As we went through the school gates Shane stopped.
‘Hey! I’ve a great idea, Milo. Let’s go to the museum and see the stone that Miss Lee says is like mine.’
‘Museum? It’s not even raining, Shane!’
‘Suit yourself,’ said Shane. ‘I’m going anyway. You coming?’
Well, I was curious – as you would be about a stone that drives a lazy lizard wild, so I decided to go along with Shane to see what all the fuss was about. But as we went around the corner into the alley that was a short cut to Main Street, we met trouble.
‘Well, if isn’t Fatman and Stick Insect. Goin’ somewhere nice, eh?’
I groaned silently inside my head. This was all we needed – Crunch Kelly and Wedge Murphy from sixth class – whenever they actually came to school, that is. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that those names were just any old made-up nicknames, but you’d be wrong. Kelly could really make your bones crunch and Murphy could wedge your underpants right up to your armpits. You get the picture? Not pleasant.
They stood in front of us, blocking our way, and Crunch patted Shane’s tight, black curly hair. I clutched my schoolbag, ready to take a swing at them – and seeing the words ‘death-wish’ flashing in my mind. But it was Shane’s takeaway bag that grabbed their attention.
‘Hey, Crunch, look what we got here,’ laughed Wedge, pointing to it. ‘Takeaway! You hungry, Crunch? Me too. Hand it over, Fatman.’
Shane hugged the bag. ‘It’s not takeaway,’ he muttered. ‘It’s a rock.’
‘Yeah, right,’ snarled Wedge. ‘Like, you bring rocks around with you to eat, Fatman? When my good friend says to hand over your grub, you hand it over, OK?’
Then he snatched the takeaway bag from Shane – who did put up a bit of a fight, but we were like week-old jelly against these low-lifes. We watched with horror as they scarpered down the alley. I looked at my best mate, standing like a burst balloon and, with a surge of anger I belted off after those two like I was on fire, sparks shooting from my eyes.
I’d like to be able to say that I caught up with our attackers and beat THEM into week-old jelly, but the truth is that I found the bag thrown on the ground around the corner and the stone dumped a few yards farther on. So, they didn’t fancy rock curry! I laughed with a whoosh of relief as I picked up the ancient tingly stone and put it back in the bag. Shane was puffing his way towards me. I held up the bag.
‘You got it!’ he stopped in eye-popping amazement.
‘I did,’ I laughed. ‘I remembered my taekwon-do skills and sent them off with massive bruises.’
Shane took the bag and checked out the stone. ‘Wow!’ he said. ‘You really did get it back, Milo.’
‘Yep,’ I stood up straight in macho-mode.
Then Shane looked at me with a sort of puzzled squint.
‘Milo, you and me, we only lasted two Saturdays at junior taekwon-do when we were seven. And we were both rubbish and learnt nothing so how …?’
‘OK, OK,’ I said. ‘So they threw it at me when they saw me coming at them with all guns blazing …’
Shane laughed and punched my shoulder.
‘All right,’ I muttered. ‘So they threw it away when they found out it was really only a stone, but hey, I’m still the hero.’