Читать книгу Dogtective William and the Diamond Smugglers - Elizabeth Wasserman - Страница 6

The parents took over. A meeting was held in the school hall and letters were distributed listing all the things that had to be packed. There were so many preparations that we might have been planning a trip to the moon.

During break, some of the boys were bragging about their rowing skills.

“Once I had to cross a river full of hungry crocodiles!” Berty boasted.

“And where was this?” Carla asked.

“On my uncle’s farm, up north. One of the biggest ones got so close I poked him with my oar, right between the eyes.”

Carla looked impressed. “But surely there are no crocodiles in the Orange River?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“You never know. But don’t worry; I’ll stay close to you. I know how to handle crocs.”

I’ve never liked Berty.

My other concern was not to be stuck in a canoe with James. James was my best friend, but he wasn’t the strongest or fittest guy around and it sounded like rowing could be tough.

“Alex, can I go in a canoe with you?” Carla fluttered her eyelids at me, nearly knocking my socks off. I felt the blood rise to the back of my neck and mumbled something stupid. Everybody laughed.

This may be it, I thought. The prettiest girl in the class finally noticed me! Evenings under the stars . . . I remembered the brilliant night skies of far-away Tromelin Island. Would the stars be just as clear over the Orange River?

“The area around the Orange River is one of the most important agricultural regions in South Africa,” Mr Harlech-Jones, our geography teacher, explained. “While you are there we will take you on a tour of the vineyards of one of the largest farms. It has all been arranged. And then, of course, I shall expect you to write an essay on the Gariep region when you get back – so pay attention.”

Why do teachers always have to spoil our fun?

Mom was acting as if I’d never had to survive without comforts like piped water or her cooking. But William and I had got by without those luxuries when we were fugitives in Europe, and with even less when we spent a couple of days in the International Space Station.

But of course she knew nothing of that.

“The nights can be chilly, Alex,” she warned and packed the red beanie and woollen scarf that I had worn on our trip to New York.

I sighed, and quietly took them out again when she wasn’t looking.

William was snoring in his basket in the corner of my room. He pretended to use the basket when Mom was in my room; otherwise he slept on my bed, stretched out with his head on a pillow. We could use a little more space, I thought. A tree house would be great.

At last everything was ready and my backpack was packed. The school bus was leaving the next day at eight o’clock sharp.