Jamie Brown Is NOT Rich Read Online Free PDF Page B

playing on computers or watching TV. The streets were like a ghost town, but with no ghosts, which is good, because …

    TOP FIVE THINGS I AM
SCARED OF

    1. Ghosts

    2. Ghosts on bicycles

    3. Evil monkeys
    (Thanks, Mr Kravoski.)

    4. Evil ghost monkeys on bicycles

    5. Getting my head stuck up an elephant’s butt.

    Okay, I know, there’s a pretty low chance of any of those things happening, but that’s why they’re scary … the element of surprise!
    Anyway, I rode past all the fancy mansions, and then there was one that was a little bit different. It was smaller, and less fancy, less show-offy, I guess. It was still perfectly neat and well-looked-after, but it was just different.
    I wondered who lived there.
    I got a glimpse of a face at the window, but then the curtains closed. I wasn’t totally convinced it wasn’t a ghost monkey, so I rode home, fast.

    I would find out who lived there soon enough.

CHAPTER 13

SCHOOL
DAY 2
    School was not good! Mum had sewn a patch over the hole in my trousers, which the Nasty Jeffersons thought was hilarious.

    Fair call.
    Then, just before lunch, Mr Jefferson read out the names of kids who would represent the school at Academic Challenge, and MY NAME GOT CALLED OUT!
    Nasty Jefferson and his mates, too. I didn’t even know what Academic Challenge was!
    I asked Harmison at lunch time. He said it was this big competition where teams of four from different schools go on a quiz show. They battle to the final, and the winning team gets a trophy and credit for the school and there were huge crowds and TV and interviews and it was in three weeks time!

    Oh, this was bad. This was bad times infinity squared plus 3 times 8 minus 7.
    How did my name get on the stupid team anyway?
    I had my suspicions.

CHAPTER 14

CROWKAY
    After lunch, we played croquet for sports.
    First off, you say croquet like crowkay … okay? I thought you said it crockett, but you don’t … it’s crowkay.
    So that’s how I’ll write it from now on, so it’s easier. Crowkay, just like you say it.
    Crowkay’s kind of weird. Mr Jefferson said you have to be quiet all the time. Always quiet, except for polite applause after a nice shot. I wanted the old days of mini-golf with the triplets, where it would be whoop whoop and raa raa and buckity buckity and animal noises and FUN !

    Snootyville Grammar is so rich it has its own crowkay field … and tennis courts … and swimming pool … and golf course … and rowing river … and toilets … well, I guess most schools have toilets. Hovel Central didn’t though, we had to run 3kms to the public toilets at the shops and if we didn’t make it, well, behind a tree would have to do!
    Not surprisingly, I had never played crowkay before. I could see all these hoops stuck in the ground and coloured balls and sledgehammer-looking things.
    I was with Harmison and the other British Bulldogs crew.
    ‘How do you play?’ I asked them.

    ‘Well,’ Harmison said. ‘The object of crowkay is to use a mallet to knock your ball through the hoops in the correct order, and finally tap your ball into the centre peg. You may even knock your opponent’s ball out of the way.’
    I laughed and forgot Mr Jefferson’s rules.
    Like I said, I forget things pretty quickly.
    ‘Sounds like FUN! Watch this!’
    I grabbed a crowkay sledgehammer, walked up to a ball, yelled out ‘ Buckity Buckity! ’ wound up, and whacked the ball towards a hoop. It went straight through then smashed into Mr Jefferson’s right ankle.
    He yelped and grabbed it.
    ‘ BROWN!’ he yelled, hopping around. I got in trouble, and was only allowed to watch for a while.
    Then I was back in the game.
    I didn’t mean to break the rules again, but the sitting around and the being quiet and the blah blah blah boring had made me edgy.
    I smiled at Harmison.
    ‘This game would be heaps more fun if we played it like it was mini-golf back in the Hovel. Check it out.’
    Nasty Jefferson was lining up his shot. He did