Free Sticky Beak by Morris Gleitzman Page A

show.’
    Darryn’s shoulders drooped even further. ‘You’ve got her in a show every Saturday,’ he said bitterly.
    â€˜Don’t raise your voice to your father,’ said Mrs Peck, not looking up either, ‘it’s making the dog nervous.’
    Darryn looked at his parents for a moment and then turned and walked towards us.
    We flattened ourselves against the fibro but he came round the corner with his head down and walked straight past us.
    Amanda nudged me and headed after him. I switched the camera on and by the time they were halfway across the front lawn I had them both in focus.
    â€˜Darryn Peck,’ said Amanda in her best reporter voice, ‘is it true that you ditched your faithful cockatoo for a poodle?’
    Darryn swung round.
    â€˜I hate that poodle,’ he shouted, ‘I’ve always hated it.’
    Then he realised who he was talking to and froze.
    That’s when I saw the tears in his eyes.
    Darryn Peck was crying.
    I turned the camera off.
    â€˜But you did abandon a cockatoo,’ persisted Amanda, before she felt me gripping her arm and saw Darryn’s tears and realised it was time to shut
    â€˜Yeah, what of it?’ Darryn said, but his heart wasn’t in it.
    He looked so helpless and unhappy I wanted to put my arms round him.
    Then he took a step forward and for a sec I thought he was going to grab the camera and hurl it over the neighbour’s fence.
    Instead he turned and ran into the house.
    Amanda and me looked at each other.
    â€˜We could do an in-depth report on Darryn’s parents,’ she said quietly.
    I shook my head.
    It wouldn’t change anything.
    We walked into town without saying much and when we got to school I gave her the camera and she gave me a hug and I set off for home.
    I’m almost there.
    I’m hurrying so I can see as much of Dad as possible in the little bit of time left before the baby’s born, because afterwards I’m going to be pretty busy with the club.
    The club I’m going to start.
    It’s got four members already.
    Me, Sticky, Darryn Peck and Mr Shapiro’s old van.

 
    I could tell something was wrong as soon as I walked into the house.
    Ms Dunning’s Jelly Custard Surprise, the one she’d made for the Show, was sitting on the kitchen table without a flyscreen over it.
    I knew she’d never leave it like that on purpose because everyone knows you can’t win a prize in the Cakes And Puddings section if you’ve got fly footprints in your whipped cream.
    Then Dad and Ms Dunning came into the kitchen and I could tell from their furious faces they had something more important on their minds than dessert.
    For a while they just stood there glaring at me, and I realised they were struggling to control themselves.
    By the time Dad finally spoke in a tight angry voice my heart was thumping faster than the fridge motor.
    â€˜I’m very disappointed in you, Ro,’ he said.
    â€˜We’re both very disappointed in you,’ said Ms Dunning.
    My mind was racing.
    Had Mr Segal rung up asking why I wasn’t at school?
    Had Darryn gone out into the back yard and strangled the poodle and his parents were blaming me?
    â€˜We agreed you’d take that cockatoo back,’ shouted Dad, ‘didn’t we?’
    Uluru Rock hit me in the guts.
    They’d found Sticky.
    I started to ask if he was OK but the words froze on my hands.
    Because I saw what Dad had on his hands.
    Blood.
    I couldn’t believe it.
    I’d seen him shoot at birds in the old days, before we had nets in the orchard, but now he’s a big supporter of all the wildlife on the protected list.
    Obviously poor old Sticky wasn’t on his list.
    Suddenly Uluru Rock wasn’t in my guts any more, it was in my head and it had gone volcanic and I couldn’t stop myself.
    I erupted.
    I wanted to shout and yell and scream, but all I could do was fling my hands around faster than