Craig screams too. Even louder than Jen.

   They both run from the door back to the bed. They are huddled in the corner clutching each other, staring at me in horror.

   ‘Go away!’ screams Jen. ‘Get out!’

   So this is what it’s like to be the bogeyman. This is what it’s like to have people terrified of you. I could get used to this.

   I make a big show of licking my lips. I look down at the spider.

   ‘Nice flavour,’ I say. ‘But a bit hairy. Either of you want to try it?’

   Jen puts a hand over her mouth. Craig goes white.

   ‘What’s the matter?’ I say. ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’

   They shake their heads.

   I move towards the door. My work here is done.

   ‘Sweet dreams,’ I say.

f all the things I’ve ever done, this would have to be the most stupid.

   I’m lying on my back squashed into a pram. Sucking a dummy. Waving a Porky Pig rattle. Wearing a nappy.

   Danny is pushing me down the hill. He can hardly walk for laughing.

   ‘Googoo gaga!’ I gurgle.

   ‘Good baby,’ says Danny.

   We spent the whole morning walking around the streets inspecting the piles of junk left on everybody’s nature strips for the hard rubbish collection tomorrow. That’s where we found the pram. It’s a big old-fashioned one with large wheels, curved mudguards and a high chrome handle. The

pram is a bit battered, but it still goes, and it’s got great suspension. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was a garbage bag full of old baby clothes and toys to go with it.

   Putting on a nappy and going for a ride just seemed like the obvious thing to do.

   The dummy is starting to taste a bit rubbery. I take a deep breath and spit it out. It hits Danny in the eye.

   ‘Bad baby!’ says Danny. He lets the pram go.

   I start to roll down the hill. I scream.

   Danny grabs the pram.

   ‘Just tricking!’ he says.

   ‘Good one,’ I say.

   He lets go again.

   I roll for a couple more seconds, but this time I’m only a little bit worried. He grabs the pram again.

   ‘You’re an idiot,’ I say.

   ‘What am I?’ he says.

   ‘An idiot.’

   He lets go again.

   I roll faster this time. He lets me roll a few metres.

   ‘Danny?’ I say.

   He laughs and runs to catch me. But just
as he’s about to grab the pram, he trips and falls flat on his face.

   The pram takes off down the hill. For real this time.

   ‘Danny!’ I yell.

   I’m flying down the hill. I’d try and jump out but I’m going too fast. But if I don’t jump, I’m going to cross the road at the bottom of the hill and smash into number 21’s brick fence.

   I see a man watering his nature strip. It’s Mr Broadbent, our next-door neighbour.

   ‘Mr B!’ I yell. ‘Mr B! Help!’

   He turns around.

   I’m kneeling up in the pram waving my Porky Pig rattle.

   ‘I can’t stop!’ I yell. ‘Stretch your hose across the road!’

   He shakes his head and turns back to his watering.

   Mr B and I don’t get along too well. I know I can be a bit annoying at times, but that’s no excuse for ignoring a fellow human being in distress.

   ‘You’ll be sorry!’ I yell back.

   I look over my shoulder at number 21’s rapidly approaching brick fence. Actually, I think it’s me who’s going to be sorry unless . . . unless . . .

   I look at the Porky Pig rattle. I can use it as a brake! I reach down and jam it in the wheel spokes. The rattle shatters. Thanks for nothing, Porky.

   What do I do now?

   I notice that the pram is veering slightly to the right. Maybe if I leaned over a bit more I could get round the corner . . . away from the fence and down the next hill.

   That hill is even steeper and it has an intersection at the end. But it does eventually level out, and the traffic shouldn’t be too bad at this time of day. It’s got to be worth a try.

   I lean over the side and look back at Danny. He’s running down the hill, but there’s no way he’s going to reach me in time.

   The pram is almost tipping over. I’m on two wheels! Sparks are flying off the wheel rims. But it’s working. I hear the sound of metal screaming. I close my eyes. I open them again and look over the top of the pram bonnet. The hill seems steeper than I remembered—but then I haven’t seen it from this perspective before.

   I hear barking. I look across the road. It’s
the bull terrier from number 19.

   ‘So long, dog-breath!’ I call. He throws himself against the fence.

   Everything’s going my way now. I’ve even got a green light at the intersection.

   Oh no—I don’t believe it!