Free The Curse of Captain Cross-eyed by Margaret Ryan Page A

fingers off!
    The worst was reserved for number 13. Unlucky for some. Number 13 had a crazy, dancing parrot looking out of the window,and a one-eared cat sitting on the doorstep. But no letter box.

    So I knocked on the door.
    Silence.
    I knocked again.
    More silence. Then the clump of heavy boots sounded along the hallway. It was scary. Finally, a little porthole window in the front door opened and a loud voice boomed out.
    â€œWHO GOES THERE? FRIEND OR FOE?”

Chapter Two

    Friend or foe? Help! I hadn’t expected that. What could I say?
    â€œEr … paperboy,” I muttered.
    â€œA boy made out of paper? How very strange. Don’t you blow away in the wind?”
    â€œPaper delivery boy,” I tried again.
    â€œThen where is the paper?”
    I held it up and a hook came out of the porthole to get it. Startled, I let the paper drop, and the door opened.
    A large pirate was standing there. “I am Captain Cross-eyed,” he bellowed. “Who are you?”
    â€œJ-J-Jonny. Jonny Smith.”
    â€œPleased to make your acquaintance, Jonny Smith,” he said, and held out his hook.
    I gulped and shook the hook. It came away in my hand.

    Captain Cross-eyed gave a great belly laugh, then his real hand slid down his sleeve and took the hook back from me. “Good trick, Jonny Smith. Don’t you agree?”
    I wasn’t going to disagree with a huge pirate, so I just nodded. Then I turned and ran down the path. I jumped on my bike and pedalled away fast, only stopping to hand in my orange bag to Mr Maini.
    â€œDid you know that an enormous pirate lives at 13 Weird Street?” I gasped.
    â€œA pirate? In Weir Street? What kind of crazy boy are you? Mr Cross lives at number 13. Nice man. Works in the sausage factory. Now, don’t be telling silly stories, Jonny Smith.”
    It was clear Mr Maini did not believe me.
    I jumped on my bike again and headed for school. When I got there though, the playground was empty, except for a crisp packet blowing in the wind.
    â€œOh no,” I groaned. “Late again. Miss Dodds will never believe I was held up by a gigantic pirate.”
    I was right.
    â€œA large, huge, enormous, gigantic pirate? That’s certainly one of your more inventive excuses, Jonny Smith,” she said, looking down her long nose at me. “You can stay behind at break and write out the whole fantastic story.”
    I sighed and went to my desk. The day was getting worse. First Mr Maini didn’t believe me, now it was Miss Dodds.
And
I had a story to write. Miss Dodds knew I always played football at break, and she knew that the inter-schools’ final was coming up soon…

    I slumped down in my seat.
    â€œA large, huge, enormous, gigantic pirate?” parroted my pal, Sara, nudging my elbow. “Good excuse, Jonny.”
    â€œThe best yet,” agreed Surinder, who was sitting behind me.

    â€œIt’s not an excuse,” I whispered. “There
was
a big pirate. The people in Weird Street are
weird
.”
    As they picked up their pencils, I could tell from their grins that Sara and Surinder didn’t believe me, either.

    Neither did Mum and Dad when I told them about it after school.
    â€œWhat an imagination you have, Jonny,” smiled Mum, handing me the cutlery to set the table for tea.
    â€œIt’ll get you into trouble one day,” warned Dad. “I happen to know Ian Cross. He manages the sausage factory and very kindly donated several boxes of bangers for the children’s barbeque last summer.”
    â€œSossiz, sossiz,” grinned Ellie.
    â€œI’m telling the truth,” I protested, as Mum ladled tomato soup into bowls. “There really was a pirate.”
    But no one was listening.
    I sat down at the table and picked up my spoon. It’s been the weirdest day of my life,I thought, and no one believes me. However, I was determined to stick with the paper round. I wasn’t going to give