Best Mates by Michael Morpurgo

Author:Michael Morpurgo [Michael Morpurgo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Meet another special animal in Sarah Lean’s story about a brave little dog called Jack Pepper.

Turn the page to read an extract.

1.

I CAN FIT A WHOLE ROMAN AMPHITHEATRE in my imagination, and still have loads of room. It’s big in there. Much bigger than you think. I can build a dream, a brilliant dream of anything, and be any hero I want …

For most awesome heroic imagined gladiator battles ever, once again the school is proud to present the daydreaming trophy to … Leo Biggs!

That’s also imaginary. You have to pass your trumpet exam to get a certificate (like my big sister Kirsty), or be able to read really fast and remember tons of facts to get an A at school (like my best mate George), before anyone tells you that they’re proud of you. Your family don’t even get you a new bike for your birthday for being a daydreamer, even if you really wanted one.

Daydreaming is the only thing I’m good at and, right here in Clarendon Road, I am a gladiator. The best kind of hero there is.

“Don’t you need your helmet?” George called.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” I said, cycling back on my old bike to collect it. “Now stand back so you’re in the audience. Stamp your feet a bit and do the thumbs-up thing at the end when I win.”

George sat on Mrs Pardoe’s wall, kicking against the bricks, reading his book on space.

“It says in here that meteors don’t normally hit the earth,” George said, “they break up in the atmosphere. So there aren’t going to be any explosions or anything when it comes. Shame.”

“Concentrate, George. You have to pretend you’re in the amphitheatre; they didn’t have books in Roman times … did they?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. They might have had meteors though. People think you can wish on meteors, but it’s not scientific or anything.”

He didn’t close the book and I could tell he was still concentrating on finding out more about the meteor that was on the news. So I put on my gladiator helmet (made out of cardboard, by me) and bowed to my imaginary audience. They rumbled and cheered.

“Jupiter’s coming now. Salute, George, salute!”

The king of all the Roman gods with arms of steel and a chest like hills, rolled into the night stars over Clarendon Road like a tsunami. Jupiter was huge and impressive. He sat at the back of the amphitheatre on his own kind of platform and throne, draped his arm over the statue of his lion and nodded. It was me he’d come to watch.

I held up my imaginary sword.

“George!”

George punched the sky without looking up from his book. He couldn’t see or hear what I could: the whole crowd cheering my name from the thick black dark above.

Let the games begin! Jupiter boomed.

The gate opened.

“Here he comes, George!”

“Get him, Leo, get him good.”

The gladiator of Rome came charging up the slope. I twisted and turned on my bike, bumped down off the kerb and picked up speed.

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