Chapter One

‘Hey, are you a new boy?’ called a voice.

Tim squinted in the bright sunshine. The park looked deserted.

Then someone stepped out of the shade of the picnic shelter and sauntered towards him. He wore faded cut-offs and a tattered t-shirt a size too small, and his feet were bare. Blond hair hung over his eyes and down onto his shoulders.

‘Nice bike y’got,’ the boy said as he came closer.

Tim gripped the handlebars tightly. ‘Yes, it’s new. I got it for Christmas.’

‘Can I take it for a ride?’

No.

‘Ah … sure.’ Tim pulled off his helmet and looked at the boy’s hair, wondering … ‘You want to use this?’

‘Nah. S’okay,’ said the boy, tapping the side of his head. ‘I’ve gotta thick skull.’ He threw a leg over the bike and pushed down on the pedals.

‘No wheelies, okay?’ Tim called after him, and he watched as his bike disappeared around the corner. Two minutes later he was still waiting.

‘Great,’ he muttered. ‘Dad’ll kill me.’

Then a bike bell rang behind him. Tim jumped out of the way as the boy skidded to a stop beside him.

‘Cool,’ said the boy. ‘Wish I ‘ad a bike like this. So, are you goin’ to school here?’

‘Yeah,’ said Tim. ‘Grade five.’ Tim’s shoulder began to tingle and his hand automatically slipped up to rub it.

‘Hey, me too. What’s y’name? Mine’s Lockie.’

‘Ah … Tim. Tim Trickett.’

‘So, Tim, y’wanna go and ‘ave a look?’

‘A look?’

‘Yeah. Round the school.’

‘Are we allowed?’ asked Tim.

‘Course we’re allowed. Who’s gunna stop us? Come on.’

Ten minutes later, Tim and Lockie were standing on the edge of the oval. Tim gaped at the size of it. It had to be at least three times as big as the oval at his old school.

‘Plenty of room to play footy,’ said Lockie. ‘Most of us big boys play here all the time.’

Time?

‘Ah, I’ve got to go,’ said Tim. ‘I’m supposed to be home for lunch.’

‘You eat lunch?’ asked Lockie. ‘On a Sunday?’

Tim glanced sideways at Lockie. ‘Yes,’ he said, cautiously. ‘Don’t you?’

Lockie shrugged. ‘Depends,’ he said. ‘Dad reckons that y’shouldn’t eat too much on a Sunday. Reckons it’s a day of rest, and if y’restin’, y’don’t need to eat much. I think it’s cos there’s nothin’ much left in the house worth eatin’ by then.’ He kicked at a dead tuft of grass.

‘So … I’ll see you in the morning then,’ Tim said. ‘Back here. For the first day of school.’ His shoulder itched.

‘Yeah. Guess so.’ Lockie didn’t look up; just kicked at the tuft of grass until it came away. Then he looked for another tuft to attack.

‘Ah … do you want to come home with me?’

‘You mean for lunch?’ said Lockie, his face brightening. ‘Yeah, that’d be great. Where d’ya live?’

Tim pointed in what he hoped was the right direction. ‘Over that way,’ he said. ‘Wood something street.’

Lockie’s eyes widened. ‘Not the house down Woodville Street? Big old fancy place? Brick? Verandah? Overgrown garden?’

Tim nodded.

‘Cool,’ said Lockie. ‘That’s been empty for yonks.’

‘How come?’

‘Don’t know. Kenny, that’s m’dad, he reckons it’s haunted by the old lady who used to live there. It’s a pretty cool house. I’d love to have a gander inside.’

‘Gander?’

‘Yeah. You know – a gander – a look.’

Tim didn’t have a clue what this kid was talking about. ‘You going to tell your parents where you’re going?’ he asked.

‘Nah. It’s cool,’ said Lockie.

‘Won’t they worry?’

‘Nah. Course not. Why would they?’

Hmmm. Stranger Danger for a start.