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The Grub Rides Again
The Grub Rides Again
The Grub Rides Again
Ebook53 pages45 minutes

The Grub Rides Again

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Mitchell's family has sold the farm and moved to the beach, and as the new kid in school he's an easy target for the surfing gang. He's quickly nicknamed ‘Witchetty Grub’ because of his farmer’s tan.
Having grown up on the land, he's mature beyond his years, and being in the cool group doesn’t normally worry him. However, Marcy Bliss is in the cool gang, and she smells like apricots and peaches.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherLock Pollard
Release dateJan 30, 2013
ISBN9780987482716
The Grub Rides Again
Author

Lock Pollard

Hi, thanks for coming to my page.I'm Lock. I like all things to do with the ocean, which you've probably guessed from reading my stories.I surf, scuba dive, free-dive swim, and play underwater rugby.My favourite food is pizza. I love chocolate.

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    The Grub Rides Again - Lock Pollard

    The Grub Rides Again

    by Lock Pollard

    Copyright 2013 Lock Pollard

    Discover other titles at lockpollard.com

    Smashwords Edition

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

    Chapter 1

    Marcy Bliss was her name and when I answered the door to find her standing there I felt like I was looking into a new world. A world where all the girls were pretty and made me feel like every day was a Saturday. She had smooth brown skin that was the most beautiful I’d seen. Her long brown hair cascaded around her smooth face and as she flicked it impatiently I smelt apricots and peaches.

    I was still staring at her when her eyes hooded over.

    ‘Are you Michael? I’m Marcy,’ she said.

    I continued to stare. I don’t know if it was the smell of her hair or the fact that our family had been travelling for two days non-stop, but I couldn’t open my mouth.

    ‘Are you Michael?’ she asked impatiently.

    Being called Michael was a common mistake. For some reason, when people heard the name Mitchell, they said Michael.

    ‘Well?’ she said.

    ‘Sorry. Yes. We just got here.’

    ‘I know,’ she replied importantly. ‘My mum told me all about you. She said I was to come over and ask if you wanted to come to the shopping centre.’

    ‘The shops?’

    ‘Yeah. The big shopping centre down the road. The Westfield. Do you want to come?’

    I’d never been to a proper shopping centre, I’d only seen them on TV. Where I’d grown up the only shops had been fifty kilometres away and even then there was only a Woolworths and a small department store.

    ‘That’s where we hang out. Do you want to come or not?’ she said, flicking her hair. I smelt apricots and peaches again.

    ‘Let me ask my mum…. Come in,’ I said.

    I left the door open and walked through the hallway. It was filled with boxes that still had to be unpacked. I was supposed to be helping Mum unpack.

    Dad had already gone to work; it was the first day of his new job. We'd arrived at one am that morning and I’d heard him get up at six am to go to work. I hadn’t been able to sleep and I’d heard him and Mum arguing about where his work boots were. Then they’d woken Suzie, my baby sister up, and she’d started crying. My father had cursed the government, the drought, and the system; then stormed out.

    Mum was unpacking a box of pots and pans. She was covered in sweat and her brown hair was all over her face. She didn’t look very pretty, but I knew she was. Last year when our family had gone to the country races, Mum had looked so pretty that Dad had smiled like a clown all day. He’d kept putting his arm around Mum and his hand on my shoulder and saying he was the proudest man in town. That’d been before the drought, the government, and the system had forced us to sell the farm and move to the coast.

    ‘Mum,’ I said.

    ‘Yes, dear.’ She didn’t even stop unpacking.

    ‘Can I go to the shops?’

    She must have seen Marcy behind me because she stood up quickly. ‘You must be Marcy, hello.’

    ‘Hi,’ replied Marcy.

    Mum

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