Beeware Read online

  I’m about to use the Smith Street shortcut.

  I can’t see anyone watching. Ready. Set… I feel a shot of adrenaline race through my insides.

  Go!

  I put on a Danny-like burst of speed and make it to the line of trees. I feel safer under the bush cover so I slow down to a jog and listen for the yelling of an adult.

  Nothing.

  Yes! I’ve done it. Nobody can stop me now. I’m going to get to Granny’s house before Tommy and Katy and eat the biggest piece of whatever Granny has made. I start laughing out loud.

  ‘Ha, ha, ha.’ A kookaburra joins in with me.

  Another bird squawks and takes to the air.

  Whooooshhhhhhhh!

  I stop laughing and start running.

  I’m being swooped by a mad magpie!

  I zigzag along the path with my hands above my head. Apparently one of the kids who was attacked this morning had to get twenty-eight stitches in his noggin. I heard it off Damien, who heard it off Tamara Reid, who heard it off Winterbottom, so it was probably more like two stitches, or none at all. Still, I’d rather not take any chances.

  I hear wings coming up behind me.

  Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

  That’s one creepy sound. At this point I can’t believe I told Damien that I wasn’t afraid of magpies.

  The whizzing of wings gets closer and I feel feathers against my fingers. This scares me silly and I jerk my arms down, which causes my school bag to fall to the ground with a thud. I think about stopping to pick it up, but not for long. A magpie is trying to eat me. I keep running.

  Without the bag weighing me down I’m a lot faster, but the magpie’s got an advantage: it has wings. It chases and chases me, diving like a fighter plane.

  Finally, I make it to the end of the track and burst out of the bush like a kangaroo being chased by a ’roo shooter.

  The magpie flies up to a tree branch. Bahhh! Bahhh! it squawks at me.

  Apart from being a little shaken up, I’m okay. There’s only one problem. What am I going to do about my lost bag? I can’t go back to get it, not with a killer magpie on the loose.

  There’s only one choice.

  Go to Granny’s and pig out.

  Chapter 3

  ‘Where are the others?’ Gran says as I hurry in.

  ‘They’re not here yet.’ I sit at the table. ‘I think I saw them hanging out at the shop, talking to their friends and eating lollies.’

  Granny frowns. ‘Well, in that case, you’re going to get the biggest piece of carrot cake.’

  Carrot cake? I’m a bit unsure. How can something yucky like carrot go with something good like cake? But I’ve got a lot of faith in Gran’s cooking so I have a small bite.

  Mmmm! It’s delish. I wish regular carrots tasted like this, then I wouldn’t have to hide them in my pocket and feed them to the dog after dinner. I stuff down what’s on my plate and ask for more.

  ‘You’ll have to leave some for Tommy and Katy,’ Granny says.

  ‘I’m pretty sure they don’t like carrot cake,’ I say.

  She looks uncertain. ‘Well, cut yourself another piece then, a small one.’

  Gran waltzes into the kitchen.

  I do what she says and cut a small piece of cake, but I don’t eat it. Instead, I take the piece that’s left in the cake tin. It’s huge.

  Now you might reckon that I’m being mean to my big bro and little sis, but you don’t know them like I do. You see, Tommy beats me at swimming, he beats me at footy, he beats me up. It’s cool to be beating him at something for a change. And as for Katy, because she’s a girl and the youngest in the family she’s as spoilt as a princess. If she had half a chance she’d not only steal my cake, she’d steal my birthday money as well.

  So the fact that I’m stuffing my face as Tommy and Katy rush in doesn’t really bother me.

  ‘Hey!’ says Katy. ‘How’d you get here so fast?’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Tommy. ‘And where’s all the cake gone?’

  But I think it bothers them.

  ‘Danny said you don’t like carrot cake,’ says Gran, plonking down three milkshakes.

  ‘It’s my favourite!’ says Tommy.

  ‘Mine too!’ says Katy.

  That’s rubbish. Katy doesn’t even know what carrot cake is. Heck, I didn’t even know what it was until a few minutes ago.

  ‘I left you some,’ I say, my mouth jammed so full I can hardly talk.

  Tommy looks at what’s left and the outline of what’s been eaten. ‘You’re so kind,’ he says in a voice that lets me know what he really means is, ‘You’re dead meat.’

  I’m about to toss him a cheeky grin when I remember something. How am I going to get my bag back?

  Perhaps hogging all the cake wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  I wait until he’s nearly finished, hoping the tiny piece will cheer him up. Then I murmur, ‘Hey, Tommy. I need a favour.’

  He licks the few remaining crumbs and raises an eyebrow at me.

  ‘You’re kidding, aren’t ya?’

  I wish I was.

  Chapter 4

  Even though he can be hard to live with, Tommy’s a good brother, especially in a crisis. I knew he’d help me get that bag back. Especially when I promised to do his chores for a week.

  We tell Gran we’re going out to play, then begin the trek back to Smith Street. Katy comes too, of course. She wouldn’t miss out on fun stuff with us for the world.

  ‘Are we there yet?’ But it doesn’t stop her complaining.

  We arrive at the line of trees that marks the start of the shortcut. I’m glad to see that the magpie isn’t waiting on the same tree branch. Maybe it has flown away to get some food for its babies, or maybe it has gone to sleep? Even magpies have to sleep sometime, don’t they?

  ‘How far down the track is your bag?’ asks Tommy.

  ‘Not too far,’ I say.

  ‘Before the creek?’

  ‘Umm. I think so.’

  Actually, I can’t remember. I was under a lot of stress at the time.

  ‘Well, this is what we’ll do,’ says Tommy. ‘You run in and get it, and if you’re having any problems, yell out.’

  I don’t like that plan very much.

  ‘Maybe Katy can get it?’ I say. ‘Because she’s so short the magpie probably won’t even see her.’

  ‘I don’t want to get pecked!’ says Katy. ‘I’m staying here.’

  I shake my head at her. Katy is so disobedient it’s not funny.

  I quickly think up another plan. ‘I reckon it’s best if you just run in,’ I say to Tommy. ‘You’re so fast that the magpie won’t be able to catch you.’

  ‘Are you scared?’ says Tommy.

  ‘Danny’s a chicken! Danny’s a chicken!’ chants Katy.

  ‘Of course I’m not,’ I say. ‘It’s just that I start running through a list of excuses in my head:

  My stomach's weighed down with too much cake. ✖

  I've got a stitch from too much cake. ✖

  I don't want to have all the fun. ✔

  ‘… I don’t want to have all the fun. It’s exciting when the magpie’s chasing you. Real exciting.’

  Tommy shakes his head. ‘That’ll be two weeks,’ he says, referring to his chores.

  I jump at the offer. ‘No worries.’

  Tommy takes a few deep breaths to get himself psyched up. Then he starts tapping his head – hard.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

  ‘Just toughening up my scalp. Wish me luck.’

  By the time we say good luck’ he’s gone, running through the trees like a ghost.

  ‘If Tommy dies, I’m telling Mum on you,’ says Katy.

  ‘Shhh.’

  I’m listening for the magpie. But I can’t hear anything. We stand there for ages, eyes pinned to the edge of the trees, waiting.

  ‘I’m getting scared,’ says Katy. ‘Go in and see if Tommy’s all right.’

  ‘Just a minute,’
I say.

  ‘No. Go in now.’

  ‘All right, I just have to tie up my shoelaces.’ I bend down, untie my laces and do them up again. Still no Tommy.

  ‘Hurry up!’ says Katy.

  I take a deep breath and start tapping myself on the head. ‘Just toughening up my scalp.’

  ‘Go!’

  As I start walking towards the trees, I hear a noise.

  Whooosshhh! Whooosshhh! Whooosshhh!

  Then I see Tommy burst from the bush with an angry magpie a few centimetres above his head, trying to peck his brains out.

  Katy screams.

  So do I. ‘Yes!’

  Tommy’s made it!

  The magpie takes a last swipe and flies up to the tree branch. It watches us.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Katy asks Tommy.

  He’s on his haunches, sucking in air like a slurpee. ‘Yeah … But… that’s … one … crazy … bird!’

  Bahhh! the magpie squawks.

  Tommy doesn’t look right. It’s like he’s missing something. I check to see if the magpie’s plucked out one of his chocolate-coloured eyes, but that’s not it. It’s his back – it’s empty.

  ‘Where’s my bag?’ I ask.

  ‘I couldn’t find it.’ He’s still puffing. ‘I went all the way back to school and there’s nothing on the track.’

  ‘Where is it, then?’

  ‘Dunno. Maybe the maggie’s using it as a nest?’

  An icky feeling spreads through my tummy, and it’s not from too much carrot cake.

  ‘Once you get your breath back,’ I say to Tommy, ‘do you reckon you might go back in for another look?’

  He lifts his pointer finger, giving me hope.

  ‘No!’

  Chapter 5

  It’s the next morning and I’m feeling better. Then Mum asks, ‘Where’s your bag? I need to put your lunch in it and I’ve looked everywhere.’

  Oh no! I’d managed to convince myself that the magpie and the missing bag was all just a bad dream. Now I know it’s not.

  ‘Umm. I accidentally left it at school,’ I say.

  ‘Did you have any homework?’

  ‘Umm. No.’ Actually, I can’t remember, but I don’t want to tell Mum that.

  ‘Well, make sure you bring it home tonight.’

  I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to bring it home. Not if my school bag is sitting halfway up a tree with a bunch of little magpies tucked inside it.

  Mum finds a small backpack for me and I pack my lunch and some old marbles in it. My best marbles are in a drawstring bag inside my missing school bag. It would be a real tragedy if I lost those.

  As I hop off the bus, Mrs Marsh, the teacher on morning duty, says, ‘Danny, Mr Crump wants to see you.’

  ‘Me?’ I ask.

  She nods.

  Why would Mr Crump want to see me? I wonder.

  Maybe he wants to congratulate me for something? Though I can’t think of anything good I’ve done lately, besides win lots of games of marbles.

  Perhaps he wants some advice on how to run the school? The first thing I’d tell him is to make the Smith Street shortcut out of bounds. That magpie’s psycho!

  Oh, that’s right. He’s already done that.

  When I walk into his office I’m amazed to see my bag sitting on Mr Crump’s desk.

  Yes! I’m going to get my marbles back.

  ‘Sit down, Daniel,’ says Mr Crump. He doesn’t look like he wants to congratulate me, or ask for my advice.

  I stop thinking about marbles and sit.

  ‘Do you know where this was found?’ he says, pointing at my bag.

  Is that a trick question? I think. If I knew where it was found, I wouldn’t have lost it in the first place. He’s still looking at me, so I answer. ‘No.’

  ‘It was found on the bush track to Smith Street. The groundskeeper picked it up. Do you know how it got there?’

  ‘Umm. Someone dropped it there.’

  He raises his bushy eyebrows. ‘A good deduction. The million-dollar question is: who?’

  Does that mean if I give the right answer I’ll win a million dollars?

  ‘Umm,’ I say. ‘It was probably dropped by the person who was carrying the bag.’

  ‘Enough silliness!’ he yells, spitting all over me.

  I definitely won’t be winning any money for that answer.

  ‘Why did you take the Smith Street Shortcut when I expressly forbade it?’ he roars.

  He’s waiting for an answer, and it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel your deputy principal’s spit on your forehead.

  ‘Umm. Because I had to go to Granny’s and I wanted to beat my brother and sister so I could get the best bit of carrot cake and …’

  ‘SILENCE!’

  Now I have spit on my neck as well.

  ‘Do you remember what I said the consequences would be for anyone who disobeyed this rule?’

  ‘Umm. They get yelled at?’

  ‘No! They get a Wednesday after-school detention.’

  He rips out a slip and hands it to me. ‘Have your parents sign it and bring it back as soon as possible.’ When I walk out of the office, the first thing I do is wipe my face, neck and forehead with my shirt. The second thing I do is run smack into Tommy.

  ‘Hey, you got your bag back,’ he says. ‘Where’d you find it?’

  ‘Mr Crump’s office.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I got this, too.’ I show him the detention slip. He gives a low whistle. ‘You’ll be dead when Mum finds out.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘There is one good thing, though.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s on a Wednesday afternoon so at least you don’t have to catch the bus.’

  ‘I s’ pose.’

  ‘You can walk to Granny’s after detention. Just don’t take the Smith Street shortcut this time.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ I hadn’t thought of that.

  ‘I’ll save you some afternoon tea.’

  ‘Really? That’d be great!’

  The thought of a big, sweet piece of carrot cake will help me make it through a boring after-school detention. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all?

  ‘Yeah. I’ll save you about as much as you saved me.’ Tommy chuckles and walks away.

  Drats!

  3

  Chapter 1

  I lie flat on my belly, slingshot in front of me like an archers bow, my left hand steady as a stone. Chris leaves the safety of the trees and cuts across open ground, giving me the perfect opportunity.

  Fire!

  A piece of cut-up rubber flies through the air. (Mum thinks I make lots of mistakes with my writing. Little does she know …) For a moment I reckon I’ve shot it too far in front of him, but luckily Chris is fast. Too fast.

  Whack! The rubber smacks him right in the ribs.

  ‘Oww!’ he cries.

  ‘Gotcha!’ I yell. ‘You’re dead meat!’

  He stumbles around in circles and starts to die. Knowing Chris, it will probably take a while.

  As he groans and moans and squeezes his own neck, I notice some white boxes, sitting up on small stilts, in the clearing behind him. Even though exploring this bush reserve is one of our favourite things to do – as there are creeks to cross, lizards to catch and discoveries to be made – I’ve never seen the boxes before.

  Aaaaghhhhh! Owwwwwwww! Eeeewwwwwww!’

  I walk up to him. ‘Hurry up and die, will ya. I want to ask you something.’

  ‘Dead man tell no tales,’ Chris moans. And then his head slumps to one side, his eyes wide open.

  I give him a little kick in the stomach. He doesn’t respond.

  I kick harder. Perhaps he really is dead? There’s only one way to find out. I bend down and tickle him under the arm.

  He starts giggling like my little sister.

  ‘Just as I suspected,’ I say. ‘You were only faking. Now I have to kill you for real.’

 
; I aim my slingshot at his head and fire.

  ‘Nooooo!’ he yells.

  Luckily for him, it’s not loaded.

  ‘Gotcha!’ I say.

  We both laugh. I ask him what the boxes are for. ‘Bees live in ’em,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah? How many?’

  ‘Thousands. There’s the Queen bee, the worker bees, and the ordinary lazy bees.’

  ‘What about the King bee?’

  ‘I don’t think there is one.’

  ‘You can’t have a Queen without a King,’ I say. ‘He’s probably attacking other beehives, trying to take them over.’

  Chris screws up his face. ‘I’ve never heard of a King bee before.’

  ‘That’s because you’re younger than me.’

  It’s true. I was born in August and Chris the following January, so that makes me older. And smarter.

  He points at the boxes. ‘Those bees are pretty dangerous. I heard they attacked a man who tried to take their honey.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘They stung him in the bum and he couldn’t sit down for a week.’

  ‘Cool.’

  I come up with a great idea. ‘Hey. Let’s see who can get closest to the hives.’

  His body starts wriggling. ‘I don’t know. Dad says not to go too near.’

  ‘Come on. I dare you.’

  Chapter 2

  Chris’s eyes light up like sparklers. He loves a challenge, just like me. Neither of us likes to lose, either, which can be dangerous. Once we timed ourselves racing across a skinny log bridge, and I would’ve won if I hadn’t fallen into the creek and nearly broken my leg.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ he says.

  Chris glides up to the last tree before the hives, about five metres from the bees. He touches the trunk and runs back.

  Geez. That was a lot closer than I thought he’d get.

  I take a different approach, running around the side of the boxes. I’m only two metres from the bees, although I’m protected by a thick bush.

  When I make it back, I give Chris a smile. ‘Beat that.’

  I don’t think he can.

  He runs to the tree and stops.