Konrad and the Birthday Painting: Artworld

By Sandra R Andersson

Everything happened so fast. One minute Konrad was a perfectly normal 8-year-old, just trying to get through a perfectly normal school day. The next minute he was catapulted through time and space—and oil paints and canvas—into a world he never even knew existed. 

A pair of sunglasses transform the boring painting outside the principal’s office into the most beautiful thing you ever saw—and a powerful spy device at that. When the worst bully in school does something very bad and then tries to pin the blame on Konrad’s favorite babysitter, Konrad feels the need to make things right again. But when you’re 8, and not exactly the world’s bravest 8-year-old, there’s not much you can do, is there? Well, perhaps there is … 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wordbuilder
• Release date: May 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9789188385048

Book preview

Chapter 1

Late for School

Everything happened so fast. One minute Konrad was locking his bike in the bikeshed outside of school. The next minute he was hanging upside down with his nose just an inch or two above the frosty pavement. Two quarters fell out of his jeans pocket and tumbled to the ground right in front of his face, along with an eraser, a Smurf and two wingnuts that Konrad had forgotten that he had.

Then he felt himself starting to slide. Slowly. Out of his jeans. Uh-oh. The silence was broken by loud laughter coming from all directions. This had definitely been the wrong day to wear his teddybear underwear.

What the …? said a voice somewhere in the vicinity of Konrad’s right knee. And then he fell.

Sure, it was only an inch or so, but when you land on your face, an inch or two is plenty. Ouch, thought Konrad, but he didn’t say anything. The ground was freezing cold and as hard as could be expected. He stayed there anyway, to avoid provoking another attack. In the corner of his eye he could see worn winter boots, four or five pairs, at least, and trouser legs in different shades of denim.

He couldn’t see any faces. But he didn’t need to. Konrad knew who they were. Philip in the fifth grade and his gang. If someone at their school ended up upside-down or were pushed into the girls’ bathroom, Philip and his buddies were usually nearby.

What have I told you about coming in here? said a voice somewhere behind Konrad’s back and slightly to the left. This bikeshed is ours, all right?

Konrad heard a crashing noise when something hit his bike hard, and it fell over on the next bike, which fell over on the next bike and so on, like a long row of metal dominoes. It made a terrible ruckus that still didn’t entirely block out the sound of the other boys laughing.

Park your crappy bike in the other shed from now on, said the same voice when the rattle calmed down.

Konrad could hear one of the other boys say something under his breath. It sounded like, Who’s he to rag on someone for having a crappy bike? but surely he must have heard wrong. If Philip’s cronies started to turn on him, Philip was sure to take it out on the nearest second grader. Meaning him. Konrad braced himself and closed his eyes.

I’m getting a new bike, Philip muttered, also under his breath. I told you; it takes some time. They have to order it special. It’s going to have … special gears. Titanium.

A couple of the other boys snickered and Konrad could feel the vibrations in the ground that told of the volcanic eruption that was coming from deep inside of Philip.

If one gets attacked by a bear, the best thing to do is to play dead. Konrad didn’t know if the same rules applied to angry fifth-graders, but it was worth a try. He stayed perfectly still and tried not to breathe in a way that showed.

Then the bell rang. The boots and pant legs walked away. Someone, probably Philip, aimed a last kick at the fallen bikes that collapsed a little further and then he followed the others, his steps crunching angrily over the frosty schoolyard.

Konrad counted to ten before he slowly sat up.

On the ground next to him was the key to his bike, the eraser, and the two wingnuts. It was obvious what had happened. The Smurf had seized the opportunity and run off with his two quarters. Konrad realized that right away. Despite what Philip always used to say, he was not as stupid as he looked.

He stood up, pulled up his jeans, and brushed off the snow. He straightened his hat, put the eraser and the wingnuts back in his pocket, and started to untangle the bicycle mess. It was hard work, since the pedals had stuck between the spokes of the next bike and that one had gotten its handlebars jammed sideways. When he had sorted out all the bikes, he could finally make another attempt at locking his bike. The lock was frozen, and it took a while before he heard a click.

When Konrad hurried across the schoolyard at last, there was no one else around. It must have been five minutes since the bell. At least. As long as he made it up to the classroom before—

There was a crackling noise over the loudspeakers and a short message echoed between the brick walls. Konrad in year two, report to the principal’s office right away!

Konrad had never been summoned there before. He was not the kind of boy that made a habit of breaking the rules, of which there were many at this school, and he wasn’t sure how worried he ought to be. Students being summoned to the principal’s office was a frequent occurrence at Konrad’s school, and there were a lot of rumors going around about what happened in there, but it was difficult to know what to believe. Some people said that the principal, Mr. Rogers, must have eyes in the back of his head and x-ray vision since he always seemed to know exactly what was going on all over the school. Konrad sighed. Too bad that Mr. Rogers’ special abilities didn’t reach as far as the bikeshed.

He paused outside the door and took a deep breath. There was probably no reason for concern. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. He was just a little late. It could happen to anyone. What was the worst thing that could happen? As soon as he had thought that, Konrad wished that he hadn’t, because he could immediately think of at least five horrible answers to that question. Sometimes, having a vivid imagination was not a good thing. He bit his lip and opened the door.

The room inside was completely gray. There was a large desk in the middle of the floor, where the school secretary, Ms. Gundersen was working. The air was humming with computers and different machines for copying and printing and laminating and whatever else office machinery might do.

Ms. Gundersen peeked out from behind her two gray computer screens. Just like her office, she was completely gray. Her dress and cardigan were gray and looked itchy. Her long gray hair was pinned up in a tight bun at the back of her head, and the frames of her glasses were silver. Even her skin looked gray.

Tardiness, she said in the same voice that he had heard over the loudspeakers just a few seconds ago and gave Konrad such a hard stare that he almost fell over backward. The principal is on the phone. You will have to wait. Sit down, she said and nodded toward a bench right beside the door.

Konrad put his backpack on the floor and took off his hat and jacket before sitting down. His boots made wet footprints on the floor when the snow melted. Ms. Gundersen disappeared behind her screens again, and Konrad looked around the room.

So, this was the principal’s office. He was probably the last person in his year that he would have thought would be sitting here