Beyond the Knock Knock Door Read Free Page A

somebody’s got dirt on their face doesn’t mean you have to treat them like it,’ she’d always say. Also, deep down, he’d helped the beggar out of silly bravery. He wanted to prove to himself that the cl-lick cl-lick man was nothing more than a harmless fright.
    As the beggar quieted to everyone’s relief, Michael cast one last uneasy glance towards him and stiffened. Discreetly this time, the man caught a cockroach crawling beside his seat and held it squirming by its antennae. Rather than squashing it underfoot, though, there was a strange shifting behind his coat buttons. A hairy, white claw shot out, snatched the bug then vanished!
    Michael blinked. At first, the stranger ignored him. But then he turned with a cold, festering stare that forced Michael to look away.
    Five stops later, he was still stunned as a rush of umbrellas, newspapers and sprinters dashed past him into waiting cars, leaving him soaked at the bottom of the station. He plodded upwards to street level whensomeone barged past and knocked his shoulder. ‘Hey!’ he protested, until he noticed it was the homeless man striding three steps at a time.
    In his haste, the beggar dropped something small, brown and leather. Reaching the top, Michael picked up the wallet. It contained cash. Lots of cash.
    â€˜Wait! Mister!’
    But the homeless man was gone. And he no longer used a walking crutch.

3
    His sister was under attack. A young man thrust his bamboo sword at her stomach then her face. But Samantha Bowman knocked it aside and retaliated with her own weapon. She slashed, parried and yelled; overwhelming him with speed and precision. She blocked a swinging blow near her wrist, swept away his sword and flung him off balance. The threat of being beaten by a twelve-year-old girl rattled him. However, Samantha grew excited. She could win this fight. She could be the best. With a loud cry, she charged forward and chopped her sword at his skull. But rather than striking his helmet, it thwack ed against the floor of the basketball court, allowing him to easily slice at her hip. It hammered her padded blue armour before their sensei ended the match.
    Red-faced, Samantha tore off her own helmet and threw away her bamboo sword before marching barefoot towards the change rooms. The other kendo students sniggered until the sensei ordered silence andeveryone to kneel. That included her. But she wasn’t going to meditate. She wasn’t going to follow orders. She wasn’t even going to practise stupid kendo anymore. She snatched her school bag and palmed open the exit when a younger sensei grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back.
    â€˜You should have waited for him to attack you,’ he said. ‘You need to learn patience.’
    â€˜I know! But patience doesn’t come quick enough!’
    Tossing her armour and gloves into a bin, she slammed the outer door, which swung inwards again and almost hit Michael.
    â€˜I suppose you saw?’ she said, striding into the rain.
    â€˜Don’t give up,’ he said, hopping into his water-logged shoes. ‘You were starting to get good.’
    â€˜Good at looking like a jerk!’
    â€˜You’re not a jerk.’
    â€˜ Hello. Twenty people inside are laughing at me!’
    He kept quiet and hurried beside her, barely keeping pace with her long legs. He wanted to talk about the homeless man’s wallet, but she was in a foul mood – one he’d grown accustomed to during the past six months.
    Her temper worsened when a car sped through an amber light and splashed them with a great wing of water. ‘Arghhh!’ she yelled. Double ‘Arghhh!’ when a pair of teenage boys laughed behind her. She grabbed Michael by the wrist and yanked him towards a cluster of high-rise apartments. He struggled free and rubbed away the pain. ‘Fine!’ she said. ‘Walk home by yourself! See if I care!’
    His shoulders sank as she disappeared