My name is – the most boring name in the world. Dad says with a name like John Smith no one will EVER make fun of me. Mum says I’m “one in a MILLION”. My sister says it makes me the most boring person in history. But do not judge a book by its cover. My life is ANYTHING but boring!

  Contents

  Cover

  John Smith is Not Boring

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Sneak Peek of Sheriff John the (Partly) Wild

  About the Author

  Copyright

  To Lottie-Lou, Daisy-Doo ... and Florence too!

  Chapter One

  “Wow! That is AMAZING!”

  I’m lying on the grass in the back garden looking up at the stars. Thousands and thousands of twinkling tiny specks are dotted in the dark night sky.

  As a famous scientist once said, space is massive and totally interesting. We studied it in school and we learnt all about stars and shooting stars and something called asteroids – which was what I thought Granddad had said he had up his bottom.

  “How many stars are in the sky, Granddad?”

  “Billions,” says Granddad, lying next to me on the grass, squinting up at the heavens. “In the great scheme of things, it makes you realize how unimportant you really are.”

  “He means you,” says my big sister, Hayley, working her way down the garden path, folding her girly rags into a washing basket. “How unimportant YOU really are.”

  Granddad looks at me and smiles. “She doesn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, I do, John Smith,” chimes Hayley. “You’re the boy with the most boring name in the town, in the country, in the world, in the universe!”

  Hayley hums her way into the house, pleased with her addition to the conversation. She’s always teasing me over my name.

  A ball of fur comes bounding up the garden path. Muffin lives next door with the Virgos. Adam Virgo is a world-champion school bully.

  He’s always happy making my life a misery. And while the entire Virgo family is on holiday in the Costa Del Somewhere-or-other, Muffin, the annoying little flappy-eared cocker spaniel, is living with us, which is like rolling out the red carpet for the devil.

  “What is it, boy?” says Granddad. “What have you found?”

  Muffin drops a football at my feet. The air gently hisses out of the bite marks where his fangs have sunk into the leather.

  “That’s my football!” I moan.

  “Oh dear, I think he’s punctured it,” says Granddad.

  Muffin rolls on his back, expecting me to give his tummy a good tickle. He really is the most annoying dog of all time! And now he’s burst my ball.

  “He needs his squeaky toy,” says Granddad, picking up a plastic bunny with a bell round its neck. “Here you go, boy, fetch…”

  Granddad throws the squeaky toy down the garden path. Muffin bounces off into the undergrowth. Granddad settles back into position, gazing up at the stars.

  “Did you know the light from those stars is millions of years old?”

  “About the same age as you, Granddad,” I chuckle.

  “Cheeky,” smiles Granddad.

  I love our little chats in the garden, me and Granddad. We talk about EVERYTHING, but our favourite topic is the John Smith Club, which I’ve just joined.

  In the John Smith Club, I get to go on these incredible journeys to faraway places and enjoy amazing adventures. It’s a bit of a miracle really, but every John Smith has this massive secret. Just because we’ve got a boring name doesn’t mean we have a boring life!

  Granddad’s in the club too because he’s called John Smith as well, although I always thought he was called Granddad. But Dad’s not in the John Smith Club because he’s called Steve, and as far as I know, they don’t have a Steve Smith club, because that would be too silly.

  “Life isn’t so bad, Granddad…” I sigh.

  “Life is great,” says Granddad. “It doesn’t get better than this: lying under the stars with my grandson, about to go and watch United in the big match…”

  “DISASTER! DISASTER! DISASTER!”

  Dad comes running into the garden.

  “It’s awful … it’s terrible…” wails Dad.

  He kicks a watering can down the garden path. Muffin yelps and scuttles into the house with his little squeaky toy in his teeth.

  “What’s happened?” grunts Granddad, struggling to his feet.

  “I can hardly bring myself to say it,” scowls Dad.

  Granddad looks at me, really worried. Dad’s gone as white as a ghost in a snowstorm with a sheet over his head. This must be really bad news. Something horrible must have happened.

  “Have a seat, son,” says Granddad.

  Dad collapses in a deckchair and looks at us, his lips trembling, his eyes watering.

  “What is it, Dad?” I gulp. “It can’t be as bad as all that, can it?”

  “It’s worse … MUCH WORSE,” he groans.

  Hayley sticks her head out of the back door, a wicked smirk written all over her face.

  “The television’s busted,” laughs Hayley.

  Dad nods glumly. “I told you it was bad.”

  “No, no … not today!” I scream. “Not with United in the final! What’s wrong with the television? Tell me … tell me … TELL ME!”

  “The satellite’s gone down,” says Hayley, plainly. “Sorry.”

  “The satellite’s gone down?” I mumble, shaking my head. “That’s terrible … that’s awful … that’s…” I suddenly look up at them all. “What’s a satellite?”

  “It’s a big mirror in space,” says Granddad. “You need it to beam television pictures around the world.”

  We all look up to space, hoping to see the broken satellite limping through the sky.

  “No satellite, no television,” sighs Dad.

  “No television, no big match,” sighs Granddad.

  “No big match, no happy John,” says Hayley in an annoying baby voice.

  That is literally the worst news in the history of news. Our team is playing in the cup final and we’ll be staring at a blank screen.

  “You mean there’s no television at all?” I mumble.

  “That’s not quite true,” sneers Hayley. “It’s not as bad as that.”

  We all stare hopefully at Hayley.

  “I can still watch The Girly Show on the Girly Channel because that’s on a different satellite,” she chuckles.

  “Even worse,” moans Dad.

  “The biggest match in years,” protests Granddad, “and we’re going to miss it.”

  “How long until kick-off?” I beg.

  “Thirty minutes,” he mutters.

  I spring to my feet. “Someone needs to fix the satellite!”

  “No kidding?” chuckles Hayley. “What are you going to do, you snivelling little wimp? Climb into your special rocket and take your toolbox twenty thousand miles into deepest, darkest space?”

  Wouldn’t it be incredible to take a trip into outer space? I could slide down the rings of Saturn, catch the tail of a comet or toast marshmallows on the surface of the sun. And maybe I could fix that dodgy satellite too. Isn’t that what the John Smith Club is all about, journeying to faraway places and having great adventures? Well, it doesn’t get more far away than outer space!

  But this time I’ve got a real mission! This time I can help my fellow Earth-dwellers, and who knows, maybe they’ll even put up a statue of me and write my name on a wall – but this time in a nice way.

  I race up the garden path and through the back door.

  “Follow me, Granddad!”

  I’m going to boldly go where no eight-year-old snivelling wimp has gone before!

  Chapter Two

  “I can fix the satellite!”

  I dash into Granddad’s bedroom, dive under the bed and drag out the old chest.

  “How are you gonna do that, son?” says Granddad, hobbling into the room behind me.

  “I’ve been a knight, a pirate … how about a spaceman?” I poke my head round from the side of the bed and fix Granddad with a mischievous look. “And whilst I’m up there, maybe I can find out if the moon really is made of cheese! Imagine, the first ever intergalactic cheese toastie.”

  “You’re trying to change what happens right here on Earth,” says Granddad, “using the John Smith Club to go fiddling around with the broken satellite so we can all watch the football on the telly. Nothing like that has ever been done by the John Smith Club before – we keep our adventures separate to the rest of the world. Maybe it won’t work!”

  “And maybe it will,” I reply. “Who’s to say us John Smiths can’t change the world around us?”

  I throw the lid open and stare at the contents.

  “Just feast your eyes on this lot,” I gasp.

  Inside the chest are loads of different costumes – knight helmets, gladiator swords, pirate hats, spy disguises, cowboy boots … and tucked away in the corner, a silver spacesuit.

  “Do you know anything about space

, Granddad?” I murmur.

  I jump on the bed and lower my legs into the spacesuit.

  “I just know this one thing about space,” says Granddad, suddenly really serious. “In space, no one can hear you scream.”

  Now that is a horribly scary thought.

  “Maybe I should come with you,” he nods.

  “I fly alone!” I announce dramatically. “Anyway, I need you to be back here in mission control. How long have we got until kick-off?”

  Granddad checks his watch. “Twenty-six minutes and fourteen seconds…” He frowns. “Thirteen seconds … twelve seconds … eleven seconds…”

  I pick up my helmet and put it under my arm. “How do I look, Granddad?”

  “Cosmic,” beams Granddad. “Every inch the spaceman.”

  I take a deep breath and say the magic words that will send me on my special quest.

  “Say it long, say it loud, I’m John Smith and I’m—”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” interrupts Granddad.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll need one of these.” Granddad pulls a tiny screwdriver out of his pocket. “This little baby has been with me through thick and thin,” he says. “Might be just the thing to mend a wonky satellite.”

  I take the screwdriver and slip it in my spacesuit pocket.

  “OK, this is it, Granddad,” I continue. “Oooh, ooh … wait a moment…”

  I’ve heard that space is a really big place and, just like Mum and Dad let me play games on really long journeys, I might need some entertainment. So I dash back to my room and grab my mini games console.

  “OK, Granddad, this really is it…”

  I repeat the special words that will launch me on my faraway quest. “Say it long, say it loud, I’m John Smith and I’m—”

  “WAIT!”

  Granddad looks at me sternly. “Do you need the bathroom? Because once you’re in space, there’s no taking that suit off.”

  “No, Granddad,” I reply. “I do not need the – ooh, you’ve gone and said it now. I suddenly need a pee…”

  “Hurry,” says Granddad.

  I skip to the loo, do my business and skip back again.

  “OK,” says Granddad, “this really is it. Wait a moment, one final thing…”

  Granddad looks at me and winks. “Be careful.”

  “We’re running out of time, Granddad. I just want to say the special magic words. ‘Say it long, say it loud, I’m John Smith and I’m proud’ and I’ll be on my—”

  Suddenly I can hear the deafening roar of mighty engines.

  “Everyman One, you are cleared for take-off,” says Granddad. Then, just like in the space movies I’ve seen on the telly, Granddad starts the countdown. “Ten … nine … eight … seven…”

  “Wish me luck, Granddad!” I cry.

  “Six … five … four…”

  Everywhere is lit up in flashes of orange and purple and red.

  “Three … two … one…”

  I’m in the middle of a swirl of smoke and steam. Everything starts shaking.

  “LIFT-OFF!”

  I’m zooming towards the stars at a gazillion miles an hour. My little home quickly becomes a tiny speck far below.

  This is it. Next stop outer space.

  “It’s one small step for man,” I announce, “one giant leap for John Smith…”

  Chapter Three

  The lights on the flight control panel are sparkling, the monitors are purring, and the two giant furry dice above the flight control panel are bobbing up and down. I’m sitting in the pilot’s seat of my spaceship with my hands on the leather steering wheel, hurtling into space faster than a speeding bullet.

  I lean forward, snap the glove box open and grab a travel sweet. Butterscotch and caramel, now that is what I call out of this world!

  Suddenly the speaker on the dash crackles into life.

  “Come in, Spaceman John. Come in, Spaceman John. This is mission control. Can you hear me?”

  “This is Spaceman John, I hear you loud and clear,” I reply in my best spaceman’s voice.

  “Can you repeat that?” says mission control. “I’m not wearing my hearing aid!”

  “I said I can hear you, Granddad!” I shout.

  “All right,” says mission control, “there’s no need to shout! Now listen very carefully. I want you to take the spaceship into turbo-thrust-thingy…”

  “Turbo-thrust-thingy?” I nod. “How do I do that?”

  “It’s very simple,” says mission control. “Push the big thing marked turbo-thrust-thingy all the way forward. It’s that silver stick right in front of you.”

  Who am I to argue with mission control? I push the silver stick forward. Suddenly the booster rockets power up and the ship zooms even faster into space.

  “Waaaa-heeeeyyyyy!!!”

  “You are on course for the satellite,” says mission control. “Remember, the whole town depends on you. Good luck.”

  “Thanks, Granddad – I mean, mission control – over and out…”

  With my successful spaceship launch behind me, it’s time to sit back and enjoy the ride.

  So this is space, eh?

  I look out of the window and see this incredible planet I’ve never seen before. It’s green and blue with little wisps of cloud floating all around it. Wow! This must be a brand new planet because it’s definitely not like Mars or Jupiter or Saturn, or any of the other planets I’ve studied in school. This planet looks sort of friendly and nice. I’d like to live on a planet like this green-and-blue blob.

  I lift the armrest, root through the music collection and whack on something called “Rocket Man” – just the right kind of music.

  “Come in, Spaceman John,” says mission control.

  “Spaceman John here,” I reply. “How can I help you, mission control?”

  “You are about to leave the Earth’s atmosphere and experience zero gravity, which means you will be completely weightless. It is important you stay buckled in your seat at all times. Do not go spinning round inside the spaceship doing backflips and cartwheels like we’ve seen spacemen do, treating this as just one big ride in a fairground. Do you copy, Spaceman John? This is an important mission, not a joyride through the stars.”

  “Waaaa-heeeeyyy … this is brilliant!” I shout.

  “What are you doing, Spaceman John?” says mission control.

  “I’m bouncing round inside the spaceship! I can fly…”

  “Spaceman John, what did I just say about staying in your seat?”

  This is one hundred per cent mega. Everything is floating around with me. The travel sweets are floating out of the tin, the CDs are floating out of the armrest, even the furry dice are floating up to touch the roof of the spaceship.

  Zero gravity rocks!

  I do a forward roll, bounce off the side of the spaceship, open my mouth and gobble a travel sweet in mid-air. This is right up there with the top three things ANYONE has ever done ANYWHERE in the history of EVERYTHING!

  “This is fantastic, Granddad! I mean, mission control.”

  “Stay focused, Spaceman John,” says mission control. “You are in deepest space. What can you see?”

  Out of the window I see a massive shiny thing with a big mirror stuck on its side and a bright pink beam bouncing off it.

  “Mission control, I think I see the satellite!” I gasp.

  “What colour is it, Spaceman John?” says mission control.

  “It’s, uh, well … it’s a big pink satellite and, oh – I think I can see pictures of flowers all over it!”

  “A big pink satellite with flowers on it?” says mission control.

  “And it’s got this bright pink light bouncing off the mirror…”

  “Can you see inside the bright pink light?” says mission control.

  I steer my spaceship as close to the bright pink light as I dare.

  “Granddad!”

  “Please, call me mission control,” says Granddad.

  “I can see lots of things in the bright pink light. I can see some people baking a cake … and a lady in an old-fashioned dress crying into a handkerchief…”

 

1 2 3 4