Sticky Beak by Morris Gleitzman Read Free Book Online

hosts.
    Ms Dunning had pink paint in her hair.
    I could see why.
    The entire room was pink.
    Except for a blue ceiling and a blue light switch.
    And it was full of stuff.
    Not the old wellies and tractor parts and fishing rods and eskies and record players and camping gear and apple boxes that used to be there.
    New stuff.
    A cot decorated with sleepy bunnies and a change table with bashful koalas on it and a quilt covered with playful dolphins and curtains crawling with very friendly possums and a light shade infested with happy-go-lucky goannas.
    â€˜What do you reckon?’ grinned Dad.
    â€˜We hope you approve of your new brother or sister’s accommodation,’ grinned Ms Dunning.
    I tried to grin too, but I guess it wasn’t very convincing.
    Ms Dunning came over and put her arm round me.
    â€˜Ro,’ she said quietly, ‘we know you’re disappointed about your pet, but we’ve got to be realistic.’
    â€˜That’s right, Tonto,’ said Dad gently. ‘We can’t have a kamikaze cocky in the same house as a bub, eh?’
    â€˜That’s not what I’m disappointed about,’ I replied. ‘I thought the baby was going to sleep in my room.’
    That had been the plan. We’d talked about it, me and Dad. It had been my idea, so that if the baby woke up in the night between feeds I could rock it back to sleep or keep it amused with hand-shadows on the wall. I can do a great shark.
    â€˜It was a really kind offer, love,’ said Ms Dunning, ‘but we’ve decided it’ll be better off in the room next to us.’
    â€˜Claire’s right,’ said Dad. ‘Better to have it where we can hear it yelling its little lungs out, eh?’
    That’s when it hit me.
    The real reason I threw the Jelly Custard Surprise.
    How come I didn’t see it before?
    It’s been staring me in the face for months.
    Well, hours, anyway, since I left Darryn Peck’s.
    The shock of finally seeing it made my heart go like a spray pump, and the smell of the paint started to make me feel like throwing up, so I came in here for a lie-down.
    Usually if I want to blot something out of my mind the Walkman works really well.
    Not tonight.
    Even when I turn it up really loud and close my eyes really tight I can still see Darryn standing on his verandah holding the poodle, grinning like a loon because it can talk.
    And Dad standing next to him doing exactly the same.
    Except Dad isn’t holding a poodle, he’s holding a baby.

 
    Dad always reckons if something’s making me unhappy I should tell him about it.
    He reckons it’s better for a person to lay it out on the table than bottle it up and end up hiring a skywriter or something.
    So first thing this morning I went out to the orchard and told him.
    I was really glad I did.
    At first.
    â€˜G’day Tonto,’ Dad said, ‘you come for a yak?’
    I nodded.
    I like yakking to Dad when he’s on the tractor because he has to speak with his hands. Dad’s got a pretty loud voice but it isn’t a match for a 120-horsepower diesel.
    I jumped up onto the front of the tractor so Dad could keep on slashing weeds while we talked.
    â€˜About last night,’ Dad said. ‘Don’t worry, love, you’ll get to spend heaps of time with the bub.’
    â€˜I know I will,’ I said.
    I took a deep breath.
    My hands were shaking.
    I hoped Dad would think it was the vibrations from the motor.
    â€˜I’m just worried,’ I said, ‘that when you’ve got a kid that can speak with its mouth, you won’t want to spend heaps of time flapping your hands about with me.’
    I tried to keep my hands relaxed while I said it. If you’re not careful, when you’re very tense you can get cramp in the middle of a sentence.
    Dad stared at me for a long time.
    The tractor started to shudder.
    â€˜Dad,’ I said, ‘you’re slashing a tree trunk.’
    He