Lump E-Book

Robert Jeschonek

• Herausgeber: Pie Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Meet a kid so bad, he gets a Lump of coal every Christmas...and likes it! Neighborhood bully Buzz Scanlan takes pride in his annual Lump, which he sees as a black badge of badness. But this Christmas, when the coal doesn't come, the ten-year-old holy terror becomes a bad boy on a mission. He roams from one victim of his wicked mischief to the next, digging for dirt on the one nice thing he must have done to deserve no coal for Christmas. When everyone agrees he's been nothing but naughty, he nearly gives up the hunt...until he stumbles onto the shocking truth behind his lumps of coal, an incredible secret that just might change his life forever. Will Buzz get his Lump after all, sealing his fate as the ultimate bully? Or will solving the mystery lead to a fate worse than death for the naughtiest boy, an unexpected good deed that breaks his not-nice record? After this Christmas, nothing will be the same for the kid who loves lumps of coal. Don't miss this fun and funny Christmas tale with a twist from award-winning author Robert Jeschonek, author of My Favorite Band Does Not Exist, chosen by Booklist as one of the Top Ten First Novels for Youth.

Leseprobe

LUMP

A KIDS’ TALE

ROBERT JESCHONEK

CONTENTS

Also by Robert Jeschonek

Lump

About the Author

Special Preview: Tommy Puke and the World’s Grossest Grown-up

LUMP

Copyright © 2023 by Robert Jeschonek

www.robertjeschonek.com

Cover Art Copyright © 2023 by Ben Baldwin

www.benbaldwin.co.uk

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved by the author.

A Pie Press book

Published by Pie Press Publishing

411 Chancellor Street

Johnstown, Pennsylvania 15904

www.piepresspublishing.com

ALSO BY ROBERT JESCHONEK

My Favorite Band Does Not Exist

Tommy Puke and the Boy With the Golden Barf

Tommy Puke and the World's Grossest Grown-Up

LUMP

Buzz Scanlan, the ten-year-old terror of Titusville, Florida, slammed down the lid of the white metal mailbox on the front of his house. Then he kicked the white siding below it so hard that he left a dent in the vinyl.

And he kicked it twice more after that. Each time, the dent got deeper and his angry cries got louder.

"Not there!" He scrubbed his fingers in his jet black rat's nest of hair, then smacked the mailbox with the flat of his hand. "It's not there!"

He might have been the nastiest kid in the neighborhood, but he was right. Buzz had dug his dirty paw through every square inch of that mailbox and found nothing. The thing he should have found, the thing he'd been expecting, wasn't there.

It was a good thing Buzz didn't have a grenade launcher just then. He was mad enough to use it.

Because for the first time in five years, he hadn't gotten his special "present" on Christmas Eve.

"Where is it?" Buzz clenched his teeth and kicked the siding one more time for bad measure. He thought about pulling the mailbox off the house and stomping it flat.

But his mom flung open the front door before he could do it. "Buzz! What's going on out here?"

Buzz spun to face her. "Did you take it? Did you?"

Mom, who was a good two feet taller than Buzz, frowned down at him. "Take what?"

"My present," snarled Buzz. "It's Christmas Eve, and it isn't here!"

Mom nodded, and the frown melted away on her pretty, oval face...only to suddenly return, deeper than ever. "That's why you're mad? Because you didn't get it?"

Buzz glared at his mom as a fresh wave of anger rolled through him. "If you didn't take it, who did? You know, don't you?"

"I have no idea, Buzz." Mom rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Even if I did, why would it matter?"

Buzz felt the urge to drive another kick into the siding, but he held back. "Because I need to know, that's why! I need to know why it didn't come this year."

Mom raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "You mean to tell me you want a lump of coal for Christmas?"

Buzz wrinkled up his face in his second-favorite expression--a demonic scowl that had been known to send pit bulls running away with their tails between their legs. "You don't understand."

Mom shrugged. "We can put one in your stocking, if it'll make you feel better."

"It wouldn't be the same." Buzz glared down at his sneakers, the ones with the orange flames printed on the sides and the holes in both big toes. Everything he wore had holes--not because his family was poor, but because he beat the living daylights out of all of his clothes.

"You're right, I don't understand." Mom sighed. "You've been getting a lump of coal in the mailbox every Christmas Eve, with a note attached that says what a naughty kid you are. I'd think you'd be glad it didn't happen this year."

Buzz snorted and scuffed his sneaker on the brown boards of the porch. "But why? Why would Santa stop giving me a lump?"

Mom leaned down and smiled at him. "Well, Buzz, did you ever stop and think..." She reached out and ruffled the black rat's nest on his head. "...maybe you finally did something nice this year?"

Buzz couldn't stop the look of pure horror from clawing its way onto his face. Him? Do something good?

The thought of it made his stomach churn and his heart burn. It went against everything he lived for and cared about and believed in. It wasn't possible, no way, no how.

Or

Was

It?

Buzz's heart pounded like houses exploding one after another. He felt cold as a flash-frozen Frankenstein's monster entombed in ice. It wouldn't have surprised him if a black hole had opened up at that moment and sucked him through like an elephant up a drinking straw.

But then he pulled himself together. There was a way to settle this, after all.

He gathered himself up and aimed his best square-jawed, narrow-eyed stare at Mom. "You're wrong." He tipped his head to one side and shook a finger in the air. "I deserve that lump, and I'll prove it."

With that, he whirled on his heel and marched off to get his bike.

* * *

Buzz rode down the street as fast as he could, standing on the pedals. The bike swung back and forth under him as he pumped the right and left pedals one after the other.

As soon as he whipped around the corner on Pine Street, he spotted little Squealie playing in his front yard in the bright afternoon sun. Squealie spotted him and took off, tossing super-hero action figures every which way as he ran.

Buzz didn't waste his breath calling out. Instead, he hopped the curb and churned his bike across the dry brown grass.

Adrenaline sizzled through Buzz's bloodstream as he charged after the fleeing eight-year-old. It was one of the things he lived for, the thrill of the chase, like a lion on a quad running down an antelope on a Big Wheel.

Squealie (real name Ellis Fingerling) bolted straight for the front door of his family's little red brick house. For a skinny kid, he sure was a lousy runner; by the time he'd wobbled half the twenty feet to the door, Buzz was already hot on his heels.

Buzz ditched his bike and leaped on top of Squealie in one smooth flying tackle. The bony kid crumpled under him like a fistful of pretzel sticks in a crushing contest.

Which was when Squealie did what he did best in such situations. He squealed to the high heavens, letting loose a piercing cry that was music to Buzz's ears.

It seemed a shame to cut it short, but the last thing Buzz wanted was for a stray parent to come a-running. "Squealie!" He pushed the kid's face down and yelled in his ear. "Cut it out! I'm not gonna whale on you!"

Squealie's screeches weren't as loud with his face jammed in the dirt, but he still kept them coming. Buzz couldn't blame him for calling for help; he had a pretty crummy track record when it came to telling the truth about not whaling on people.

And honestly, it was way too easy to fall back on bad butt-kicking habits. "Seriously! I just want to talk!" Even as he said it, Buzz had to fight the urge to beat the squealing out of Squealie. "Come on! I want to ask you something!"

Squealie paused in his shrieking. Then he sucked in a breath and started up the fire siren all over again.

Buzz hated what he was about to say so much, he half-wished he could punch himself in the mouth to keep from saying it. But he knew drastic measures were necessary to get through to a guy like Squealie. "Listen! I need your help." He let up the pressure on Squealie's head. "Please, just talk to me, Squealie."

Suddenly, the squealing ended. The only sounds from Squealie were the gasps of his labored breathing.

"Thanks." Buzz sat up and patted Squealie's shoulder. "Now if I get off you, will you promise not to run away till I'm done talking?"