The Day Our Teacher Went Mad and Other Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls (4 page)

The President stepped out of the plane, the band played and the man who was boss of the whole day whispered, ‘Ready, children? Thirty seconds to go.’

‘Sorry,’ said Melissa to herself. ‘No thirty seconds for this girl.’

And with that, Melissa marched out from the group and went straight up to the President, carrying a large bunch of flowers.

‘Oh,’ said the crowd watching. ‘How lovely.’

The man who was boss of everything moved to stop her, but it was too late — the President was already smiling at the dear little girl with the flowers. Television cameras everywhere swung onto Melissa.

‘Why, thank you, honey,’ said the President. ‘What a perfect welcome to this great country of yours.’

‘Please smell them, Your Highness,’ said Melissa, ‘they’re Australian wildflowers.’

The President would have loved to smell the flowers, but he didn’t get the chance. Just as he leant forward, something squirted him right in the face. Inside the flowers, the little ratbag had hidden a water pistol.

‘Oh, ho, ho,’ laughed the President. ‘You got me. Pure Australian water, I hope?’

‘No,’ said Melissa, ‘cat’s pee.’

But the President didn’t hear Melissa’s reply because just as she finished speaking, Melissa pushed him backwards. You see, just behind the President, Melissa had suddenly seen a man with a gun.

Then Melissa was pushed over herself by a policeman, then there were screams, then terrible panic. Someone had tried to shoot the President.

And Melissa had
saved his life.

During the craziness that followed, with people rushing everywhere, sirens wailing and a policeman holding her to the ground, Melissa realised that she could have been shot herself! How stupid — in trying to be a smarty-pants and get her face on TV, she could have been killed!

In those few seconds, Melissa decided never to be a ratbag again.

Although it turned out the man was only holding a toy gun, the President pointed out that Melissa wasn’t to know that. So in his mind, what she’d done was just as important as saving his life.

‘How can I ever thank you?’ asked the President.

‘Oh, that’s OK,’ said Melissa.

‘There must be something,’ said the President.

Well,
thought Melissa,
it’s not every day the President of the United States asks what he can do for you.

Little by little, she felt her naughtiness returning. ‘There is one thing, I suppose,’ said Melissa.

‘You just name it,’ said the President.

Melissa, who by now was well aware that all the TV cameras were watching, asked sweetly, ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yep,’ said the President.

‘Good,’ said Melissa. ‘I want to be boss of the world.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ said the President.

‘I sure am,’ said Melissa. ‘Just for one day. Now, I’d be grateful if you’d get on that mobile phone I see your friend carrying and start working things out. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court. Remember, you’ve promised me. On national television.’

Do you think that didn’t cause a stir? But only three days later, Melissa became boss, and every country in the world made the following rules:

On the first Monday
of April, every year:
There will be no school.
All lollies will be free.
All adults will give as much as they can to help needy people.
No child can get into trouble for being naughty.

When the President returned to America, his wife asked how he enjoyed his trip to Australia.

‘Great place to visit,’ said the President, ‘but I’d hate to live there. The children are all ratbags, and the water smells like cat’s pee.’

When it came to fun-park rides, Jeffrey Smart was a fanatic. A fun-park freak. He reckoned he’d done just about every stomach-churning, gut-wrenching, bottom-tickling, hair-raising, eyeball-popping, spine-chilling, white-knuckling ride known to man.

Big Dipper, Corkscrew, Mad Machine — you name it. He’d zipped down, whizzed around, flown up and thrown up on them all.

But suddenly, there was a new ride to try. One that would leave the rest for dead.
A rocket trip to
outer space!

Jeffrey had noticed an advertisement in his father’s newspaper.

‘WANTED,’
it said.
‘BOY OR GIRL FOR ROCKET JOURNEY TO THE STARS.’

Yes, yes, yes,
thought Jeffrey.
Count me in.

The idea of belting along at some unimaginable speed in the most far away of places seemed to Jeffrey the most fantastic thing you could ever do.

So, without telling his parents, Jeffrey sent off a letter. And surprisingly, because there must have been thousands of replies, the Australian Government Space Centre asked to see him.

It was probably a little bit hard for Jeffrey to understand, they explained, but an Australian scientist had discovered a way of doing something they’d previously thought was impossible. How to fly to the next nearest star system, Alpha Centauri.

Who knew what might be found there? Creatures with two heads? Maybe with two bottoms? Given a choice, Jeffrey thought he’d probably go with the heads.

The reason it had never been done before was that Alpha Centauri was so very far away. Trillions of kilometres. To have a hope of getting there and back in one lifetime, a person would have to travel at half the speed of light, which is very fast indeed. Hundreds of thousands of kilometres a second.

And to do it would mean changing speed so quickly, accelerating, and being thrown back into the seat so hard that only the springy bones of a twelve-year-old could take it. An oldie’s would snap in two!

The kid chosen would go up in a normal rocket and then be belted forward to fantastic speeds by a laser beam from Earth.

Was Jeffrey interested?

‘Absolutely!’ said Jeffrey. ‘Should I grab my sleeping bag?’

The Space Centre people explained that it wasn’t quite that simple. ‘We’ve got some other kids to see,’ they said, ‘but you seemed to understand all that speed-of-light stuff fairly well, so you’re a good chance. But, of course, there’s the small matter of your parents’ permission.’

‘No problem there,’ said Jeffrey. ‘I’ve got seven brothers and sisters and it was just the other day that Mum said she couldn’t wait to get us all out of the house.’

As luck would have it, Jeffrey
did
get chosen. His parents said that although he would be away for a whole year and they would miss him terribly, they were very proud that he had been chosen to represent his country for something so important.

Jeffrey was to wear his seatbelt at all times, they said, and no playing with the controls.

The trouble was, the man from the Space Centre had told Jeffrey a terrible lie. Governments tend to do that when it comes to experiments.

You see, time travels more slowly at huge speeds. It might seem hard to understand, but the year that Jeffrey would be away in his own time would be more like sixteen years in ours!

After three months of very hard training and learning about space, little Jeffrey Smart was shot into the night sky for the journey of a lifetime. The speed was so great that Jeffrey felt as though his heart was in his mouth and his bottom in his tummy, but it certainly beat the Corkscrew and the Big Dipper put together.

He had a little cabin of his own, like a cubby house really, with everything a boy could want. TV, iPod, computer games. Except friends, of course, but he’d been trained for the loneliness. Well, sort of.

The man at the Space Centre had said he’d get used to it, especially after the first couple of months. But the man had lied again.

In space, things have no weight, of course, so if they’re not tied down they simply float around. Which made going to the toilet a bit tricky, but there’s no need to go into all of that. And, as you might guess, being weightless can be fantastic fun for people. In no time, Jeffrey was doing cartwheels, back-flips, reverse somersaults with pike — you name it. Talk about fun rides.

Is this fun, though?
wondered Jeffrey.
Sure, I’ve got everything I need. I was in all the newspapers before I left. I’m getting paid. I can speak to Mum and Dad on the space phone, and see them on the control screen…

But suddenly Jeffrey realised he would do anything to speak to someone face to face. Or kick a footy or tease his sister and get into trouble or rip into some really greasy fish and chips. Anything normal.

I’m lonely. Terribly lonely, if I think hard about it,
Jeffrey thought.
And it’s only going to get worse.

Just then, there was a flicker on the control screen. Then a flash. Then suddenly nothing at all. Jeffrey tried the phone. Again, nothing.

Oh, no,
thought Jeffrey,
surely not!

Back on Earth, panic broke out as Ground Control realised that something had gone terribly wrong.

‘Ground Control to Jeffrey Smart.’

Nothing.

‘Come in, Jeffrey Smart!’

‘It’s the digital transmitters. We’ve lost him. Maybe for good!’

The hours passed, and then days, and it soon became clear to Jeffrey that he had lost all contact with Earth and that he was facing
a lonely,
horrible death.

OK, enough of that sort of thinking
, thought Jeffrey.
I’m an Aussie kid. And Aussie kids have a go. I’ll fly this stupid thing back myself.

Now, before blast-off, Jeffrey had been told that he must not touch the controls under any circumstances. Everything would be done from Earth.

‘But what is Earth doing now?’ Jeffrey asked himself. ‘Nothing! Time to flick a few switches and push a few buttons.’

The first flick of a switch didn’t please Jeffrey too much. It set his rocket ship spinning. Made him feel sick. Off with that one. What about this one?

Well, how interesting,
thought Jeffrey.
How VERY interesting.

There, in front of his own eyes, was proof that he had been told some terrible lies. That it wouldn’t have surprised the Space Centre if Jeffrey was never heard of again!

Text had come up on the screen that explained how some scientists thought Jeffrey might discover a kind of upside-down or negative world at Alpha Centauri. That in the beginning of time, there might have been nothing at all, so for everything that was created in our world — people, pies, footballs, lollies — there could be an equal and opposite anti-thing. A mirror image.

But when you put things with anti-things, they rub each other out. So you go back to nothing. ‘So,’ said the screen, ‘it could be that our brave explorer, Jeffrey Smart, will never return.’

Isn’t that just great,
thought Jeffrey.
Well, I WILL get back to Earth and I tell you what, someone’s going to pay!

Over the next hour, Jeffrey pushed and pulled at every button and switch he could find.

Suddenly, the screen flashed. It said, ‘Alert! You have started the emergency reverse program to Earth. Do you wish to proceed? Type yes.’

Yes, yes, yes!
typed Jeffrey
.

Engines roared to life and in no time, Jeffrey was racing back home. After a perfect landing, helped by parachutes, men from the Space Centre ran to Jeffrey’s rocket ship.