The Bravest Kid I've Ever Known and Other Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls (2 page)

‘For a start, I will not have you speaking to me like that,’ replied her mum. ‘And secondly, the answer is nothing because dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. I’ve got school council tonight.’

‘But I’m hungry now!’ said Mandy.

‘Well, you’ll just have to wait,’ said her mum. ‘Did you eat all your lunch?’

‘What lunch?’ said Mandy. ‘Had to pick up papers and didn’t get time.’

‘Not another detention?’ asked her mum.

‘The idiot teacher said I was talking in class,’ said Mandy.

‘Oh really?’ said her mum. ‘And which “idiot” was it this time?’

‘Mr Tyres,’ said Mandy.

‘And
were
you talking?’ asked her mum.

‘No,’ replied Mandy. ‘All I did was ask Sandra for a loan of her rubber.’

‘Well,’ said her mum, ‘unless the whole world has switched over to sign language, asking for a rubber is talking!’

‘No, it’s not!’ said Mandy.

‘It seems to me, young girl,’ continued her mum, ‘that everyone is an idiot except you! Your teachers, your brother, your father and me…’

‘You can say that again,’ said Mandy.

‘Right!’ shouted her mum. ‘That’s it! Go to your room and I don’t want to even see you again until the morning. Is that clear? No dinner. Nothing!’

‘Idiot,’ said Mandy again, as she stormed off and slammed the door behind her.

‘What’s going on?’ Mandy’s mum asked her dad later.

‘Got me beaten,’ said her dad. ‘We give her absolutely everything, yet she’s been a rude, grumpy little miss from the moment she was born. Perhaps we spoil her too much?’

‘I’m sure we do,’ said Mandy’s mum. ‘What was it first? The terrible twos? Then the shocking sixes, the evil eights and I can’t think of one to go with elevens, but how does bad-mannered, ill-tempered, stubborn and selfish sound?’

‘Spot on,’ said Dad. ‘And it’s time it stopped!’

The trouble was, Mandy had heard this all before. And she knew that all she had to do was suck up to her parents for a couple of minutes and they would melt. Go to water.

Just forty-seven minutes after being told to stay in her room for the rest of the night, Mandy Cripps strolled out of her room and said, ‘Hello, Daddy.’ Then she gave him a huge hug and, with the cheekiest of grins, added, ‘Something smells good.’

Her parents looked at each other, shrugged and thought,
What do you do?

You see, Mandy’s parents were the sort of oldies — and there are an awful lot of them — who love their children so much, so desperately, that they can’t bear the thought of them being sad for one little minute. As if a little sadness might be the start of a long one, which might lead to a child feeling lost and abandoned and damaged and unloved and…

Pathetic, isn’t it?

So the parents give in to their kids at every turn. They know deep down that they’re suckers, that what is really needed is a bit of discipline, to say no every now and then, but they can’t help themselves.

Sometimes it’s parents who need to grow up. Mandy had worked this all out, it seemed, about two hours after she was born. But getting away with everything, and being spoilt rotten, and thinking you’re right all the time and everyone else is wrong, is not a good thing.

Unfortunately, kids sometimes need to work that out for themselves. Otherwise trouble can come along. And so it did for Mandy.

Mandy had been arguing with her little brother at the beach one day, accusing him of stealing money from her bag. ‘You pinched it!’ she yelled. ‘I had two dollars and now it’s not there.’

‘I haven’t been near your stupid bag,’ replied her brother.

‘It must have been you,’ said Mandy. ‘No-one else…’

‘Wait a minute,’ interrupted her brother. ‘What’s that in the sand? Look, two dollars! So say you’re sorry!’

‘No way,’ said Mandy. ‘You must have stolen it and then hidden it in the sand.’

‘Mum!’ yelled her brother. ‘Mandy is calling me a liar.’

But Mandy was already stomping her way towards the water.

‘Watch out for the undertow!’ yelled her mother. ‘And stay between the flags. It’s rough out there.’

‘No, it’s not, idiot,’ said Mandy under her breath.

It was rough
.
Very rough.
But Mandy was in such a foul mood that she didn’t care. And suddenly she found herself in trouble. A wave had knocked her down and as she struggled to regain her footing, the undertow grabbed her and swept her out of her depth. Then another wave. Over her head. Down she went, thrashing, then up. Quick!

Gasp for breath!

But at that very moment, water flicked up and splashed into her mouth. The gasp for breath had become a terrified sucking in of water. Into her lungs. Now choking, unable to touch the bottom, panicking.

Going under again.

‘Mummy!’

The next thing Mandy remembered was coughing and spluttering on the beach. One of those fantastic, heroic people called lifesavers had swum out and brought her in. But something else was wrong. Very wrong!

Although Mandy was now clearly out of danger, her mother was still crying and hysterical.
Crazy with panic.
And why did she keep going back and forth from Mandy to the edge of the water?

Then Mandy realised. Her little brother had swum out to save her! The mad, brave little idiot. He’d gone under a huge wave and now no-one could see him.

That’s the trouble with not having the courage to admit that you’re wrong once in a while. Just like the guy who drinks too much and says he’s OK to drive. Or the girl who gets out of a losing argument by saying something really cruel. Other people get hurt.

And do you know what’s crazy? It’s actually all right to be wrong sometimes. It’s natural. It’s human.
It’s likeable.

Well, Mandy’s little brother did get rescued. Eventually. But he’s never been the same since. And neither has Mandy.

Seems all wrong, doesn’t it?

Little Jimmy Jones was never going to be the most popular kid at school. With girls, anyway. He had elephant ears, sticky-out hair and a face like a
bucket full of bums.

And when it came to sport, he was useless. And schoolwork as well. I guess you could say Jimmy was an all-round loser. Probably the unluckiest kid I’ve ever known.

Except for one thing, I suppose. He did have a sense of humour. And most of his jokes made fun of himself. Which was good because it saved everyone else from having to do it.

So when a new teacher suggested a school dance, Jimmy had a problem. A big problem. He had to ask a girl to go with him. And what girl was going to say yes to dorky Jimmy Jones?

The whole idea made Jimmy angry. Not just because he knew nobody would want to go with him — he didn’t even like dancing! In fact, if he thought about it, he didn’t even like girls! And Jimmy wasn’t alone. None of the boys he’d spoken to thought a dance was a good idea.

‘Useless,’ said Nathan Smith.

‘Rather stay home and punch out my little brother,’ said Roger Downey.

The girls had their doubts, too. ‘What if that stupid Kevin Bennetts asks me?’ said Maria Faldo. ‘He wouldn’t know how to dance if he practised for a million years. And I bet his big fat butt sticks out.’

The new teacher, Mrs Cleary, said the dance was going ahead and that was that. Mrs Cleary was one of those really bossy types of teachers, and she gave heaps of homework. Everyone hated her. But she was old, so there was always a chance she would die or something.

Jimmy’s mum asked who he was going to invite to the dance.

‘Not sure,’ said Jimmy. ‘Might invite myself. At least I’d say yes. I’m the only one who wouldn’t have to look at my dopey face.’

‘What do you mean?’ said his mum. ‘You’ve got a lovely little face! Why don’t you ask Karen Murphy?’

‘Her?’ said Jimmy. ‘She’s a dog!’

‘Jimmy Jones!’ yelled his mum. ‘Don’t let me ever hear you using that word again. No-one’s a dog. We all have our good points and our bad points. But mostly good. And don’t you forget it!’

‘OK, Mum,’ said Jimmy. ‘Sorry.’

Jimmy knew that the best way to stop his mum’s lectures was to say sorry. And maybe give her a hug. It worked every time.

Jimmy thought a lot that night about good points and bad points. What good points did he have? None, as far as he could work out. Sure, he made people laugh, but it was always at himself.