Stuff Happens Read Online Free PDF Page B

pocket again.
    I looked down at the issue of
The Year Five Times
I was holding. There was a huge headline up the top:
STUDENTS DEMAND LONGER RECESS
.
    If we were going to put together a great newsletter, I’d need a great news story.

I didn’t read before bed that night. Instead, I sat up with my notepad in my lap and tried to think up a story. I had never written a front-page article before. Back in Bunbury, only kids in year six were good enough to write those. How did they come up with their ideas?
    â€˜How was dinner?’ Dad was standing in my doorway.
    â€˜Pretty good. Karlie’s dad made us healthy pizzas.’
    Dad came inside and sat on my bed. ‘I’m really proud of you,’ he said, ‘making new friends.’
    â€˜I didn’t really do anything . . . it just happened.’
    â€˜But still, it’s hard moving somewhere new,’ he added. ‘I remember when we left Monvale before you were born, your mum and I were adults and we were still scared. Over time, it got easier, but no matter how much we liked Bunbury, Monvale never stopped being our home.’
    I knew how he felt. I couldn’t stop thinking about Bunbury, about what Eddie and Christian were doing, about everything I was missing because I wasn’t there . . .
    â€˜We’re back here,’ Dad continued, ‘and we’re lucky because we have two homes now. Monvale and Bunbury.’
    I understood what he meant. I would never have met Angelo and Karlie if we hadn’t moved. I would never have eaten that amazing burger at Byron’s. I would never have attempted making my own newsletter . . .
    Dad looked down at my notepad. ‘What are you doing?’
    I told him the truth. ‘Nobody wanted the extra responsibility of making a class newsletter, and you and Mum want me to be responsible, so Angelo, Karlie and I are giving it a go.’
    â€˜That’s good.’
    â€˜Do you think, if we did that, I’d . . . get my phone back?’
    â€˜Well . . . I really couldn’t say.’ He was nodding, though.
    I laughed. ‘But the thing is, I can’t think of a big story.’
    Dad scrunched his brow. ‘Hmm. What have you thought of so far?’
    â€˜Angelo wants soft drink in the bubblers but I don’t think the school would let us,’ I said.
    â€˜I don’t even think it’s possible,’ he said.
    It probably wasn’t. I’d never seen a bubbler with lemonade in it before.
    Dad tapped his lips. ‘There must be something you could write about . . . Oh! I know!’ He slapped his hand on his thigh. ‘What about the haunted upstairs boys’ toilets?’
    I blinked. ‘There are
haunted
toilets?’
    He laughed. ‘Yeah, or at least, that’s what we all used to think back when I was at Monvale Primary,’ he said.
    â€˜What were they haunted by?’ I asked.
    Dad shrugged. ‘Nobody ever saw it. We only heard strange noises, doors wouldn’t lock, taps would run and you wouldn’t know who switched them on. It got so bad that most kids were scared to use the toilets, and if you did, nobody believed you. Once, my friends and I wanted to prove we went in there, so we chipped a tile off the wall and took it with us.’
    That was definitely better than soft drink in the bubblers. I wanted more information. ‘What happened? Is there still a ghost?’
    â€˜No, one day it just . . . stopped. Maybe the ghost just moved on, or maybe someone fixed the broken doors and the leaky taps,’ Dad said.
    â€˜What was it like being in there?’ I sat up straighter. ‘Can I interview you for the story?’
    â€˜Sure, why not?’
    We were eating breakfast the next morning when the doorbell rang. Dad checked his watch – it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.
    â€˜Who could that be?’ he asked.
    Mum