Authors: Des Hunt
Tags: #cats, #bullying, #explosion, #poisoning, #eruption, #extinct animals, #moa, #budhhists, #hydrogen sulphide, #lake taupo
Crown Park
After more than forty years working in
education, Des Hunt is now a full-time writer living on New
Zealand’s beautiful Coromandel Peninsula. Since the 1970’s he has
shared his fascination with science and technology through
textbooks, electronic devices, and computer programs. More recently
he has turned to fiction as a way of interesting youngsters in the
world that surrounds them. His first novel,
A Friend in
Paradise
,
was published in 2002.
Three of his books have been finalists
in the New Zealand Post Children’s Book Awards; one a LIANZA
finalist; and seven listed as Storylines Notable
Books.
For more visit
www.deshunt.com
Fiction
A Friend in
Paradise
Harper Collins
The Moa
Cave
Harper Collins
Frog Whistle
Mine
Harper Collins
Where Cuckoos
Call
Harper Collins
Shadows in the
Ice
Harper Collins
The
Tooth
Harper Collins
Whale Pot
Bay
Harper Collins
The Last
Tuatara
Scholastic
Cry of the
Taniwha
Harper Collins
The Crocodile
Nest
Harper Collins
The Peco
Incident
Harper Collins
Cody’s
Unexpected Catch
Harper Collins
Steel
Pelicans
Harper Collins
Phantom of
Terawhiti
Harper Collins
Project
Huia
Scholastic
The Naughty Kid’s Book of
Nature
Illustrated by Scott Tulloch Harper
Collins
Physics
2000
Longman Paul
Beyond
2000
Longman Paul
www.oceanbooks.co.nz
Des Hunt asserts his moral right to be
identified as the author of this work under the terms of
Section 96 of the Copyright Act of 1994 (New Zealand.) All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be produced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or information storage and
retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the
publisher.
© Des Hunt 2013
ISBN
978-1-927199-41-1
Cover: Nikki Slade-Robinson
Editor: Jenny Argante
References to
Magic Thinks Big
by Elisha
Cooper published by Greenwillow Books ©2004.
ISBN 978-0-06-058165-7
Chapter
1
School was nearly over for the day and
for Jack Stewart it couldn’t come soon enough. The whole day had
been trouble. The whole week! He hated the place.
“Jack,” called Miss Finch.
No response.
“Jack Stewart!”
Jack looked up at her.
“What?”
“Could you pick up the paper
under your place, please?”
“I already have.”
“Then what are those three
pieces I can see?”
Jack tilted his desk forward
until he could see the paper.
How did that get there?
He
looked around, and sure enough Liam Bennett was smirking at
him.
“Be a good boy and pick up your
rubbish, Jack Spewit,” said Liam.
Jack breathed deeply for a time
before kicking the papers into a heap. He bent over, crushed them
into a ball, and took it to the bin by the door.
The bell rang.
Everyone scrambled to sit up
straight.
Miss Finch stood at the front,
slowly scanning the room, looking for anything that was not quite
perfect. The scan stopped at Jack’s desk. A frown crossed her
face.
“I told you to pick up those
papers.”
“I did.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So how come
they’re still there.”
Jack looked down. Now there was
more rubbish than before. His face tightened.
“Liam Bennett put it there,” he
said.
She shook her head slowly.
“I don’t care how they got
there. It’s your job to pick them up.”
“No! Make Liam Bennett do it.
It’s his rubbish.”
That’s when Miss Finch finally
lost it.
“Jack, get out of your chair and
do it now,” she yelled.
Unfortunately, Jack had trouble
hearing people who yelled. Buzzing in his ears would turn the words
into something else. This time he heard, “Get out of here! Do it
now!”
So that’s what he did. He stood,
picked up his bag, and marched towards the door.
“Where are you going?” screamed
Miss Finch.
Jack stopped and glared at her.
“You told me to get out.”
She pointed to his desk. “Get
back there and pick up that rubbish.”
Jack returned to his place,
mumbling to himself. “Make up your stupid mind.”
Instantly the room was silent.
Jack looked around. The whole class was staring at him with shocked
faces.
Miss Finch marched up to him
with her hands on her hips. “What did you say?”
“Nothing, Miss,” said Jack
avoiding her eyes.
“Oh, yes, you did. Are you
prepared to repeat it?”
“No, Miss.”
“Jack Stewart, at this school,
students do not insult teachers. If they do, they usually end up
going someplace else.”
She spun around and moved back
to the front where she glared at the silent class. “OK,” she said.
“Chairs up and you may leave.”
The silence exploded into a
clatter of chairs and noisy voices as the class left. Jack moved to
follow.
“Not you,” said Miss Finch.
“You’re coming with me to see the principal.”
Jack was about to reply when the
principal marched into the room.
“Has there been some trouble in
here?”
“Yes,” replied Miss Finch,
pointing at Jack. “Him!”
“Oh, it’s you,” said the
principal. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Maybe because she always picks
on me?” suggested Jack.
The principal snorted. “Children
who say they’re being picked on usually deserve it because of their
bad behaviour.” She glared at Jack. “And that’s certainly true in
your case. Come with me and I’ll show you the long list of things
that you have done in the five weeks you’ve been with us. After
that I’m going to contact your parents. It’s time to get this
sorted once and for all.”
An hour later Jack finally left school.
Nothing much had happened except he now had a letter to take home.
The principal’s attempts to phone each parent had failed. All she’d
got was voice mail. Jack could have told her it was useless. His
mother’s phone would be turned off while she was working. His
father’s might be on, but there was no signal in the places where
he worked.
Jack pulled the hood of his
jacket over his head, and set off towards Crown Park. There was no
rush to get home — no one would be there. Instead he would mess
around with Chainsaw. But first he needed money.
Crown Park is a large open area
at the back of Taupo. It’s a nice spot for those wanting to enjoy a
bit of time out. It’s also a place that tourist buses visit as it
has great views of Tauhara, the ancient volcano that watches over
the town and the lake beyond.
Jack sat on a low rail that
surrounded the car park. For him the best thing about Crown Park
was the steam that rose from a narrow gully. He liked the idea of
being close to a geothermal area. It was about the only good thing
he’d found in Taupo — that and Chainsaw.
As he watched, a touch of colour
appeared in the steam drifting across the park. It was Fluoro Fred,
the town’s most visible homeless person.
Jack didn’t know if his name was
Fred or not. Probably nobody knew except Fluoro himself. Jack had
never seen anyone talking to him. Certainly the kids at school
didn’t. They generally kept well clear unless they wanted to show
off. Then they would throw stuff and call him names. Madman,
nutter, psycho, sicko, freak… and worse. All because Fluoro wore
strange clothes and mumbled to himself.
The clothing was every shade of
orange, beginning with a fluorescent beanie and ending with the
brightest basketball boots you would ever see. In between was an
orange tracksuit covered with a fluorescent orange worker’s
vest.
Fluoro’s arrival at the car park
was a sure sign that the afternoon tourist bus was due. Fluoro
might be mad, but he still kept good enough time to be sitting on
the grass when the bus arrived. He took his beanie from his shaved
head and tucked it in a pocket. Next he pulled a bowl from under
the vest. He put this in front of his crossed legs and began
mumbling.
To Jack the mumbling was just
that. He had trouble enough hearing people when they spoke clearly.
The way Fluoro mumbled made it impossible to make out anything. To
Jack it seemed like a few words were repeated over and over. Just
what you would expect from a crazy man.
Within a minute of Fluoro’s
arrival, the tourist bus pulled into the parking area. About thirty
tourists climbed from it and walked around taking photos. Last out
was the tour guide, who quickly arranged the group so that they
were facing Tauhara.
“Tauhara,” he shouted, “is a
volcano just like Lake Taupo. They’re both part of the same system
except Tauhara oozes lava whereas Taupo really blows its top.
Tauhara last erupted 65,000 years ago. Taupo’s last blast was only
2,000 years ago. That eruption destroyed everything within a
hundred kilometres of here.”
There was a chorus of oohs and
aahs from the tourists. One put his hand up and asked, “Were people
here to see?”
The tour guide smiled. “Probably
not. If there were, they certainly weren’t around afterwards, I can
tell you.”
There was laughter from those
who understood English. The rest simply nodded their heads.
“OK,” continued the guide, “you
can have five minutes to take photos before we move off again.”
Jack knew why they were taking a
five-minute break. It was so the tour guide could duck into nearby
bushes and have a smoke. Jack didn’t mind, for this was the time he
was waiting for. He moved towards a group of tourists and held his
hands up to his face as if he was photographing them.