Secrets of a Schoolyard Millionaire, page 2
After swimming was lunch, where Toby oohed and aahed over Dad’s enchiladas. More classes then, FINALLY, home time.
Now, I have to make this very clear. On his birthday Toby could do anything, right? Choose anything. Go anywhere. Eat anything. Watch anything. And this includes his mums, my parents and all my siblings because we’re pretty much just one big family.
You know what Toby chose to do that night?
We all volunteered at Cook4Good, making food for people with no homes or money.
Yup – that’s Toby.
So me and Toby are a team. Our number one aim is to get rich, and get rich soon. Okay, that’s my aim, but Toby is totally on board.
We always talk about all the great things we could do if we had heaps of money. I’d definitely put a waterslide in our school pool and make sure all the kids have at least one treat in their lunch boxes. A REAL treat – not like my lunch box where Dad puts in an apple with a sticky note that says ‘Imagine it’s a Mars Bar’.
Toby has some ideas too. You know, helping others and stuff like that.
We keep most of our ideas to ourselves because adults don’t really get it. I mean, we’re not talking about chump change. We want to make thousands. Hundreds of thousands!
Adults just think too small.
A while back at school, the bell rang for lunch. Toby and I had to rush out. We were running a mini-tuckshop that week. We had pooled our pocket money and used Toby’s mums’ Costco card to buy snacks in bulk. We were selling them from the bike shed for heaps cheaper than the kids could buy them at the school tuckshop, but still at a profit for us, so it was win-win. Every day, even when we rushed to the shed, there was already a line of kids waiting.
But this day, Mr Deery stopped me on the way out.
‘Hey, Tess, I saw something that I thought you might be interested in.’ He handed me a flyer. Plastered across the top in bright yellow block letters was Kids Business. ‘It’s a competition for primary school kids to come up with a business idea. I know you’re really into that sort of thing. Always reading those “how to be a success” books. I thought you could enter.’
I tried my best not to roll my eyes. Mr Deery is nice, but he has no clue.
‘Maybe you could maybe do a cake stall. Or do some chores for people in the neighbourhood.’
Don’t roll, eyes. Don’t roll!
‘And there’s prize money for the best business idea. Look!’ Mr Deery poked his finger at the flyer. ‘Ten dollars!’
I looked at his beaming face. Seriously. No idea. ‘Awesome, Mr Deery, thanks! Sounds great.’
I looked to Toby, who was nodding along like one of those bobble heads on a car dashboard. Too much fake enthusiasm, Toby!
‘I thought it would be right up your alley, Tess.’ Mr Deery looked awfully proud of himself. ‘You’re such a little go-getter. You’ll be running this country one day.’
I smiled my biggest smile back at him. ‘You bet, Mr Deery. Thanks! Gotta go.’
‘Absolutely, Tess. And if you need any help coming up with ideas, just let me know. See if we can’t win you that ten dollars.’
‘Uh huh.’ I grabbed Toby and dragged him off. When we were at a safe distance, I let my eyes roll. It was such a relief. ‘Ten dollars,’ I scoffed. I screwed up the flyer and handed it to Toby, who dropped it in the recycling bin.
That lunch we made a total profit of eighty-three dollars in forty-five minutes at our mini-tuckshop.
* * *
ADULTS CAN UNDERESTIMATE KIDS.
It’s not their fault. They’re only adults, they have a lot to learn. Be patient and understand they’re just doing their best.
* * *
And so I thought I had it sorted. Business ideas and get-rich-quick schemes. I read all the books, watched all the movies and I was super sure that it was just a matter of trying different things until I finally hit it big time.
Then in February, something happened that changed everything.
I can hear the mayhem behind the front door before I even turn the handle. Welcome to the Heckleston Hothouse – that’s what Dad calls it.
I swing the door open to reveal my family. The Heckle-tribe.
Jake is chewing on the edge of the couch. Jake is always chewing on some piece of furniture.
So right now you’re probably thinking Jake is our dog, right? Nope. Jake is my youngest brother. He’s one and a half and is teething. Dad’s tried a whole heap of teething toys but Jake still prefers the furniture. He’s a weird kid.
Olivia is sitting cross-legged on the lounge room floor with her head buried in a book that weighs more than she does. To say she’s a bookworm is a serious understatement. She’s super smart. She’s only seven, but if it wasn’t for Google, she’d already be smarter than me.
Dane is teaching Butthead to play dead. Dane’s my older brother. He’s twelve, although sometimes I find that very hard to believe. Butthead is his dog. Dane got Butthead from the pound for his birthday, so he’s Dane’s dog, which means none of us had any say in his name. I just want to make that very clear. Dane’s a doofus and so is Butthead. They're perfect for each other.
And last of all, there’s Sash. She has her ears plugged with headphones and is frantically flicking away at her iPhone. This is a good thing, because Sash only has two modes. Plugged and unplugged. This is plugged. She’s quiet, calm and still. Then there’s unplugged, where she screams and rants and cries and fights with Mum and storms from room to room slamming doors. We must all be grateful when Sash is plugged.
Dad’s in the kitchen. He’s already started getting dinner ready. Mum won’t be home until eight at the earliest. Mostly she comes home after we’ve already eaten. The radio is blaring as Dad dances around the kitchen to ‘Handle With Care’ by The Traveling Wilburys. The song is great. Dad’s dancing is not.
I walk inside, ignored by everyone except Dad.
‘Hey, Tess! How was school?’ he calls from the kitchen.
‘Good thanks, Dad,’ I yell back without stopping.
‘Fettuccine boscaiola for dinner.’
‘Sounds great.’ I go upstairs and close my bedroom door behind me, shutting out the Heckle-tribe.
* * *
DON’T BE A MIDDLE CHILD!
Okay, so you may not have a lot of control over this, but try to avoid it if you can. It’s a tough gig. If you do find yourself in this position, make the most of it. When all seems doomed, just remember … Bill Gates was a middle child. If you don’t know who Bill Gates is, see Tip 1.
* * *
My mum and dad don’t have a lot of time – and they have a lot of kids. As far as the kids in the family go, I definitely take the least effort. While Mum and Dad deal with my siblings, I get left to my own devices. And I like it like that. I love my family, but they’re hard work. And they’re always around. I mean, literally, there are so many of them you can’t escape.
But at least I have my own room.
My room is the only room upstairs and at the back of the house. It’s smaller than the others, but it’s quieter so it suits me fine. It’s got a huge window that looks down over our backyard, and also down into Scotty’s backyard.
Scotty is our neighbour. Mum does not like Scotty. She says she wishes we had more money so we could afford to move to a ‘better neighbourhood’ and ‘away from the riffraff’. But I think Scotty is interesting. Strange, but interesting.
Our backyard is pretty big and I’m the only one who really uses it. Jake doesn’t play out there much because there’s no furniture to chew on. Olivia’s an inside kid – it’s hard to read in the sun, she says. Dane takes Butthead to the park and Sash only goes from school to the couch to her room and back again. So that leaves the backyard all for me.
There, I have my trampoline and my treasure chest.
My treasure chest is where I keep all my important stuff. When you have four siblings, you can’t keep important stuff in your room. In fact …
* * *
KEEP YOUR IMPORTANT STUFF SOMEWHERE SAFE!
Everyone’s important stuff is different. You decide what your important stuff is, then keep it somewhere safe. If you don’t take care of your important stuff and then it goes missing, it’s your own fault. As you may have worked out from my story so far, your school locker is NOT the place for your important stuff.
* * *
My treasure chest is just a big toy pirate’s chest. It’s bedazzled with fake gold and jewels and pushed up against the fence, just next to my trampoline. I’ve had it since I was little. I think it used to be Dane’s. When you lift up the lid it looks like it’s full of balls and Frisbees and other outdoor junk, BUT … my treasure chest has a false bottom. Underneath the junk, if you lift up the base, there’s another space hidden below. That’s where I keep the cool stuff. What was there before my story isn’t important. But my treasure chest is.
My trampoline I use for bouncing – no surprises there, right? I find bouncing therapeutic. Therapeutic? Google it. You should find something that’s therapeutic for you. It will help you through life. I go to bounce when I need to think, and a little bit when I want to see what’s going on at Scotty’s.
Scotty is kind of skinny. Mum calls him ‘scrawny’. He has a lot of tattoos. And I mean, a lot. They come right down to his hands like shirtsleeves and creep out of his collar and up his neck and curl around his ears. It looks like they’re taking over his body. They’re all so squashed together that I can’t really tell what they are, exactly, but one is definitely a dragon. Its head pokes out from Scotty’s shirt and its jaws open wide under his chin. It looks like it’s trying to swallow Scotty’s head.
Mum said never, under any circumstance, was I ever allowed to talk to Scotty.
But I have talked to Scotty. A few times. I just never told Mum.
The first time I spoke to Scotty, I was on my trampoline. I could only see over the fence when I bounced.
UP
Scotty was in the backyard with a group of his friends.
DOWN
UP
They almost all had tattoos and they were having a barbecue.
DOWN
UP
There was a bundle of money on the table.
DOWN
UP
It must have been about $1000.
DOWN
UP
Maybe more.
DOWN
UP
Scotty was staring straight at me.
I stopped bouncing. I stayed crouched down on the black canvas of the trampoline, the rough material prickling my hands.
After what seemed like forever, I slowly stood up. I was too scared to bounce again. What if he was right there? But I really wanted to get another look at that money.
Just then a tattooed hand reached up and over the fence. It dropped a can of soft drink into my backyard.
I stared at it.
‘Um, thanks,’ I said softly.
There was no response.
A few seconds passed and then the hand reached over again – this time dropping a twenty-dollar note.
‘Whoa! Awesome. Thanks.’ I grabbed the twenty.
Scotty laughed from the other side of the fence.
‘Keep the change,’ he said, and I heard him walk off.
The party went late into the night. Both the can of soft drink and the twenty went into my treasure chest.
That was my first contact with Scotty … but not my last.
Spoiler alert. Scotty does not turn out to be a misunderstood but lovable character from over the fence. Scotty is a bad guy. When Mum said I shouldn’t talk to him, she was right. I should have listened to my mum.
* * *
DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS AND DON’T TAKE STUFF FROM THEM!
Your parents are right with this one. Sometimes strangers can be good, but sometimes they can be bad. Unfortunately, you can’t know which is which.
* * *
After the drink and twenty incident, I spoke to Scotty a few more times. We didn’t have long conversations. We weren’t friends or anything. Just a few words here and there. He gave me more stuff and I hid it away. I knew that he had seen my treasure chest, but I felt like he wouldn’t tell anyone. I mean, I didn’t tell anyone his secrets. And I saw a lot.
One time, I was bouncing. And watching. People were coming to see Scotty. Lots of different people. They were giving him money. Lots and lots of money. So much that it made me wonder if it was even real.
I guess he was running a business, but I wasn’t sure what. He didn’t seem to be doing anything for the money. It looked like a great business model. One man gave Scotty some money, but Scotty didn’t seem to think it was enough. He grabbed the man.
UP
Scotty gripped the man’s shirt under his chin.
DOWN
UP
Scotty was yelling something at the man.
DOWN
UP
The man was pleading with Scotty.
DOWN
UP
Scotty was saying something to his friends.
DOWN
UP
The man was gone.
Scotty looked over at me bouncing. He walked towards me. I stopped bouncing and got off the trampoline. My treasure chest was next to the fence, so I climbed on top of it and looked over. There was Scotty. He raised his finger to his lips, passed me a twenty-dollar note and said, ‘Shhhh.’
I took the money and nodded.
Looking back now, of course I can see it was stupid.
But back then I had a way of convincing myself something wasn’t that bad even when I knew it was wrong. Like Homework Handled. I knew that was wrong too. But I told myself it was okay because I wanted to believe it was. That’s a really dumb thing to do. So here’s a big one …
* * *
IF SOMETHING FEELS WRONG, IT IS WRONG!
You have to listen to that little voice that tells you when you’re doing the wrong thing. It’s called your conscience, and it’s there for a reason. It’s that little voice that makes you a good person, and, above everything else, you must be a good person.
* * *
But yeah, I ignored the voice. And I ignored my mum. Because I thought I knew better, and I thought I could handle it. People are always saying I’m ‘so independent’ and ‘so beyond my years’. I believed that. I believed I knew best.
I was wrong.
So Dad is downstairs cooking fettuccine boscaiola and my brothers and sisters are doing what they do. I’m upstairs in my room, looking out my window and down into Scotty’s yard.
There are a lot of people at his house. There are always people coming and going, but this time I think he must be having another party.
‘DINNER IS SERVED, HECKLE-TRIBE!’ Dad yells from downstairs.
I head down. Mum’s bag isn’t on her hook, so I know she’s not home yet. She usually comes home during dinner on a good day. After dinner on a bad day. After bedtime on a really bad day.
I pry Jake’s teeth off the coffee table and put him in his high chair, strapping him in tight like I’m sending him to the moon. He wriggles like one of those wavy blow-up men at a car yard. I give him a book to chew on and start setting the table.
‘Thanks, Tessels,’ says Dad. I give him my ‘don’t call me that’ look. Cute nicknames do NOT demand respect in the business world.
* * *
DON’T HAVE A CUTESY NICKNAME. ESPECIALLY ONE THAT MAKES YOUR NAME LONGER. THAT’S JUST RIDICULOUS.
Have you EVER heard of a successful business person with a cutesy nickname? Does Mark Zuckerberg go by Marky? Is Ronesha Byng all like, ‘Oh, just call me Ro-Ro?’ The answer is no.
* * *
Dad ignores the look. He always does.
‘Have any homework tonight?’ he asks.
‘Done it already.’
‘Didn’t need any help?’ He smiles at me as he drains the fettuccine.
You might not get it, but this is Dad making a joke. My dad is great. He’s funny, tells awesome bedtime stories and makes the best pasta in the world, but he hasn’t helped me with my homework since I was in Year One. Actually, I kind of help him with his.
‘I fixed your email, Dad,’ I say as I finish setting the table. ‘You entered the password wrong too many times, so it locked you out. I did a password recovery and changed it again.’
‘I hope you made it something easy this time.’
‘Easier than what it was before? Your birthday?’
Dad shrugs. ‘I’m too old to remember my birthday.’
I glare at him. ‘Well, now it’s 12345. Think you can remember that?’
Dad scratches his head. ‘One … two … three … wait, what was next?’
I shake my head at him, but laugh a little. Dad’s not great at technology. He’s a bit stuck in the past. Or, as he would put it, he ‘appreciates the classics’. And he’s taught me to appreciate them too.
* * *
THINGS ARE CLASSIC FOR A REASON.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m all about bigger, better and faster. I can’t imagine a world without the internet, or Google, or online banking, or Spotify. But Dad has shown me how to appreciate the old stuff too. Music, movies and, most importantly, business. While I totally love entrepreneurs like Alexa Hirschfeld and Daniel Ek, I have learnt heaps from old people like Richard Branson and Oprah Winfrey. If something is old and we still know about it today, there’s a reason why it’s stuck around. It’s probably pretty good.
