Jake wanted his dad to be proud of him.
He knew his dad was interested in wars.
'Why?' Jake wanted to know.
'Wars shape the world,' his dad said. 'If bạn have a knowledge of past wars, bạn can better understand current politics.'
Jake didn't really know what his dad meant.
'I get it,' he said.
'Clever boy.' His dad smiled and ruffled his hair.
Jake felt six feet tall.
Jake couldn't wait to tell his dad about his new school project.
'Guess what,' he said, as soon as his dad got in the door.
His dad looked at Jake. 'What?'
'We have to do a big project at school,' Jake said. 'We have to choose a topic and then write about its history, make a story, write a poem, and do a poster. Then we have to present it all to the class.'
'Oh?' His dad was taking off his shoes in the foyer. Jake knew he should have waited till his dad was fully in the house before telling him about the project; that way he would've listened properly.
'I've already chosen my topic.'
'Oh?' His dad kept taking off his shoes.
'Guess what I chose.'
'What?'
'World War I.'
It worked. Jake's dad was looking at him properly now.
'That's a big topic,' he said. Jake could tell from the way his dad was smiling and ruffling his hair that he was impressed. 'Clever boy.'
tiếp theo ngày Jake was walking trang chủ from school. It was a sunny autumn day. He'd usually stamp on the piles of leaves on the footpath to hear them crunch under his shoes. But today he ignored them. He was busy planning his project.
< 2 >
He was nearly at his driveway when he heard the Miller sisters tiếp theo door, laughing at him as he went past. They always laughed, hoặc poked their heads over the fence to call him names.
'Retard.'
'Hee hee hee.'
'Boof-head.'
Jake ignored them.
'If they don't like you, that's their problem, not yours,' his mum would always say.
Jake stopped at his gate and bumped it open with his bag. The latch was broken. His dad was going to fix it; he đã đưa ý kiến he would, but he'd been busy.
The letterbox was stuffed with thuyền mành, rác rưởi, rác mail. The house's windows were dark. Jake was going to be trang chủ alone, again.
He was used to being trang chủ alone. He'd been doing it since he was nine. That was because, three years ago, his dad had decided to go back to university. That meant his mum had had to go back to working full-time. She did a lot of evening shifts because the money was better.
Jake's dad was away a lot in the evenings, too, because he had to go to lectures.
It was worst in winter, when it got dark bởi five o'clock. Jake wasn't scared of the dark, only of the bogyman who lived in the dark. Jake's friend Rodney told him about the bogyman. Rodney was always telling him stories like that. Jake đã đưa ý kiến he didn't really believe in the bogyman, but he was always really careful to lock the doorsójust in case.
Now he walked up the stairs onto the veranda and stuck his hand in his pocket for the key.
It wasn't there!
He checked all his other pockets and then checked them again. He shook out his school bag but he couldn't find it anywhere. He'd Mất tích it! He checked his pockets again. And then his bag. It was definitely gone.
Disaster!
< 3 >
Frantically, he tried the front door, knowing it would be locked, then turned around and hurried back up the footpath to see if he could find his key. He walked up the road for two blocks, scanning the pavement.
It was no use; he could've dropped it anywhere. He turned around and went home.
What if his parents had accidentally left the back door unlocked? He raced around the side of the house and up the steps but the back door was locked, too.
He tried to slide the bathroom window open, but it was shut tight. He thought about throwing a rock through the window, but he didn't. He knew his parents couldn't afford to get it replaced.
He checked his watch. It was four o'clock; his dad'd đã đưa ý kiến he'd be back bởi seven.
Jake wondered what he going to do with himself all afternoon.
He supposed he could always read his book.
He'd borrowed a book on World War I from the school thư viện for his project. He had to. He'd already looked in his parents' 1911 edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica. He loved sticking his nose into the pages of the old books; they smelled dry and musty, like his granddad's attic. He'd found a heap of information about the American Civil War and the Napoleonic Wars, but nothing on World War I. It didn't make sense. The First World War had been much bigger. They must have left it out bởi accident.
He went and found his dad and told him about the mistake.
His dad laughed.
'When did the First World War begin, Jake?'
Jake knew the answer.
'1914.'
'And when were these sách printed?'
Jake looked at the spine of the book he was holding. He felt a flush creeping up his neck. '1911,' he said.
His dad laughed again.
< 4 >
'Why are bạn looking in those old books, anyway?'
'For my project.' Jake felt defensive.
'What project?'
'You know!' Jake raised his voice. 'My World War I project.'
Jake sat in a block of sun on the front veranda đọc his thư viện book.
The book was really good; there were các bức ảnh of the soldiers and the no man's land the men had to run across to attack the enemy. There was a chapter on the Gallipoli landings and the Anzacs and the really hard going up the cliffs.
He was đọc about the liceólice eggs used to hatch in the seams of the soldiers' clothes and drive them mad; he was getting itchy just thinking about itówhen something hit him in the side of his head like a bullet. It hurt! He heard squeals of laughter from the Miller sisters on the other side of the fence as the acorn they'd chucked at him rolled away; he hated them.
It was six o'clock. Jake was in the backyard down near the shed, throwing lemons in the compost bin. If he missed the bogyman would get him. He didn't really believe it, but it raised the stakes of the game.
It was getting dark so he'd have to stop in a minute. Pretending he was Glen McGrath, he fast bowled a chanh into the compost bin. And missed.
Nothing happened. That was because the bogyman wasn't real.
Then he heard a rustling.
He looked to where the noise was coming from. He could see a shape coming out of the rhododendrons. A huge dark shape óó
It wasn't real, it wasn't real, just the workings of Jake's over-active imagination and the shadows of the trees when they moved in the wind.
The shape advanced. Red eyes glowed.
It was the bogyman!
Jake screamed. He started to back away but his foot caught on a clump of cỏ and he fell. Scrambling to his feet he turned and tried to run towards the porch but his legs wouldn't di chuyển like he told them to.
< 5 >
He felt the cold wet hands of the bogyman vòng tròn his throat and tighten. He was going to die ...
Jake woke with a start. He was drenched in sweat. The veranda was in shadow. He sat up and screamed.
The Miller sisters were standing over him, staring.
'Why are bạn lying on the veranda with a foot mat over you?' đã đưa ý kiến Adele.
It's none of your business, Jake thought. He'd finished his book and felt like a nap but it didn't feel right to sleep with nothing over you. The foot mat had covered his chest and the book had been his pillow.
'I just am,' he said.
'Why?' Julianne asked.
'I'm locked out of the house.'
'How come?'
'I Mất tích my key.'
The Miller sisters looked at each other and giggled; they loved it.
'Why are bạn here bởi yourself?' Julianne pestered.
Jake wanted them to go away. 'I just am.'
'Where's your mum?'
'At work.'
'Your mum has to work to support your dad,' Julianne said.
'Who says?'
'Your mum's the breadwinner,' Julianne said.
'So?'
She put her hands on her hips. 'Your mum has to work because your dad doesn't want to.'
'He does too. He's studying at trường đại học to get a PhD.'
Jake was proud that his dad was getting a PhD. His dad đã đưa ý kiến that people would have to call him 'Doctor'.
'Our mum says that your dad's a professional student.'
Jake didn't really know what that meant, but he didn't think it sounded like a good thing.
'He is not.'
< 6 >
'Is too.'
'Is not.'
'Is too.'
'Get Mất tích hoặc I'll cú đấm bạn one,' Jake said, standing up.
They went.
It was seven o'clock. Jake's dad would be trang chủ any một phút now.
Jake huddled on the front steps with his arms around his legs. It was freezing. He was hungry. He wanted his mum to drive up and see how cold and miserable he was. He wanted her to hug him and to bring him inside and to make him a hot Sô cô la with plenty of whipped cream and to give him a whole bánh quy, biscuit out of the jar instead of the half he always had to share with her.
A car was coming; he listened to the engine.
It wasn't his dad.
Jake checked his watch. It was one một phút past seven.
Any một phút now.
Ages later, Jake checked his watch again. It was ten phút past seven.
Any một phút now.
He sat and waited. It was so cold his teeth were chattering.
The stars were out; that meant the ground would be covered in frost in the morning.
'Hurry up.' He đã đưa ý kiến it aloud.
A car was coming up the road.
For a một giây he thought it was his dad, slowing down like he did over the speed hump so he wouldn't ruin the suspension, but it wasn't; it was someone else.
He sat and waited.
Any một phút now.
Jake worried that his dad was mad at him.
He'd yelled at his dad last night. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help it.
It was after tea. Jake had been cutting out pictures of soldiers from his dad's Time magazines for his poster. It was really fiddly, being careful not to snip off the soldiers' ears hoặc noses as bạn cut around them with the scissors. He stacked the soldiers in a neat pile tiếp theo to his folder on the carpet when he finished. His dad stepped on the pile as he walked past in his socks.
< 7 >
'Dad! Get off!' Jake shouted.
'What?' His dad looked around and then at the floor. 'Oh, sorry. I didn't see them.'
Jake stared at the pile of crumpled soldiers.
'What are they for?' his dad asked.
'For my project,' Jake told him.
'What project?'
Jake couldn't believe it. His dad had forgotten.
'I told you!' he yelled, 'I'm doing a project on World War One.'
His dad wasn't coming home.
It was nine o'clock and his dad must have died in a car accident. Jake remembered how he'd yelled at his dad the night before and he knew that it was his fault. He was being punished.
His chin was on his knees; his teeth were chattering frantically.
Please God, don't let my dad be dead, Jake prayed.
He was huddled on the back porch now. It was pitch dark. He could see light from the Millers' house through the rhododendrons.
A hair-raising growl came from out of the branches of the cabbage tree.
His tim, trái tim stopped.
It was the bogyman.
'Please, no,' he pleaded. He backed in closer to the tường as the leaves in the cabbage cây shook wildly and a dark shape swooped down the thân cây and bounded across the lawn.
It wasn't the bogyman. It was a possum. A fat one with stubby legs and a thick tail. Jake let out his breath and wiped his Nữ hoàng băng giá hands on his jumper. He felt like crying; he couldn't help it. He was cold and hungry and his dad had been killed in a car accident.
Another car was coming up the road.
Jake listened. The car was slowing down over the speed hump.
< 8 >
He knew the sound of the engine. He couldn't run fast enough, across the porch, feeling the planks bouncing under him, down the steps, past the cây sơn lựu hoa, rhododendron, đỗ quyên bushes, nearly tripping over the hose his dad hadn't wound up properly, past the bathroom window with its torn flyscreen; straight into the yellow beam of headlights that was coming up the driveway.
Thank bạn God, thank you, Jake was swallowing back the sobs as he watched his dad get out of the car.
'What are bạn doing out here?' his dad asked him. 'Why aren't the lights on?'
Jake couldn't speak. He couldn't believe it. It was all better now. His dad was home. He took a couple of shaky breaths. 'I couldn't get in. I Mất tích my key.'
His dad laughed. 'Why didn't bạn go across to the neighbours' house?' he asked. 'They would have let bạn in and được trao bạn something to eat.'
'Not the Millers.'
His dad laughed again.
'Where were you?' Jake asked. 'You đã đưa ý kiến you'd be trang chủ bởi seven.'
'I went out for bữa tối, bữa ăn tối with some of the other students,' his dad said.
Jake followed his dad up the steps. It didn't matter that he was cold and hungry; as long as his dad was alive. He bent down and picked up his thư viện book from the front veranda.
'I read a book for my project before it got dark,' he told his dad.
'That's good,' his dad đã đưa ý kiến as he unlocked the door. 'What project?'
He knew his dad was interested in wars.
'Why?' Jake wanted to know.
'Wars shape the world,' his dad said. 'If bạn have a knowledge of past wars, bạn can better understand current politics.'
Jake didn't really know what his dad meant.
'I get it,' he said.
'Clever boy.' His dad smiled and ruffled his hair.
Jake felt six feet tall.
Jake couldn't wait to tell his dad about his new school project.
'Guess what,' he said, as soon as his dad got in the door.
His dad looked at Jake. 'What?'
'We have to do a big project at school,' Jake said. 'We have to choose a topic and then write about its history, make a story, write a poem, and do a poster. Then we have to present it all to the class.'
'Oh?' His dad was taking off his shoes in the foyer. Jake knew he should have waited till his dad was fully in the house before telling him about the project; that way he would've listened properly.
'I've already chosen my topic.'
'Oh?' His dad kept taking off his shoes.
'Guess what I chose.'
'What?'
'World War I.'
It worked. Jake's dad was looking at him properly now.
'That's a big topic,' he said. Jake could tell from the way his dad was smiling and ruffling his hair that he was impressed. 'Clever boy.'
tiếp theo ngày Jake was walking trang chủ from school. It was a sunny autumn day. He'd usually stamp on the piles of leaves on the footpath to hear them crunch under his shoes. But today he ignored them. He was busy planning his project.
< 2 >
He was nearly at his driveway when he heard the Miller sisters tiếp theo door, laughing at him as he went past. They always laughed, hoặc poked their heads over the fence to call him names.
'Retard.'
'Hee hee hee.'
'Boof-head.'
Jake ignored them.
'If they don't like you, that's their problem, not yours,' his mum would always say.
Jake stopped at his gate and bumped it open with his bag. The latch was broken. His dad was going to fix it; he đã đưa ý kiến he would, but he'd been busy.
The letterbox was stuffed with thuyền mành, rác rưởi, rác mail. The house's windows were dark. Jake was going to be trang chủ alone, again.
He was used to being trang chủ alone. He'd been doing it since he was nine. That was because, three years ago, his dad had decided to go back to university. That meant his mum had had to go back to working full-time. She did a lot of evening shifts because the money was better.
Jake's dad was away a lot in the evenings, too, because he had to go to lectures.
It was worst in winter, when it got dark bởi five o'clock. Jake wasn't scared of the dark, only of the bogyman who lived in the dark. Jake's friend Rodney told him about the bogyman. Rodney was always telling him stories like that. Jake đã đưa ý kiến he didn't really believe in the bogyman, but he was always really careful to lock the doorsójust in case.
Now he walked up the stairs onto the veranda and stuck his hand in his pocket for the key.
It wasn't there!
He checked all his other pockets and then checked them again. He shook out his school bag but he couldn't find it anywhere. He'd Mất tích it! He checked his pockets again. And then his bag. It was definitely gone.
Disaster!
< 3 >
Frantically, he tried the front door, knowing it would be locked, then turned around and hurried back up the footpath to see if he could find his key. He walked up the road for two blocks, scanning the pavement.
It was no use; he could've dropped it anywhere. He turned around and went home.
What if his parents had accidentally left the back door unlocked? He raced around the side of the house and up the steps but the back door was locked, too.
He tried to slide the bathroom window open, but it was shut tight. He thought about throwing a rock through the window, but he didn't. He knew his parents couldn't afford to get it replaced.
He checked his watch. It was four o'clock; his dad'd đã đưa ý kiến he'd be back bởi seven.
Jake wondered what he going to do with himself all afternoon.
He supposed he could always read his book.
He'd borrowed a book on World War I from the school thư viện for his project. He had to. He'd already looked in his parents' 1911 edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica. He loved sticking his nose into the pages of the old books; they smelled dry and musty, like his granddad's attic. He'd found a heap of information about the American Civil War and the Napoleonic Wars, but nothing on World War I. It didn't make sense. The First World War had been much bigger. They must have left it out bởi accident.
He went and found his dad and told him about the mistake.
His dad laughed.
'When did the First World War begin, Jake?'
Jake knew the answer.
'1914.'
'And when were these sách printed?'
Jake looked at the spine of the book he was holding. He felt a flush creeping up his neck. '1911,' he said.
His dad laughed again.
< 4 >
'Why are bạn looking in those old books, anyway?'
'For my project.' Jake felt defensive.
'What project?'
'You know!' Jake raised his voice. 'My World War I project.'
Jake sat in a block of sun on the front veranda đọc his thư viện book.
The book was really good; there were các bức ảnh of the soldiers and the no man's land the men had to run across to attack the enemy. There was a chapter on the Gallipoli landings and the Anzacs and the really hard going up the cliffs.
He was đọc about the liceólice eggs used to hatch in the seams of the soldiers' clothes and drive them mad; he was getting itchy just thinking about itówhen something hit him in the side of his head like a bullet. It hurt! He heard squeals of laughter from the Miller sisters on the other side of the fence as the acorn they'd chucked at him rolled away; he hated them.
It was six o'clock. Jake was in the backyard down near the shed, throwing lemons in the compost bin. If he missed the bogyman would get him. He didn't really believe it, but it raised the stakes of the game.
It was getting dark so he'd have to stop in a minute. Pretending he was Glen McGrath, he fast bowled a chanh into the compost bin. And missed.
Nothing happened. That was because the bogyman wasn't real.
Then he heard a rustling.
He looked to where the noise was coming from. He could see a shape coming out of the rhododendrons. A huge dark shape óó
It wasn't real, it wasn't real, just the workings of Jake's over-active imagination and the shadows of the trees when they moved in the wind.
The shape advanced. Red eyes glowed.
It was the bogyman!
Jake screamed. He started to back away but his foot caught on a clump of cỏ and he fell. Scrambling to his feet he turned and tried to run towards the porch but his legs wouldn't di chuyển like he told them to.
< 5 >
He felt the cold wet hands of the bogyman vòng tròn his throat and tighten. He was going to die ...
Jake woke with a start. He was drenched in sweat. The veranda was in shadow. He sat up and screamed.
The Miller sisters were standing over him, staring.
'Why are bạn lying on the veranda with a foot mat over you?' đã đưa ý kiến Adele.
It's none of your business, Jake thought. He'd finished his book and felt like a nap but it didn't feel right to sleep with nothing over you. The foot mat had covered his chest and the book had been his pillow.
'I just am,' he said.
'Why?' Julianne asked.
'I'm locked out of the house.'
'How come?'
'I Mất tích my key.'
The Miller sisters looked at each other and giggled; they loved it.
'Why are bạn here bởi yourself?' Julianne pestered.
Jake wanted them to go away. 'I just am.'
'Where's your mum?'
'At work.'
'Your mum has to work to support your dad,' Julianne said.
'Who says?'
'Your mum's the breadwinner,' Julianne said.
'So?'
She put her hands on her hips. 'Your mum has to work because your dad doesn't want to.'
'He does too. He's studying at trường đại học to get a PhD.'
Jake was proud that his dad was getting a PhD. His dad đã đưa ý kiến that people would have to call him 'Doctor'.
'Our mum says that your dad's a professional student.'
Jake didn't really know what that meant, but he didn't think it sounded like a good thing.
'He is not.'
< 6 >
'Is too.'
'Is not.'
'Is too.'
'Get Mất tích hoặc I'll cú đấm bạn one,' Jake said, standing up.
They went.
It was seven o'clock. Jake's dad would be trang chủ any một phút now.
Jake huddled on the front steps with his arms around his legs. It was freezing. He was hungry. He wanted his mum to drive up and see how cold and miserable he was. He wanted her to hug him and to bring him inside and to make him a hot Sô cô la with plenty of whipped cream and to give him a whole bánh quy, biscuit out of the jar instead of the half he always had to share with her.
A car was coming; he listened to the engine.
It wasn't his dad.
Jake checked his watch. It was one một phút past seven.
Any một phút now.
Ages later, Jake checked his watch again. It was ten phút past seven.
Any một phút now.
He sat and waited. It was so cold his teeth were chattering.
The stars were out; that meant the ground would be covered in frost in the morning.
'Hurry up.' He đã đưa ý kiến it aloud.
A car was coming up the road.
For a một giây he thought it was his dad, slowing down like he did over the speed hump so he wouldn't ruin the suspension, but it wasn't; it was someone else.
He sat and waited.
Any một phút now.
Jake worried that his dad was mad at him.
He'd yelled at his dad last night. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help it.
It was after tea. Jake had been cutting out pictures of soldiers from his dad's Time magazines for his poster. It was really fiddly, being careful not to snip off the soldiers' ears hoặc noses as bạn cut around them with the scissors. He stacked the soldiers in a neat pile tiếp theo to his folder on the carpet when he finished. His dad stepped on the pile as he walked past in his socks.
< 7 >
'Dad! Get off!' Jake shouted.
'What?' His dad looked around and then at the floor. 'Oh, sorry. I didn't see them.'
Jake stared at the pile of crumpled soldiers.
'What are they for?' his dad asked.
'For my project,' Jake told him.
'What project?'
Jake couldn't believe it. His dad had forgotten.
'I told you!' he yelled, 'I'm doing a project on World War One.'
His dad wasn't coming home.
It was nine o'clock and his dad must have died in a car accident. Jake remembered how he'd yelled at his dad the night before and he knew that it was his fault. He was being punished.
His chin was on his knees; his teeth were chattering frantically.
Please God, don't let my dad be dead, Jake prayed.
He was huddled on the back porch now. It was pitch dark. He could see light from the Millers' house through the rhododendrons.
A hair-raising growl came from out of the branches of the cabbage tree.
His tim, trái tim stopped.
It was the bogyman.
'Please, no,' he pleaded. He backed in closer to the tường as the leaves in the cabbage cây shook wildly and a dark shape swooped down the thân cây and bounded across the lawn.
It wasn't the bogyman. It was a possum. A fat one with stubby legs and a thick tail. Jake let out his breath and wiped his Nữ hoàng băng giá hands on his jumper. He felt like crying; he couldn't help it. He was cold and hungry and his dad had been killed in a car accident.
Another car was coming up the road.
Jake listened. The car was slowing down over the speed hump.
< 8 >
He knew the sound of the engine. He couldn't run fast enough, across the porch, feeling the planks bouncing under him, down the steps, past the cây sơn lựu hoa, rhododendron, đỗ quyên bushes, nearly tripping over the hose his dad hadn't wound up properly, past the bathroom window with its torn flyscreen; straight into the yellow beam of headlights that was coming up the driveway.
Thank bạn God, thank you, Jake was swallowing back the sobs as he watched his dad get out of the car.
'What are bạn doing out here?' his dad asked him. 'Why aren't the lights on?'
Jake couldn't speak. He couldn't believe it. It was all better now. His dad was home. He took a couple of shaky breaths. 'I couldn't get in. I Mất tích my key.'
His dad laughed. 'Why didn't bạn go across to the neighbours' house?' he asked. 'They would have let bạn in and được trao bạn something to eat.'
'Not the Millers.'
His dad laughed again.
'Where were you?' Jake asked. 'You đã đưa ý kiến you'd be trang chủ bởi seven.'
'I went out for bữa tối, bữa ăn tối with some of the other students,' his dad said.
Jake followed his dad up the steps. It didn't matter that he was cold and hungry; as long as his dad was alive. He bent down and picked up his thư viện book from the front veranda.
'I read a book for my project before it got dark,' he told his dad.
'That's good,' his dad đã đưa ý kiến as he unlocked the door. 'What project?'
"I need you." I quietly whispered, Ari looked at me with his wide green eyes. "I need bạn Ari, we all need you." I đã đưa ý kiến as Carli and Marli started to cry. "You need no one, only yourself." Ari said, glaring. That peirced a hole right through my aching heart... "Maybe you're right." I mumured, I hated hiển thị weakness infront of the group. Allina put her hand gently on my shoulder. "Ari, listen." She said.
Ari snarled, we backed away slightly.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" He screamed, taking off down the sidewalk.
Ari snarled, we backed away slightly.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" He screamed, taking off down the sidewalk.
it can put the tim, trái tim at ease hoặc under strain
and as that word to each other we spoke
it made our hearts complete and not broke
a feeling unlike any other i felt
as bạn heavenly eyes made my tim, trái tim melt
bạn were always the one, i could tell
cause from the moment i saw bạn in tình yêu i fell
the words to describe bạn a poet can never posses
bạn were always the one that was hard to impress
bạn wanted thêm than thi ca and hoa could give
because only on true tình yêu your tim, trái tim could live
to capture my tim, trái tim for bạn it only took
one moment one smile and one unforgettable look