The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee Read Free

could only dream about. Pete turned and saw Larson walking towards him, a wicked grin on his face.
    â€˜It’ll never happen McGee. Never. You can’t even hold a shield and a sword at the same time. And you would never be able to joust, unless you held the lance with your mouth or something.’
    Pete glanced over Larson’s shoulder and saw a group of trainee knights. They were all watching and laughing. Larson continued, right next to Pete now.
    â€˜No knight would take you on McGee, so even when you turn fourteen you won’t be able to do anything. Just keep dreaming, Stumpy.’
    Pete felt anger welling up, the heat rising to his cheeks. He knew that Larson was basically mean for the sake of being mean, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Pete felt so angry he wanted to knock Larson flat, but he knew that Larson was bigger and stronger and better trained than he was. Then he tried to think of something smart to say, but all that came into his mind was, ‘Yeah, well shut up ‘cos you are too,’ and that didn’t even make sense. So instead he just stared at the ground and didn’t say anything. Larson suddenly reached out and grabbed Pete’s chin, raising it so they were staring at each other. He didn’t need to, but he spoke loud enough for his mates to hear.
    â€˜One-armed knights don’t exist. You’re a fairytale, like Cinderella or something. Rumplestumpskin. You don’t even exist McGee, just like your right arm.’
    Larson let go with a push and danced off to his group, pretending to be a fairytale princess to roars of laughter from his friends. Pete watched him for a bit. One day he would stand up to Larson Smithers. He breathed out slowly before following the crowd towards the town centre. The day hadn’t got off to quite the start he had hoped for.
    As Pete got closer to town his spirits picked up. He jogged down the dusty road, passing people as he went. Those in groups were laughing and chatting, ready for the big day ahead. Some were leading animals, which Pete assumed they would try to sell in town. By the time he got to the town centre it was absolutely packed. Pete was a skinny boy, and he was barely noticed as he slid though the crowd. Every now and then someone would stare at the one sleeve hanging loosely by his side, but Pete had learned to ignore the stares. The people who focussed on his missing arm would never take the time to find out who he was. The ale flowed and the crowd was already rowdy, even at this early hour. Pete couldn’t be distracted though. He loved all the rides, the food and the games, but nothing stirred him more than the Tellings. All day, on the Main Stage, people would stand in front of a massive audience and tell their stories. Always in rhyme, the Tellings were magical tales of lands far away, of adventures, of confronting wondrous creatures in fierce battles. Were they true? Only the Teller knew, but Pete didn’t care because in his mind they were all true. Every Telling was played out in his head, full of colour, his own vision of what was being told. One day he knew that he would have a great Telling. He would be up on the Main Stage and the whole town would be listening. One day for sure.
    Before the Tellings could begin however, the King would address his people from the balcony. He always read from a speech prepared for him. Every year the speechwriter had been ordered to write a speech that made the King out to be the greatest ruler there ever was, the likes of which had never been seen before or would ever be seen again. And the order would be carried out. This year however, the speechwriter, who couldn’t stand his job, had written a not-so-flattering speech for his king. He hoped that no-one would dare stop the King or even let him know that he was making a fool of himself. He had been made to show the speech to Faydon, the King’s Chief Advisor, and had expected to be fired on