Head Spinners (2011)
“‘Oh . . . thanks,’ I said, trying to forcing a smile.
The package was wrapped in creased, white tissue paper and was about twenty times smaller than the surfboard I’d wanted. If I hadn’t known Uncle Owen better, I would almost have thought it was a book.
‘Go on, Sam, open it!’ Uncle Owen sat at the kitchen table, rubbing his hands together.
‘Do you want a quick coffee?’ Mum asked him.
‘Nah thanks, Sis.’ Curiosity overtook my disappointment; I ripped the paper away, and frowned. ...‘Oh . . . thanks,’ I said again, not in disappointment this time but in confusion. In my hands was a metal box with a digital screen, a tangle of wires at the back and a series of switches sticking out from the side. It looked like a homemade bomb.
‘I know you asked for a surfboard,’ said Uncle Owen, bouncing in his seat. ‘But this’ll help you catch the good waves.MoreLess
The package was wrapped in creased, white tissue paper and was about twenty times smaller than the surfboard I’d wanted. If I hadn’t known Uncle Owen better, I would almost have thought it was a book.
‘Go on, Sam, open it!’ Uncle Owen sat at the kitchen table, rubbing his hands together.
‘Do you want a quick coffee?’ Mum asked him.
‘Nah thanks, Sis.’ Curiosity overtook my disappointment; I ripped the paper away, and frowned. ...‘Oh . . . thanks,’ I said again, not in disappointment this time but in confusion. In my hands was a metal box with a digital screen, a tangle of wires at the back and a series of switches sticking out from the side. It looked like a homemade bomb.
‘I know you asked for a surfboard,’ said Uncle Owen, bouncing in his seat. ‘But this’ll help you catch the good waves.MoreLess
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