Horace Copeless

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HORACECOPELESSIsabella Paglia Adriano Gon


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written by Isabella Paglia

illustrations by Adriano Gon

First edition september 2012

ISBN 978-88-906105-9-2

2012 CAMELOZAMPA

All rights reserved

[email protected]


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HORACE COPELESSThe story of how a born loser

(or so he thought)

becomes a real live hero!

Isabella Paglia Adriano Gon


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Hi, Im Horace,

Yes, thats right, Horace. Good name, uh? With all due

respect to the famous ancient Roman poet my parents were

thinking of but of all the three thousand four hundred

million names there are in the world, why did they have to

choose that one?

And thats not my only bit of bad luck.

Have you ever felt out of place? Do you go around feeling

you simply dont fit in? To the point that all you really want

for Christmas is a Harry Potter invisibility cloak so you can

just disappear altogether? It might help.

Well, if youre thinking to yourself: Thats me, all I can say

is: Welcome to the club!

But instead of an invisibility cloak, I got given something

that completely changed my life!

As if my life hadnt been a big enough mess already.

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A CATASTROPHIC YEAR


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I mean it. I seemed to have attracted disasters like a magnet

even though Id never broken a mirror!

Let me list a few of the things I had to put up with, in

ascending order on the disaster scale:

1. I have to wear glasses. Im short-sighted, which means I

cant see things at a distance; in other words, Im as blind as

a proverbial bat. But of course my glasses are cheap national

health issue, not those trendy frames that make you look

grown up and interesting. Theyre the kind that make people

yell out: Hey, you, four-eyed Horace, how many fingers can

you see?

2. My parents are Super-Ultra-Vegans (thats something to

do with eating only healthy food and respecting all living

things etc). In other words, I have to eat birdfeed when what

I hanker after is a triple cheeseburger with bacon rasher

extras, lashings of ketchup and mayonnaise so rich it glows,

and an extra large serving of lovely, greasy French fries all

to myself.

3. Because of my parents work weve had to move to

another city so now I go to a new school and know

practically nobody. Not that that was much of a great

change to how things were before

4. The last disaster (for now at least) and by far the worst

was that the only sane person in my family, the person who

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would make me sticky fudge when my parents werent there,

who would always take my side when I got in a spot, my

Gran Geraldine, who would make me laugh til tears rolled

down my face, died suddenly of a strike, no, whats it

called of a stroke, thats it!

Not bad for starters, dont you think. I should enter the loser

of the year contest. Id win.

But Ill tell you something. That was what I thought before

I opened the parcel my Gran left me, and before I found out

that I would have been an idiot to throw it away!

That was before I was catapulted to the North Pole, before

I was chased by a That was all before!

Now things have changed completely.

Ive even got a friend, here, but Ill have others soon, and 5

humans + 12 dogs there!

But perhaps Id better start at the beginning.

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At the beginning of the school year my teachers called my

parents.

Lets see now Mmmmm Horace Copeless. He does well

in his essays, gets a good mark. But when hes asked to

speak, thats where the trouble starts! If hes asked to say

anything he gets tongue tied, goes red in the face, breaks

out in a sweat and utters not a word! said the headmaster

Mr Sturn.

I think its probably a lot to do with the move muttered

Mr Copeless looking worriedly at his wife. You know, new

city, new house, new class. You know how moves can affect

children

I dare say youre right, Mr Copeless, but it doesnt account

for everything. I fear there might be something else,

continued the Head.

I knew it, dear! sighed Mrs Copeless wringing her hands.

You have to understand, headmaster. Horace only recently

THE LESS SAIDABOUT SCHOOL THE BETTER

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lost his grandmother whom he was very fond of his

grandmother Geraldine. In fact weve just come from the

notary about the will

Yes of course, theres that as well! agreed Mr Wright, the

maths teacher. The emotional wrench, sense of insecurity.

Your son needs all your attention. He needs to feel you are

listening to his needs; that youre by his side. Dialogue with

parents at this age is vital!

That chat with my teachers was the beginning of a

nightmare.

Not long afterwards I found myself:

1. enrolled in a course of yoga - warmly recommended by

Mums naturopath;

2. enrolled in a self-defence course - recommended by a

Buddhist friend of my Dad: Increases self-esteem;

3. the owner of a Playstation + ten videogames given to me

by my Aunty Tina: Theyve all got them;

4. the proud owner of fifty packets of prestige football cards:

So you can swop them and make friends;

5. a season ticket for the local swimming pool because for

some unknown reason, its good for your back!.

What with their work and the to-ing and fro-ing to all those

extra-mural activities in the afternoon, my parents were

certainly always by my side in the car!

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Our dialogue consisted of: Horace, have you got your bag?,

Horace, have you remembered your swimming cap? Have

you got your yoga mat? interspersed by: Just look at that

fool! He cut right across me! and Sorry, love, just a

minute Got to answer my mobile as he or she swerved

the car to take a shortcut hoping to make up for lost time.

The upshot of it all was that we saw a lot of each other but

didnt do much talking, only sometimes at traffic lights.

Not to mention the ferocious headaches that Mum and Dad

seemed afflicted with all the time.

To put it bluntly, the new regime was not working.

At school nothing changed. When I was called to read aloud,

I came out in a cold sweat, my legs trembled and my tongue

seemed like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth with Attack.

The worse thing was being called to the executioners block,

otherwise known as the blackboard. I could feel a thousand

eyes boring into my back as I stood there.

I thought things couldnt possibly be worse.

But of course, as always happens, when things start going

badly, there seems no end to how bad things can get. Two

boys in my class, popular with the other boys and adored by

the girls, Mark Nobles and handsome Andrew Le Beau,

started making fun of my ridiculous wobbly knees.

Every time a teacher asked me a question, they would mutter

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snide remarks, which would be followed by tittering from

some of the others.

Whats up, Horace the Hopeless, feeling weak in the knees?

Four-eyed fish, need a magnifying glass? Did you swallow

your tongue with your Rice Krispies this morning? Hey,

Horace Hopeless are you dumb as well as blind? Horace the

Hopeless, the schools no-hoper!

So from then on, most of the class called me Horace the

Hopeless!

What wouldnt I have given to be able to show them one

day that I could

Get my own back. Thats what I wanted!

How Id love to get even with them just like The Count of

Montecristo in that series I watch on telly every evening.

But as Gran Geraldine used to say: He who laughs last

laughs longest

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Dear Granny Geraldine. She was the best Gran you could

ever hope to have. She had a stentorious voice, a sunny

disposition and an infectious laugh. Her figure was as wide

as one of those ancient trees you read about. When I hugged

her, my arms didnt meet at the back.

Granny Geraldine.

Everybody told me she was happy where she was now, that

we had to be thankful she hadnt ended up paralyzed in a

hospital bed, that her troubles were over and she was at

peace.

But Iwasnt!

And I missed her. Really badly

Even the day Mum and Dad returned home from the notary

with old trunks, boxes of files and a strange package tied up

with string, I was thinking how much I missed her.

Horace, were back! Come and have a look! Among all this

junk your grandmother left, there was something for you.

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GRAN GERALDINES BEQUEST


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This package is yours, dear. Ive absolutely no idea whats in

it. There was no way I could peak inside. True to form, your

grandmother had the box well and truly sealed. Oh yes,

theres also an envelope for you, addressed in huge lettering.

Thats sealed as well of course, trust your grandmother. Must

be a letter

Gran left me a package and a letter? I asked. When I saw

the handwriting, my curiosity was aroused. It read:

For HoraceTo be opened only once Im gone

And only when youre aloneTOP SECRET

KEEP OUT OF REACH OF PARENTSFOR THE PRIVATE AND EXCLUSIVE USE OF HORACE

HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL!Confidential means just that, CONFIDENTIAL

Got it, Mr and Mrs Copeless???There was no doubt about it. It was a present from Gran. It

was totally in character.

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Like the time she gave me a crash helmet signed by ValentinoRossi for Christmas.

And I dont even have a motorbike.

Probably never will.

But anyway, Ive got the crash helmet.

Gran had always promised that if we pooled my pocketmoney and her pension, by the time I was eighteen or twenty

we would have had enough capital to buy one, a motorbike,

I mean.

She was something else, my Gran!

Horace, get a move on, youve got your Oshizo-Mizo lesion.Hurry, or well be late!

It was Dad shouting from the car.

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Dont parents always choose the right moment to interrupt

just when youre beginning to have fun.

Well anyway, I thought to myself, Id open it this

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Finally, my homework finished, supper eaten, and Dads cross

examination over -

Everything all right, son?

How are things at school, Horace?

Had any tests lately?

What about your classmates?

- negotiated by me with my usual non-committal answers -

Au huh

Like normal

Like always, Dad

and after hearing Mum telling me for the nth time as I

was watching the final stages of the third to last episode of

The Count of Monte Cristo that before being turned into a

TV series it had originally been a book

after all that, I had a bit of peace and quiet and found myself

alone at last.

Gran Geraldines parcel!

THE SPECIAL STONE

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I raced to my room.

It was still on the bed where I had left it.

My parents hadnt opened it, thank goodness.

Unfortunately that had not been the case with my diary that

Copeless senior had somehow got his hands on, looking for

goodness knows what secret goings-on that might be

undermining a wholesome young life with the result that I

now had to hide my diary among the nuts and bolts and

jars of worm bait on the topmost shelf in the garage.

The package looked very battered, as if it had travelled a

very long way.

It was a brown cardboard box tied up with string. The knot

had been secured with lead seals, making it as safe from

prying eyes as a bank vault.

My Gran was certainly no fool! (Knew what she was about;

knew a thing or two!)

I unwrapped the box.

In it was just a bag of picture stickers of what looked like

exotic tourist destinations: Kathmandu, Welcome to Serengeti

park, Bienvenido a Cancun, Bienvenu a Paris, New Delhi for

you

There were loads of them.

Wait a minute. Something else was odd.

Bienvenu, Bienvenido

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My Gran couldnt speak any other language but her own

and that was mostly dialect. Shed learned a bit of English

from the last Guatemalan carer. So where did all these exotic

places come in?

Gran had only travelled once when she moved from her

remote Polish village to this country as young woman, and

had never left home after that except once on a trip with the

parish, to Lourdes, I think.

I opened the bag.

What was this?

Inside there was just some sand as white as flour and a

packet of photos. Nothing else.

Photos of her.

But but what on earth?...

Gran Geraldine riding an elephant?!

Gran Geraldine surfing?!

Gran Geraldine. at the pyramids?!

GRAN GERALDINE WITH THE MASAI?!?

And in Hawaii!!!

I felt dizzy. My ears were ringing. I began to see little dots

in front of my eyes

Relax, Horace.

As Mr Wright says: Theres an explanation for everything.

Perhaps the person in the photo was not really my Gran.

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But it looked very much like her.

Perhaps Gran Geraldine had an identical twin!

The best thing was to open the letter.

Dear Horace,

My dearest grandson, knowing you, youd better have a drink

of cold water and then take a seat

Done!

No, I dont have an identical twin sister. I know what youre

thinking. Thats really me in all those photos; me your old

Gran wholl loves you always


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But I dont understand!

Well Horace, sometimes surprising, wonderful things

happen, and sometimes things happen that arent so

wonderful. But its all part of the incredible journey that is

life. You have to live the things that happen to you without

fear because each and every one of them holds an important

lesson that will help you through that journey.

You know, when the doctors told me my health was bad, I

realized I didnt have much longer to live, at least on the

Earth, my dearest. So I went to my old friend, Notary

Goodman, and gave him the box you now have. I was careful

to wrap it and seal it first though because I know that your

parents worry about you and want to know whats going on

in your head, like the time they read your diary (dont worry,

I told them off in no uncertain terms; they wont be doing

that again).

Now, pay close attention to what Im about to say. Its

important.

Take a good look at the sand.

Theres a little grey stone in it. It looks like a pretty ordinary

stone but looks can deceive.

Lets see Yes there it is. It looks just like the sort of small

pebble you get in a shoe and cant wait to get rid of.

Dont be taken in by appearances that ordinary looking

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pebble attached to a leather tape is in fact a special stone.

He chose you!

He? Who? He chose who??

Its a very special stone, Horace. Its got extraordinary

powers!

Powers?

You see, these powers are handed down from generation to

generation but only to the most worthy family members. It

belonged to your great, great, great grandmother Apollonia

who travelled widely. The story goes that it originally came

from Easter Island where it was stolen by a distant relative,

a pirate, who made a gift of it to the Queen of Sardinia,

Eleanor of Arborea with whom he had fallen hopelessly in

love. I kept it hidden for years in one of my trunks in the

loft. That stone can take you places youve never even

dreamed of and have never ever seen. And remember your

old Grans motto: What doesnt kill you only makes you

stronger!

But Gran, what kind of a present is this!? And whats all

this about a proverb? No, it cant be I said to myself as I

looked at the innocuous little stone lying there quietly in the

palm of my hand giving no sign of being special.

This is the secret of your grandmother and your valiant

forebears, hidden for years in the loft, that Im now about to

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reveal to you

Rub the stone and repeat the words:

Hush, my dear one, sleep sereneNow, my lovely, slumber deep.Magic stone will let you dream,Close your eyes and welcome sleep,In time and space now take a leap.Now you w ill fly over snow and sandBut just take care of how you land!

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Once you have uttered these words, the special stone will

send you to sleep and take you on an incredible journey.

Youll find yourself whisked to the furthest corners of the

earth.

I was the chosen one before you, Horace!

One word of warning, though

Where and when you go will be a surprise.

The stone decides!

Look at the photographs carefully. In all of them Im wearing

my red hairnet, the one I wear at night to keep my curlers

in place. I never had time to take if off before leaving because

the stone decides on the spur of the moment when you leave.

But dont be frightened. Ill always be with you.

I may have left, but Ive never really gone away.

Not even for a moment.

In fact now I can be even closer to you.

I cant tell you where I am. All I can say is that Im in a

fantastic place full of light. Im with Granddad and a whole

set of nice people I used to be reminded of by those little

things I kept in my trunks up in the loft.

Ive just been given a special job. Im on mission, Horace

Ive just been appointed second pilot of your heart. Thats if

you agree, of course

Gran

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I love you, Horace. See you soon.

So you never really left, then? Which means that Ive never

really been alone. I love you too, Gran, and I really can feel

youre here. Inside. I can feel you strong and clear.

I finished the letter a bit distraught, my heart pounding. But

I couldnt wait to leave!

Id have done anything to get away from that hated school,

from Mark Nobles and Andrew Le Beau and the other

swaggerers who bullied me, away from my parents, who

however hard they tried, didnt understand me and just kept

asking questions and dishing up birdfeed between one out-of-

school activity and another.

Its true I was ready to leave all my problems behind but only

to land myself in even greater trouble!

But that I was yet to find out.

translation by Stephanie Johnson ( Assointerpreti)

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Horace Copeless