Nathan Nuttboard Hits The Beach

by Eaton

Overview

A few days at the beach, camping with your family. Sounds like a good time, right? Maybe, but don't forget to factor in: * the motobike riding bogan * an older sister in love * a tent which is suffering a spiritual crisis * a surfer named Gnarly who's idea of fun involves exfoliating sparkplugs! For Nathan Nuttboard, this could be an interesting few days.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780702256974
Publisher:	University of Queensland Press
Publication date:	08/01/2015
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	128
File size:	3 MB
Age Range:	9 Years

About the Author

Born in Papua New Guinea in 1972, Anthony Eaton spent an idyllic childhood growing up in the Perth hills, apart from a two and a half year stint with his family on the Cocos Keeling Islands. He attended high school and university in Perth, and studied a plethora of subjects before settling on a career in teaching. He worked at Trinity College in Perth as a literature and drama teacher for eight years, during which time his first novel, The Darkness was published by the University of Queensland Press. The novel was awarded the 2001 Western Australian Premier’s award for Young Adult Literature, and encouraged Anthony to turn his hand to further writing. In 2005, his historic fiction novel Fireshadow also won the WA Premier’s Award for Young Adult Literature and was named an honour book in the CBCA Book Of the Year awards. His most recent books are Skyfall, the second book of his Darklands speculative fiction trilogy, which was published in July 2007, and Nathan Nuttboard – Upstaged. He lives in Canberra, with his wife, Imogen, and a slightly deranged Kelpie named Chelsea.

Read an Excerpt

Nathan Nuttboard Hits the Beach

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By Anthony Eaton

University of Queensland Press

Copyright © 2002 Anthony Eaton
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7022-5697-4

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CHAPTER 1

Family Meeting

I don't know how it is in your house, but in mine, when Dad calls a family meeting, it can only mean one thing — he's done something he knows Mum is going to freak out about. He's hoping she'll be too embarrassed to lose the plot in front of us kids. Dad hasn't thought this through too well though, because what actually happens is that after Dad tells us all about whatever it is he's done, Mum gets this look in her eye, and the first person to open their mouth after that absolutely cops it. Then she moves on to each of us in turn. On the bright side, its about the only time that Narelle or Nadine, my two sisters, ever get yelled at.

So the night Dad came home late from work and called a family meeting, we all knew that something major was up. Naturally, Narelle tried to get out of it — she's sixteen and thinks she knows everything.

"But Dad — I'm going over to Sarah's to study."

"I didn't know you could read."

"Shut up, Bug." She glared at me. I know that look — I shut up.

"Sorry honey, but you know the rule about family meetings."

"But ..."

"When we have them, we talk about things which effect everyone, so everyone has to be there."

"But Sarah and I ..."

"Narelle, I'm sorry, but you're staying. I'll run you across to Sarah's afterwards if you like."

"Fat chance!"

Even though we still had no idea what the meeting was about, Narelle knew that by the time Mum had finished, the whole family would be grounded for about a year. She decided to give it one more try; throwing dad her best smile, tossing her hair, and using what I call her But Daddy ... voice — a trick that only ever works on my father.

"But Daddy, our project is due tomorrow and ..."

"Narelle, end of discussion."

Now I really was worried. Narelle's act was usually a sure fire winner. If that didn't work then whatever Dad had done was major. Really major. I wondered if they'd let an eleven-year-old catch a plane to New Guinea without a note from his parents. Probably not.

Things got worse when Mum came home from work. She'd had a bad day. That was clear from the second she hit the driveway. Mum is the only person I know who can close a car door quietly, and still make it sound angry. As a general rule, this means one thing — either stay out of her way for at least an hour and a half, or help out: Set the table. Cook dinner. Clean your room. Give her a shoulder rub or a foot massage (she likes that). Clean the bathroom tiles. Build a games room onto the house. Above all, whatever you do, DON'T call a family meeting.

Tonight, however, she was barely through the door before Dad came bounding into the hallway;

"You're home! Excellent. Family meeting. Right now, okay?"

Everyone froze. Everyone except Dad, that is. He just went straight into the family room and sat down at the table. I looked at Narelle and Nadine. They were standing still. Dead still. So was I. It's a bit like snakes — if you don't move, they can't see you, and from the look on Mum's face, the first person to even twitch would be signing their death warrant.

"You guys coming?" Dad really wasn't switched on this evening.

Mum followed him into the family room. Slowly. Like on those nature documentaries where you see panthers stalking their prey. The three of us breathed out. Safe. For the moment. I contemplated the possibility of making a break for it, and claiming later that I'd gone temporarily insane, but five seconds later Dad yelled again;

"Narelle! Nathan! Nadine! Hurry up."

The three of us exchanged looks as we made our way into the family room. For the moment, there'd be a truce. Safety in numbers.

"Right. Sit down everyone. I've got great news."

I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. We already knew this was bad, but when he said that, I couldn't shake off the feeling that things were going to get a lot worse. "Great news" could only mean one thing — whatever it was, it would be completely, totally, the opposite to whatever Mum wanted. I threw another glance at the girls and caught Narelle's eye. She'd picked up on it too, because there was a worried little crease between her eyes. She always gets it when she's nervous. Mum was just sitting there, her face dead calm. Waiting. Those who know my mother will know that this is the face we call "expression number one: extreme danger imminent." All we needed to know was what Dad had done, and then we could get on with the fireworks. We didn't have too long to wait;

"Well guys, we're going camping."

Silence. This wasn't at all what any of us expected. I must admit, though, that there were a few questions running around in my head. Questions like: When? Where? In what? Finally it was mum who spoke:

"Kevin, if you don't mind me asking: When? Where? And in what do you intend to take this family camping?"

I could tell from the sound of her voice that she thought this was going to be another one of Dad's little 'projects'. It happens about twice a year — Dad finds some new idea that he spends all his time on for about three weeks, before getting bored and going on to something else. Don't get me wrong — it's not that my dad's an idiot, or anything, he just has what Mum calls "diverse interests." We think this means he gets excited about a lot of things, but rarely finishes them. Past projects include: Scuba diving, papier-mâche models of the great castles of the world, writing protest letters to world leaders, starting his own political party and running for Parliament, rollerblading, painting on leg casts (this project followed immediately on from roller blading), car engine maintenance (It took the mechanic three weeks to put the engine back together), downhill mountain bike riding, (followed by a brief return of leg cast painting), and now, it appears, camping.

"First week of the holidays. I thought we could go up the coast and spend a few days at the beach. Do some fishing and really spend some time together as a family. Quality time."

Speaking for myself, I found it hard to imagine how being trapped in a tent with my family could possibly qualify as "quality time", but naturally, I didn't say anything — Mum was still speaking.

"And we'll sleep in what?"

"That's the best bit. On the way home from work tonight, I stopped in at a camping and outdoor place, and picked up some great bargains."

That was our cue to sit really still. I was too scared to even breathe. If there's one thing Mum hates worse than Dad's projects, it's when he goes shopping for anything without her. She says he has "a tendency to shop with his brain in reverse" — whatever that means.

"Bargains!" Her voice was soft. Very dangerous.

"Yes. A five-person tent, camp stove and air mattresses for everyone. All on special too. The guy seemed really pleased to see them go to someone who'd enjoy them. In fact, he practically gave them away. A really good deal."

"Right!"

We sat in nervous silence. I hoped someone would speak soon — I really needed to take a breath.

"Kids, will you all go outside for a few minutes, please."

This was new. Mum had never, ever, asked us all to leave a family meeting before. The girls were as confused as me.

"Leave?"

"Yes please. Go outside for a while."

We didn't need to be asked twice. The three of us bolted. On the way out, I had a quick look back at Dad. Poor guy. I think he'd just realised that he'd really stuffed up, because he looked a bit like a puppy that knows it's about to be spanked for weeing on the floor. Still, I wasn't hanging around to offer support.

The girls were out in the hallway.

"What do you make of that?"

"Shhh! Shut up, Bug."

"Yeah, shut up, Bug." Nadine is only eight, and likes to copy everything Narelle says, especially when it comes to insulting me. I hit her. Not too hard though, I didn't want her making a fuss and attracting attention. Narelle was listening.

"What's up?"

"Listen."

I listened. Couldn't hear a thing.

"What?"

"No yelling."

She was right. Instead of the explosion we'd expected, all I could hear was Mum and Dad murmuring at each other. It must have been even worse than we'd thought.

CHAPTER 2

Dinner

Mum describes dinnertime in our house as "feeding time at the zoo." I feel this is a bit harsh. There's plenty of animals with much better table manners than my Dad and sisters. That night, though, it was like a continuation of the family meeting. There was still this strange tension in the air, and no one wanted to attract any attention. Nadine was even using a fork instead of chopsticks to eat her peas.

We ate in silence until Mum spoke.

"Kids, your father and I have had a long talk and we've made a couple of decisions."

Here it comes, I thought, the end of the camping trip. I guessed that Dad would be taking the new gear back first thing in the morning.

"You're all growing up pretty fast now, and there's probably not too many years left when we'll all be able to have our holidays together as a family ..."

This wasn't in the script.

"... and while your father agrees that it might have been nice to discuss this with us all first," Mum raised her eyebrows in Dad's direction. He stared at his plate and kept eating his cabbage "... I agree with him that it would be good for us all to get away together for a week or so during the holidays."

This definitely wasn't in the script. For a few seconds no one said anything. Until Narelle spoke up;

"Does this mean we're going," she paused, not wanting to say it, "camping?"

You have to understand something about Narelle here. This is a girl who blow-dries her hair before going to the beach. Her idea of casual dress means not wearing nail polish. Narelle is definitely not the camping type.

Dad spoke for the first time that meal; "I've booked us into the Paradise Bay Caravan Park and Campground. It sounds great. Right on the beach."

"I'm not going."

This should be interesting.

"You most certainly are."

"But Daddy ..."

"Narelle! Stop trying to manipulate your father. You're going. End of story."

Wow! Twice in the same day the 'But Daddy ...' voice had failed. I was starting to wonder if Narelle was losing her powers. Or perhaps Mum and Dad had found some kryptonite. Something else occurred to me; "When are we going?"

"First week of the holidays. Three weeks tomorrow."

Excellent! No gardening for Mrs Finke.

"You'll have to do your work for Mrs Finke when we get back."

I tried a Narelle approach

"But, Mummy ..."

"No buts. That poor cat still climbs up on the roof every time the sprinklers come on. You're doing that yard."

No point fighting a battle I'd already lost. Kryptonite obviously worked on guys as well. With a bit of luck they'd forget about the gardening during the trip.

"What's the tent like?"

"Excellent. Made by a top Taiwanese manufacturer. So is the cooker. The man in the camping store told me that the company has quite a reputation, and that they were a steal at the price."

"And the air mattresses?"

"He threw them in for free."

"Cool!"

"Kevin, you didn't tell me that." Mum looked worried again.

"It's no problem. I imagine they do it all the time. After all, I'd spent nearly eighty dollars on the tent and the cooker. A few air mattresses and a pump was the least they could do."

"I bet it was." Mum still didn't look happy.

That night I lay in bed thinking. Paradise Bay. Would they have a skatepark there?

CHAPTER 3

One the road

The good thing about being the middle kid in the family is that I don't have to sit in the centre of the back seat, so I don't have to sit next to Narelle. The bad thing about it is that I have to sit next to Nadine.

It was nearly fifteen minutes before we had our first major family fight. Dad is into country and western music, which is weird, because the closest he's ever been to a farm is buying free-range eggs at the supermarket. When we left, he put on his favourite CD, 39 Country Greats. I'd have called it 39 Dull Songs About Tractors. Anyway, we'd just pulled onto the freeway when Narelle decided she'd had enough of Dad's music.

"Do we have to listen to this?"

"What do you mean? This is one of the greatest country songs ever."

The guy on the CD was singing about being glad because his baby was coming back from the city. I guess they were going to settle down and raise chickens or something.

"It's crap!"

"Narelle!" Mum stopped her crossword. "Don't use that kind of language in front of your little sister, thank you."

"Crap!" said Nadine, right on cue. "Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!"

"Enough! Say that one more time missy, and we'll turn this car around right now, and go straight home again."

"Crap," said Narelle, promptly, but only loud enough for me and Nadine to hear. Dad had started singing;

"Oh my baby drives my tractor,

And that's all right by me.

She's got a lot of long red hair,

And a pair of dungarees."

Dad's singing is a bit like a frog with a throat infection.

"Dad, how far is it to Paradise Bay?" I didn't really want to know. I just wanted to stop him singing.

"About four hundred and eighty kilometres."

"When will we be there?"

"About three this afternoon."

"Three!"

"That's assuming we don't make too many stops along the way."

The thought of another six hours of tractor music and Nadine whispering "crap" every five seconds was almost too much to take. I dug around behind the seat and pulled out my Discman. At least I could do something about the music.

I put in my favourite CD, Machines of Blood and Glory. I don't actually like the music all that much, but Narelle absolutely hates it, so I tend to play it quite a bit. The best thing about a Discman is that you can turn the volume up loud enough so that only the sound of the drumbeats escapes though the earphones. It's a little bit like having a mozzie buzzing around your ears in the middle of the night. Totally annoying, and there's nothing you can do about it. It would drive both of the girls crazy. I pressed play.

Nothing happened. Not a sound. Not even little numbers on the display.

"Dad, my Discman's not working."

"Have you got the headphones plugged in properly?"

"Yeah. Even the display is broken."

"What about the batteries?"

"I put new ones in yesterday."

"Well, check and see if you've put them in the wrong way around."

I turned the Discman over, and opened the battery compartment. It wasn't that the batteries were the wrong way around — they weren't even there. Narelle was grinning.

"Dad, Narelle's taken my batteries."

"Did not."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"I'm happy. That's all."

"Narelle, give Nathan his batteries back."

"I haven't got them. Promise."

"I bet she gave them to Nadine."

"Crap," said Nadine.

"Right. That's it." Mum twisted in her seat and glared at the three of us. "The next person to mention batteries, Discmans, or especially ..." She directed her gaze straight at Nadine, "... who says the word 'crap' will be setting up the tent all on their own. Assuming I don't throw them out of the car before we get there. Clear?"

"Yes Mum."

"Good. Narelle, get the batteries out of your make-up kit and give them to Nathan. Nathan, you are NOT, and I repeat NOT, to play that disgusting Machines of Blood and Glory album, and whatever you do play you are to keep the volume down. If I hear so much as one drum beat, then I'll take the Discman, and the batteries, and throw the whole lot out of the window. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good." She turned back to the front, and her crossword.

Narelle found the batteries and chucked them at me. One went under the seat and I had to fish around to find it, skinning my knuckles in the process.

"There you go, Bug."

I poked my tongue out at her and the car lapsed into silence. For about three minutes. Then Nadine spoke up.

"Are we there yet?"

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Nathan Nuttboard Hits the Beach by Anthony Eaton. Copyright © 2002 Anthony Eaton. Excerpted by permission of University of Queensland Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Cover,
Author Bio,
Also by Anthony Eaton,
Title Page,
Dedication,
A Warning,
Chapter One – Family Meeting,
Chapter Two – Dinner,
Chapter Three – One the road,
Chapter Four – Welcome to Paradise Bay,
Chapter Five – Made in Taiwan,
Chapter Six – The Great Outdoors,
Chapter Seven – A Day at the Beach,
Chapter Eight – Wipeout!,
Chapter Nine – A Plan,
Chapter Ten – Night Mission,
Chapter Eleven – Fallout,
Chapter Twelve – Trench Warfare,
Chapter Thirteen – The Art of Fishing,
Chapter Fourteen – Beachcombing,
Chapter Fifteen – Rescue,
Chapter Sixteen – Back on the Beach,
Chapter Seventeen – Departure,
No Place Like Home,
Imprint Page,