Once and Then by Morris Gleitzman

Author:Morris Gleitzman [Gleitzman, Morris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781742536972
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia
Published: 2012-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

I fell asleep and the next morning me and Zelda went to find some new parents.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Watching out for Nazis.

‘Why?’ says Zelda sleepily, rubbing her eyes as we creep along the forest path. ‘Why do we need new parents?’

‘To keep us safe,’ I tell her. ‘To look after our sore fingers and give us breakfast.’

Zelda thinks about this. We’re both shivering in the cool damp morning air. We haven’t had anything to eat or drink for a whole day and two nights. I can see she likes the idea of a hot breakfast as much as I do.

While I keep my eyes peeled for Nazi soldiers in the undergrowth and Nazi dive-bombers above the trees, I tell her my plan.

She listens quietly.

But not for long.

‘No,’ she shouts, and plonks herself down at the side of the path.

I knew Zelda wouldn’t like this part of the idea. The part that involves going back to the big hole with the dead children in it.

I don’t like it either, but it’s a vital and important part of the plan.

I try not to get irritated with Zelda. Hunger and thirst can make you really grumpy if you’re not careful.

‘You won’t have to see the children,’ I explain to her. ‘They’ll probably be covered up with earth. A grave is a really good place to meet new parents. If the mums and dads are still alive, sooner or later they’ll want to visit the place where their kids are buried. And we’ll be there, offering ourselves as replacements.’

Zelda frowns as she thinks about this.

I glance nervously around the forest. I’m hoping she’ll agree it’s a really good plan, but I’m also hoping she’ll do it quietly.

‘What does replacements mean?’ says Zelda.

‘Parents with dead kids sometimes adopt new ones,’ I explain. ‘It’s no trouble for them, they’ve already got the bedrooms set up and everything.’

Zelda slowly stands up.

I can see she’s starting to understand what a good idea this is.

But before she can tell me how grateful she is to have such a clever family as me, there’s a snapping and crackling nearby and something hurtles towards us out of the undergrowth.

For a panicked second I think it’s a Nazi dog, one of those big vicious killer brutes trained to bite you even through your clothes.

I try to get between Zelda, who’s cowering and whimpering, and the vicious killer brute.

Except now I can see it isn’t a vicious killer brute.

It’s another kind of dog, big and floppy and panting with untidy brown fur like an old armchair with the stuffing showing. And big sad eyes that stare up at me while it licks a bare bit of my tummy through a rip in my shirt.

‘Stop that,’ says Zelda sternly to the dog. ‘It’s rude to lick tummies.’

I don’t mind. Mum used to lick my tummy when I was little.

The dog turns and starts licking Zelda’s arm.

She stops frowning and starts chuckling.

I look around for the dog’s owner. I have a feeling he or she probably isn’t a Nazi, but you can’t be too careful.

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