Stumpy: (exciting adventure story for children 9 - 12)

By Greg Acheson

Malcolm O’Connell’s new friend has a ventriloquist’s dummy named Stumpy. Malcolm knows Stumpy is just a block of wood but a lot of creepy things have been happening around his school and Stumpy is never very far away when they do. Surely Stumpy couldn’t be – alive!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483505510

Book preview

9781483505510

Chapter 1

Hey, kid!

I froze. I knew that voice. It usually came just before I got my books knocked out of my arms, or I was pushed down, usually into mud, or something wet and sticky got thrown at me, or worse, something hard like a rock.

The voice belonged to Larry Billington. He’d been picking on me since kindergarten. But on the first day of school? Wasn’t he getting off to a really early start?

"Hey, kid! Yeah, I’m talking to you."

Larry leaned insolently on a lamp post, his arms folded across his big chest, a sneer on his freckled face. His red hair stood up all over his head, like he just got up. All that plus his pale blue eyes made him look a little crazy. Did I say look a little crazy? He probably was.

I searched desperately for an escape. Larry was in his favorite spot, the lamp post planted right at the gate leading into the schoolyard. I couldn’t get in without going past him. If I turned away I’d be late for school. If I went forward, well, you get the idea.

Hey, kid! What’cha got in the box?

Box? What box? Apart from a folder with some paper in it for notes I was carrying nothing. I hadn’t even packed a lunch. Could it be he was talking to someone else?

I looked around. Just behind me a kid was slouching along struggling with a box big enough to hold a German Shepherd. He must have been new because I’d never seen him before. He was on the plump side but smaller than me, more like the size of a sixth grader. He had straight, black hair and thick, coke-bottle glasses. He was wearing a red and white striped shirt and blue pants. All he needed was a striped hat and he would have been a fat Waldo.

As I watched his thick glasses slid down his nose and he used his free hand to push them back up. But the funniest thing about him was the box. It was made out of wood that was kind of a honey yellow color. It had a carry handle and three big, shiny brass clasps that held it closed.

It looked heavy. And from the way he was puffing and wheezing it must have been.

Larry left his lamp post, walked right past me, and fell in beside the new kid.

Hey, fats, I said what’s in the box? There was a snarl in his voice. I’d heard it before, many times. I knew what was coming next.

Leave me alone, the new kid mumbled.

Leave me alone? The kid was practically asking for it.

Leave you alone. I’ll leave you alone. A dirty sneaker shot out and the kid went sprawling face down. The box went one way. His eyeglasses went another. The boy got to his knees and began reaching for his glasses, feeling along the ground, almost as if he was blind.

Oops, sneered Larry, you gotta be more careful.

I could almost hear my mother. "Don’t be a hero, Malcolm. The world doesn’t need any more heroes." She’d say it with a little catch in her voice as she was hugging me goodbye in the morning. Mom was right. Heroes just get hurt, or worse.

I put my head down and started to walk by. But after a few steps I stopped and turned around. I’m not sure what made me get involved. Maybe Larry had knocked my books out of my hands one too many times. Or maybe it was something my guidance councillor, Mr Cameron, said last year. He said it was easy to get into trouble. It was harder to stay out of trouble. He was wrong and I was about to prove it. All I had to do to stay out of trouble was to keep on walking. Getting into trouble, now that was an art.

I knew Larry wasn’t so tough without his two stooges, Jimmy Chisholm and Wayne Proust. I looked around. They were nowhere to be seen.

My heart was pounding. I crouched a little and clenched my fists. I was ready. Still, I could hardly get the words out. Hey, Larry, I said, leave him alone.

Larry was standing with one foot on the strange box while the kid struggled to get up. Larry turned slowly toward me.

Why don’t you butt out, O’Connell? he snarled. He pushed the box aside and took a step toward me. I took a step back. Then I stood my ground. You wanna get pounded, eh, Malcolm?

Who’s gonna pound me? You?

He took a couple more threatening steps. Larry was big but I realized he wasn’t quite as big as I remembered. I had grown a bit this summer. I came out of my crouch and drew myself up to my full height. I was almost as tall as him. Larry saw it too. He also saw my fists and knew I meant business.

He looked around for Jimmy and Wayne.

Then he started to back away.

I’ll be looking for you later, he said menacingly. He turned and headed toward the school.

I swallowed hard, relaxed, and started breathing again. I felt great, almost giddy. I’d stood up to Larry Billington. A lot of kids had seen it, too. Some smiled at me as they passed through the gate. OK, so he was gonna pound me later. But right now I felt good!

The new kid was standing. He rubbed his glasses on his shirt and put them on. I can’t see a thing without these, he said. Then he looked at me and smiled. Thanks, he said. He held out his hand. I’m Donny.

Malcolm, I said. I shook his hand.

Who was that kid?

Larry Billington.

"What’s his problem?"

I never thought of Larry as having a problem, more as being a problem. I dunno, I said. Come on. That’s first bell. We’ll be late.

Donny picked up the box and the two of us hurried into the schoolyard, Donny lugging the thing, holding onto the handle with both hands.

Want some help with that? I asked.

No! He said it so strongly I must have looked a little shocked.

I’m sorry, he said. I have to carry it myself.

Sure.

What grade are you in? he puffed.

Seventh.

Me too. Maybe we’ll be in the same class.

When Donny mentioned class I got an uneasy feeling. Yeah, I said. As long as we don’t get Miss Thigpen for anything.

Who’s that?

Nobody. Just the worst teacher in the whole school, that’s all, I said.

How come?

She makes us work harder than any other teacher. And she gives us piles of homework. And last year she gave me detention for a week.

Why? Donny’s brown eyes widened behind his thick lenses.

I love an audience so I laid it on.

No reason. Just ‘cause I cheated off of Skanky Hanky in a math test. Skanky Hanky was a girl in my class. She was also a neighbor. The back of her house met the back of mine. Her real name was Henrietta Henke. She wasn’t skanky. We just called her that because it rhymed and she was a girl. But I got Thigpen back.

I really had Donny now. He was a great audience.

How? he asked

I toilet papered her car. It wasn’t easy either. People don’t always appreciate the effort you put into a good prank. Take my toilet papering Miss Thigpen’s car for example. First of all, toilet paper rolls in the students’ washroom stalls aren’t made to be removed before they’re empty. It took a lot of work just getting a roll. Then you have to wet the roll. Too much water and the roll falls apart and is hard