Kurt

 

Life in The Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)

The resemblance of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person is purely coincidental.

If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?

 

 

From Chapter 43:

We all finish eating at about the same time.

"Thank you both for a wonderful breakfast," Helen says. "Let me take the plates."

"Nice toast, Karl," Dad says to him.

I hope that my brother doesn't get upset at Dad making fun of him for his contribution.

I help carry stuff to the sink, but then take out four more plates.

"What are you doing?" Dad asks.

I put the new plates onto the table with new knives and forks. Then I reveal the pancakes. I place the dish onto one of our round cork mats in the middle of the table. And the butter. And the maple syrup.

"Surprise!" I say, removing the foil.

I have three amazed faces staring at me.

I just grin. "You'd all better dig in while they're still hot!"

Chapter 44 – Goldilocks in Sherwood Forest

I sit and see three pair of eyes staring at me.

"What?" I ask, scanning all three faces in one sweep of my vision.

"When did you manage to cook these, Kurt?" Helen asks.

"Earlier," I reply, grinning.

I take the top one, apply some butter and drizzle it with the maple syrup, and watch everyone still staring.

"They're not poisoned, you know!" I say, cutting a piece and forking it into my mouth.

Dad takes the next one, followed by Helen and then Karl.

Delicious, even if I do say so myself!

After their first mouthful, Dad and then the others pass on their `compliments to the chef'.

Dad adds, "When did you learn to ... Who taught you to make these?"

I swallow my second mouthful and reply, "Mr Grant."

"What?" Karl asks. "When?"

"Don't you remember when we had them out at Jintabudjaree?" I remind him.

"Oh, yeah," re responds and, thankfully, doesn't add anything else.

"There is something magical about that place!" Dad comments. "It seems to bring out the talents and the best in people."

"You're not wrong!" I comment, followed by feeding myself another mouthful. I love maple syrup!

"Would anyone like a cup of coffee?" Helen asks, standing to attend to the jug and mugs.

With mouths still full, three hands are raised, school-like.

Within minutes, there are four empty plates, with one pancake left in the middle of the table.

"One was enough for me," Helen says. "Who wants my second one?"

Three hands are raised.

Four people laugh.

"Let me divide it into equal parts," Helen says, "and you can each have one of them."

I watch as she carefully divides the last of my large pancakes into what looks like equal thirds. Maths! Just don't ask me the angle at the centre! Wait! I know. 360 degrees divided by three equals 120 degrees. Yes! OK, you can go ahead and ask me!

As we finish chewing and swallowing, Dad smirks and says, "Thank you, Karl, for offering to do the dishes."

Dad and Helen smile. Karl doesn't.

"Well," I say to my brother, "if you do all of the dishes, then I'll go out and clean the toilet."

I know that it's had very little use and here should only be dust, leaves and cobwebs to deal with.

Karl smiles at me. So does Dad, but differently.

 

By the end of the day, the house is spotless, inside and out. Helen is a great cleaner!

The Land Rover is clean, outside and inside.

A whole heap of wood is chopped and the fire is ready to be lit. Even though it is now winter, the temperature hasn't been that low, but I like a fire. In the fireplace. Not like the one that burnt down William's and Aunt Lilly's house!

After another of Helen's delicious dinners, Karl and I shower and, dressed in our pyjama pants, we lie in front of the fire and share some of the newspapers that Dad has brought home from Mr Cameron.

I love this! Fire. Newspapers. Family (even though Mum is missing, but I'm really looking forward to seeing her on Thursday!)

 

Sunday comes and goes.

Karl and I are propped up in bed, waiting for our bedtime story about `Goldilocks in Sherwood Forest'.

Dad and Helen knock on our half-closed door, come in, and each sit at the end of a bed; Dad on mine and Helen on Karl's.

Helen starts, "You have probably heard the story of Robin Hood before."

Karl and I nod and voice our "Yes" and "Uhuh" in agreement. "It's one of my favourites!"

"Well," Helen says, "You may not have heard how it all started. So, this is how I've heard it...

There was once a village named Tingham.

It was called that because it was the home to a rare breed of pigs, called "Ting" pigs.

The meat from Ting pigs was extremely tasty. Delicious. So Tingham was the place that attracted many travellers and merchants who travelled long distances just to buy their Ting ham.

And, because they all referred to the village by the name of its rare product, the name `Ting-ham', or `Tingham' was officially adopted by the villagers at a Council meeting.

Now the village of Tingham sat beside the River Fence, possibly because there was originally a fence built to prevent rare pigs and children from falling into the river and drowning. Even though pigs are excellent swimmers, they could have ended up way down the river by the time they were missed.

All children are now taught to swim, and pigs are confined to their pig pens. So, the actual, not-so-attractive fence was removed but the river maintained the name.

The River Fence flowed towards a thick forest of unusual trees, about 2 kilometres away, where all the boys of the village used to go to play.

Apart from the trees being excellent to climb, and amazing places to hide, on their tallest branches they grew long, straight and hardy shoots which were perfect for making the best arrows in the whole country.

Each year there was a harvest of these shoots. Everybody in the village joined in. The teenage boys and young men would climb the trees, cut off the shoots and drop them to the ground. The young children would gather them. The women would tie them into bundles and the older men would stack the bundles into carts and take them back to the village where the arrows were made by the village fletchers (true!) who also crafted beautiful and strong bows to fire the arrows.

The head of the village, the Sherriff, would check the quality of everything that was sold to travellers and merchants.

Everybody who helped, from the youngest child to the oldest of men and women, was paid for their work, by a direct deposit into their bank account, which was kept by the Sherriff, who became the banker.

The Sherriff was also responsible for starting the shops to sell everything that the villagers needed that was brought in by the visiting merchants.

The village grew. There was even a pub.

Of all of his children, The Sherriff of Tingham favoured one strong and handsome boy with golden hair. The Sherriff made sure that his `Golden Locks' was taught, from a very young age, to joust, shoot arrows and to climb trees by the best jousters, archers and climbers in the village.

By the time he was a teenager, nobody could beat Golden Locks at anything.

While the village was growing towards a large town, some Ting pig farmers thought that the grass might be greener on the other side of the Fence. So, some of them decided to move over there, even though they had to make boats to move their belongings, their families and their pigs.

The new village grew, and the people of Tingham used to tell the travellers and merchants that the other place was not Tingham and that ham from over there was not Ting ham!

So `Not-Tingham' elected their own leader, who became the Sherriff of Not-Tingham.

The people of Not-Tingham also made arrows.

In fact, it was they who named the trees from which the arrow shoots were cut. They called them `Sher' trees because of the sound the best arrows made through the air. <Sssher>, <Shhher> and <Sherrr>.

So, the people of Tingham had their forest of Sher trees, and Not-Tingham also had its Sher-wood forest.

One day the handsome and talented Golden Locks of Tingham, whom his friends called `Goldy-locks' decided to try to shoot an arrow right across the Fence River. It was a long way, but he was the first to do so, and his father, the Sherriff was very proud of his son, and he invited others to try their skill as well.

Five of Goldy-locks' best, merry friends were also successful. They had funny names for each other. `Big John' and `Little John' weren't related but they were called by their size so that everyone knew which one they were talking about. There was also `Will in Scarlet' and `Robin-in-hood' because of their clothes. There was also `Idea' whose was sometimes called `No-idea', for obvious reasons, but he was good with a bow and arrow.

However, one arrow wounded of one of the Sherriff of Not-Tingham's Ting pigs and he vowed that he would kidnap and punish the person whom he suspected had fired it – Goldy-locks. Actually, it had been Robin-in-hood.

So, the whole six archers, Goldy-locks and friends, fled to hide in their `secret place' deep inside the Sher-wood forest, which they had created when they were growing up.

The End.

"And the rest, you probably know, after Goldy-locks, Robin-in-hood and the other merry men were declared outlaws by the Sherriff of Not-Tingham." Helen concludes.

Karl and I both clap. Dad joins in.

"That's not what I had expected," Karl tells Helen, "but it was really good. I enjoyed it."

"Yes," I add. "Maybe a bit of `somebody's been eating my ham sandwich', or `somebody's been shooting my arrows' or something like that, would be good."

Dad replies to me, "Why don't you guys think about what you would like to add to the story, like Andy did with `Goldilocks and the Three Pirates', and then let us know? Maybe, work it out in your dreams."

I think that I have other, better things to dream about. Like seeing Mum again. And Andy. And Mr Grant. And William. And whether or not I should tell Karl about sucking. Not yet.

"Good night," both Dad and Helen say, and we get our hugs and kisses.

And it's my turn to visit Karl's bed.

"So, what did you reckon about the story?" I ask him.

"I reckon that those guys, down in their `secret place' in the forest, were doing a lot more down than just playing hide and seek," he replies. "Like this..." And he puts his hand down the front of my pyjama pants.

Again, we both sleep well!

 

Monday. I wake early, use the bath to pee, run the water just a little, then try to go back to sleep. Useless! Too excited! Today's the day that we're going to Cunnamulla. And do some shopping. New clothes. And I want to buy a present for Mum, and something for Ma and Pa. Maybe a mulga wood photo frame for Mum so that she can take a photo of Karl and me and keep it in the frame.

I have no idea what to buy Ma and Pa! I wonder if I could find something with roses on it, which Ma likes. Maybe salt and pepper shakers. Or a small vase. Or something. I'll have to look carefully.

While I am thinking about things, I smell something delicious, like breakfast at Marty's place. That was fun! Sausages!

It's a bit cool this morning, so I just put on a jumper with my pyjama pants to go and investigate.

"Good morning, Kurt," Helen greets me, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," I reply. Then I ask, "How come you're cooking breakfast. Isn't that Dad's job?"

She smiles, "He slept well too. Besides, he can wash up!"

I wonder whether Dad slept well for the same reason that Karl and I did. Just thinking about it starts Junior doing his uncontrollable thing. Slowly, thankfully.

So, I change the subject. "Anything that I can do to help? Toast? Coffee?"

She replies, "Why don't you make us both a cup of coffee? The sausages are nearly ready. They'll keep in the oven until the other two wake up. Then I'll do the eggs."

With the sausages in the oven, keeping hot, and the eggs in a bowl on the bench ready to be fried, Helen and I sit at the table, with our hands wrapped around our coffee mugs.

"Are you excited about seeing your mother?" she asks.

"Oh, yes," I answer. "It's been nearly two years. I can't believe it.

"Your Dad says that you and Karl have grown so much in that time, that your mother is going to be surprised when she sees you. Even shocked."

"I think that we still look the same," I tell her. "The big difference really is the size of our clothes."

I immediately think, but don't say it, `And the size of our cocks and all of our chicken feathers!'

"Well, today and tomorrow in Cunnamulla," Helen says, "will be a good opportunity to replace some of those clothes that have shrunk."

We both smile at that.

"So, what are you taking, and what are you going to wear?" she asks.

"Well, I'd like to have my best clothes on when I see her," I say. "Plus my hat. I think that Karl wants to wear his too."

"Did I hear my name?" my brother asks, appearing at our bedroom door. "And what is that wonderful smell? Is it sausages?"

He looks at me, and then at Helen, perhaps trying to work out which one of us cooked them, so he can either compliment her, or say nothing.

If you'd like to `freshen up'," Helen tells him, pointing to the bathroom, "then I'll put the eggs on next."

I reckon that she knows that he wants to pee in the bath tub. She was just being polite.

Helen heads back to the stove and Karl disappears into the bathroom.

At almost the exact same time, Dad emerges, thankfully with his pyjama pants on, also heading straight for the bathroom. Apparently urgently.

"Dad..." I start, to warn him.

Too late! "Good morning son," he tells me, as he passes, then disappears, closing the door.

I listen. But hear nothing. No exchange of words. Nobody apologising and coming back out.

I wait. For about a minute, maybe longer. After a brief burst of shower water, Dad and Karl both emerge, with grins on their faces.

"Definitely growing up!" Dad says to nobody in particular as he and Karl head back to their bedrooms, and then re-emerge wearing shirts.

I look inquiringly at Karl. He just gives me a cheesy grin and sits down

I make them each a coffee and `freshen up' my own. Helen says that hers is OK, "But thanks."

While Helen is dealing with the eggs, I take on Karl's specialty. Toast.

Everything comes together at the same time.

Dad looks up and down the table and begins to ask, "Where's the ..." then gets up and returns with the tomato sauce.

We eat. And talk – but not while we have food in our mouths. I remember Mum's rules.

Dad fills us in on what he has planned: "If you guys lay out your clothes on your bed, it will be easier to work out what you want to wear while you are travelling and what to want to pack for while you are in Brisbane. If anything is too small, we can replace it in Cunnamulla today or tomorrow. Maybe a few new things. Maybe, you should wear some comfortable clothes today, and pack your `good' clothes to wear on Wednesday & Thursday."

"What if we need to buy things in Brisbane?" I ask. "I don't have more than a few dollars left from my birthday money."

"It's OK," Dad tells me, and also looking to Karl. "I had planned to buy you each a wallet in Cunnamulla, and I'll give you each $100, which should be enough to cover whatever you may want to buy in 5 days. Do you think that would be enough?

"I have no idea how to spend that much money," Karl answers.

"You don't have to spend it all," Dad says. "However, if you do see something that you want, you won't have to ask your Mum or Ma and Pa to buy it for you."

"Thank you, Dad" I tell him.

We finish eating and Helen reminds Dad that he is on `kitchen duty' while Karl and I deal with our clothes.

Helen tells us, "I'm going to come with you to Cunnamulla, and then leave you with your Dad until Wednesday, while I tend to some Council business."

Karl and I lay out everything identically on our beds and we agree that some new underpants and a new shirt would be ideal.

 

I feel really nervous as I put my backpack into the Land Rover. Karl and I are really going to Brisbane! By ourselves. It's scarily exciting. Even Junior thinks so. As I climb into the back seat, Karl notices it. Fortunately, Dad and Helen can't.

Two hours later, Helen drops us at the hotel, kisses Dad goodbye. Us too. "See you on Wednesday." she says.

We check in, and our room reminds me of the workers quarters out at Whispering Gums, only in that it has three single beds. The floor has carpet. There is a TV and a fridge, and air conditioning and the bathroom is amazing – all shiny and with a separate bath and a shower with two shower heads, and a real toilet (not like our bathroom at home).

"Let's leave our things on the beds and go and have some lunch," Dad tells us. "Maybe everyone should go to the toilet, first."

While he and Karl are smirking at each other, I head to the bathroom for an urgent pee. Karl goes next and then Dad, separately.

"What do you feel like for lunch?" Dad asks, stepping out of the bathroom, zipping up his pants.

"Food!" Karl replies. He grins, as though he was funny.

"What choices are there?" I ask.

"Let's go for something that we don't normally have, Dad replies. "How do you guys feel about hamburgers and a milkshake for lunch and then Chinese for dinner?"

"Yum!" I say.

"Then," he adds, "tomorrow, after you've had a look around town, you might like to try eating something else, something different."

"When are we going shopping?" Karl asks.

Dad replies, "Maybe after lunch today, so that if you can't find what you want today, we still have tomorrow."

I like that Dad has said, `...what YOU want'. Our choice. Not like a little kid who is given a Superman T-shirt and mini-sized underpants as a birthday present.

We sit inside the café with our hamburgers, at a table next to the window, so that we can watch all of the people going past. It's way busier than Big Town.

One of the things that I notice is the large number of aboriginals. I somehow seem more interested in them now than when we were here last time. I wonder whether that has anything to do with Andy and Uncle. Some of them glance at me through the window. I smile, and I love it when they smile back, especially the boys. Beautiful smiles.

Dad finishes his coffee before Karl and I finish our milkshakes. He says, "When you're finished, let's go and check out what's available in the way of clothes. I remember some shops here that we could try."

 

What an afternoon! Karl and I end up with a pair of proper trousers each (not jeans) and a new pair of `dress boots' (not farm boots). We also choose a new shirt to match the trousers, and a few pairs of underpants like ones I've never seen before. Karl and I discover that they actually make them with a `comfort pouch' at the front. That means that there's special extra room for your cock and balls and it makes them stand out a bit more instead of just hanging down. I can't wait for Andy so see me in these!

Dad's only reaction is to shake his head and say, "Growing up!" Then he adds, "I might even get some of those for myself." And he does. Only bigger, of course. LOL.

We take all of our new things back to the hotel. It's actually a hotel/motel and it has a restaurant that serves Chinese food, so this is where we'll be eating tonight.

Dad says, "Why don't you two get dressed up in your new gear while I go and make arrangements for dinner. You can surprise me when I come back."

As soon as the door closes, Karl and I strip naked, with all of our `old' clothes ending up in a pile beside our bed. My brother looks great naked! Slim body. Thick cock. Nice glutes. I can see exactly what Andy likes about me. Ron too!

I put on my blue underpants, tuck everything into the pouch, and display myself to Karl. He grins and gives me a similar show. New shirt. New trousers. Same belt. Same socks. New boots. "Hey!" I suggest to Karl. "Let's put our hats on too."

We are standing side by side, looking at ourselves in the full-length mirror when Dad comes in.

"Oops. Sorry!" he says. "Wrong room."

"Dad!" I say. "This is our room."

"Holy cow!" he exclaims. "I didn't recognise you two young men, all dressed up. What happened to my young boys? Come here!"

He grabs Karl and me in a group hug, knocking my hat onto the floor. I think that his eyes are a bit misty.

"Your mother is going to freak out when she sees you," Dad tells us. "Stand back and let me look at you again."

I retrieve my hat. Karl and I stand together, and it's Dad who steps backwards, probably so that he can see all of us at once – hats to boots.

"You guys look more like sixteen than thirteen," he tells us. "Who gave you permission to grow up so fast?"

I know that he's not expecting an answer, but having him tell us that we look sixteen, immediately brings back memories of my night with Ron when he said he would show me more of what boyfriends do, when I turn sixteen. And I wonder whether he meant what I got Will to teach me, sucking, or what Andy and I did the other night. You know.

We change back into our `normal' clothes. I wouldn't want to spill anything on my new shirt or, worse, on the front of my new trousers. The undies stay.

 

I remember the other time that we had Chinese food here in Cunnamulla. It was the last time that I saw Ron, leaving on a bus. The food was delicious and Karl gave up using chopsticks like knitting needles after only one minute. I was kind-of getting the hang of it, but swapped to a spoon and fork as well.

Tonight, I'll see whether I can last a bit long with the chopsticks. Karl doesn't even try, even though Dad shows him, again, how to do it.

Before I start eating, I take a close look at how the food is presented and what is in each different dish. I wish that I had a camera. I reckon the only thing that I wouldn't be able to have a go at is the Honey Chicken. Dad says that it has been deep fried. I wonder if I'll get the chance to ask Mrs Cameron how to do that before she leaves. Or maybe Helen. Or maybe even Mum or Ma.

I love the Honey Chicken! Crispy on the outside and soft, tasty chicken on the inside.

I give in trying to use chopsticks with the fried rice. Dad shows me how, but Karl's solution is easier.

 

"Shower before bed?" Dad asks Karl and me.

Karl looks at me and nods his head towards the bathroom. He wants us to shower together.

I say out loud, what he wouldn't. "Hey, Karl. Do you want to shower together? Before we grow another three years older?"

Initially, he looks shocked, then grins, recognising Dad's comment on our apparent rapid growth and ageing.

I turn to Dad, point my finger and say, "And no comments from you either, thanks, like last time, about letting Karl play with my balls!"

It's Dad's turn to look shocked, perhaps recalling the potential trouble that his joke caused back then.

Karl and I strip off, tossing our clothes onto our beds, then head for the bathroom. I close the door.

"Hey, want to play with my balls?" I ask him.

We have fun in the shower together, like old times.

When we emerge, fluffy white towels around our waist, Dad opens his mouth to comment. He knows!

"Don't ask!" I tell him, again pointing directly at him.

He closes his mouth, but then grins and asks, "Did you guys leave me enough hot water?"

It's three guys in undies tonight, instead of pyjamas or nothing.

 

We have breakfast in the dining room instead of the in-room option.

There is a huge selection. Way too much to try everything! Different fruits. Eggs. Sausages. Bacon. Mushrooms. Baked beans. Make-your-own toast, where you feed the bread into one side of a machine and it comes out the other side, nicely browned. Butter. Margarine. Jams. Peanut Butter. Vegemite.

Dad advises, "Try whatever you like, in little bits. You can always go back for more. And, because we will be here again tomorrow morning, you can try something different of more of what you like best today.

 

We decide that all of Tuesday should be spent seeing the sights.

I mention to Dad my idea of buying a gift for Mum and also Ma and Pa.

He comments, "Well, let's get you guys a wallet each and put $100 into them. Then, you can spend as much or as little of it as you like on presents."

Karl and I have already agreed to go 50/50 on the presents, so I know that he won't want to choose anything too expensive.

We do the sights first.

We start at the museum, where we see one of the original Cobb & Co coaches. It's really interesting but not as good as Mr Grant's Landau.

One of the men in the museum tells us that we should check out the `Cunnamulla Fella' statue at the north end of town, and also the baobab tree inside which a robber once hid from the police – until they found him.

We learn that `Cunnamulla' means `long stretch of water' or `big waterhole'. I'm surprised that it's on the Warrego River, which is the same as the one that we have at home. There is a huge mound of earth all the way along the river. Dad tells me that it's called a `levee' to prevent the river from overflowing and flooding the town when there is a lot of rain and the river can't flow away downstream fast enough.

We go to look at their weir, which is absolutely enormous compared to ours.

I ask Dad why there is so much more water here than there is at home. He's not sure, but suggests that maybe farmers take a lot out for their animals, or maybe a lot evaporates on the way down to The Village. Or, maybe, some `disappears' underground. Hmm. That's interesting!

We stand outside the fire station and the officers invite us inside to look around. They even let us sit in the driver's seat and blow the siren. Friendly guy!

Then we see the library. "Did you guys remember to bring your library books?" Dad asks.

"In our backpacks," Karl replies. "This is just around the corner from our hotel. We can walk back with them."

We get our wallets, and our five $20 notes. It feels funny with it in my back pocket. Lumpy.

Dad asks, "Now that you've seen a lot of the town, would you like to browse for the presents yourselves, or would you like me to come too?"

Karl and I look at each other and, even without discussing it, we agree. "By ourselves."

"OK," Dad says, "I'll tell the hotel reception that you will ask for the second room key when you're finished, just in case I'm somewhere else."

Karl and I walk. We look. We walk. We look. We find, in an old-fashioned shop, and a polished-wood portrait frame. "Perfect" I suggest to Karl. "Exactly the kind of thing that I think Mum will love. He agrees. Our wallets get lighter by $10 each.

Buying something for Ma and Pa is a lot harder. My brother comes up with an amazing suggestion. "We could always buy them one of those books that we saw in the gift shop part of the museum. You know, one with pictures of Cunnamulla and a lot of the other towns around here. It doesn't include The Village, but there were a lot of pictures in it that reminds me of where we live."

"Brilliant!" I tell him.

His grin of appreciation for my compliment is priceless. I feel great about it!

The book costs $5 from each of us. The lady in the gift shop even offers to wrap it for us when we tell her who it's for. She notices the picture frame that I'm carrying. When we tell her that it's a present for our Mum, she wraps that for us too. "No charge, dearies!"

I love country people!

"Thank you very much," Karl and I both express to her, and head back towards the hotel.

"While we're alone," I say to my brother, "there's something that I want to ask you about."

"What?" he asks, turning to look at me. Worried.

"What happened in the bathroom at home when Dad came in while you were peeing?"

"Nothing happened," Karl replies.

"Well, tell me what didn't happen while you were both in there together," I say to him.

He grins. "I was just peeing. I was so full that I just tucked my pyjama elastic under my balls and was just letting it out."

"And, what happened when Dad came in?" I ask. I can tell that I'm going to have to prise it out of him.

"At first I thought that it was you," Karl continues. "Then I realised that it was Dad. He just pulled his pyjamas down and started peeing too."

I wait.

Karl adds, "I looked at his cock and he looked at mine. He grinned at me and so I grinned back at him."

I didn't hear anything at the time, but I ask Karl anyway. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing," he answers.

"Well, what did you say to him?" I ask.

"Nothing," Karl replies again.

I know that he's telling the truth.

"So, what happened, if nothing happened and you both said nothing?" I ask, hoping that I don't sound annoyed. Because I'm not.

"Nothing happened," Karl says. "What did you think was happening?"

"Nothing," I answer. "It was just sort of weird, you two in there, in silence, just peeing together."

"Oh, yes," Karl adds. "Something did happen! He turned on the shower." Then, he asks me a question. "Why? What would you have done if it had been you instead of me?"

"Nothing," I answer.

And we both burst out laughing.

 

Wednesday comes slowly. We have seen everything of interest and checked out all of the shops at least twice. And we have new library books to read on the bus and train. After breakfast, we take our backpacks to the bus station and put them into a locker to collect later.

Helen joins us for lunch. Hamburgers and milkshakes. Before I eat mine, I take the top bun off it and then check out all of the rest. Beef patty, cheese, pineapple, beetroot, fried egg, shredded lettuce and a really nice sauce. I reckon, with the right meat and the right sauce, I could make these!

Karl and I use the toilet at the back of the café before the four of us walk across to the bus station. We are a little early. So, after showing out tickets, we put our backpacks on the front seat near the door, as Helen suggested, to get the best view.

We say goodbye to Dad and Helen, both of them give us big hugs, tell us to be careful, and to enjoy ourselves. "If there is any problem, tell the driver, or one of the employees on the train," Dad says.

Helen adds, "You'll be fine. I want to hear all about it when you get back next week."

The driver calls everyone to take their seats, and I let Karl sit next to the window on the condition that I can have that seat on the way back.

We wave. Dad and Helen wave. And we are off. On our own. It feels weird. But exciting. Even Junior is excited!

 

(to be continued) Chapter 45:

·      The bus and train trip to Brisbane

·      Mum's surprise

·      In the big city

·      Visiting Mr Grant, Tom and Andy on the Gold Coast

·      A surprise from Mr Grant

·       Back to The Village

 

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The parallel version to this story, `Schoolie', told through the eyes of Tom Grant, has concluded.
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