Sticky Beak Read Online Free Page B

the creek at the back of our orchard.
    He always goes there with his mates and I knew that’s where he was heading when I bumped into him this morning.
    On the way I rehearsed what I’d say.
    â€˜Darryn,’ I imagined writing on my notepad, ‘you’re a pretty unstable person but you’ve stayed out of trouble pretty well this year. Any tips?’
    I imagined his sneer.
    â€˜Why don’t you ask your old man,’ I imagined him saying. ‘He’s more unstable than me and he hasn’t been in a single fight or embarrassing incident for ages. Earbash him.’
    â€˜Don’t be a thicko,’ I imagined myself writing with a patient smile, ‘Dad’s stable cause he married Ms Dunning. I’m too young to marry a teacher. I need to know how you do it. Come on, Darryn. You can borrow my softball bat.’
    As I got to the creek I decided that last bit sounded too desperate so I mentally rubbed it out.
    Darryn wasn’t there.
    I hunted all through the bush on both sides of the creek in case he was being a comedian and hiding, but he wasn’t.
    Then it hit me.
    He must have gone home while I was in town.
    I needed a drink before I set off on the long walk to Darryn’s place, and there was no way I was drinking from the creek, not after it had been touching Darryn Peck’s rude bits, so I took the track that runs round the edge of the orchard and ends up at our place.
    Just as well I did, because halfway along it I heard Darryn’s voice, shouting something angry that I couldn’t make out.
    I turned a corner and there were Darryn and his two mates, standing at the base of a big tree, chucking apples up at one of the top branches.
    â€˜Don’t just sit there, dummy,’ Darryn yelled at something on the branch, and hurled another apple. His face was almost as red as his lips, and his voice had gone squeaky.
    â€˜Dork-brain,’ one of his mates yelled up at the tree.
    Then they just grunted for a bit while they concentrated on throwing apples.
    I went closer to see what they were aiming at.
    It was the cockatoo.
    It was just sitting on the branch, not moving, with apples crashing into the leaves around it.
    I couldn’t understand why it didn’t dive down and rip a beakful of hair out of Darryn Peck’s head. That’s what I’d have done. Or at least fly away to safety.
    Then I realised the poor thing must be in shock.
    Little wonder.
    One minute you’re out for a Saturday morning walk with your owner, next minute he’s having a major outburst, his first of the year, and he’s chucking apples at you.
    So much for Darryn Peck the self-control expert.
    The cockatoo looked terrified.
    I wanted to scream at Darryn and his mates to pack it in, but of course I can only do that sort of thing in my head, so I ran over to Darryn and knocked the apple he was about to throw out of his hand.
    He spun round, startled.
    I glared at him.
    His red lips went into smirk position.
    â€˜Batts,’ he said. ‘Oooh, I’m scared. Don’t hit me with a jelly, Batts.’
    I thought for a sec of hitting him with a large rock, but then I remembered the terrified bird.
    I gave Darryn a look which told him to go and boil his head in a pressure cooker full of root weevils.
    He didn’t seem to get the message.
    â€˜Mind your own business,’ he sneered. ‘That cocky’s my property and I’ll do what I like with it.’
    â€˜He’s had it for six years,’ said one of his mates.
    â€˜That’s right,’ said Darryn and threw another apple at the cockatoo.
    I pointed to the broken apples all around us on the ground.
    â€˜Those are my property,’ I said, speaking on behalf of the Batts family.
    Darryn stared at me blankly.
    I remembered he didn’t understand sign.
    I pulled out my notepad.
    I’ve learned that notes work best when they’re short.
    â€˜Apple theft,’ I wrote.