Charlie Burr and the Three Stolen Dollars Read online

  CHARLIE

  BURR

  AND THE

  THREE STOLEN

  DOLLARS

  For all the fantastic, funny, creative,

  brilliant, talented kids in regional Australia

  —SM, AK, BK and EK

  To all Charlies—PS

  Little Hare Books

  an imprint of

  Hardie Grant Egmont

  Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street

  Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia

  www.littleharebooks.com

  Text copyright © Sally Morgan, Blaze Kwaymullina,

  Ambelin Kwaymullina and Ezekiel Kwaymullina 2011

  Illustrated by Peter Sheehan

  Illustrations copyright © CLOP Pty Ltd 2011

  First published 2011

  This edition published 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available from the National Library of Australia

  ISBN 978 1 742736 31 0 (epub)

  Cover design by Natalie Winter

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT PAGE

  MONDAY

  TUESDAY

  WEDNESDAY

  THURSDAY

  FRIDAY

  SATURDAY

  SUNDAY

  You know how you get a funny feeling sometimes?

  Well, on the way home from school, my funny feeling told me something was going to happen. And it did! I walked in the front door and Mum said she knew who was to blame, and one of those people was me!

  Whoaa! I hadn’t even been there, so what was she going on about? Then I remembered about the three dollars. I had stolen them for an icy pole. Boy, did I shut up.

  ‘Charlie!’ Mum said. ‘Don’t just stand there looking innocent!’

  What was I supposed to do? Look guilty?

  ‘You were in on it with your dad.’

  In on what? Dad doesn’t like icy poles.

  Mum’s eyes went all watery. ‘I wanted a cat, Charlie! I would’ve put a bell around its neck so it couldn’t hunt the birds. But who listens to me in this family?’

  Boy, did her thongs whack the lino when she stormed off to the kitchen. I hate it when Mum does that. It makes me mad and sorry at the same time. But why should I feel sorry? I would’ve died from dehydration without that icy pole. Mum wouldn’t want me to die, would she?

  Then Dad stuck his head around the lounge-room door. I reckon he was too scared to come into the hallway because he was hiding from Mum. He was sweaty and covered in red dust, so I guessed he hadn’t been back more than a couple of hours from his prospecting trip.

  ‘Guess what, son?’ he boomed. ‘You know how you’ve been desperate for a dog? Well, I’ve got you one! Found the little fella out bush. Your mum’s seen him already. I don’t know why she’s so upset! A dog’s not a killing machine, like a cat is. But then maybe she was hoping for a dog-sized gold nugget!’

  I hate Dad’s loud voice. He doesn’t know what a secret is.

  Of course, Mum heard him from the kitchen. Saucepans banged like it was the end of the world.

  I wanted a dog, the same as Dad did. But I needed to get back into Mum’s good books, before she discovered the missing three bucks. So I just stood there.

  Dad thought this showed I was on his side. But could he keep quiet about it? No! ‘Good onya, son!’ he boomed. ‘Us blokes have got to stick together!’

  Not with Mum spying on us, we couldn’t. What we had to do was escape. I tried to push Dad down the hall, but he bailed me up.

  ‘The pup’s a male, too. A kelpie cross. That’s better than a killer cat! What do you think, Charlie? We’re pretty lucky, ay?’

  Lucky? With Mum eavesdropping on my reply? I wanted to scream at Dad, but my brain shouted, Don’t say anything, Charlie! You’ll only make him worse.

  Mum waited a whole thirty seconds, and then she yelled, ‘One percent dog and ninety-nine percent dingo!’

  Then my twin sisters decided to get in on the family fight.

  ‘We’re on Mum’s side!’ they shrieked from the kitchen.

  I had to get Dad out of the house before he got us into more trouble. I mimed being a puppy. It worked! Dad headed for our junk-filled back verandah. A skinny pup was lying on a blanket in a cardboard box, snoring his head off.

  ‘He’s had a feed,’ Dad said.

  I could see that. The pup’s paw was resting on a bone he’d stripped of every last shred of meat.

  ‘I knew he was meant for you, Charlie,’ Dad said. ‘It just felt right to bring the little fella home!’

  The pup’s eyes opened. They were yellow. So was his fur. A good, sandy, dingo-yellow. Mum was right, this wasn’t a normal dog.

  Dad bent down to pat him. The pup snarled, bared his teeth and went for him. Suddenly it was like World War Three. Blood everywhere! I think the pup was guarding his bone.

  I jumped down the back step and turned on the hose. The tap was rigged up to the verandah post so, luckily for Dad, it was close by. But when I went to squirt Dad’s bloody hand, the water shot out so fast, I accidentally wet him all over. The pup was busy burying his bone under the blanket, so I rushed inside and grabbed an old towel from the laundry. I mopped Dad down, then tried to cheer him up by telling him a funny story.

  ‘It could have been worse, Dad,’ I said. ‘Johnno told me Uncle Mick’s new camel bit Uncle Mick on the bum. The wound got infected and now one half of his bum is all swelled up. When he sits down, he rocks from butt cheek to butt cheek. Last night he got seasick at the dinner table!’

  Was Dad grateful? No!

  ‘This isn’t funny, Charlie! I think I need stitches.’ The dark brown of Dad’s hand was turning bright red again. Flesh was poking out, too. It looked gross!

  Then blowies tried to land on the cut.

  ‘Right, son! This is an emergency. I’m off to the Nursing Post. Don’t tell your mum.’

  He belted down the side of the house and jumped into our muddy old four-wheel drive. It was still packed with his prospecting gear. But at least he had unhitched the trailer. Dad spun the wheels, reversed like a maniac and took off in a cloud of dust.

  So then I was stuck with my new dog. A dog that happened to be a wild animal. The pup was obviously a dingo. And he was also a danger. As long as he had a bone to guard, he’d attack anyone who came near him. If I tried to take it off him, I could end up in a worse mess than Dad. What was I going to do?

  Bingo! At last I thought of a use for the laundry basket Aunty June gave me for Christmas. I rushed into my room and grabbed it. It was the perfect cage because it had a lid. I laid it down sideways on the verandah, shoved the pup’s box inside with my foot and slammed the lid shut. The pup was trapped. He snarled once, then went to sleep.

  Asleep, he was kind of cute. I named him Spike because he’d spiked Dad real good. Then I carted him into my room.

  Ten minutes alone. That’s all I got.

  Having sisters sucks! Sharni and Tia stormed into my room and stomped all over my clean clothes on the floor. Then they told me they agreed with Mum, and we should’ve got a cat!

  Duh! They reckoned the birds would be safe if we put a bell around the cat’s neck. But what if the cat ate the bell? The birds wouldn’t be safe then, would they?

  Tia started crying. She’s good at that. ‘If you cared about Mum, you’d vote for the cat, too!’ she sobbed.

  I rolled my eye
s. Tia has watched too many soppy television shows.

  Sharni put her arm around Tia. ‘You know what, Charlie?’ she said. ‘You’re really insensitive!’

  It’s horrible having twin girls in the family. Why couldn’t Mum have had twin boys?

  So then Mum came in and stood beside the two tyrants with her arms folded. ‘Charlie, where’s your dad?’ she asked.

  Down the hospital getting stitched up!

  But I didn’t say that. I don’t dob.

  ‘Answer me, Charlie!’

  Mum hates lies, especially other people’s.

  I figured if I just shrugged, it wasn’t really lying. So I shrugged.

  Mum gave up.

  Then Spike woke up and growled. Mum snorted crossly and she and the girls stormed out.

  Storming. I’d make a fortune if I could bottle it.

  I was going to save up for a bike. But now, after I pay back Mum, I think I’ll save up for a shed like Dad’s. Then I can lock myself inside and no one will bother me. That’s what Dad does sometimes. On cooler days, anyway.

  By the time Dad came home, everyone was asleep except me. He was in a stinking mood and caught me nicking cold fried sausages from the fridge in the dark. I offered one to him, but he wasn’t hungry.

  Dad said he’d waited ages to be seen at the Nursing Post because there was another emergency. The nurse was helping the vet deliver a baby horse. When the nurse came back, she told Dad the horse was a boy with good strong legs. Then she gave Dad a free bottle of horse rub for aches and pains.

  Dad also got ten stitches in his hand. He’d had a couple of needles stuck in him, too. He didn’t say where.

  ‘Your mum was right!’ he said. ‘That pup’s not a good pet for you. I’ll get Grandpa Ted to take him.’

  No way! Grandpa might have an animal refuge, but Spike was my dog and Grandpa Ted wasn’t getting him!

  It was the wrong time to argue with Dad, though. He was suffering. I try to stay on the winning side with both my parents, so I shrugged again.

  There must be something magical about my shrugs, because Dad just shook his head, took some painkillers and went to bed with the horse rub.

  Rats! If he’d chucked the horse rub in the bin, I reckon I could’ve rescued it and sold it to Grandpa for three dollars. Then I could have paid back Mum.

  Spike liked the sausages. When I poked a piece of sausage through one of the holes in the washing basket, he grabbed it. Soon he knew to watch, wait, grab. It was a relief to know he could be trained.

  I thought I should leave him in the basket overnight, even though he was chewing on it. His teeth were quite big and I didn’t trust him yet. I planned to train him some more the next day. Even if I had to buy my own sausages, which would take all my savings. Eight dollars and fifty cents.

  The only trouble was I couldn’t remember where I’d hidden my money. That was why I’d had to raid Mum’s housekeeping jar for the icy pole. My sisters were always after my dosh so they could buy new earrings, and I had to keep moving my stash. It was in a sock somewhere.

  I reckoned that once Mum saw how smart Spike was, she’d be happy that Dad got him for me. She’s always going on about brains. That’s why I have to go to school: to use my brains so one day I can get a good job.

  I reckon it’d be easier if I just won a million dollars in the lotto.

  Last night I dreamed I was running through the bush with Spike. Then we crouched under a gum tree and had a farting contest. Just like I do with my mate, Johnno, when I stay over at his place. When I woke up my room smelt like a toilet. But it wasn’t the farting. Dingoes pee and poo just like other dogs. I should have remembered that. Grandpa would be mad if he knew I’d left Spike in his basket all night.

  Mum came in without even knocking. I think that’s where my sisters get it from. She was totally disgusted with the mess. She said someone had to wash the pup before he went to Grandpa Ted’s. And it wasn’t going to be her.

  I was afraid it was going to be me. It was my laundry basket.

  But then Dad walked past on his way to the kitchen.

  ‘You can do it, Jim!’ Mum said. ‘It’s all your fault!’

  Dad’s always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  I found two baseball mitts amongst the junk on my bedroom floor, as well as a face mask from woodwork class. I gave them to Dad. I told him I’d named the pup Spike, but I didn’t tell him it was because he’d spiked Dad with his teeth.

  ‘Best leave the pup in his box in the basket, Charlie,’ Dad said, ‘and move the whole lot at once.’

  I grabbed a giant garbage bag from the kitchen cupboard and wrapped it around the basket. Then we dragged the whole sloppy mess out into the hall.

  Sharni and Tia were just coming out of their room. Sharni made gagging noises and Tia squeezed her nose.

  Mean and selfish, both of them. They could have offered to help.

  Then Sharni screamed.

  Oh, yuck! The bag had split. There was a poo nugget on Sharni’s shoe.

  I wished it had landed on Tia’s foot. She’s not as much of a clean-freak as Sharni is.

  ‘Get it off!’ Sharni shrieked.

  I wasn’t going to touch it!

  ‘Mum!’ Tia yelled.

  ‘Time to make a run for it!’ Dad said.

  We lifted the basket between us and shuffled out to the back verandah as fast as we could.

  We decided to leave Spike in the basket and flush away the pee and poo with the hose. I squirted a big blob of dog shampoo into the basket to help things along. Our old cattle dog, Boomer, left the shampoo behind when he passed away six months ago. He was a great guard dog. I really miss him.

  Spike got frothy fast and he had fun killing the bubbles.

  ‘He’s a deadly little fella, all right, Charlie!’ Dad said. ‘Look at him go!’

  When the last bubble was destroyed Spike sat back and wagged his tail.

  Dad grinned. Then he slowly poked one finger into the basket.

  Instead of biting it, Spike licked it carefully. It was the same way he’d licked the sausages last night, before shredding them with his teeth.

  Luckily, Dad pulled his finger out in time. ‘I think he’s settling in at last, Charlie.’

  Then Mum yelled from the back door. ‘Jim! When you’re done out there, you can clean up the nugget trail! Charlie, you’re late for school. Get dressed and get going!’

  I reckon Mum would be a general if she was in the army.

  ‘Don’t worry, son,’ Dad said. ‘Us blokes have suffered for this kelpie, and we’re not giving him up! All he needs is a bit of time and affection.’

  Yeah! Dad had changed his mind! Spike wasn’t going to Grandpa Ted’s.

  Meanwhile, the house stunk!

  Sharni was soaking her foot in a bucket of disinfectant in the laundry. Tia was spraying Sharni with perfume.

  ‘Spray some more,’ Sharni choked.

  The horrible perfume stunk worse than the poo.

  I dashed past them, dodged the nugget trail leading to my room, and chucked on my school uniform. When I came out, the girls were heading for their room. Tia blasted me with the perfume!

  I gagged.

  ‘Not so funny now, is it, Charlie?’ Sharni said.

  Mum wouldn’t let me get changed into ordinary clothes. She said I smelt fine, but then she laughed and said I smelt like a block of girl’s soap.

  Fear set in. One sniff and my mates would turn me into a huge joke. I had two kilometres to get rid of the pong before I got to school.

  Luckily the sprinklers came on at the front of the Shire Office just as I was walking past. I stood under a sprinkler and let it drench me. It was bore water from underground, so it stunk like bad eggs, but it was better than smelling like a bunch of flowers.

  Standing under the sprinkler was a deadly idea, but by the time I got to school and my shirt had dried off, there were brown stains all over it from the bore water. Then a girl teased me about my shorts. They
were drying much slower than my shirt and there was a brown stain in an embarrassing spot. Talk about a shame job! I wished I could just disappear.

  My mates spotted it and laughed their heads off.

  Johnno was the only one who didn’t laugh, but then I caught him smirking.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’ I yelled.

  ‘Aw, come on, Charlie,’ he said. ‘I’m your best mate! Would I laugh at you?’

  ‘Of course you would!’ I said. ‘Do you think I’m stupid, or what?’

  I have to admit, if Johnno was the one with a big, wet, brown bum-stain, I’d bust myself, too.

  Luckily for me, everyone was sick of the joke by lunchtime. To make up for laughing at me, Johnno told me a story about Uncle Mick.

  Rosy, the famous bum-biting camel, can spit. She copped Uncle Mick a beauty when he wasn’t looking. Right in the earhole. Only it’s not real spit, it’s food she brings up from her stomach. So it’s actually vomit!

  Rosy is Johnno’s very favourite camel.

  I decided not to tell Johnno about Spike, just in case Mum found a way to get rid of Spike while I was at school. There’s nothing worse than bragging to a mate and then not being able to prove what you said was true.

  Johnno told me he had a problem he wanted to talk about. I hoped it wasn’t about money, because that was my problem. That, and keeping Spike.

  When I got home, the truck belonging to the volunteer fire brigade was parked out the front of our house. So was Grandpa Ted’s ute. There was a cage on the back of the ute and inside was a grumpy-looking lizard with a hurt tail. Grandpa had been off collecting animals again.

  A long metal ladder was leaning against the front wall of our house. Mr Tanner, a volunteer fireman, was standing on the roof. So was Spike. Except he was perched like a crow on the chimney.

  I hoped Mum had noticed that Spike had balance as well as brains.

  Dad said, ‘Don’t worry, son! Spike chased a goanna up a tree and got stuck on the roof. I put a pillow in the fireplace in case he falls down the chimney.’

  Mum dashed out of the front door and handed Grandpa Ted a big stick of Polish sausage. He passed it to Dad, who climbed the ladder one-handed and passed it to Mr Tanner. It was like watching a freaky sports event.