The Toilet Kid

by Pat Flynn

Overview

Hungry? Need lunch? Want the perfect food to impress your girlfriend? Then you need to see Matt, because Matt has an amazing talent. It's called ... Tuckshop. Matt a.k.a. 'The Tuckshop Kid' is back! And he's smaller than ever! He's lost weight, is sort-of enjoying exercise and is going out with the perfect girl, Kayla, who loves food as much as he does. He can hardly believe his luck. But when Matt uncovers Kayla's secret, he realises that no one is perfect and sometimes problems can take on a life of their own. From the author of the award-winning book The Tuckshop Kid comes the companion adventure about food, friendship and finding your way.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780702244070
Publisher:	University of Queensland Press
Publication date:	11/20/2015
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	120
File size:	10 MB

About the Author

Pat Flynn grew up running around an old dairy farm in Queensland before moving to the Australian Institute of Sport in Canberra on a tennis scholarship. After playing and coaching on the professional circuit he became a teacher, where his observations of young people – their interests and stories – led to him writing a series about a teenage skateboarder called Alex Jackson. Pat now writes full time and lives on the Sunshine Coast. To the Light was shortlisted for the 2006 CBCA Book Awards, and The Tuckshop Kid received an Honour Book prize in the 2007 Awards, as well as being shortlisted for the QLD Premier’s Award. Flynn’s young adult novel The Line Formation was released in America in 2008 (titled Out of His League), making the PSLA top forty list of 2009. His latest books include The Adventures of Danny Series, and The Toilet Kid, the companion book to The Tuckshop Kid. Pat likes to start the day with a surf and end it walking along the beach with his wife and son. He also enjoys the occasional game of tennis. Tom Jellett was born in Manly, New South Wales, and lived in Brisbane before his family moved to Adelaide. After graduating from the University of South Australia in 1995 with a Bachelor of Design (Illustration) he worked as a freelance illustrator. He also illustrated The Tuckshop Kid.

Read an Excerpt

The Toilet Kid

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By Pat Flynn, Tom Jellett

University of Queensland Press

Copyright © 2014 Pat Flynn
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7022-4407-0

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CHAPTER 1

Halfway through the cross-country race, I don't feel so good.

It's hot. There are hills. I'm running.

It's a bad combination.

The only good thing is I didn't drink any chocolate milk at recess, so at least I don't feel sick in the stomach.

I had water instead.

Actually, a bit too much water.

Yesterday during PE, Mr Simpson told us it was very important to hydrate before the race. I wish I didn't listen to him because now I need to make like a fire hose and hydrate all over the nearest tree.

I take a quick detour into the bush. I'm sure quite a few people will pass me, but I don't have much of a chance of winning, anyway. Not when my nickname is The Tuckshop Kid.

Ducking behind a thick grey gum, I sneak a peek for teachers. I wonder if you can get a detention for peeing?

The coast is clear, until I pull down my pants. Then I hear someone crunching through the bush towards me. Oh, no!

I hope it's not Mr Simpson. He'd love nothing more than to punish me with a hundred laps of the oval at lunchtime.

I yank up my pants and flatten myself against the trunk. Well, try and flatten myself. It's a bit hard when you're the shape of a jam doughnut. Luckily for me it's a big tree and I turn sideways and glance around the smooth wood.

Hang on, it's not a teacher – it's a girl. And not just any girl.

It's Kayla – the love of my life! I'd recognise that long brown hair tied up in a ponytail anywhere.

It doesn't make any sense. Kayla is a really good runner so why would she be off-course? Maybe all this exercise is making me see things.

Or maybe it's fate that Kayla has followed me into the trees during the cross-country. Perhaps she's looking for me, wanting to kiss my fat lips.

Just as I'm about to walk out and meet her she bends over.

Barrfff!

Aww, that's disgusting! She's just chucked up her breakfast.

'Are you right?' I ask.

She jolts upright, a hand covering her mouth. 'What are you doing here?'

'Umm. It's a long story. Do you want me to get a teacher?'

'No. I'm feeling better now. Come on, run with me for a minute.'

'What?'

'Come on! I've got a race to win.'

I can't believe this. One minute she's throwing up and the next she's Cathy Freeman. It looks like my bladder will have to wait.

We start jogging, too fast for my liking. In fact, I wouldn't call this jogging, I'd call it running.

'You're doing well, Matt. Keep this up and you might pass Withers.'

I don't answer because I need to save every breath I've got to stay beside Kayla, but that piece of information gives me a spurt of energy. You see, Withers is my ex-best friend turned enemy. To beat him in the cross-country would be a dream come true. Actually, to beat anyone in the cross-country would be a dream come true.

We run up a slight incline but to me it feels like Mt Everest. Last year I walked this bit. Actually, I walked the whole course. Well, not the whole course. I wasn't feeling too good so I caught a lift up the home straight on the back of Georgie Cantrell's motorised wheelchair. It was fun.

This isn't.

Still – even if I can't seem to suck enough oxygen into my burning lungs – I'm pretty proud of myself. It's amazing how much things have changed. Now I've got a girlfriend, I've lost ten kilos and I can run a lot further than from the couch to the fridge.

'Let's go faster,' says Kayla.

Faster! Is that possible?

She puts on a surge and I strain to keep up.

We catch up to Jasmine Nilon, who responds by speeding away. Kayla leaves me behind and goes with her. One of them will win the girls' race for sure.

Now I can slow down and relax, maybe even walk for a while. I deserve some rest. Or, I can duck off and find another tree. I'm still busting.

But then, up ahead, I see a bouncing head that I'd recognise anywhere.

Withers.

I start running faster. One of us will come last for sure and I'd prefer if it wasn't me.

His big feet clump against the grass and his breathing is as heavy as an episode of Neighbours. Over the last few months he's kept pigging out on junk food while I've become a health nut and we now pretty much match each other flab for flab. He must have gone out too hard because, at this point, he's going about as fast as a tortoise. Although I'm no hare, I just might be able to catch him before the finish line.

At the top of the hill I puff through the gate and onto the school oval. Just one lap around it to go, but it feels like the start of a marathon.

'Go, Matt!' yells Mrs Spencer, my teacher from last year. 'You're nearly finished'

I'm nearly finished, all right. If Withers wasn't just a few steps in front of me, I'd crawl to the line. I wonder if you can have a heart attack at thirteen?

With 100 metres to go I've moved up to Withers' shoulder. I make my move to pass him on the outside but he swerves in front of me. I veer back on the inside but so does he, getting in my way.

Hey! This isn't running. It's human car racing!

'Get out the way, Withers,' I puff.

'Never, fat boy,' he blows.

'Who you calling fat?'

We're nearly at the finish line and I do the only thing I can. I drop my shoulder and run straight, charging into Withers' back.

My shoulder has a lot of weight behind it and Withers falls forward, sprawling onto the grass. I somehow manage not to trip over his flapping arms and legs and run past him.

When I cross the finish line, quite a few people cheer. 'Yayyyy!'

'Protest!' Withers wheezes. 'I demand a disqualification!'

He waddles over and pushes me in the chest. 'You're a cheater, Matthew. And I'm not talking about no fast cat.'

I push him back. 'Am not. You were blocking my way.'

'Go eat an elephant!' he says, pushing me harder.

'Go eat yourself!'

'Fight! Fight! Fight!' yell a couple of boys nearby.

A crowd starts to gather. We put our arms out wide and circle each other, Sumo style. I'm just about to move in and power-slam him when the referee yells, 'STOP!'

Actually, it's not the referee. It's Mr Simpson. 'What's the problem here, boys?'

'He full-on tackled me during the race!' says Withers. 'I was going to beat him for sure.'

'Is that true, Matthew?'

Before I can answer, Mrs O'Neill, the school principal, marches up.

Oh, no! Just what I need. I've spent time in her office and, believe me, it's no picnic.

'I saw what happened,' she says. 'Matthew knocked Craig over before the finish line.'

Mr Simpson frowns at me.

Great, I think. Now not only will I finish last in the cross-country race, I'll get a detention as well.

'But,' she continues, 'it was only because Craig wouldn't let him past. He kept getting in Matthew's way'

Mr Simpson nods. 'Well, it sounds like both boys did the wrong thing, but Craig broke the rules first so I have no choice but to disqualify him.' He turns to me. 'Matthew, you've finished second last.'

Yes! Second last! How awesome!

Withers kicks the ground.

'Enough of that, Craig,' says Mrs O'Neill. 'Else you'll be visiting the detention room.'

Withers gives me the evil eye and skulks off. Normally he'd go complain to his best friend, the new kid, but he can't. The new kid left school last week. He's now the old kid.

Kayla comes over. 'Well done!' She pats me on the back.

'Thanks.' My face turns red, probably from all the running. 'Did you win?'

'No,' she says. 'I did really badly.'

'Where'd you come?'

'Second.'

'That's not bad. That's great!'

She bites her lip and gives me a smile, but I can see she's disappointed. When she puts her mind to something, Kayla usually comes first.

'I know how to cheer you up,' I say.

'How?'

I pull out a fresh ten-dollar note from my back pocket. 'Tuckshop.'

CHAPTER 2

When I make it out of the toilet and to the covered area, kids swirl around me. Lunchtime is the one time I'm as popular as junk food.

'I've got two dollars forty and I need something with low chuck-up value,' says Andy Reynolds. 'I'm not feeling that great after all that running.'

'I know how you feel,' I say, rubbing my tummy. 'If I were you I'd go for a plain ham sandwich and a fruit salad yoghurt.'

'A yo-what?'

He's surprised because I've never recommended yoghurt before, but there's a first time for everything.

'Yoghurt. The natural bacteria will line your stomach, making you feel better, and they're half price this week.'

'Okay. Cool.'

A grade three girl holds out her hand and I have to count her money and tell her what to buy for lunch. But it's not much of a challenge. 'Five chicken nuggets and an orange popper. Don't forget to say thanks.'

She sticks her tongue out and runs off. Kids these days.

I finally make it to the front of the line where I'm greeted by one of my favourite smiles in the whole world. 'Hello, Matthew,' says Jan, the tuckshop lady. 'How'd the race go?'

'Really good. I ran the whole way and didn't come last.'

'That's fantastic!' She beams a beauty at me. 'Now, what would you like?'

With a tenner at my disposal, I need to find the perfect food and drink combination to cheer up Kayla.

A turkey and salad sub is one option. She's been on a real health kick lately – not that she needs it – but it's been good for me. It's not easy eating a salad roll when your girlfriend is chomping down on a sausage roll.

But junk food has its time and place and I reckon it's here and now. 'A Hawaiian pizza, a chocolate chip cookie and two large chocolate milks, thanks, Jan.'

Her smile fades a little. Last year I'd easily eat this much, usually more. Jan's probably worried I've slipped back into old habits.

'It's for Kayla,' I say quietly. 'She's feeling down because she didn't win.'

'Ohhh. Okay.' She gives me a wink and the goods. 'Bye, sweetie.'

'Bye, Jan.'

To prevent any spillage I walk slowly, but soon I can't walk at all because Tash prances up and blocks my way. She's a friend of Kayla's although I don't know what Kayla sees in her. She's certainly no friend of mine.

'That was, like, so funny watching you and Craig race,' she says. 'It looked like a competition to see who could wobble the fastest.'

I can't let her get away with that. 'Well, you should go in a comp to see who can be the most annoying, wannabee princess. You'd win for sure.'

She flicks back her hair. 'At least I don't get invited to be on The Biggest Loser.'

'At least I'm not the school's biggest loser.'

She opens her mouth and puts her hands on her hips, pretending to be shocked.

It used to be fun trading insults with Tash, but now I don't need the aggravation. I've got a girlfriend waiting for me and her pizza's getting cold.

I try to step around Tash but she gets in the way. 'Hang on a sec, chubby cheeks,' she says. 'I might have something for you.' She starts thumbing through a bunch of envelopes.

'What's this all about?' I ask suspiciously.

'Kayla's party, of course. I volunteered to hand out the invitations for her.' Tash glances up and smirks. 'Haven't you heard about it?'

'Course I have.' Actually, I had no idea Kayla was having a party, but I'm not going to tell Tash that.

When she gets to the last envelope, Tash squints at it for a few moments like there's something wrong. Then her face breaks into an evil grin. 'Sorry, big butt. Looks like you're not invited to your girlfriend's party.'

'That's impossible.'

'It does seem rather strange. Unless,' she raises her pointer finger, 'she's trying to tell you something.'

Tash throws back her head and struts off.

I feel like telling her something but if a teacher heard it I'd probably get expelled.

Finally, I make it back to Kayla. She's saved me a space at our favourite picnic table. Doing my best French waiter impersonation, I place the food in front of her. 'Madam. Your lunch is served.'

'Merci. Where's yours?'

I nod at my bag. 'Mum made me lunch today.'

Kayla shakes her head. 'I can't believe it. She's turning into a real mother.'

It's not just me who's changed a lot in the last year. Mum has, too. She's gone from being a workaholic to a healthy cookaholic.

'She still needs some work,' I say. 'The other day she baked muffins and forgot all about them.'

'What happened?'

'I smelt something, opened the oven and so much smoke poured out the alarm went off. Mum came in and started yelling at me.'

Kayla chuckles.

I pull a chicken and avocado sandwich out of my lunchbox and wonder how I can bring up Kayla's party in a not-so-obvious way. There must be an explanation. Then I notice that, although Kayla is sipping on her choccy milk, she hasn't touched her pizza.

Uh, oh. Something is definitely wrong. Kayla loves pizza. Maybe this is the end for us?

'Why aren't you eating?' I ask.

'Just ... not hungry.'

'Not hungry?' I've never heard Kayla utter those words before. 'Are you all right?'

'Well, not really. There's something I need to tell you.'

Uh, oh. I think I'm about to be rejected with a capital R.

'You see ...'

She pauses and I wonder how I could not have seen this coming. A girl like Kayla does not go out with a boy like me. At least not for very long.

'Mum and Dad have been fighting a lot lately,' she says. 'It's really starting to get to me.'

Air escapes from my throat. 'That's good. I mean ... no good. What do they fight about?'

'What Dad eats, mostly. He's put on even more weight and Mum's thinner than ever. They look like fatty and skinny.'

'Have they been racing up the pillowcase?'

This makes Kayla smile.

'You know,' I say, 'when you said something was wrong, I thought you were going to break up with me.'

She leans forward. 'Why would I do that? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

My face is turning red again. It's probably from all the pepper Mum put on my sandwich.

Kayla reaches into her pocket and pulls out an envelope. 'I wanted to give you this myself. Yours is the only one that's handwritten.'

I open it and the first thing I see is a drawing of a boy and a girl holding hands. Above them is a floating love heart and below is an invitation to a party. Kayla's birthday party.

Life is sweet.

CHAPTER 3

It took me a long time to choose Kayla's present. Mum and I power-walked around the mall for so long it felt like the cross-shopping-mall race. After an hour I was ready to crash in the food court but Mum wasn't tired at all – she's a lot more shopping fit than I am – and eventually she led me into the only jewellery store that wasn't having a sale. That's the only type of jewellery store you can trust, she said.

I wish it wasn't, because I walked in with a pocketful of pocket money and came out with something small enough to fit into the palm of my hand.

And now it's in the palm of Kayla's hand. She's standing beside me in her room. We've snuck away from the party as I don't want her opening my present in front of the others. It's too embarrassing.

My heart's beating so loud I'm sure Kayla can hear it. It sounds like a death-metal band is playing in my chest. Ba boom. Ba boom. Ba boom, boom, boom. I really hope she likes my gift, but she probably won't. How would I know what a girl likes?

After undoing the neat wrapping paper (thanks to Mum), Kayla opens the small box and stares inside for a few seconds.

'You can take it back if you want,' I say. 'I still have the receipt.'

'I love it,' she whispers.

'Really?'

'Really.'

She takes the silver necklace out and holds the small heart pendant between the tips of her fingers. Then she slips the two ends of the chain up to her neck and turns her back to me.

'Would you?'

My hands shake as I try to do up the little clip. I wish my fingers weren't so chubby. Just as I'm about to give up, the two ends clasp together like magic.

Kayla walks to the mirror and stands there for a long time. 'I just can't stop looking at it.'

'What about the party?'

'I forgot there was a party going on.' She gives me a smile. 'I suppose we better get back. But first I have to thank you properly.'

She comes over and slides her arms around my tummy, her cheek pressed into my shoulder.

I tilt my head and rest my cheek on her hair. It's thick and vanilla clean and I feel like staying here all day.

But I don't get a chance, because she leans back and slips her lips onto mine. I'm shocked, but go with it. It doesn't really seem like the time to argue. It is Kayla's birthday, after all.

Her lips stay on mine for a few seconds, soft and still, until her mouth opens and closes a tiny bit and mine starts doing the same, like it's got a mind of its own. We make little smooching sounds.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Toilet Kid by Pat Flynn, Tom Jellett. Copyright © 2014 Pat Flynn. 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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