Secrets of a Schoolyard Millionaire, page 4
‘DAD, I’m completely serious!’
My bedroom door flies open and Sash comes storming in, her phone pinned to the side of her head. She’s unplugged. Sash doesn’t knock when she’s unplugged. She also speaks Sash-lish, which often needs translating.
‘There’s like a thousand police cars.’ There’s less than ten.
‘And about a million police.’ I would say maybe fifteen to twenty.
‘And they’re totally ransacking that Scotty guy’s house.’ They’re calmly looking through the house.
‘And they’ve got him pinned to the ground. No, wait, they’re getting him up now. OMG, Dad! He’s totally handcuffed. They’re fully taking him to jail. You have to come home, like now.’ Okay, all of that is pretty accurate.
‘I gotta go, I’m totally missing it all.’
Sash hangs up on Dad, pushes her phone through my window and starts filming. ‘Seriously, Tess, did you see it all from up here? Your room has the best view of his place. What happened? Did he kill someone?’
The police are asking Scotty questions. He doesn’t seem to be answering them. I watch Sash as she glides across my window, getting the best angle of the action. ‘I don’t think he killed anyone,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what happened. They just all came in.’
‘Did you see everything? Did they have guns? Did he fight them? What happened?’
I watch Scotty as the police push him out of the kitchen. Just before he disappears into the hall he looks back up at me one more time with a look that says … I don’t know what it says … but it’s a knowing look. I think it says … ‘Don’t say anything.’
Sash squeals. ‘He totally just looked at us! I fully got that in the shot. I’m SO posting this. I always knew he was dodgy as.’
She taps away at her screen and I move towards the door. ‘I’m gonna go down and take a look at the police cars.’
Sash doesn’t lift her head. ‘Yeah, I already got shots of those,’ she says and continues to tap. ‘This is gonna make the best video.’
I run down the stairs to the front door and open it a crack. The whole street is out on their front lawns watching. A policeman puts his hand on Scotty’s head as he pushes him into the police car.
‘Tess!’ Sash yells at me from upstairs. ‘Close the door and get back inside. Dad just texted. He’s on his way home and he says we can’t go outside till he gets back. As if we’d want to go outside with that murderer out there.’
I don’t bother telling Sash that I don’t think Scotty is a murderer. He obviously did something bad, but I doubt he killed anyone. I can definitely think of a reason I would like to go outside, though. Out into the backyard. Just for a minute. Just to look inside my treasure chest.
Why didn’t I tell someone? Tell my sister. Or when Dad got home with Jake and Dane and herded us all into the lounge room like sheep – why didn’t I tell him? Or even call the police and tell them? I’m sure you’re all thinking ‘that’s what I would have done’.
Well, when you’re from a family of five kids, sharing your stories is hard. Everyone talks at once. When I was younger, I used to try to squeeze in here or there but eventually I gave up. And I discovered it’s much more relaxing when you don’t bother competing.
So the thing with Scotty, what I saw him do, I wasn’t keeping it a secret. Not really. I just didn’t tell anyone.
Until Toby came over, that is.
It takes ages for all the madness to settle down. Dad won’t let any of us leave the house and he’s been texting Mum like crazy, even though he knows she won’t answer until her break. Now he’s on the phone to Fara, one of Toby’s mums. The funny one. She and Dad are best friends.
Fara speaks so loud I can hear her through the phone.
‘I haven’t seen this much action on Wyndeman Close since Butthead discovered his own tail,’ Fara says. She then laughs at her own joke, which she always does. Her laugh sounds like a goose honking, which makes other people laugh, which makes her think her jokes are funny … which most of the time they’re not so much.
So now Dad’s laughing too. ‘I know, right? I mean, we always thought something shady was going on over there, but I don’t think anyone expected this.’
‘We have to go to the shop today. You still okay for me to bring Toby over?’ Toby’s mums own a print shop in Watterson called Copy Cats. It’s a really cool place that designs and prints promotional material for businesses. Toby’s mum Fara is the one who gave Dane his pamphlet delivery job. They’re open on weekends, so Toby hangs out at our place heaps.
Dad looks over to me and I nod furiously. ‘That’s a roger from Tessels!’
I groan.
Fara’s laugh honks down the phone. ‘I could hear that groan from here. Okay, I’ll bring him over in about an hour. Ciao.’
‘Arrivederci,’ Dad says and hangs up the phone.
That’s when I decide it’s okay that I didn’t tell Sash or Dad or the police about the bag. Because when you have a secret, there’s one person who should ALWAYS be the first to know. And that’s your best friend.
* * *
ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR BEST FRIEND’S ADVICE.
You have chosen your best friend for a reason. They are smart, they have your best interests at heart and they know what’s good for you. So you should always listen to their advice.
* * *
‘You should tell your dad!’
I roll my eyes at Toby. ‘What would you know?’
‘You HAVE to,’ he says. ‘A criminal, a REAL criminal put something – probably something ILLEGAL – on YOUR property. You have to tell him so he can tell the police.’
I scoff. ‘You give the worst advice.’
Toby is a good friend, but he’s such a worrywart. He’s always worried that we’re going to get in trouble.
‘What if you get in trouble?’ he says.
See!
‘Why would I get in trouble? I haven’t done anything. I mean, we don’t even know what’s in there.’
‘That’s true,’ says Toby. ‘But he just got raided and dragged away by twenty police. I’m guessing it’s not a bag of lollipops.’
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘How’s this for a plan? We go have a look. Together. See what it is. And THEN we decide what to do. Deal?’
Toby thinks about it for a bit, but I’m pretty sure that, under the good-kid act, he really wants to see what’s in there as much as I do.
‘Deal!’ he says.
Getting outside to take a look is harder than we expect. The police are at Scotty’s place for ages, and we don’t want to go look while they’re still there. For one thing, they might ask us if we saw anything, and although I don’t want to go running to Dad before I even know what Scotty hid, I also don’t want to lie to the police. I know you may think I’m not the best, most honest, well-behaved kid on the planet, but I don’t like to lie. Really I don’t. I don’t always tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but generally I try not to lie either.
So Toby and I hang around in the house waiting for them all to leave. It’s not easy. It’s like when your Christmas present arrives from your grandma a week before Christmas and just sits under the tree staring at you. Begging to be opened. But you have to wait. Even though you can almost hear it calling to you.
Come on, Tess. Open me. Just tear off a little corner and take a peek. No one will know.
Well, it’s like that.
So Toby and I are faking a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. I would have thought that would be a dead giveaway that we’re up to something – I mean, no one in our house (or probably on the planet) has played that game for years. But it means we can look occupied whilst being focused on something else.
Toby and I tap mindlessly on the hippos as they barely eat any of the little white balls.
‘You guys suck at that game,’ says Dane. ‘You do know you’re supposed to be eating the balls?’
‘Uh huh,’ I say.
‘Butthead, get the game!’ Dane demands. Butthead trots over and grabs the Hungry Hippo game between his teeth, dragging it back over to Dane.
‘Hey!’ I say, more annoyed that he’s stolen our cover than interrupted our fake-game.
‘See! He can fetch anything he’s told to, can’t you?’ Dane says, giving Butthead a rub under the chin. ‘He’s a smart dog. Aren’t you, Butty?’
As if on cue, Butthead growls defensively at the blue hippo. He crouches down, preparing for a plastic hippo attack at any second.
‘Oh yeah, total dog genius!’ I scoff, snapping the hippo at Butthead as he cowers in fear.
‘Shut up!’ Dane grabs Butthead and hauls him off.
Finally everything quietens down. The police are thinning out, Dad has stopped pacing and the Hecklestons are all back to their usual Saturday activities.
‘Dad,’ I yell from the lounge room. ‘Toby and I are going out to the backyard, okay?’
‘Okay,’ he yells back. ‘Can you send Liv in for her insulin first?’
‘But Dad, she’s upstairs!’ By now I’m itching to get outside so bad it feels like that time I commando crawled through a thistle patch when we were spying on Jacinta Drew. Totally wasn’t worth the ten bucks Indrup Patel paid us.
‘Now, Tess!’
I groan. Olivia’s a cool kid, but she often messes up my schedule. Dane and Sash used to help with Liv, but now that they’re in high school it’s my job, because Liv and I are still at the same school.
‘Wait here,’ I say to Toby.
I run upstairs and push open Olivia’s door without knocking – that rule only applies when it’s an older sibling’s room.
Liv is sitting cross-legged on the floor, and swipes something under her skirt when I come in. I pause.
‘Dad says to go downstairs for your shot,’ I say slowly, my detective brain analysing the scene. Olivia nods far too enthusiastically for insulin time.
‘Okay. Yep, I’ll be down in a minute,’ she says.
I examine her face as a red colour creeps up her neck. Liv has always been the worst liar.
‘What’s under your dress?’
‘Nothing,’ she says quietly.
‘Olivia?’ I give her the ‘big sister’ look. It gets her every time. She sighs and pulls out a handful of lollies.
My mouth drops open. ‘Liv! Are you crazy?’
‘I wasn’t going to eat them!’
‘Yeah right. You were just going to play checkers with them? Where did you even get those?’
‘From school,’ Olivia says, dropping her head.
‘But Ms Jensen knows with your diabetes you can’t –’
‘I won them. In the playground. The kids were having a jumping competition. I can jump really far, you know?’
I walk over to Olivia and take the lollies from her. ‘You have diabetes. You know you can’t sneak lollies.’ I look at her. Most seven-year-olds would throw a tantrum right now, but Olivia just twists the hem of her skirt.
‘I know, Tess,’ she says. ‘I just wanted to play with the other kids. Even if I couldn’t really have the prize.’ She stands up and heads downstairs to Dad. She stops halfway and turns to me.
‘You and Toby can eat them if you want. They’re the sour ones. The kids at school love them.’
I watch her as she disappears into the kitchen. It’s nice of her, I guess, and normally I’m a big fan of sour lollies, but right now I have just one thing on my mind.
‘Toby! Backyard. Now.’
Toby and I are standing next to my treasure chest, peering in. Stuffed inside is a dark blue sports bag. It’s pretty full and only just fits in.
‘What if it’s a bomb?’ Toby says.
‘C’mon, Toby. It’s not going to be a bomb. Why would he want to hide a bomb in my backyard?’
My mind starts racing.
‘You open it, Toby.’
‘What? Why me?’
I shrug. ‘In case it’s a bomb.’
Toby shakes his head. ‘You’re the worst best friend ever, you know? You open it.’
My curiosity outweighs my fear, so I reach inside and find the zip. Toby and I lean in further and hold our breaths. I slowly tug on the tag as it slides across the zipper teeth. A small opening grows, just enough to …
‘TESS!’
Toby and I spin around, instinctively shutting the lid and sitting on top. Dad’s standing at the door wearing his favourite ‘Keep Calm and Cook’ apron. His eyes narrow as he stares at us. ‘All right, what are you two up to?’
‘Nothing, Dad,’ I say in my best innocent voice. ‘Just looking through my stuff, deciding what to play with.’ It’s not really a lie. We were looking and we might play with it, if it turns out to be a bag full of Lego.
‘Okay, well, I don’t believe that at all but I’m feeding Liv and Jake. Can you guys come in for some lunch, please?’
‘Sure, Dad. Be in in a sec.’
‘Five minutes,’ Dad says. ‘I’ve made a quiche and I don’t want it getting cold.’
‘Okay.’
Dad heads inside and Toby and I turn back to the bag. No more messing about. I yank the zip back. Wads of money burst out of the opening. Toby and I stare at the cash. We don’t say a word. I’m not even sure we’re breathing.
Toby finally whispers, ‘How much do you think is there?’
‘Hundreds. Thousands maybe.’
Toby turns to me. ‘Millions?’
I nod. Excitement bubbles in my chest.
‘But we can’t keep it, can we?’ Toby asks.
‘I don’t see why not. Scotty gave it to me. It’s in my treasure chest and possession is nine-tenths of the law.’
‘What does that even mean?’ Toby whispers.
‘It means … I just became a millionaire.’
‘Tess! Toby! Inside, now!’ Dad yells through the kitchen window.
I close the lid of the box, face Toby and raise my finger to my lips. ‘Shhhh.’
We stuff our lunch down and then the two of us drag the bag upstairs. Jake’s having a post-lunch meltdown, so Dad doesn’t even notice.
Now Toby and I sit on the floor of my bedroom surrounded by cash. Cat Stevens’ ‘Wild World’ is playing, but for the first time ever, Toby isn’t complaining about my ancient taste in music.
My eyes sting a little as I stare at the money sitting in neat stacks around us. I think I might have stopped blinking.
‘Are you sure, Toby?’ I say. We’ve counted the money twice since lunch. It’s taken most of the afternoon, but we had to be sure.
Toby looks at the calculator again and nods. ‘Yup. One million dollars.’
There’s another minute of silence as it sinks in. After all the hard work, the planning, the ideas that failed and picking ourselves back up again … who would have thought that this was how we’d become rich. It doesn’t look quite how I’d imagined. Not like the movies. Not neat little piles of crisp one-hundred-dollar notes. This money is made up of random notes – lots of hundreds and fifties, a few twenties, mostly older notes. It’s been stuffed into the bag, all crumpled and used. Also, somehow it doesn’t look enough to be a million dollars. I imagined a million dollars would be enough to swim in, but this fits snugly into the gym bag.
‘So what now?’ I ask Toby.
‘In the movies, they toss it into the air and let it rain down on them. Or they throw it at each other in a joyous money fight.’
I pick up a wad of cash and throw it at Toby’s head. It bounces off with a dull thud and lands on the ground next to him.
‘Ow!’
I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘Next idea?’
Toby rubs his head and glares at me. ‘I don’t think we can keep it, Tess.’
I jump to my feet. ‘What are you talking about? This is what we’ve been dreaming of since we were six! We have enough money to do everything we’ve ever wanted, and you want to do what? Give it back?’
‘It’s not right. We didn’t earn it.’
‘Earn it? Look, we’ve done nothing but work for years while other kids played Xbox, and this is our reward. You think people only get what they earn in this world? Look at my mum. She works like crazy and has nothing, and then people just win Lotto by taking ten seconds to buy a ticket and become instant millionaires. This is OUR Lotto!’
‘I dunno. It just doesn’t seem right.’
I sit down next to him. ‘We didn’t steal this money. Scotty gave it to me.’
‘He didn’t GIVE it to you. He hid it in your backyard while he was getting arrested by the police. And what about when he comes back for it?’ Toby’s head tilts to the side and he bites down on the side of his cheek. I know this look. It’s a bad sign. He’s not on board.
‘He’s not coming back. He got dragged off by a hundred police. He’s going to jail … for a very long time. You think he can do anything with a million bucks in jail? Think what WE can do with it. We could pay to get that old printer at your mums’ shop upgraded. Or hire an assistant so they don’t have to work on Sundays. We could fund that guide dog training program you wanted to do at school that they said no to. Or do the overnight stay at the zoo.’
Toby shifts on the floor and his back straightens up a little. I know this sign. I’ve seen it before. It means he’s coming around, he’s being swayed. I need to talk fast and drown out his sense of logic. It’s what I do best.
‘We could fix Fara’s car so it doesn’t pollute the air with that weird purple smoke. Or even better, get her a new car! We could buy Liv that pump she needs. Or …’
I can see it, I nearly have him. I need to seal the deal.
‘You know what we could do with this, Toby?’ I pause for effect. ‘We could fund everybody on Watsi.’
Toby’s head snaps up. That’s it. I’ve got him.
‘Okay,’ Toby says slowly. ‘If you mean it – if you want to use the money to do good – I’m in. But we need a plan.’
I nod, smiling. ‘Yes, we’ll use it to do good. I’ll pack up the money. You start making the list. Better make a Toby column and a Tess column so we do can a little of everything.’
