Curly and the Fent Page 2

  ‘A surprise test!’ he chuckles gleefully.

  We all groan.

  ‘Be prepared for the unexpected,’ he tells us as he hands out the test. ‘That is the most important lesson to learn in life.’

  ‘This is so unfair!’ I mutter to Chris.

  I forgot Mr Andrews has superhuman hearing. He turns on me like a short, bald shark.

  ‘Unfair? Life is unfair, Mr Curly. You had better get used to it. For speaking without putting your hand up, I am deducting ten marks from your test.’

  I open my mouth to protest.

  ‘Something else to say, Mr Curly?’

  What’s the point? He’ll just take off more marks. I close my mouth again.

  ‘Good, at least you’ve learnt something today. All right class, you have thirty minutes to complete the test. Starting … now!’

  I stare at the paper. I can’t answer the first question, or the second, and I don’t even understand what the third one is about. So I just sit there. Who cares about a stupid test, anyway? I have a bigger problem to solve. Picking up my pen I draw a picture of Billy’s face next to question four. Then I hear a small voice whisper, ‘This is boring, Curly.’

  The Fent is lounging on the floor near my desk. For some reason no one else seems to notice him. I wonder why not?

  ‘Go away!’ I hiss.

  He ignores me and begins rolling around in small circles on the floor, like it’s some kind of game. He bumps my desk and it moves.

  ‘What is that noise?’ Mr Andrews demands.

  I hunch lower in my seat, but he’s already looking at me.

  ‘Mr Curly. Again. Your desk has mysteriously moved, I see. Are you trying to cheat?’

  He comes over and picks up my paper. ‘You haven’t written anything, Mr Curly! Perhaps you need to cheat.’

  Everyone giggles. Then Mr Andrews turns the page over and sees Billy’s face glaring at him from question four.

  ‘Pictures, Mr Curly? I think you’d better sit down the front with me.’

  There is a spare desk next to his own where he puts the students he wants to pick on.

  I gather up my paper and pen and go to the front of the class. The Fent follows me.

  ‘My stomach is making horrible noises,’ he moans. ‘I don’t think Fents should eat fruit.’ He rolls on the floor near my new desk, clutching his middle.

  I hope fruit isn’t poisonous to Fents.

  Mr Mason, the Headmaster, suddenly sticks his head around the door.

  ‘A nice, quiet class,’ he says, smiling. ‘With all the students working hard.’

  He sees me sitting at the front and frowns. ‘I just want a quiet word with Mr Andrews, everyone. Carry on with your work. Especially you, Curly.’

  Mr Andrews goes to the door and he and Mason begin discussing something. I just hope it’s not me. I start reading question five.

  ‘Pushing the poison out,’ the Fent declares, red-faced.

  There is a loud farting sound. Muffled giggles spread across the room.

  ‘Curly!’ Mr Andrews snaps in disgust. ‘You will apologise to Mr Mason and the rest of the class this instant.’

  ‘But it wasn’t me!’

  The Fent rolls across the floor to Mr Andrews’ legs and lets out a real beauty. It stinks too; I can smell it all the way from here. The whole class is shocked. Mr Mason steps away. He pinches his nose, trying not to breathe.

  ‘It wasn’t me!’ Mr Andrews mutters under his breath. His face is bright red.

  ‘Be prepared for the unexpected!’ Chris calls out from the back of the class. Everyone bursts out laughing. Mr Mason calls the class to order, but all the kids are making farting noises with their mouths. He tells us to put our pens down and sends us out for an early lunch.

  ‘Hehehe,’ the Fent chuckles smugly.

  ‘You are never eating fruit again!’ I tell him.

  I am sharing my lunch with Chris when I see Billy on the other side of the playground. He’s looking in my direction. He signals to me. Suddenly I don’t feel hungry any more. Billy goes to sit on a big rock at the edge of the bush that fringes the grass. He thinks he’s the king of the school when he sits there. Luckily he hasn’t spotted the Fent yet.

  ‘Listen,’ I tell the Fent. ‘I need you to disappear for a while. There’s a kid I have to speak to and I’m afraid he can see you.’

  ‘Only you can see me now,’ he replies. ‘That’s how I made it.’

  So that’s why no one else saw him in class.

  ‘I don’t want to take any chances! Just go, will you?’

  The Fent frowns, then vanishes.

  By the time I reach Billy my knees feel sweaty and weak with fear. Billy smiles his mean little smile, but doesn’t say anything. He just lets me stand in front of him and wait. I start counting all the ways he can hurt me, and sweat even more. Finally he speaks. ‘So, Curly. What was that weird thing I saw in your car this morning?’

  I think for a moment, then reply. ‘You mean my mum?’

  I’m really glad she’s not here to hear me say that.

  ‘Very funny, Curly. I mean that ugly, hairy thing with the pointy ears that was sitting in the back with you.’

  ‘Oh. Our new dog.’

  ‘Dog?’

  ‘Dad bought it for me from overseas.’

  Billy had met my dad, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to believe he’d bought me a weird dog. Dad buys a lot of weird things.

  ‘It didn’t look like a dog to me.’

  ‘That’s because it’s from somewhere else. They have a lot of different dogs in other countries.’

  ‘Is it a hunting dog?’

  Billy reckons his dog is a hunting dog. I think it’s just been driven crazy from living with Billy and his dad.

  ‘My dog’s just a pet. He’s not like Killer.’

  Amazingly, Billy doesn’t look angry. I decide to push my luck. ‘Can I have Chris’s money now?’

  To my surprise he pulls Chris’s five-dollar note out of his pocket. But when I go to take it, he grabs my hand and twists it until it hurts. ‘I want to meet that dog, Curly. Tomorrow.’

  He lets my hand go. It’s red and it feels sore where his fingers dug in.

  Billy grins at me. ‘You can go now, Curly. Run back to your little friend Chris and tell him he’s never getting his money back. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I turn and walk away very quickly. Tomorrow is Saturday; it will be hard to dodge him. What am I going to do?

  When school is over, I wait out the front for Dad. Maybe he’ll be late. If he’s late then no one will see the car. I haven’t seen it for a week myself. In a week, anything could have happened to it. It could’ve changed shape and colour, grown wings or gained giant wheels. Dad is an inventor, so he’s always experimenting on it. He believes in looking after the earth too, so it runs on fuel made out of potato skins. The fuel stinks worse than the Fent’s farts. Uncle Jeffrey thinks Dad is crazy. I love my dad, but when it comes to some of his inventions, I think he’s a little crazy too.

  I see the smoke first. Dad will be unhappy with that; it’s not good for the air. Then I hear the noise. He’ll be unhappy with that, too. Noise pollution. And finally, there’s the smell. I put my hand over my mouth and nose and watch as a rainbow-coloured Holden sedan with a solar panel tied to the roof chugs slowly around the corner. From the front seat a brown-skinned, curly-haired man waves madly at me.

  ‘Jump in, son!’ Dad shouts as he draws closer, surrounded by a cloud of purple smoke. He never stops the car unless he has to, because it usually doesn’t start again.

  The front side door springs open as the car crawls past, and I run a few steps and leap inside. Around me all the other kids are coughing and laughing.

  ‘Woohoo!’ Dad yells. ‘Great run, Curly! You’ll make the Olympics yet.’

  Dad is enthusiastic about everything I do.

  ‘I thought you were buying a new car,’ I grumble.

  ‘I was, but then I had a new idea inst
ead. Better to spend your money on a new idea than a new car. You buy a new car one day, and the next day it’s worth half what you paid for it. Only idiots buy new cars.’

  He means Uncle Jeffrey. They don’t get on.

  I sigh. ‘So, what’s your new idea?’

  ‘Edible soap!’ he replies excitedly.

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Our rivers are very polluted with all the detergents that flow into them, Curly, and it’s bad for the river animals. But my soap’s suds will feed the fish and frogs in the rivers, and humans can eat the soap too!’

  I try to imagine washing my bum and then eating the leftover soap.

  ‘I don’t think people will want to eat food they’ve just cleaned themselves with, Dad.’

  He looks thoughtful. ‘Good point, son, good point. But every brilliant idea has its drawbacks. It might all be in the marketing. And you know what I’ve always told you – when I make my first million, I’ll buy you a truckload of toys. A whole truckload, Curly!’

  He sounds more excited about it than I am.

  ‘It might take a long time to make edible soap, Dad. It might cost a lot of money.’

  His Super Sunscreen had cost a lot of money. You were supposed to be able to put it on once, and it would last forever. Lucky for me it didn’t, or I’d still be bright orange.

  ‘You’re thinking about the sunscreen, aren’t you?’ Dad asks.

  I nod. It’s scary how he sometimes knows exactly what’s on my mind.

  ‘This idea is different, Curly.’

  They always were.

  ‘This idea will work.’

  They never did.

  ‘And it won’t take a long time, because I’ve already got a batch made up! I want you to be the first to try it!’

  ‘Have you ever heard of a Fent, Dad?’ I ask, trying to change the subject.

  ‘The world is a wonderful place, Curly,’ he says with a twinkle in his eye. ‘There are a lot of things I haven’t heard of, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.’

  ‘It’s like a small animal with pointy ears and big feet. There’s one living in my wardrobe.’

  ‘Really? I had a mouse living in my wardrobe once.’

  ‘This isn’t the same, Dad.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re looking after it, Curly! I looked after the mouse. I named him Thomas and fed him cheese.’

  I sigh and give up.

  We pull up at the front of our house. Uncle Jeffrey’s red Toyota is parked in the drive. Mum comes out straight away. ‘Hello, Martin. Curly, can you go inside and say hello to your Uncle Jeffrey? Your father and I will be in shortly.’

  She always sends me inside when she wants to talk to Dad about something she doesn’t want me to hear.

  ‘See you later, Dad.’

  ‘In a minute, son.’

  Uncle Jeffrey is sitting on the couch, looking large and red-haired and awkward. He’s Mum’s brother, and he has no idea how to talk to kids.

  ‘Afternoon, Curly,’ he says as I walk in.

  ‘Hello, Uncle Jeffrey.’

  ‘Did you have a good day at school?’

  ‘Yes. Did you have a good day at work?’

  ‘Yes.’

  We both sit there. After a while he gets up and sneaks a look out the window. I look too.

  ‘Don’t spy on your parents!’ Uncle Jeffrey growls.

  I sit back down.

  He keeps on spying.

  Finally Mum and Dad walk up to the front porch. Uncle Jeffrey dives back onto the couch and flicks on the TV with the remote. I hear Mum and Dad talking.

  ‘He’s just got a great imagination,’ Dad says.

  ‘Yes, and I know where he gets it from!’

  They come inside. Dad leans down and shakes hands with Uncle Jeffrey.

  ‘Jeff.’

  ‘Martin.’

  Dad glances at the TV. ‘Didn’t know you were a fan of the Wiggles, Jeff.’

  ‘I’m not watching it! Curly is.’

  Dad winks at me. He knows I’m way too old for the Wiggles.

  ‘Come and say goodbye, Curly.’

  We go outside and say goodbye the way we always do – by pushing the car down the street until it starts. Dad jumps in as it begins to take off.

  ‘Say hello to the Fent for me!’ he calls.

  Then a small package comes flying through the air and hits me in the chest.

  ‘Have a taste, Curly.’ Dad orders as he rolls away. ‘Edible soap is going to be the biggest thing since Coca-Cola!’

  When I go back inside, Mum and Uncle Jeffrey are whispering to each other in the kitchen. Mum seems to be trying to persuade him to do something that he obviously doesn’t want to do. Finally, they come back into the lounge and Uncle Jeffrey says, ‘Um – would you like to go for a ride in my car, Curly?’

  Wow. This is Mum’s doing. Ever since the milkshake incident I’ve been banned.

  ‘Thanks, Uncle Jeffrey.’

  But when we go out the front, his car isn’t in the driveway any more. It’s across the other side of the road with its rear end backed into a light pole. We all rush over. Uncle Jeffrey circles it in disbelief. ‘This will cost thousands of dollars to fix,’ he mutters to himself. ‘Thousands.’

  He looks like he’s going to cry.

  I peer inside. The handbrake is off.

  ‘Hehehe,’ I hear a small voice say. ‘I like red cars.’

  When we’re alone I growl at the Fent. I’m worried he might try to drive Mum’s car, and she can’t afford to get it fixed. He retreats inside the wardrobe. I pull out the little plastic bag Dad threw at me and peer inside. The soap is brown and mushy and it looks like dog poo. I put a tiny bit on my tongue. EWWW!

  The Fent appears on my bed. ‘I want some!’

  He grabs the bag and swallows the lot.

  ‘Hmm, yummy.’

  Suddenly his eyes roll up and he flops back, groaning. Has Dad’s soap killed him? I put my hand on his chest, trying to see if he’s breathing. His eyes fly open.

  ‘More!’

  ‘More?’

  ‘Better than fruit!’

  I laugh. Maybe there’s a use for Dad’s soap after all.

  When I wake up the next morning it’s Saturday. Luckily for me, the Fent is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’s gone for the day. I hope so. If he’s not here, then Billy can’t hurt him. I check the wardrobe to make sure he’s not hiding under my clothes. Ugh! My wardrobe smells of the Fent. But he’s nowhere to be seen. Mum comes into my room. ‘Want some breakfast, Curly?’

  ‘No thanks, Mum! I’m going to the park.’

  The park is across the road. I figure I can keep a watch for Billy from there and for the Fent too. I plan to tell Billy my new dog is with Dad. It’s the best story I can think of.

  ‘Don’t wander too far, Curly,’ Mum says. ‘I’m going to work on my tax return. Maybe we’ll get some money back, eh?’

  Mum’s always short of money.

  ‘Dad’s new idea might work out, Mum,’ I reassure her. ‘You never know.’

  She just shakes her head.

  ‘Dad tries his best, Mum, he’s just – well, he’s Dad.’

  ‘I know Curly,’ she says. ‘He’s a good man at heart. He’s just not very … practical.’

  Then she notices my fallen expression.

  ‘He tries to do the right thing.’ She smiles reassuringly at me.

  ‘That’s important, isn’t it, Mum? Even if it gets you into trouble.’

  She nods. I’m thinking of all the crazy things I might have to do to protect the Fent. When I open my wardrobe door again, I wonder if I should bother. All my clean clothes smell of Fent. I spot my school uniform on the floor, where I flung it yesterday. Maybe no one will notice? I sigh and put it on.

  I haven’t been at the park very long when some other kids turn up. It’s never empty on a Saturday. They laugh at my clothes for a few seconds, but everyone’s more interested in getting on with a game of football. I’m really having fun unt
il Billy comes storming across the road.

  ‘Hey Curly!’ he shouts angrily, then he pauses for a second. ‘Nice uniform, loser. ‘I just saw your dad down the shops and you don’t have a new dog!’

  Uh oh. As if today wasn’t going badly enough. All the kids look at each other. There’s one thing you can say about Billy – he’s fair. When he’s mad, he doesn’t care who he bashes. Everyone takes off.

  ‘I’m gonna get you, Curly!’ Billy shouts. ‘I’m gonna hunt you down with Killer!’

  I panic. Billy is between me and my house, so I turn and run in the other direction, heading for the bushland by the river. I’ve hidden there from Billy before, maybe I can again.

  The Fent appears as I’m racing through the paperbark trees. I don’t stop. I haven’t got much of a head start and I need to make the most of it.

  ‘Where are we going, Curly?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m going to hide so Billy can’t find me,’ I pant hoarsely. ‘And you’re going to disappear!’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘Again!’

  ‘Booorrring! Is hiding boring, too?’

  ‘Yes!’

  He points to the sky. ‘What’s that, Curly?’

  ‘A pelican. Now go away!’

  He bounds off in another direction. I don’t have time to follow him so I keep running. The bush starts to grows thicker and the light thinner. The ground beneath my feet feels soft and muddy – I must be getting near the water. Sure enough, I come out of the scrub at the edge of the river. There are pelicans everywhere.

  ‘I’m hiding!’ a small voice chirps. ‘Can you see me, Curly?’

  ‘This is no time for games!’ I yell. I look around but I can’t see the Fent. Then I spot two fluffy ears sticking out of the beak of a nearby pelican.

  ‘Get out of there!’ I shout.

  The Fent climbs out and grins at me. ‘Not boring!’ he says.

  He starts rolling around in the shallows. I try to catch him, but he’s too slippery.

  ‘Curr-lyy!’ Billy’s voice rings through the bush. ‘Cuuurr-lyyy!’