How to Break a World Record and Survive Grade Five, page 1
Carla Fitzgerald is a writer, a recovered lawyer and a mum of three from Sydney. She studied arts and law at university, and worked at the Australian Human Rights Commission. Only after that did she rediscover the great fun of making stuff up.
Carla is a tutor at the Australian Writers Centre, a coach at the Harding Miller Education Foundation and a Books in Homes role model. Her favourite things to do are write, walk, read, eat and hang out with her family. Not necessarily in that order.
Also by Carla Fitzgerald
How to Be Prime Minister and Survive Grade Five
For Stuart
Prologue
This was it. The moment Sam had been dreaming of since he’d first dragged open the Big Book of Records with clumsy five-year-old fingers and saw a guy balancing six watermelons on his head. He knew greatness when he saw it, even then. And now he would join them. He’d become one of the world-record holders, at only eleven years old.
Sam wiped the sweat from his brow.
‘Sam-my! Sam-my! Sam-my!’
The crowd’s chant reverberated through his body.
Only a few more to go. They’d go wild when he passed the record.
And then? His mind wandered. There’d be the project for school, of course. Maybe he would need to leave school to focus on more records – like those future Olympians who train 10 hours a day.
All the kids that he knew would watch it on YouTube. He’d hear them talking about it as he rode past. He’d smile and wave, and they’d say, ‘Even though he’s a world-record holder, he doesn’t have a big head.’
There would be interviews. Mum would place the local newspaper article on the fridge with the Big Banana magnet. Over the top of the Payment Due letter. Over the top of another one of Ava’s Player of the Match certificates.
In fact, Ava’s certificate would slide to the ground like sauce on the chin of a pie-eating champion. But no-one would care. Not even Ava. Because there would be a world-record holder in the family.
He would be the best at something.
And that would be all that mattered.
Chapter 1
Longest fingernails combined length:
1306.58 centimetres, USA, 2022
‘Do you reckon if I grew my fingernails for a couple more weeks, they’d break the record?’ Vihaan held up his hand in Sam’s face.
Sam ran his palm over Vihaan’s fingernails. They felt sharp, but not record breaking. Sam shook his head. ‘You need at least another 130 centimetres on each finger. Your mum won’t like it.’
Vihaan looked down at his nails. ‘Hmm. It would be hard to draw with nails that long.’
‘Or eat a sandwich.’
‘Or wipe your bum.’
The two boys giggled. Vihaan stretched his legs out on Sam’s bedroom floor and stared at his shoes, probably thinking about his toenails. Sam always knew what his best friend was thinking.
Sam flipped open the Big Book of Records on the carpet. The book was as wide and as heavy as one of Mum’s lasagnes. The massive type she’d make once a month and freeze, and then they’d eat portions of it until they were all a bit sick of lasagne. Mum would be home from work soon and getting Sam to unpack the dishwasher was more important to her than world records. They had to be quick.
He folded down the corner of page 26 – Most T-shirts put on in 1 minute. He’d been thinking about that one in Maths today and had jotted it down in their Favourite Records notepad, so he’d remember to discuss it with Vihaan. They’d started the notepad a couple of months back to keep track of all the best records. They’d even tried to break a few of the records for a bit of fun.
Favourite Records
Most balloons blown up in 3 minutes
Most sticky notes stuck on a face or body
Fastest nose-typer
Most books toppled in domino fashion
Most leapfrog jumps by a team of two in 30 seconds
Most wooden boards broken in 1 minute with one hand
Most T-shirts put on in 1 minute
Sam scribbled out the second-last one. It sounded a little dangerous (flying wood!) and Mum was still angry about the time they’d tried to dice the most pineapples.
‘Should we try fastest nose-typer?’ Sam looked up at Vihaan, who had taken off his shoes and was measuring his toenails with a ruler.
Vihaan nodded, pulled out his laptop from his schoolbag and opened it on Sam’s desk.
‘Wait, wait! I have to warm up.’ Sam jumped to his feet. He held out his arms to the sides and started wriggling his nose. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’ He bent down in front of the laptop.
Vihaan put on a mock-serious voice. ‘Ladies and gentlemen! This young man must use his nose to type these words: “The Big Book of Records has challenged me to type this sentence using my nose in the fastest time.” The time to beat is 40.19 seconds. Good luck. Go!’
Sam started tapping the keys with his nose like an excited chicken. Click, click, click. It was harder than it looked. Click. Click. There was a giant crumb between the K and the L. Click, click. He could hear Vihaan cracking up and he started laughing too. Click, click, click. Click. Click.
‘Time’s up!’
They checked the screen.
thrufdjghdsfjkghsdfkg
Sam and Vihaan collapsed on the floor in a heap of giggles. When they recovered, Sam rolled over and reached for the book again.
This was his favourite time of day – being immersed in records. He and Vihaan could talk for a full hour about whether it was harder to beat the record for most underpants pulled on in a minute or most hats balanced in 30 seconds. In the end they always agreed. They’d only ever had one real argument and it was the first time they’d met – two years ago, on the blue beanbags in the non-fiction section of the school library.
Sam had done his usual thing: eat his sandwich on the metal benches, buy a purple Zooper Dooper from the canteen, dodge the handballs and visit the library to read the 2018 edition of the Big Book of Records. Sam had stopped bringing his own copy from home after Cooper had stolen it from his bag and one of the pages got ripped.
On that day, Sam had found the new kid sitting in his place. Reading his book! Sam had tried to explain that it was his book. Everybody knew it was his book and that he always read it at this time. But Vihaan wasn’t having it. Vihaan even called the librarian over to explain the concept of a library and the fact that books in libraries didn’t belong to anyone (which of course Sam knew, but this wasn’t an ordinary book).
Now Sam and Vihaan sat on the beanbags together every day, except Thursdays when Vihaan had Band practice. Sam hated hearing the sound of those squeaky instruments warming up on Thursdays, but at least he had the records to keep him company. Everyone called them the ‘Records Guys’, which was a lot nicer than the names that Sam used to be called. Sure, sometimes he heard kids call them the ‘Weird Records Guys’, but Sam chose to ignore the first part. What was so weird about being the best in the world at something?
Longest.
Fastest.
Biggest.
Ever since Aunty Bec had given him the book for his fifth birthday he’d been fascinated by these ordinary people doing extraordinary things. There was nothing better than escaping into that wonderful world. A world where no-one had to worry about schoolwork or remembering the house key. A world where anyone could be a champion.
Sam leant back against his bed and ran his finger down the list. ‘Okay, the balloon one?’
‘Nah, I have to go, bro.’ Vihaan put on his shoes and shoved his laptop into his bag. ‘I promised Dad we’d practise my spelling words tonight.’
‘Oh, just one more. The T-shirt one? That’ll be quick.’
‘I can’t. The test is tomorrow.’
‘Pleeeeeaaasse.’
‘Shouldn’t you practise yours?’ Vihaan’s eyes flicked to the side. ‘Especially after last time.’
Sam shrugged without looking up at him. It was so quiet he could hear his little sister, Ava, dribbling the ball around the living room and commentating her success: ‘Ava scores again! Only nine years old and already scoring for Chelsea FC in the Premier League.’
The boys always came to Sam’s house after school because Sam had to keep an eye on Ava. Which would be a lot easier if she was into records, but she almost always chose soccer over being their records assistant.
‘Okay.’ Vihaan hesitated. ‘See ya.’
Sam heard Vihaan shuffle out the door and say goodbye to Ava, who went straight back to commentating.
Sam covered his ears and glanced up at his desk. He could practise his spelling words for the test tomorrow. But what difference would it make? He picked up the Big Book of Records and flipped absent-mindedly. The smoothness of the pages soothed him and he instantly felt lighter. A record on page 28 caught his eye.
Carolena Kruse, aged 14
22 socks put on one foot in 30 seconds
A tiny tingle went up his spine and through to his fingertips. He’d seen that record before but today felt different. Carolena beamed at him from the page. He blinked twice and smiled back.
She wasn’t that much older than him. And she’d done it properly, with official timekeepers and witnesses. She wasn’t mucking around o
Something shifted in Sam’s tummy. What was the feeling? Awe? Envy? Hunger? It was hard to say. But it felt like something big was about to happen.
Chapter 2
Most embarrassing toilet moment:
No official record but probably Sam, Hakea Grove Public School, Australia
Ms Chen handed Sam his marked spelling test and moved along to Leah’s desk. Sam saw a smattering of red pen and swooped the test under his pencil case.
‘What did you get, bro?’ Vihaan leant back on his chair and rested his hand on Sam’s desk. This was the first term they weren’t sitting next to each other, but they didn’t let this get in the way of important discussions. Especially since Vihaan had to sit next to Cooper, Sam’s next-door neighbour and most annoying classmate.
Sam peeked another look at his test and felt the familiar pang of disappointment. ‘Two out of ten.’ He laughed lightly, as if he’d done it on purpose to amuse his friend.
Vihaan grimaced. ‘Ouch. The words were hard this week. I nearly got “pyjamas” wrong.’
Sam nodded, almost afraid to ask. ‘What did you get?’
Vihaan squinted at the roof, as if struggling to remember, even though the score was right there in front of him. Sam could tell his friend was trying not to make him feel bad.
‘Nine out of ten, I think. Leah probably got ten.’ They both looked at Leah sitting next to Sam, but she was too busy sharing a private joke with Ms Chen. Probably something about how easy the words were this week.
Sam fiddled with the zipper on his pencil case. Mum would definitely say something about practising more, but how could he do that every week as well as work out whether the fastest car in reverse would be faster than a cheetah sprinting 100 metres? Of course the fastest animal was actually the peregrine falcon and the peregrine falcon would definitely beat a car in reverse, wouldn’t it?
Sam realised that Ms Chen was now writing on the whiteboard:
Term One Project
In 500 words describe your proudest moment. You will be asked to read your work to the class and are welcome to bring in any certificates, trophies or other relevant objects to help describe this moment.
Sam could hear snippets of conversation flying around the classroom.
‘The spelling bee!’
‘My AFL grand final.’
‘Art prize!’
The last voice Sam heard was Vihaan’s. He was telling Cooper about the time his self-portrait won some big award. In fact, everyone seemed to already know what they’d do their project on. How?
‘Students,’ Ms Chen said, ‘I’m glad you’re excited about this project, but you should be writing down your ideas, not discussing them. This is your project for English and it’s due at the end of this term. Nine weeks away.’
The class ignored Ms Chen’s instructions and became more and more animated. The chatter blurred into a hum in Sam’s ears. It was as if they had boarded the bus for an excursion and everyone knew where they were going, except him.
End of term. Nine weeks away. Sam closed his eyes and tried to come up with something he could write about for the project.
Vihaan leant back. ‘What are you going to do, Sam?’
‘I know what you can be proud of.’ Cooper turned around. ‘Not peeing your pants for a whole day.’
Leah stifled a giggle. Sam felt a warmth rise from his neck to his cheeks.
‘Turn to the front, Cooper,’ Ms Chen ordered.
It had happened ONE time, years ago, and only because he was busting and Mum had tied the cord on his pants in some sort of triple-knot. Sam was wrapped up as securely as a glass vase about to be sent overseas. By the time he’d reached the entrance to the boys’ toilets and undone the constrictor knot, it was too late. And of course, Cooper was behind him and saw the puddle. There was no time to explain it was a problem with knots, not bladders! Cooper continued to think it was the funniest thing that had ever happened. Funnier, even, than leaving the taps running in the boys’ toilets, which was his favourite thing to do.
Vihaan passed Sam a scrap of folded-up paper. Inside was a drawing of Cooper. His leg was outstretched, tripping someone over. Underneath Vihaan had written: Cooper’s proudest moment.
Sam tried to smile, but his mind was racing. The buzz of the classroom was getting louder.
What was his proudest moment?
He’d never got a trophy. He’d never got a prize. Did he even have a certificate?
Vihaan would talk about his art award. Obviously.
Leah would bring in the certificate from her spelling bee win.
Cooper wouldn’t get any prizes for water conservation, but he and his brothers seemed to have an uncanny knack for wheels. Skateboards, bikes, scooters. There was probably a massive trophy he’d won for some BMX competition.
Sam scrolled through his memories. All he could come up with was the certificate he received in pre-school for being toilet-trained. Mum still had it somewhere. What if Cooper was right? What if his proudest moment was toilet-based?
He imagined holding the certificate up in front of the class. It had a picture of a beaming toilet seat and Sam’s name printed in bold. It said: I do my wees and poos in the loo in big writing at the top. At the bottom it said: I’m a potty star with a massive gold star in the corner, as though it was certified by some official government authority. He’d explain to the class that getting this certificate was the proudest moment of his life. Vihaan would give him a tentative thumbs up. Cooper would explode with laughter. Leah and the others would be puzzled. Was this really his proudest moment?
Yep, this was all he had. All he had.
Ms Chen would tell the class to settle down and that it was a fine-looking certificate and she would hold it up for everyone to see and then give it back to him and wipe her hands on her skirt, as though it might still have some remnants of toddler wee on it.
Chapter 3
Longest one-arm handstand:
1 minute, 11.82 seconds, Mexico, 2022
Sam watched his mum open a white envelope and mutter something under her breath. The electricity bill maybe?
He swallowed, wiped the sweat from the back of his neck and kept reading at the kitchen bench. Their place had an old air-conditioning unit in the living room only. Sometimes he came home after school, cranked the air-con to freezing then curled under a blanket with the Big Book of Records. Probably not the time to mention this.
Mum walked to the fridge and placed the bill on top of Ava’s Player of the Match certificate with the magnet that Aunty Bec had brought back from her holiday years ago. The magnet had a picture of an apple with the words I Love NYC across it. Sam thought about telling her that the apple magnet was their least powerful magnet and would never hold both the letter and Ava’s certificate. But there was something about the way Mum was now banging saucepans around that made him keep his mouth shut. He swung his legs back and forth on the kitchen stool as the saucepan symphony continued.
Sam went back to studying the picture of the guy with the record for longest one-arm handstand. It didn’t look that hard.
The papers slid down the fridge and landed in a small puddle of water that sat permanently near the bottom of the fridge. Mum’s head was still in the saucepan cupboard so Sam got up. He dried the letter on his shorts and placed it back with the Need a Plumber? magnet. They’d called that number once when the toilet was blocked, but the guy who turned up didn’t look anything like the smiley cartoon character on the magnet. At least it was a good magnet. Sam paused before putting Ava’s certificate back up. It had been on the fridge for days now, so it was probably time for the recycling bin. Why did Ava need so many certificates for her soccer? Wasn’t it supposed to be a team sport? He slipped it into the recycling bin and covered it with some of the junk mail that had arrived today. Then he plonked himself back on the kitchen stool.
‘Hey, Mum?’
His mum was out of the cupboard now and chopping carrots with such ferocity it was as though they had done something awful to her in another life. She was still in her Little Angels Child Care uniform and had a brown stain on her sleeve, which Sam had decided not to ask about when she’d walked in the door. Stains were part of the job.
