Читать книгу Jeff Brown's Flat Stanley: The Australian Boomerang Bonanza - Josh Greenhut - Страница 6

The Grand Prize

Snow whipped through the air in thick blankets. Stanley Lambchop trudged on, trying not to flap in the wind.

Up ahead, Stanley could just make out his younger brother, Arthur. ‘Keep going!’ Arthur’s voice called. ‘We’re almost there!’

Since the morning Stanley Lambchop had awakened to discover that he had been flattened by the bulletin board over his bed, he had travelled far and wide. He had trekked through the Mexican jungle. He had crossed the African savannah. He had braved the Canadian Arctic.

But this just might be his most difficult journey of all.

And it’s only the walk home from school! thought Stanley.

He strained to take another step, but the wind blew him off his feet yet again. He flew backwards into the side of a bus shelter with a slap.

Stanley groaned.

Since being flattened, Stanley could do all sorts of useful things. He could travel by mail, slide under doors, and fly like a kite. But being half an inch thick also had its disadvantages.

It sure doesn’t help one bit in a blizzard! Stanley thought.

Arthur ran up. ‘Are you OK?’ he cried over the howling wind.

Stanley gritted his chattering teeth. ‘I hate this weather!’

Arthur nodded and held out his hand. ‘Hold on to me!’

Stanley grabbed his brother’s outstretched mitten. Arthur leaned into the wind and battled down the sidewalk, dragging Stanley’s body flapping behind him like a cape.

‘I wish we lived somewhere hot!’ Stanley grumbled.

‘Tell me about it!’ Arthur called over his shoulder. ‘Can you believe that right now it’s summer in Australia?!’

‘We could be on a beach!’ said Stanley.

‘If only I’d won that Kanga Roos contest!’ said Arthur. Kanga Roos was Arthur and Stanley’s favourite breakfast cereal. Several months ago, Arthur had cut out a form from the back of their cereal box and entered a contest whose grand prize was a trip to Australia. Nothing ever happened, though.

Arthur pulled Stanley up the front steps of their home. Pushing the door closed behind them, Stanley flattened himself against it and took a deep breath. A row of icicles fell from the side of his body.

‘Thank you, Arthur,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how I would have made it without you.’

Arthur shrugged. ‘I don’t know how you make it anywhere without me.’ He pulled off his boots. ‘After all, who was it that saved you on Mount Rushmore? Who solved all your problems over the telephone when you were in China? Who got us down that river in Africa?’

‘You’re the one who dropped the paddle!’ cried Stanley, suddenly thawed under the collar.

‘I did not!’ replied Arthur. ‘You dropped the paddle!’

‘I did not!’ huffed Stanley.

‘Arthur, is that you?’ their mother’s voice called from the next room.

Arthur held up his hands. ‘I’m just saying,’ he said in a low voice, ‘the next time you go somewhere, take me along, will you?’ Then he added, ‘Especially if it’s Hawaii or Florida.’

Stanley couldn’t help it. He smiled.

‘You’re here!’ Mrs Lambchop came bustling down the hall, her eyes fixed on Arthur. She seemed very excited. ‘Wait until you –’ The smile fell from her face. ‘Why, you look like a wet dog!’

Arthur scoffed. ‘I just walked through a blizzard!’

Their father, George Lambchop, appeared with a comb and started dragging it roughly through Arthur’s hair.

‘Dad!’ protested Arthur.

Mrs Lambchop bit her lip. ‘And his socks are all wet!’

Their parents didn’t even seem to notice that Stanley’s socks were wet, too.

‘What is going on?’ Arthur and Stanley both cried.

‘There’s someone important to see you, Arthur,’ Mr Lambchop said in a strange voice. He stepped back to examine his handiwork and then wrinkled his nose.

‘Just say you haven’t had a chance to wash up,’ he whispered, and led the boys into the living room.

A barrel-chested man wearing a leather wide-brimmed hat was standing in the middle of the room. An official-looking young woman holding a clipboard stood behind him.

Arthur stopped in his tracks. ‘It’s – But you’re –’ he sputtered.

Stanley stared at the man. He did look very familiar.

‘G’day, Arthur,’ the man said in an accent that sounded . . . British? ‘Do you have something to say to me?’

Arthur looked at him blankly. ‘I haven’t had a chance to wash up,’ he blurted.

The man’s thick eyebrows danced up and down with amusement. Then, very mysteriously, he said: ‘Isn’t there something else you should say, mate?’

Arthur gulped. He opened and shut his eyes. He swallowed. He pinched Stanley.

‘Ouch!’ Stanley cried.

‘I’m not dreaming,’ Arthur croaked under his breath. Then, in a very loud, careful voice he began, ‘I JUST . . .’

Suddenly, Stanley knew exactly who the man was!

‘JUMP . . . FOR . . . KANGA ROOS!’ he and his brother shouted together, hopping up and down in time with the words, just like in the Kanga Roos commercials.

For the man standing before them was none other than Billy Wallaby, the Australian cereal magnate whose face graced the front of every box! This could mean only one thing: ‘Looks like Arthur and a guest are coming with me to Australia!’ Billy Wallaby announced.

The living room went wild. The woman with the clipboard clapped. Arthur did a crazy dance. Harriet Lambchop started to cry. George Lambchop shook everybody’s hand. Mr Wallaby himself slapped Stanley on the back so hard that Stanley flipped over.

‘I can’t believe it!’ said Arthur. ‘I never thought when I cut out that form from the back of the cereal box –’

‘Never say never, mate,’ said Mr Wallaby. ‘So, who are you going to take with you? Your mum or your dad?’

Stanley looked at the ground. He understood, of course. He had gone on so many trips without Arthur. It was only fair that Arthur got to have his own adventure for once.

And then Arthur did something that surprised Stanley even more than an Australian billionaire showing up in their living room and giving away a trip to the other side of the world. He said, ‘Can Stanley come?’