Nowhere Boys by Elise Mccredie Page A

came to an end and there, in a clearing, was an old dilapidated bushman’s shack.
    ‘It’s here!’ said Felix, relieved. He ran to the door, and the rusty lock came off easily in his hands.
    The door creaked open and the boys stepped inside.
    Miscellaneous junk – ropes, hessian bags, old boating equipment – dotted the floor.
    The others looked less than impressed, but Felix didn’t care.
    ‘We can use the bags as blankets. And there’s a river close by for fresh water.’
    He rummaged around at the back of the shack, and returned with an old gas lantern. He lit it with his lighter and placed it in the middle of the space. ‘Ta-da!’
    ‘Think I preferred it when I couldn’t see it,’ Jake mumbled.
    ‘Shelter is essential for survival,’ said Andy. ‘Good idea, Felix.’
    ‘Don’t suppose there’s anything here to eat,’ said Sam, looking through an old cupboard.
    Nobody felt much like talking. As the night turned black, they lay down, exhausted, on the floor, covered in old hessian bags.
    Eventually, Felix heard the rise and fall of their breathing as they slept. But Felix couldn’t sleep. His mind raced. What had he done? He’d meant to make things better, not worse.
    Quietly, he picked up the gas lamp and went to sit by the window. He was going to fix this. He had to.
    He slid his Book of Shadows out of his bag and laid it reverently on top of an old crate. He turned the pages until he came to the spell he’d written out and recorded. What had gone wrong? There had to be a clue. If he could work out what it was then maybe he could find a way to change it. He’d be able to do that. He was sure of it.
    As he re-read the spell, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
    He turned around. The others were still fast asleep; Sam snoring like each breath was his last. He turned back to the window, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The air was still, but there was a small movement behind a tree.
    Was something out there? Was someone watching?
    And then, as if a switch had been flicked, the gas lamp went out.

jake: to be or not to be
    Jake squatted behind a parked car. From here he had the perfect view of an attractive two-storey house.
    How often had he and his mum talked about their ideal house? Big, white, a view of the river. He’d wanted a basketball hoop in the front garden. She’d wanted a pergola covered in purple flowers. And here it was. Everything they’d ever dreamt of together.
    Only they weren’t together. Jake bit his lip. He imagined that record-scratch sound they always did in movies when the fantasy gave way to the grim reality. Sure, his mum had the perfect house, but what did he have? A falling-down dump and three stinking shackmates. He sighed. Coach Wilson would definitely call that a bad trade-off.
    A BMW pulled into the drive. Jake watched as his mum got out of the car and popped open the boot. Yesterday he’d chased her car for five blocks and then blundered up to her, full of certainty. He was her son, surely she could see that?
    Today he knew better. She didn’t recognise him. She didn’t need to recognise him. In this world, she had a whole new life. A new house, new wardrobe, and …
    Jake’s thoughts were interrupted as he saw a man walking out of the house towards his mum. A poodle barked at his heels. The man had a confident stride and was wearing a pale pink polo shirt.
    His mum bent down and picked up the yapping cotton-wool ball. She smothered it with kisses before putting it down and wrapping her arms around the man who, now that he thought of it, looked a lot like Mr Bates.
    Jake did a double take. It was Mr Bates!
    Jake shook his head. No. There’s no way his mum would be with his bossy, annoying knob of a science teacher.
    But she started to kiss him. Jake wanted to look away but he couldn’t. His mum was kissing Bates?
    They broke apart and Bates reached into the boot to help his mum take out some heavy-looking boards. He placed them beside the