most of all, I have two very good friends.’ Then there was another sigh. Was the hot chocolate oozing into his brain and making him go soft in the head?
‘You’re talking a bit weird, Mister Lewis,’ said Shane. ‘Your mouth is down and your eyes are foggy.’
‘Shane’s right,’ I added. ‘And you’re talking in the past tense, like “had” instead of “have”. You’re not …’ I gulped. ‘You’renot dying or anything, are you?’
‘He’s always been dead, you dope,’ whispered Shane. ‘At least for as long as we’ve known him.’
Mister Lewis waved his hand around the room that Big Ella, Shane and myself had made cosy for him. We had even found him a statue of a ginger cat in a skip. Shane said that old people like cats – especially ones that sit still and don’t wee or cough up furballs.
‘My lovely home,’ Mister Lewis whispered. ‘I heard the castle authorities mooching around downstairs yesterday. They were discussing a makeover for the tower.’ He stopped and took a big, spooky breath. ‘They’re going to strip the tower and do it up to make it part of the whole castle complex.’
‘No way!’ Shane exploded.
‘For real?’ I put in.
‘Afraid so,’ Mister Lewis sighed. ‘I must move out before they start work on it the day after tomorrow.’
‘That means—?’ I began.
‘It means, my dear, good friends, that I shall be homeless.’
CHAPTER TWO
WEDGE AND CRUNCH
‘ W hat will we do, Milo?’ Shane asked on our way home from school next day. ‘Poor dead man with no home. Couldn’t he hide at your place?’
I stopped and looked at him. ‘Are you serious? My mum would freak out and run screaming down the road in her pyjamas, and my dad would sling him in jail forscaring folks with his corpse-coloured face and creepy old hat. Couldn’t he live with you and Big Ella? After all, she knows him well and she isn’t spooked.’
Shane’s lip curled downwards. ‘We’ve only two bedrooms,’ he muttered.
‘You could share,’ I put in. ‘He could sleep under your bed.’
‘No way,’ snapped Shane. ‘All my precious stuff is under there.’
‘Like what?’ I asked.
‘Old stuff,’ he muttered.
‘What old stuff, Shane?’
‘Just stuff, OK?’ he grumped.
‘Your old toys?’ I laughed. ‘It’s where you keep your old toys!’
‘Mind your own business,’ Shane muttered and headed off down the road like a gigantic soccer ball in motion. I watched him for a few moments. This wasn’t right. Good palsshouldn’t be like this. But before I could call him, two familiar guys came around the bend. I groaned out loud. They were our old enemies, Wedge and Crunch from sixth class – like, whenever they actually came to school. Wedge grabbed Shane’s jacket and Crunch was already searching the pockets. Well, you don’t stand around and watch your best mate being mauled by a couple of low-lifes. So I ran to help him.
‘Hey!’ I shouted – well, to be honest, it was really more of a shaky croak. ‘You guys leave my buddy alone.’ I nearly added ‘please’, but they would just laugh. These two guys don’t do polite.
‘Ha,’ grinned Wedge. ‘The skinny weasel has come to rescue his roly-poly pal.’
‘Aww,’ sneered Crunch as he grabbed my jacket and pulled me so close to his skinny nose I could see snot getting ready to dribble.
‘Hey,’ he laughed. ‘Ain’t you the little gentleman?’
‘Hey,’ said another voice, a voice we knew so well – Mister Lewis! He came around the corner wheeling a supermarket trolley, filled high with his stuff. On top of the lot was a large, decorative paper bag.
‘Good day to you, boys,’ he said. ‘Having a nice chat together?’
‘None of your business, old man,’ sneered Wedge.
‘What’s in the fancy bag?’ asked Crunch, reaching towards it.
‘I don’t think you should touch …’ began Mister Lewis. Before he could finish, Crunch snatched the bag, laughing as he ran down the road shaking
‘You’re talking a bit weird, Mister Lewis,’ said Shane. ‘Your mouth is down and your eyes are foggy.’
‘Shane’s right,’ I added. ‘And you’re talking in the past tense, like “had” instead of “have”. You’re not …’ I gulped. ‘You’renot dying or anything, are you?’
‘He’s always been dead, you dope,’ whispered Shane. ‘At least for as long as we’ve known him.’
Mister Lewis waved his hand around the room that Big Ella, Shane and myself had made cosy for him. We had even found him a statue of a ginger cat in a skip. Shane said that old people like cats – especially ones that sit still and don’t wee or cough up furballs.
‘My lovely home,’ Mister Lewis whispered. ‘I heard the castle authorities mooching around downstairs yesterday. They were discussing a makeover for the tower.’ He stopped and took a big, spooky breath. ‘They’re going to strip the tower and do it up to make it part of the whole castle complex.’
‘No way!’ Shane exploded.
‘For real?’ I put in.
‘Afraid so,’ Mister Lewis sighed. ‘I must move out before they start work on it the day after tomorrow.’
‘That means—?’ I began.
‘It means, my dear, good friends, that I shall be homeless.’
CHAPTER TWO
WEDGE AND CRUNCH
‘ W hat will we do, Milo?’ Shane asked on our way home from school next day. ‘Poor dead man with no home. Couldn’t he hide at your place?’
I stopped and looked at him. ‘Are you serious? My mum would freak out and run screaming down the road in her pyjamas, and my dad would sling him in jail forscaring folks with his corpse-coloured face and creepy old hat. Couldn’t he live with you and Big Ella? After all, she knows him well and she isn’t spooked.’
Shane’s lip curled downwards. ‘We’ve only two bedrooms,’ he muttered.
‘You could share,’ I put in. ‘He could sleep under your bed.’
‘No way,’ snapped Shane. ‘All my precious stuff is under there.’
‘Like what?’ I asked.
‘Old stuff,’ he muttered.
‘What old stuff, Shane?’
‘Just stuff, OK?’ he grumped.
‘Your old toys?’ I laughed. ‘It’s where you keep your old toys!’
‘Mind your own business,’ Shane muttered and headed off down the road like a gigantic soccer ball in motion. I watched him for a few moments. This wasn’t right. Good palsshouldn’t be like this. But before I could call him, two familiar guys came around the bend. I groaned out loud. They were our old enemies, Wedge and Crunch from sixth class – like, whenever they actually came to school. Wedge grabbed Shane’s jacket and Crunch was already searching the pockets. Well, you don’t stand around and watch your best mate being mauled by a couple of low-lifes. So I ran to help him.
‘Hey!’ I shouted – well, to be honest, it was really more of a shaky croak. ‘You guys leave my buddy alone.’ I nearly added ‘please’, but they would just laugh. These two guys don’t do polite.
‘Ha,’ grinned Wedge. ‘The skinny weasel has come to rescue his roly-poly pal.’
‘Aww,’ sneered Crunch as he grabbed my jacket and pulled me so close to his skinny nose I could see snot getting ready to dribble.
‘Hey,’ he laughed. ‘Ain’t you the little gentleman?’
‘Hey,’ said another voice, a voice we knew so well – Mister Lewis! He came around the corner wheeling a supermarket trolley, filled high with his stuff. On top of the lot was a large, decorative paper bag.
‘Good day to you, boys,’ he said. ‘Having a nice chat together?’
‘None of your business, old man,’ sneered Wedge.
‘What’s in the fancy bag?’ asked Crunch, reaching towards it.
‘I don’t think you should touch …’ began Mister Lewis. Before he could finish, Crunch snatched the bag, laughing as he ran down the road shaking
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