James Munkers: Time Freak

By Lindsey Little

James Munkers is out of time.

He's supposed to be looking after the house while his parents are away, but the magic-fuelled kids in the bedroom upstairs keep manifesting elephants in the living room.

He's supposed to be attending his last year of school, but the headmaster is evil and th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lindsey Little
• Release date: May 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9780648285953

Lindsey Little

Lindsey Little is an Australian author and self-publisher of fantasy adventures for young adults. She splits her time between writing books and running a ballroom dancing studio with her husband. They live in the Huon Valley in Tasmania with two Maine Coon cats with Harry Potter-inspired names.

Book preview

1. Responsible

It’s okay. I can do this.

No, really, this is easy. I just have to breathe and focus. It’s just a death machine that will probably blow up and kill me if I touch the wrong button.

Now.

Key in the ignition.

Check the mirrors.

Foot on the brake.

Turn the key...

The death machine sputters into life. I sigh and smile and congratulate myself on my many skills. Then I take my foot off the brake and my mum’s Toyota Corolla bunny hops a metre down the driveway and dies.

I throw my hands up into the air. ‘What?’ I scream at the dashboard. ‘What do you want from me?’

Then I scream even louder as someone knocks on the window right next to my ear. I whip around and see my best mate Jem standing outside the car, peering in at me.

I put one shaking hand over my eyes while the other unwinds the window.

‘I think it wants you to take it out of gear before you take your foot off the clutch,’ he says.

I peer down towards my feet. ‘I thought that was the brake.’

‘No.’

‘Clutch?’

‘Yep.’

‘But doesn’t it need to be in gear to start moving?’

‘Not in third, it doesn’t.’

I close my eyes and rest my forehead on the steering wheel. ‘Do you want to drive?’

‘No, you need to get used to it. I’ll come with you, though.’ He strides around the outside of the car and gets into the passenger seat. I turn my head to the side but can’t seem to muster up the energy to lift it off the wheel.

‘I’m really tired.’

‘I know. Put the gear stick in neutral.’

‘I’m late.’

‘Uh huh. Foot on the clutch. The left foot.’

‘I need to pick Win up.’

‘Yep. Ready to turn the key?’

‘Jeremy?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Can you drive?’

He snorts, but, because he’s the greatest guy that ever lived, he switches places with me, starts the car as if it’s not a confusing piece of dangerous garbage, and accelerates gently down the driveway.

‘My mother is the only person I know who still has a manual,’ I whine. ‘Why couldn’t they have left Michael’s automatic for me?’

‘Because you drove it into a fence and he doesn’t trust you with it.’

Jeremy is not the greatest guy in the world. Jeremy is a traitor and a poo face. ‘I hate cars,’ I mutter.

‘Why didn’t you walk, then? You’re only going to the school.’

‘I hate walking.’

‘You’re just a barrel of sunshine today, aren’t you?’

‘Sorry.’ I rub my eyes. ‘The junior school started back this week, and with Win away all day...’ I abandon my eyes and start rubbing my temples instead.

Jem glances at me. ‘Bad?’

I nod.

He steers the car into an available space near the gates of the school. The gates stand open under an archway of stone. ‘How come your parents went away, then?’

‘They left a week before Win went back. He was doing alright - well, no worse than usual, anyway - and they’re still hoping to find his parents.’

‘Can’t you do that online these days?’

‘They’re trying to do it on the quiet. They didn’t want to risk the authorities taking him away. It doesn’t take much to see there’s something wrong with him.’ I look up as tiny kids in blue cardigans start spilling out of the junior school buildings. ‘Mum thought they might have time to search for them before the secondary school year begins and she has to get back to work.’

Jem nods. ‘Plus the world isn’t ending at the moment.’

‘No.’

‘But it could at any time.’

‘Yeah...’

‘And you’ll have to stop it because you’ve got superpowers.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘And a destiny.’

‘Mm.’

‘A destiny to save the world.’

‘Jem?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Could we have a little bit of hush, please?’

‘Sure.’

He starts humming the Superman theme under his breath. I’d thump him, only he’d retaliate and Jem thumps harder than I do.

He’s not wrong, either. The man-child who can’t even start a car is supposed to save the world. The guy who’s only just been passing his exams is expected to be smart enough to work out how to stop the energy in the dimensions from running out.

The world is doomed.

‘Hey.’ Jem, grinning, nudges me with his elbow and jerks his head towards the school grounds.

I start smirking too. The headmaster, Mr Grayson, is doing his afternoon wander through the yard. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. He just meanders about saying, Hello there, at random intervals. Jem and I snort with laughter when he says it to a rubbish bin.

‘Mindless.’

‘Brain dead.’

We snigger again, but then I spot Winifred coming out of the gates. She looks close to tears.

I stop laughing.

Jem’s noticed too. ‘Hey, I have to pick up some groceries,’ he says quietly. ‘Think you can take it from here?’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’

He’s not bailing. Jem doesn’t back down from anything. He’s just giving us space.

He waves to Win as he heads down the road. ‘Hey, kiddo,’ he calls, and points towards me and the car. She nods and heads straight for me. As the passenger seat is taken, she walks around and climbs into the driver’s seat, her school bag clutched on her lap.

‘Hi.’

She doesn’t say anything.

‘Are you okay?’

She looks at me. She looks miserable. ‘I got in trouble,’ she mutters. ‘The teacher yelled at me in front of everyone.’

My first instinct is to blow up the school, but I’m trying to do the responsible adult thing, so I just nod. ‘Shall I levitate him into a tree?’

Okay, so, maybe not so responsible.

Win shakes her head. ‘It was because I wasn’t paying attention.’

‘Oh.’ Oh. Poor kid. ‘Well, look, we both know you were, right?’

‘Mr Richardson didn’t.’

‘No, but -’

‘And I wasn’t paying attention to him.’

‘No, but -’

‘He was right to yell at me.’

‘Winnie, no.’ I take her shoulders and turn her square to me. Poor little mite, she’s so tired. How is a nine-year-old supposed to deal with all of this? ‘Now, listen, you, because I’m going to give you some sage, brotherly advice.’

She raises her eyebrows.

‘Well, I’m going to try. Just imagine I’m channelling Peter.’

Win smiles slightly. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’ I’m feeling pressured now. ‘This whole thing – this situation you’re in – is weird. And it’s garbage.’

Win wrinkles her nose. ‘Peter wouldn’t say that.’

‘Shush.’

‘Sorry.’

I sigh, and stop to think. ‘You know all those movies about superheroes that we watch sometimes?’

‘Yeah.’

‘In pretty much all of them, the hero gets into trouble for something that isn’t their fault. And they can’t explain it, because then everyone would know about their powers or they’d get locked up like a lunatic or something, so they just have to lump it.’

Win frowns. ‘That’s your sage, brotherly advice? That things are garbage and I just have to put up with them?’

‘No. I’m just saying that you’re special.’

She stares at me. Then she closes her eyes. ‘Jimmy, can you just take me home?’

Fail.

‘Sure,’ I say, and turn to take the steering wheel. Only I’m in the wrong seat. Man, I suck at driving.

I glance around. Most of the kids have left now.

‘Sure,’ I say again. I take a deep breath. I focus my mind.

And I pick the entire car up with my brain and float it down the street.

Win opens her eyes again and gives me a look that reminds me of our mother. It’s a classic Sue Munkers Are you sure you’re supposed to be doing that, young man? look.

‘Vroom vroom,’ I say.

Win finally cracks a smile. By the time we get home, she’s giggling and making car noises with me and looking like her usual self.

I touch down near the front door. Win turns to open her door, but I stop her with a hand on her arm.

‘Win, what I was trying to say before was that there are going to be a whole bunch of people out there who don’t understand what’s going on, but there’s also a bunch of people who do understand, and will never be angry at you, and who think you’re the greatest person in the entire world.’

The greatest person in the entire world leans over and gives me a hug. ‘I reckon you’re pretty good, too,’ she says, and my day improves exponentially.

Win disappears inside. I get out of the car and lean on the bonnet, looking up at the house. It used to be a pub, and still has a sign hanging near the front door that has a picture of what looks like a shaggy pig with horns on it. I guess it’s supposed to be a sheep, though, because The Woolly Ram is printed on it in fading letters. I raise my eyes to the upper floor, to the windows that have the blackout curtains pulled tight across the glass, and sigh.

‘How was he today?’

I turn and see Garth, my younger brother, walking up the footpath from the road. He’s wearing the same blue cardigan as Win. A year ago it would have been covered in grime, but now it looks clean and pressed, even after a week’s use. Garth has changed a lot this last year.

‘Not good. Win’s just gone up.’

‘I’ll give her an hour, then take over.’

‘You’re a saint.’

‘I’m bloody awesome.’

‘Don’t swear.’

Garth gives me a rude signal and walks past me towards the house. He hasn’t changed that much, actually.

‘You’re going to have to stop before the baby comes,’ I call after him.

‘What’s he going to have to stop?’

I turn again and watch Pippa, complete with enormous belly, waddle up the drive with grocery bags. Looks like it’s home time for everyone.

‘Swearing.’

Pippa parks her behind next to mine on the car bonnet, looking thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure anyone’s told Will about the no swearing rule yet,’ she says.

‘And I’m not volunteering. Have you heard from them?’

‘Will and Kit?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yes.’ She smiles. ‘They should be home in a few days.’

‘I thought you were looking smug.’

‘I’ve got a lot to look smug about. Except our living quarters.’ She shields her eyes from the autumn sunlight and gazes at the house. ‘If we’re going to stay here after the baby comes, we might have to think about an extension.’

‘We could put the missing bit back.’

‘What bit?’

‘That bit.’ I point to the right, at a gap in the upper storey. ‘From the shape of the building, it looks like the second floor continued all the way along once.’

‘I don’t remember there ever being any more house there.’

‘Well, it looks like it’s been like that for a while. How far back do you remember?’

She stands and stretches. ‘About one hundred and fifty years.’

‘Freak.’

‘Look who’s talking.’

I pick up the discarded grocery bags and follow Pippa into the house, and immediately wish I hadn’t. The house is a mess. Even with Mum and Michael gone, there are seven people living here, and not one of us seems inclined to wash a dish or fold a bit of laundry. Pip and I stand by the door, ankle-high in discarded shoes, and regard the damage.

‘I think I’ll go lie down for a bit,’ Pippa says.

Great. ‘Can you at least take one item of yours with you?’ I whine.

She looks around, picks up a pen from the dining room table, and carries it with her as she walks through the door under the stairs and into the back section of the house.

‘Cheers,’ I call after her.

I spend the next three hours washing dishes, piling books and papers into neat piles, rolling socks and peeling vegetables, without seeing a single person. The best I can say about it is that it gives me time to think about this last summer.

I can’t say it was a relaxing holiday. As soon as school exams finished, Kit was on my back and I was straight into magic training. There was drill after drill in Will’s fighting room, staged attacks in the forest and I don’t know how many hours of meditation to promote control.

It hasn’t done much to promote calmness of mind. I’m thoroughly grumpy by the time Peter comes home.

‘Now, look here,’ I say, throwing the vegetable peeler across the room at him, ‘I have a destiny to save the world, not slave away for an entire household. Where the hell have you been?’

Peter looks bewildered and points out the front door. ‘Um, work.’

I scowl at him.

‘Sorry,’ he says.

‘Well, now you’re here you can make the gravy.’

‘No problem. I’m just going to check on Pip,’ he says, and scurries away.

Unbelievable.

Claire is the next one to show her face. She storms inside carrying bags and boxes, which she deposits all over the dining table.

‘No, don’t do that, I just cleared it for dinner.’

‘Cam and I broke up,’ she growls, and heads up the far stairs to her room.

‘Want to take it out on the potatoes?’ I call, waving a masher, but she’s gone.

That’s it. I’m cheating.

I mash the potatoes, shift all Claire’s junk to the side of the room, turn off the burner, get the cutlery out, pile all the food into big bowls and place them in the middle of the table, all while sitting at a bar stool at the kitchen counter, sipping a coke. Why have magical abilities if you’re not going to use them?

‘Dinner!’ I holler.

Pippa and Peter emerge from their back room. No one comes down from upstairs.

‘Dinner for three, then. Well, four,’ I say, pointing at Pippa’s bulging belly.

Peter leans his head over the bannisters. ‘Oi, come on, you lot,’ he calls up the stairs. ‘James has made...’ He eyes the casserole on the table uncertainly. ‘He’s made us something lovely for tea.’

Claire’s head appears at the top of the other set of stairs. ‘I’m never eating again,’ the head intones, then it disappears again.

‘I’ll have hers,’ Pippa says, lowering herself into a chair and reaching for the serving spoon.

‘Have it all,’ I mutter. I get off my stool and trudge towards the kids’ stairs. I’m not risking going past Claire’s room and getting attacked with weepy girl music. I pause halfway up. ‘Win might be a bit glum tonight, too. She got in trouble at school. She’s struggling with...’ I nod my head upwards.

Peter and Pippa exchange looks. They have nothing new to offer on this subject.

I resume my climbing of the stairs, then weave my way around the passages on the upper floor until I reach the door to the room at the front. It’s firmly closed. I tap on the door, take a deep breath, turn the handle and walk into a different world.

2. Snug’s World

The lightbulb in the ceiling isn’t on, and the blackout curtains at the windows are doing a stellar job of keeping the dying light of the day at bay, but the room is filled with an eerie glow.

It’s coming from the galaxy of stars hovering between the lightbulb and the carpet.

I walk into the room and gently close the door behind me. ‘Gone interstellar, have we?’ I murmur.

‘Not really,’ Win says. She’s curled up in an armchair near the curtained windows. ‘It’s just a model.’

‘Good. I don’t think an entire galaxy would fit in here.’

‘It would if you adjusted the dimensions of the room,’ Garth says. He’s sitting cross-legged on the top of a chest of drawers, gazing at the starry view.

‘No, don’t give him ideas.’

‘No,’ says a husky voice from the carpet. ‘I already have all the ideas.’

I crouch down and contemplate the small boy lying flat on his back, staring up at his universal creation. ‘Hello, Snug,’ I say.

‘Hello, James,’ he says without looking at me.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I am calculating the probability of an event collapse,’ he says, his eyes flickering from one cluster of stars to the next. ‘Black holes... gravitational force... the calculations all change, of course, as the black hole consumes and expands... Have to keep on recalculating...’ His voice peters out but his lips keep on moving, his eyes flickering, his fingertips sketching invisible figures on the floor.

I stand back up and look at Win. ‘He’s calculating the end of the universe?’

Win shrugs. ‘It seems to calm him down.’

‘It’s dinner time.’

‘Can’t be,’ Garth says from his perch. ‘It’s too early.’

‘It’s half-six.’

Garth frowns. ‘I could have sworn I’d only been here for, like, twenty minutes.’

‘Well, you’ve been well occupied.’ I lean against the wall. It’s like standing in a 3-D planetarium. The miniature galaxy shifts and stretches as Snug adjusts his calculations. I notice Win’s head twitch at every shift.

‘You doing alright?’ I ask her.

‘Mm hmm. He’s telling me what to do. It isn’t hard.’

I shake my head. A nine-year-old has created a whole universe in an upstairs bedroom in Yorkshire, and it isn’t hard. I reach out towards the star nearest to me, and am shocked at the heat coming off of it.

‘It’s hot.’

‘It’s a star,’ Win says.

‘You said it was just a model.’

‘Yes, but it has to be accurate for his calculations, doesn’t it?’

The universe shifts again, and some outer solar systems brush against the blackout curtains.

Oh no.

There’s suddenly some smouldering gashes in the curtain fabric. Then a puff of smoke. Then flame.

‘Watch it!’ I duck around the edge of the universe, but Garth gets to the window first. He grabs the edges of the curtain and yanks down. The whole lot falls to the floor.

Snug starts screaming.

The universe starts spinning faster and faster, tilting drunkenly around the room.

‘Win, shut it down!’ I scream.

But Win is busy diving for cover behind the armchair as the universe lurches her way. She covers her ears and screws up her eyes. It won’t do any good. She has Snug screaming in her head.

I lie flat on the ground and try to reach Snug’s thrashing limbs as he fits on the carpet, but I can’t get close enough without singeing all my hair off.

Right. I take a deep, calming breath (not easy when the room’s filling with smoke) and place a protection shield around Snug’s small body. Then I twitch it towards me, grab his hand and pull him out from below the maelstrom. I gather him up in my arms but he’s still twisting around and crying, his fists beating against my chest.

I look up. The universe is still intact and wreaking havoc. Garth’s on the other side of it, stomping on the curtains and looking desperately towards Win. She’s still hunkered down, arms over her head.

‘Calm him down!’ Garth roars at me.

I pick Snug up and slide on my knees towards the wardrobe. I open the door with my elbow, push some old shoes out of the bottom of it with my foot, then bundle us both in and slam the door behind me.

Snug’s cries slowly turn to whimpering. He stops punching me and instead runs his hands feverishly up and down my chest. It takes me a moment to work out what he’s doing.

‘Oh. Hang on, little man.’

I reach up and feel around the clothes hanging above us, and pull down a shirt with buttons on it. I lay it over my T-shirt, and Snug touches one of the buttons, painfully hard at first but then softer and softer as he calms down.

It’s quietening down outside the wardrobe, too.

‘Buttons again, eh?’ I say conversationally to Snug.

‘It’s a focussing technique,’ he gasps.

‘I’ll say.’

He turns around and sits between my legs, his sweaty head leaning against my chest. After a while, the wardrobe door creaks open, and Win and Garth’s sooty faces look in at us.

I rub a shaking hand over my eyes. ‘It’s dinner time,’ I say.

* * *

By the time I hang the singed curtain back up at the window and get Garth and Win cleaned up and downstairs (Snug refuses to leave the cupboard) it’s later than I realise. Peter and Pippa have eaten and retired, there’s no sign of Claire, and the vegetables and casserole on the table are tepid at best. I make Garth and Win eat some of it regardless, and take some up to Snug. He’s still overwhelmed, though, and the only way I can get him to eat anything is to push bits of meat and carrot one by one through a crack in the door. He keeps up a steady muttering about chemical elements the whole time.

‘Try and get some sleep, buddy,’ I call through to him once his dinner plate is close enough to clean.

‘Potassium,’ he says back. ‘Atomic number 19.’

‘Okay,’ I say wearily, and I plod my way back downstairs.

The oven clock tells me it’s close to midnight. There’s no sign of Win and Garth. They’ve left evidence at the crime scene, though – there are half-empty plates and bowls and mugs all over the table and kitchen bench. I look around it all pitifully. ‘But I just cleaned it up,’ I whine.

A knock at the door startles me out of my strop. I feel my power hackles rise. Who’s dropping in for a cuppa at midnight?

I scan the other side of the door with my mind, and my hackles relax. I walk to the door and open it to find a maths teacher standing on the welcome mat.

‘Troubles on the home front?’ he says cheerily.

‘Hiya, Mr Lancer.’ I step to the side and he bounds inside. Honestly, who has this much energy at this time of night?

I close the door and watch as he does a visual and mental scan of the house. ‘Building still largely intact, then.’ He grins at me. ‘Well done.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Pippa.’

Ah. The Guardian gossip-line hard at work. ‘What did she say?’

‘Just that things seemed to be kicking off.’ Mr Lancer starts piling plates together on the table and taking them through to the kitchen. He rolls up his sleeves as the sink fills with hot water. ‘It was the little feller again, yes?’

‘Yes.’ I climb onto a bar