Funny Kid Belly Flop chapter sampler

DO YOU MIND HOLDING THIS TOWEL UP FOR ME SO I CAN GET CHANGED IN PRIVATE?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'NO'?!?

I CAN'T HOLD UP THE TOWEL AND TAKE MY PANTS OFF AT THE SAME TIME!

YOU'LL END UP LOOKIN' AT MY BUM IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL!

JUST BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO SPEND A LOT OF TIME IN MY SWIMMERS, DOESN'T MEAN ANYONE NEEDS TO SEE MY BUM! WE DON'T EVEN KNOW

EACH OTHER VERY WELL. MY NAME'S MAX WALBURT, BUT MOST PEOPLE CALL ME...

funny kid

un I GUESS I'LL HAVE TO TRY TO DO THIS MYSELF.

yki

belly flop

written and illustrated by Matt Stanton

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First published in Australia in 2020 by HarperCollins Children’sBooks a division of HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty Limited

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Copyright © Beck & Matt Stanton Pty Ltd 2020

The right of Matt Stanton to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000 . This work is copyright.Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 , no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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ISBN 978 0 7333 4060 4 (paperback) ISBN 978 1 4607 1208 5 (ebook)

Cover and internal design by Matt Stanton Typeset in Adobe Garamond by Kelli Lonergan Author photograph by Jennifer Blau Printed and bound in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

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1 None of this makes sense.

The right to wear clothes!

For a start, I’m practically standing here in my undies. In what other situation would it be okay to make a school kid stand up in front of everyone in only his underpants? If Miss Sweet made me do this in the classroom, she’d be fired before you could say, ‘Watch out for wedgies.’ But for some reason, in this giant room, it’s completely fine. Well, it’s not fine. ‘Dive in, Max!’ And they expect me to perform for them too. Strip me half naked and now I have to entertain

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them, do I? Well, you know what? I’m not going to have it. Someone needs to stand up to these people! Even if I have to stand up to them in only my undershorts. My bum’s itchy. I clear my throat. ‘No,’ I say, and put my hands on my hips. A cool breeze blows under my armpits. I don’t know where that’s coming from. Redhill Pool is an indoor swim centre.

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I look down at Chaz. He’s the swimming instructor who’s standing in the water in front of me. He’s the one who demanded that I dive in. The rest of my class is lined up behind me. Chaz is looking a little stunned, like no one’s ever told him ‘no’ before. Well, get used to it, Chaz. The age of entitlement is over! What kind of name is Chaz , anyway? Chaz. Chaz. Let’s play a game of musical chaz .

‘What do you mean, “no”?’ Chaz asks me. He’s not a teacher and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with an eleven-year-old who won’t follow orders. He has his hands on his hips too, as though this is some kind of topless stand-off. Hang on, do his nipples line up? ‘Max!’ Miss Sweet calls from the side of the pool. She’s my teacher and she seems to be taking this swimming lesson as an opportunity to do some marking. Teachers must really enjoy marking. They do it all the time. ‘Max, do what Chaz tells you!’ Oh, so they’re going to team up against me, are they? Two adults versus a half-naked kid with an itchy bottom? Actually, it’s really bugging me and I can’t scratch it because everyone in my class is staring at me.

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OTHER PEOPLE ARE WAITING, MAX. LET’S KEEP THIS MOVING, BUDDY.

Ugh. Don’t call me buddy. Sounds like nuddy and you hardly need to remind me about that. I look down at the water from where I’m balancing up on the starting blocks. I don’t want to go in there. ‘Pirates used to do this to kill people, Chaz,’ I say. ‘Are you a pirate? Are you trying to kill me?’ ‘Max, I promise you, you will not die from diving into this swimming pool.’ Chaz flashes this big smile. His teeth are very white. His tan is very … tan.

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I hear a voice behind me. ‘Max, come on. Just dive in.’ The voice makes me shiver. It’s the voice of an eleven-year-old super-villain: she-who-must- not-be-named, Abby Purcell. Oh … Oops. I named her. I glance back over my shoulder. I think everybody needs an inspirational speech right about now. ‘Whose idea was it that people should get in the water and pretend to be fish?’ I ask loudly. ‘Can’t the water just be there without me needing to be in it? We can drink it. We can shower under it. We can cook noodles in it. We don’t need to swim in it.’ Chaz doesn’t seem that impressed by my speech-giving abilities. ‘You’ve got a swimming carnival on Friday, Max,’ he says. ‘What are you going to do then?’

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‘Can’t I just refuse to swim?’ ‘Nope!’ Miss Sweet calls from her marking

station.

WHY CAN’T I JUST WALK TO THE OTHER END OF THE POOL? IT’S FASTER. IT’S DRYER. AND I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF! WHY IS THE BEST WAY TO GET THERE TO THROW MY BODY INTO THE WATER AND PRETEND TO BE A DOLPHIN?

TRUST ME, MAX. YOU WON’T LOOK ANYTHING LIKE A DOLPHIN.

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‘Max, just put your hands together out in front, bend your knees, put your chin on your chest and dive,’ Chaz says, as though the problem here is that I don’t know how to dive. ‘Are there any other things I can do at the swimming carnival that don’t involve …?’ ‘Swimming?’ Abby finishes my sentence. ‘Getting wet,’ I say. ‘I mean, do you know how long it took me this morning to get my hair looking like this?’ ‘Zero minutes and zero seconds?’ she interrupts again. ‘Shh!’

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‘Max!’ Miss Sweet puts her marking down and stands up. It looks as though she’s decided to get involved in this stalemate. ‘The whole class is waiting for you. Get in the water!’ ‘I’m sparing them from this injustice, Miss Sweet! I don’t hear any of them complaining.’ ‘Swimming is fun, Max,’ Chaz tries. ‘Plus, do it enough and you’ll get all lean and muscular.’ He winks. And smiles. He’s talking about himself. ‘How did you get your muscles to be so … angular?’ I ask, screwing up my face. ‘They’re like triangles. It’s like someone drew you with a ruler.’ ‘From swimming, Max!’ Chaz exclaims. He seems to be getting a tad frustrated. ‘So that’s what happens when you swim?’ I ask. ‘Yes!’ ‘Then I am definitely not –’

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‘Max Walburt!’ Miss Sweet yells. Everyone has a breaking point. ‘GET IN THE WATER!’ Suddenly, two Abby-sized hands push me in the back. I feel myself lurch forward and then, like magic, the diving blocks disappear. I’m falling! The water is rushing up towards me. What did Chaz say to do with my hands? My chin? My knees? I have no idea! I wasn’t listening. That water is getting really, really clo–

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Uh! My tummy hi-fives the water. It sounds like a flipped pancake slapping down on a frying pan. And it burns . Ou-ou-ou-ou-ouch! I might be submerged under cold water, but my stomach is on fire! I think I’m going to scream! Hang on, I can’t scream. I’m underwater. I can’t breathe. There’s no air down here! Why do they make us do such stupid things at school?! I burst back up to the surface, gasping for air and flapping my arms around like I’m performing in a seal show. The whole class is laughing and even Chaz has a big smile on his face. Every inch of my skin is stinging! I look down at my belly. It’s the colour of an embarrassed tomato. SLAP-SPLASH!

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‘Well done, Max,’ Chaz says. ‘That wasn’t so

bad, was it?’

I think I just saw one of my nipples float by.

Oh jeepers, did I just lose a nipple?

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2 ‘Okay, kids, who’s the next guest on The Chaz Show ?’ our swimming instructor asks as I find the edge of the pool with my hands and roll myself up onto the side like a walrus having a bad day. The Chaz Show? Please, somebody save us! Abby gets up on the blocks. Only, she’s still not wearing swimmers. She’s fully clothed. Oh, this should be good. ‘I have a note,’ she announces when Chaz looks confused. She pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and waves it in the air. ‘It says I’m not allowed to swim.’ Sailing, anyone?

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Chaz is still confused. ‘Who wrote the note?’

MY MUM. SHE’S A POLICE OFFICER.

Abby Purcell likes to remind everyone that her mum is a detective. The host of The Chaz Show doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. He looks at our teacher. I can see Miss Sweet roll her eyes from here. ‘Abby! Bring your note to me.’ As Abby heads off to deliver the paperwork, I slowly clamber to my feet.

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‘Wow. She got you good, Max. It was the belly flop that echoed around the world.’ I look up and see Hugo. You know those people who do really great things? They stand out from the crowd, change the world and are remembered long after they’re gone? Yeah, well those people usually have a sidekick. Hugo’s my sidekick. ‘Do you need anything, Max?’ Hugo asks. He seems to be noticing that I’m still sucking in air like I’m trying to drink it. I’m just relieved to see both of my nipples are still where they’re supposed to be.

GET ME ABBY’S BACKPACK.

‘What? I meant more like a towel. Do you

need a towel?’ he says.

‘She just started something, Hugo. I need to finish it,’ I explain. That’s when I notice he’s scratching himself like crazy. ‘Do you have fleas?’ ‘I’m just itchy.’ Hugo shrugs. ‘Okay, well, quick, grab Abby’s bag and bring it over here. I’m going to remove these horrible water droplets from my skin.’ He nods and runs in the direction of the bags while I grab a towel. By the time Hugo gets back with Abby’s lunchbox I’ve hatched a plan. Chaz is focused on helping Kevin improve his diving technique and Miss Sweet is negotiating with Abby. Now’s my chance. ‘What are you going to do?’ Hugo asks, scratching his armpits. ‘Watch and learn, my itchy friend,’ I reply, opening the lunchbox. ‘Watch and learn.’

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Inside, Abby has a juice box, just like she always does. I take it out, pop it and pour the juice down the drain. ‘You can’t do that!’ Hugo whispers, looking around to make sure we don’t get caught. SHE PUSHED ME IN THE POOL, HUGO. EVERY ACTION HAS AN OPPOSITE AND EQUAL REACTION. IT’S A LAW OF NATURE. SHE SHOULD KNOW THE LAW; HER MUM’S A POLICE OFFICER, AFTER ALL.

HOW TO TURN A LUNCHBOX INTO A SAIL BOAT

You will need:

ABBY'S JUICE BOX

ABBY'S LUNCHBOX

STEP 1: Flatten the juice box to make the sail.

STEP 2: Stick the straw through it to make a mast

STEP 3: Remove everything else out of the lunchbox

STEP 4: Stick the other end of the straw into the lid. Bon voyage!

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‘So cool!’ Hugo laughs. As I watch the HMAS Abigail sail out over the high seas, I wait for the scream of lunches lost. Abby’s going to explode in rage and it will be totally worth it. It’ll come any minute now. Every action … tick, tick, tick … has an opposite … tick, tick, tick … and equal … tick … tick …

Nothing? Seriously? I look back over towards Abby and Miss Sweet and they are locked in a heated debate. ‘Oh! She’s not even watching!’ I say. All that work and no one’s even appreciating my shipbuilding! I turn to Hugo. ‘Come on. It looks like we have to wake the sleeping giant.’

3 Hugo and I march over to Abby and Miss Sweet. This is ridiculous. What is the world coming to when you have to tell someone they’ve been pranked. ‘The Maths Olympiad?’ Miss Sweet asks, reading from Abby’s note, which she holds in her hand. ‘That’s that online mathematics competition isn’t it?’ ‘Oh, Miss Sweet, it’s amazing,’ she says, practically bursting with excitement. ‘It’s a maths competition online. Kids from all over the world compete in different maths events. It’s incredibly competitive. You know Reet Ghosh?’ She should be a lawyer

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Miss Sweet screws up her face. ‘Who?’ ‘Amelie Beaumont? Yuki Ng?’ Abby asks,

dumbfounded.

‘I’ve never heard of these people,’ Miss Sweet

replies, shaking her head.

HIGH-PERFORMING MATHEMATICIANS, MISS SWEET! THEY’RE WORLD-RECORD HOLDERS! YUKI CAN DO HER TWENTY-NINE TIMES TABLES BACKWARDS IN 14.2 SECONDS.

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Time to interrupt this nonsense. I take a

breath and –

Miss Sweet holds up her finger in my direction. That finger means ‘don’t even think about it.’ I hate that finger. ‘What does this have to do with the swimming carnival on Friday?’ Miss Sweet asks Abby. I JUST THINK IT’S MORE IMPOR- I MEAN, MY MUM THINKS IT’S MORE IMPORTANT FOR ME TO SPEND MY TIME TRAINING FOR THE OLYMPIAD RATHER THAN SWIMMING IN A POOL.

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‘Sounds like you agree withMax,’ Miss Sweet

says. ‘That would be a first.’

‘Max is an idiot, Miss Sweet.’ ‘Hey! I’m standing right behind you!’ I protest. ‘I know that,’ Abby continues on without looking at me. ‘The point is we are growing up in a world of technology start-ups and the data revolution. What is going to be more important for my education, Miss Sweet: long-division or doggy-paddle?’ Can I choose ‘none of the above’? ‘There are other valuable aspects to your education beyond academics, Abby,’ Miss Sweet says. ‘What about leading a healthy lifestyle?’ ‘There is nothing healthy about drowning!’ I interrupt. ‘Exactly, Max,’ Miss Sweet replies. ‘That’s why you need to be strong swimmers. And one

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of the ways we develop those skills is by practising our swimming with Chaz and competing in the swimming carnival on Friday.’ ‘Well, unfortunately, I have a note,’ Abby says and she folds her arms. The note is to teachers what Kryptonite is to Superman. All of their teacher powers evaporate when you have a note, and Abby knows it. ‘I’m not accepting your note,’ Miss Sweet says. Wait, what? What did she just say? Abby looks stunned. ‘You–’ she stammers. ‘You can’t do–’ ‘Yes. I can, Abby,’ Miss Sweet says with a smile. That’s the smile of Superman slapping away the Kryptonite! She’s rejecting the power of the note! I can’t believe I’m seeing this!

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I’M YOUR TEACHER AND I’VE DECIDED THAT THE MATHS OLYMPIAD IS NOT A GOOD ENOUGH REASON TO SKIP THE SWIMMING CARNIVAL. I’M HAPPY TO DISCUSS THAT WITH YOUR MOTHER IF SHE WOULD LIKE.

Snap! Abby is a potato, Miss Sweet is the

cook and Abby just got mashed! ‘But –’

I think that’s my cue. I tap Abby on the

shoulder.

‘Abby?’ ‘What?’ She flicks around to face me.

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‘Is that your lunch box sailing across the

pool?’

Both Abby and Miss Sweet look past me, out to where Abby’s lunch box is sailing out across the great expanse of Redhill Pool. ‘MAX!!!’ Abby and Miss Sweet yell at the same time, silencing the whole room. It’s silent enough for everyone to hear the giant SNAP! followed by a YEOW! as Tyson snaps Lee’s swimmers like an elastic band against his bum. ‘TYSON!’ Miss Sweet exclaims and marches off in his direction. It seems Tyson presents a more immediate danger than my sailing boat.

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I’M GOING TO GET YOU BACK FOR THIS.

FOR SOMEONE AS SMART AS YOU, I THOUGHT YOU WOULD’VE CALCULATED THE PROBABILITY THAT THIS WOULD HAPPEN BEFORE YOU PUSHED ME IN THE POOL.