About the Book

  Felix hates Mondays. Dad’s yelling at him to get up. His little brother, Olly, is being super annoying. So when Felix shuts the bathroom door, he wishes he could get away. He turns on the shower and . . .

  Felix finds himself standing in the middle of a field . . . naked . . . with an army charging at him.

  Step one: Avoid flying pitchforks!

  Step two: Find some PANTS.

  Step three: UM, IS THAT A DRAGON?!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: That little snotrag

  Chapter 2: Naked and desperate

  Chapter 3: Not real

  Chapter 4: Home sweet home

  Chapter 5: No Ubers here

  Chapter 6: It’s a . . . it’s a . . . dragon!

  Chapter 7: Hand-knitted socks

  Chapter 8: Splat!

  Chapter 9: Not the problem

  Chapter 10: Taste sensation

  Chapter 11: Nothing to lose

  Chapter 12: Broken egg beater

  Chapter 13: Horse-dung do

  Chapter 14: Willing to stink

  About Nat Amoore

  About James Hart

  Books by Nat Amoore

  Imprint

  Read More at Penguin Books Australia

  For Murray. Because everyone

  needs a book just for them –

  #allthesingledads

  ‘Felix Anthony McKillop, if you don’t get out of bed and get in the shower right this second, I’ll . . .’

  Felix knew better than to wait for the end of that sentence.

  ‘Coming, Dad,’ he yelled as he dragged his body out from under the warm doona and sat on the edge of his bed.

  Felix raised his fingers to his eyes and prised his lids open. Mondays were always so, so hard. He dug his fingertips into the corners of his eyes and wrenched out huge clusters of crusty sleep. Mr Claverotte, the old French guy who owned the bakery in town, had told him that in French they call it ‘caca des yeux’, which translates as ‘eye-poo’. As Felix wiped the yellow chunks on the underside of his bedspread, he decided that was a pretty good name for it.

  ‘FELIX!’

  ‘I’m up!’

  Felix’s pyjamas were all twisted, and the bottoms had risen way past where it was okay to wear your pants. He yanked them down and straightened his t-shirt. His hair stuck up in different directions, but he couldn’t blame that on just waking up. Felix’s hair always looked like he had just woken up. It was very uncooperative.

  As he tried to pat it flat, his bedroom door burst open and his little brother, Olly, ran in.

  ‘Dad says if he doesn’t hear the shower running in one minute, he’s gonna send you to school in the jumper Granny gave you for Christmas,’ Olly jeered, happy to be the one delivering this threat.

  He then pulled out his favourite thing in the world – his copy of Biggest Book of Best Jokes, Insults & Comebacks. Super-catchy title.

  Felix rolled his eyes at Olly. There were only two years between them, but he felt like his eight-year-old brother was from another planet.

  ‘You’re so hairy, you went to a dog show . . . and won!’ Olly cracked himself up.

  ‘That’s not funny, Olly. It’s also not true.’ Felix checked his top lip every morning, hoping for signs of a first moustache hair. So far, nothing!

  Olly glared at him. ‘You wouldn’t know funny if it leapt out of the toilet and bit you on the butt.’

  Felix tried to straighten the doona on his bed enough that it could pass for ‘made’.

  ‘Well, I know what isn’t funny. And it’s that book. It’s so juvenile.’

  ‘What’s juvenile?’

  ‘It means it’s immature stuff that only little kids find funny.’

  ‘Immature, huh?’ Olly flicked through his book. ‘Well . . .’ He landed on a page. ‘Immature is just a word boring people use to describe fun people.’ Olly threw his head back and snorted with laughter. ‘See? I’m calling you boring. Take that!’

  Felix shook his head and stood up, pushing past Olly. ‘Move it, butt-face.’ He shoved his younger brother aside and headed down the hall towards the bathroom.

  ‘Butt-face, huh? Well . . .’ Olly flicked through his book again. ‘Why do ducks have tail feathers?’

  Olly was like the ads you can’t skip on YouTube – there was no escaping him. Felix walked into the bathroom and shut the door in Olly’s face, but it didn’t stop him.

  ‘To cover their BUTT-QUACK!’

  ‘Go away, Olly, I’m having a shower!’ Felix yelled through the closed door.

  ‘Oh, you should have a shower . . . ’cos your armpits smell so bad your teacher gave you an A-plus for not raising your hand.’

  It was useless trying to make him stop. Olly had been testing his jokes on Felix for weeks now, ever since he found that annoying book in the local second-hand bookshop. Olly thought they were hilarious, but what does an eight-year-old know about what is funny? Epic fail videos on YouTube are funny. #AnimalsActingLikeHumans is funny. POV memes are soooooo funny. Olly’s joke book is just NOT.

  Maybe a nice shower would wash away the frustration of having to start every day with the world’s most unfunny stand-up comedy routine. But somehow, Felix doubted it. He stripped off his clothes, trying to block out the annoying voice behind the door.

  ‘Hey, Felix, you’re as much use as a chocolate teapot. Get it? ’Cos it would just melt?’

  Felix stepped into the shower, keen for the sound of water to drown out his brother’s insults.

  ‘Ooooh, this one is perfect for you because you are such a bad dancer,’ Olly started.

  ‘I wish I could just get away from that little snotrag,’ Felix muttered as he turned on the tap, and water shot from the showerhead.

  ‘What do you call a dancing sheep?’

  Felix never heard Olly’s punchline.

  The water hit his head and . . .

  There was a sound like rusty brakes on a metro train, a blinding flash of white light and the strong smell of singed hair.

  Whaaaaattt?!?!?!

  Felix felt grass prickle beneath his feet.

  Wait! Was he . . . outside?

  A cool breeze made him glance down.

  ‘Aaaarrrgghhh!’

  Felix was as naked as the moment he stepped into the shower. Both his hands dived down to cover his bits. He searched for answers to the thousand questions that whirled through his mind. And also, for a pair of pants!

  He was standing in the middle of a large field and he had no idea where he was or how he got there.

  ‘Attack!’

  The cry came from behind Felix, and he spun around.

  Soldiers ran over the top of the ridge and down the hill towards him. An army! Some were on foot brandishing swords and carrying shields, some had bows and arrows drawn and others were on horses with long spears under their arms.

  ‘Raaaaarrrrr!’

  From the other direction a pack of villagers rushed towards them. They were dressed in olden-day clothing, carrying sticks and pitchforks and a bunch of other random weaponry.

  And Felix was in the middle.

  Naked.

  He spotted a blue-and-yellow shield lying on the ground and grabbed it. Holding it over the bits that mattered, he bolted out of the way.

  Just in time too! The two groups collided in an explosion of clanks and crashes and bad words.

  Felix ran.

  Up ahead, just beyond the field, was a small farmhouse. With no other option, he headed for it, leaving the battle behind in a cloud of dust.

  It was a smart choice. There, in the front yard, was a clothes line, full of clean washing. Felix would not normally take something that wasn’t his, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And being naked in a strange land counted as VERY desperate times.

  Felix checked that the coast was clear.

  Music wafted from the house, but he couldn’t see anyone. He paused for a moment to listen. Was it a violin? It wasn’t being played like the painful performances at the end-of-year School Spectacular (which was absolutely NOT spectacular!). This violin was full of joy, and the music bounced along, almost making Felix want to dance.

  But Felix was still naked. And naked was no time to dance.

  He threw the shield over a small wall surrounding the farmhouse and climbed over. On the other side, he picked the shield back up and looked around the paved courtyard. It was a small place, just like where he lived, but instead of blue weatherboard, this house was made of a wooden frame, filled with clay walls and a thatched straw roof. It looked like the houses in the Robin Hood movie they’d watched at his friend’s birthday party.

  But it was probably more important that Felix focused on clothing himself than admiring the architecture, so he tiptoed past a small chicken coop and over to the clothes line.

  The brick paving was warm under his feet and the clothes on the line waved at Felix invitingly as they flapped in the wind. At home, Felix had a Hills hoist in the backyard. He and Olly had broken it about ten times by using it as a swing, so it was held together with rope and gaffer tape. This one was just some twine strung between two thick bits of timber. There were different pieces of clothing hanging along the line. To Felix’s relief, at one end there was a pair of brown pants and a simple white shirt that would fit him perfectly.

  ‘Burk!’ A chicken clucked at him disapprovingly.

  ‘Don’t look at me lik e that,’ Felix whispered. ‘I’m just borrowing them.’

  The chicken cocked its head to the side and gurgled deeply. ‘Beeeeerrrrrk.’

  ‘What would you know, birdbrain?’ Felix said, pushing the guilty feeling down. The chicken looked hurt. ‘I didn’t mean that. Sorry. I’m sure your brain is . . . just fine.’

  Why was he talking to a chicken? He really had lost his grip on reality. As well as all his clothes!

  Felix dropped the shield again and plucked the pants off the line. Quickly slipping his legs into the pants, he grabbed the shirt too, then froze.

  BUSTED!

  There, next to the house, stood a boy about his age with curly red hair and an unimpressed look on his face. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at Felix. His face clearly said, ‘Excuse me? Are you right there? Hanging around naked in our backyard and stealing clothes from our line?’ You know when one look can say ALL of the things? Well, this look did that.

  ‘I, um, I’m really sorry. I was . . . you see, I was having a shower, and then . . . and I had no clothes . . . and the soldiers . . . and . . .’ Felix was getting nowhere fast.

  The boy’s hands moved to his hips.

  ‘Look, I’m really sorry about the clothes, it’s just I was naked and desperate. I can give them back . . .’ Felix dropped the shirt and moved his hands to the buttons of the pants, preparing to take them off and return them to the boy.

  The boy’s eyes widened as he shook his head, covered his eyes and waved a hand at Felix.

  Felix stopped. Taking this as permission, he grabbed the shirt from the ground and threw it over his head.

  The boy peeked from between his fingers to check that Felix was still clothed. Frowning at him, he pointed, indicating that Felix should stay where he was, and then disappeared into the house. The bouncy violin music stopped, and the boy came back, pulling along a girl the same age and with the same fiery red hair as his.

  ‘What, Noah? What do you . . .’ The girl stopped when she saw Felix. ‘Oh.’

  The boy pointed his finger accusingly at Felix and then turned back to the girl.

  ‘Wait, Noah, are they your clothes?’ she asked, staring at Felix’s outfit.

  The boy nodded furiously.

  Felix felt his face go red. ‘Yes, look, I’m really sorry. It’s just I was having a shower and then I was here and I had no clothes . . .’

  ‘Whoooooooooa!’ The girl’s eyes widened as she looked at the shield on the ground next to Felix. ‘Is that a Devonfield soldier’s shield? A real one?’

  Felix looked at the shield and shrugged. ‘I guess?’

  ‘Ha! Let’s make a trade. I keep that and you can keep the clothes. I’ve got some old boots you can take too.’

  Noah didn’t look impressed at her willingness to give away his clothes and boots.

  But Felix couldn’t knock back free clothes right now. ‘Deal!’ he agreed.

  The girl rushed up and grabbed the shield. She turned it over, inspecting every part and running her fingers gently across the raised emblem on the front. She stuck her hand out to Felix.

  ‘I’m Elsie,’ she said with a grin that scrunched up all the freckles on her face.

  Felix smiled at Elsie and shook her hand.

  ‘And that’s my twin brother, Noah.’

  Noah folded his arms across his chest, still unimpressed. He did not smile.

  ‘I’m Felix. And sorry again about the clothes. And thanks!’

  ‘Not a problem!’ replied Elsie. ‘I’ll get a good trade for this shield. It’s in great nick.’

  Felix turned to Noah. ‘Sorry if I scared you, Noah. Sneaking over the fence and all.’

  Noah continued to glare at Felix.

  ‘Ah, so maybe you’re a little angry with me?’ Felix looked himself up and down, realising he was dressed head to toe in Noah’s clothes, which had been given away entirely without his permission. ‘Oooohhh, is it okay? That she gave me these?’

  Noah shrugged and then gave a small nod.

  Felix cocked his head to the side. ‘Do you not talk?’

  Noah shook his head.

  ‘Is it –’ Before Felix could ask Noah his question, Elsie jumped in, talking over the top.

  ‘He’s never talked. Ever. Some people think it’s because he doesn’t like them but that’s not it.’

  ‘How do you know? Maybe it’s also that he doesn’t like me.’ Felix turned back to Noah. ‘I mean, I haven’t got things off to a great start with you have I? Stealing your clothes and trespassing in your backyard? Not exactly how all good friendships start.’

  Noah gave Felix a small smirk then looked to Elsie and wiped it off his face.

  ‘Can I ask why you don’t speak?’ Felix didn’t want to be rude, but he also wanted to understand. But Elsie jumped in again.

  ‘Oh, a witch put a curse on him when he was a baby and stole his voice,’ explained Elsie.

  Felix burst out laughing.

  The two siblings stared back at him.

  Elsie furrowed her brow. ‘Not exactly what I’d call funny.’

  Noah’s eyes widened and he looked at Felix like he’d just burped at the Queen’s dinner table.

  Felix glanced between them. ‘But you can’t be serious?’ His smile faded. ‘There’s no such thing as witches and curses.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Elsie raised her eyebrows. ‘Maybe you should explain that to Noah, who has spent his life never able to say a word? I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that it’s all not real.’

  On top of his disbelief in witches’ curses, Felix felt a little weird about the way Elsie kept talking about Noah like he wasn’t there. And what was the big deal if Noah didn’t talk? Did something need to be to blame?

  Felix asked Noah, ‘You don’t think you have a witch’s curse, do you?’

  Noah shot a quick look to Elsie then raised an eyebrow at Felix, who swallowed hard and let his eyes drop to his feet.

  Maybe he didn’t know enough about this world. He felt like he was stuck in one of those old-fashioned fairytales.

  Elsie smiled. ‘There you go! So where are you from that you don’t have witches’ curses?’

  Felix sighed. Elsie had a good point. There were plenty of things Felix needed to rethink. Like magic showers and teleporting to other lands and red-headed boys with witches’ curses.

  ‘But how do you know it was a witch’s curse?’ Felix asked.

  ‘A very reliable source told me.’

  Noah slapped his thighs and threw his hands in the air.

  Felix smiled. Noah clearly didn’t agree that Elsie’s so-called reliable source was very reliable. This made Felix feel better about his doubts.

  But Elsie ignored him. ‘We always knew there had to be a reason and now we know, it’s a witch’s curse.’

  Felix had read enough outdated fairytales to know what his next question should be. He looked to Noah apologetically as he felt ridiculous for even asking it. But Felix stepped up to the mythical plate.

  ‘Is there a way to break the curse?’

  Noah covered his eyes and shook his head and Felix could read him perfectly. That head shake said, ‘Oh no, not another one.’

  ‘The only way to break the curse is by making him laugh,’ Elsie explained.

  ‘Well, that’s easy!’ Felix said and, with that, he turned to Noah, crossed his eyes, pulled on his ears and stuck out his tongue. Noah just stared at him, unimpressed. Felix stopped, feeling a little silly.

  ‘It always works on my brother Olly,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes, well, growing up with a curse on you tends to kill your sense of humour,’ said Elsie.

  Felix glared at Elsie. ‘I doubt his sense of humour is the issue. Maybe I’m just not that funny.’

  Noah tilted his head towards Felix. He seemed intrigued by the new boy’s take on things.

  ‘What do you find funny, Noah?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Elsie answered.

  Felix glared at her. ‘I was asking Noah.’

 

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