First published by Albert Street Books, an imprint of Allen & Unwin, in 2023

  Copyright © R.J. Timmis, 2023

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  Cammeraygal Country

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: info@allenandunwin.com

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  Allen & Unwin acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the Country on which we live and work. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elders, past and present.

  ISBN 978 1 76106 859 1

  eISBN 978 1 76118 674 5

  For teaching resources, explore www.allenandunwin.com/resources/for-teachers

  Cover design by Yell Design and Allen & Unwin design team

  Text design by Hannah Janzen, Rebecca Timmis and Sandra Nobes

  Set by Sandra Nobes

  www.rjtimmis.com

  Contents

  Stage Bite

  1 Chapter One

  2 Chapter Two

  3 Chapter Three

  4 Chapter Four

  5 Chapter Five

  6 Chapter Six

  7 Chapter Seven

  8 Chapter Eight

  9 Chapter Nine

  10 Chapter Ten

  11 Chapter Eleven

  Finvestigated!

  1 Chapter One

  2 Chapter Two

  3 Chapter Three

  4 Chapter Four

  5 Chapter Five

  6 Chapter Six

  7 Chapter Seven

  8 Chapter Eight

  9 Chapter Nine

  10 Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  The name’s Finley. I’m a REEF SHARK.

  Don’t freak out. I’m a NICE shark. I won’t bite …

  Unless you’re a jellyfish. Are you a jellyfish?

  No?

  Phew.

  Then we’re all good!

  Us reef sharks are a friendly bunch. We eat and swim in big family groups.

  This is my mum and dad, Su and Shi. They’re dentists.

  Sharks have LOTS of teeth, so Mum and Dad are always super busy!

  And these are my brothers and sisters. Their names are:

  We live in Shallow Side in the town of Chumville. There’s also Deep Side for the bigger sharks.

  This is my school, Chumville School for Sharks. I’m in grade four, and so are my best friends Hunter, Gilleon and Gnash.

  Hunter is a TIGER SHARK.

  She’s super smart. Tiger sharks have pretty big brains compared to other sharks.

  They also eat everything. And I mean

  Tiger sharks even eat other sharks sometimes …

  But it’s cool – Hunter has promised not to eat us. She’s really somefin' else!

  Next up is Gnash.

  He’s a POINTER SHARK (also known as a GREAT WHITE).

  Gnash is the biggest kid in our class.

  His teeth are the same size as Mr Rodney:

  Gnash’s body and teeth might be big, but his brain is kinda small. Gnash isn’t too good at solving problems.

  He’s a tooth-riffic friend, though!

  Last but not least is Gilleon.

  Gill is a LEMON SHARK. That DOES NOT mean he likes lemons.

  But he is yellow, so he can blend into the seabed. This makes him GREAT at hide-and-sneak!

  But there are times Gill does NOT want to blend in. Not like me. I hate being in the spotlight! But Gill loves it – almost as much as he loves his own reflection.

  Don’t hold that against him, though. Gill’s a cool guy. He might be a bit FLAKEY sometimes, but his fins are in the right place.

  So that’s me and my friends. We go to school, do our homework and hang out. Pretty normal, right?

  Well, maybe not. Because we do have one teensy, tiny little secret…

  By day, we really are ordinary shark kids.

  But at night, we slip on dark sunglasses and leather jackets to become …

  We have 600 krillion fans,

  three Gold albums and

  eleven #1 hits on CHOMP FM.

  Our latest song, “Bite Me”, has been number one for thirty-three weeks. That’s an ocean record!

  No one knows we’re really rock stars. It’s a SECRET. Only our families know who we are. Our parents make sure we still do normal shark kid things like finishing our homework. They don’t want us to be famous frenzied flakes.

  At the end of each school day, a special bus arrives to take the four of us to Widdle Guppies After School Care.

  Want to know something shell-arious? There IS no Widdle Guppies After School Care. Because the bus is actually …

  … the super-secret, totally decked-out

  tour bus! And buoy, do we cruise in style.

  It has a virtual sea-ality tank,

  a chumshake fountain,

  the latest CrayStation,

  an onboard massage therapist,

  and my favourite — our own KFC: Kentucky Fried CHUM.

  The tour bus takes us to concerts, rehearsals and supercool parties. Today, it’s taking us downtown to Snappy Tunes Recording Studio.

  When we rock up to the studio, Jawsome’s lead singer Ann Chovi is already there. She’s the only shark in the band that doesn’t go to Chumville School for Sharks.

  Instead, Ann goes to Squidgington Squire Academy for Gifted Sharks.

  It’s very fancy.

  Hunter and I swap a look. Ann is NEVER at the studio before us!

  I mean, don’t get me wrong. Ann’s a great singer. She’s just not much of a team player.

  My fins twitch. Something very sea-spicious is going on …

  Then Ann gives us all a toothy smile. Ah-ha! Ann NEVER smiles at us.

  See? TOTALLY FISHY!

  ‘I have some news,’ she says.

  ‘I’m leaving the band.’

  Hunter, Gilleon and I gasp.

  Our jaws drop to the seabed.

  Gnash is a bit distracted.

  ‘You’re WHAT?’ I cry to Ann. ‘You can’t leave the band. You’re the lead singer!’

  Ann tosses her leathery head. ‘The music scene is for chumps,’ she says. ‘I’m going to be a REAL star – in reality TV.’

  ‘Reality TV?’ we all chorus.

  ‘Yup,’ says Ann, slipping on her sunglasses. ‘I’ve been selected to judge I Wanna Be a Popshark, then I’m going to be on I'm a Shell-ebrity, Get Me Trout of Here.

  My Finstagram numbers are going to be epic!’

  ‘B-b-but what about Jawsome?’ I squeak. Sometimes my voice does that when I’m nervous. It’s very annoying.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll figure something out,’ says Ann, heading for the exit. ‘If not, I hear Chumville School for Sharks is always looking for new janitors. Later, gators!’

  She laughs all the way out the door.

  Hunter, Gilleon and I look at each other. We are all

  OTTERLY FLIPPER-GASTED.

  Well, all of us except for Gnash. He’s making a little statue of himself out of his boogers. It’s pretty good, actually. It’s got a full drum kit and little drumsticks and everything.

  Anyway. Focus, Finley.

  ‘We’re playing a sell-out concert at the Chumville Chopera House in three days!’ Gilleon wails. ‘How are we going to find a replacement by then?’

  ‘Don’t get your fin says Hunter, level-headed as always. ‘Hugo’s probably already got it all worked out.’

  At that moment, Hugo, our band manager, barrels into the studio.

  ‘Did you hear the news?’ Hugo cries. Hugo only has two volume levels: loud and really loud.

  ‘Ann Chovi quit Jawsome!’ He starts to cry. Loudly. ‘What are we gonna do? You have a show in three days!’

  I look at Hunter and sigh. So much for Hugo having a plan.

  ‘Can any of you sing?’ Hugo booms, looking at us with big walrus-puppy eyes.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Hunter. ‘I sound like a seagull choking on a chip.’ It was true.

  ‘I can,’ says Gilleon.

  Yes! Gill’s a great singer. Crab-tastrophe solved! ‘Only, I can’t multitask,’ he adds sadly. ‘I can play the keyboard, or I can sing. But not both. Which is a tragedy, really, because I’m so fin-credibly good.’

  My stomach drops. Hunter can’t sing, and now Gill’s out too. Any second, Hugo is going to ask if I can sing.

  And I really, really don’t want that to happen.

  Hugo looks at Gnash. ‘What about you, kid?’

  Gnash’s booger statue gets washed away by a stray current. He looks crushed.

  ‘Gnash doesn’t have a terrible voice,’ says Hunter truthfully. ‘The problem is getting him to remember the lyrics.’

  ‘He can barely remember his ABCs,’ sniffs Gilleon.

  Gnash looks offended. ‘Gnash can sing alphabet!’ he moans. He clears his throat.

  ‘Nice sound,’ agrees Hugo. ‘But I see what you mean about the lyrics.’ Then Hugo’s eyes zoom in on me.

  My fins tremble. My tail buckles. All fifty-two of my teeth chatter.

  I knew this was coming. And I don’t like it one little smackeral.

  ‘What about you, Finley?’ asks Hugo. ‘Can you carry a tuna? I mean, carry a tune?’

  I shake my head fast.

  But Hunter dives in. ‘Oh, Finley’s got a great set of seapipes. We hear him in the shower on the tour bus all the time.’

  I stare at the floor, not moving a muscle.

  As usual, Hunter is right. I am okay at singing. Maybe even better than okay – but there’s a but.

  A HUGE but.

  A WHALE-SIZED but.

  ‘Great!’ cries Hugo. ‘Er, how are you with lyrics?’ he asks, glancing at Gnash.

  Gnash is still singing the alphabet. He’s gotten through it three times already. I don’t think he realises no one’s listening anymore.

  ‘Um,’ I squeak. ‘Well …’

  ‘Oh, Finley knows all the lyrics,’ gushes Gilleon. ‘After all, he practically wrote most of our songs.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘that is true, but—’

  ‘Then it’s settled!’ yells Hugo. ‘Finley will be Jawsome’s new lead singer.’

  By now I’m chewing on my fins. I can’t take it anymore! This is turning into a complete sea-saster!

  Hunter finally seems to notice that I’m melting into a pool of panic. ‘There’s only one problem, though,’ she says.

  ‘A pretty big one, actually,’ adds Gilleon.

  They both look at Hugo and say,

  ‘Whaddya mean, stage fright?’ Hugo booms. ‘Finley’s the lead guitarist. He’s great on stage!’

  ‘Only when he’s got his guitar to hide behind,’ says Gilleon. ‘Otherwise, he clams right up. Remember Conchella last year?’

  Everyone looks at me. I feel my face heat up so much I must look like a cooked lobster.

  Conchella, Chumville’s biggest music festival, had been a total sea-bacle. Ann Chovi and I were supposed to sing a duet of a super-famous retro hit, “You’re the Chum That I Want”.

  I was great in rehearsals.

  Perfect at sound check.

  Totes on key backstage.

  But once I was in front of the crowd, things went completely belly-up. The spotlight swung onto Ann and me, and the music flared up. I was supposed to sing first.

  I opened my jaws and sang the words, loud and proud.

  Except it wasn’t words coming out of my jaws. It was sounds.

  Bad sounds.

  Terrible sounds.

  Sounds similar to a sea lion coughing up a furball.

  Or a catfish with its tail caught in a crab’s claw.

  I shake my head and back away. Me, singing on stage again?

  Not. Gonna. Happen.

  Hugo pulls on his moustache. He always does that when he’s thinking.

  Or nervous.

  Or happy.

  All the time, really.

  ‘Right-o, then!’ bellows Hugo. ‘There’s no other option. We’ll simply have to hold auditions for a new singer.’

  ‘You want to find a new singer for the band in three days?’ says Gilleon, aghast. ‘They’ll never learn our songs in time!’

  ‘It’s our only shot,’ grumbles Hugo. He gives his moustache an extra-hard tug. ‘You lot keep rehearsing. I’ll spread the word that Jawsome is holding auditions. The show must go on!’

  Hugo lumbers out of the studio.

  I heave a sigh of relief.

  We practise our set for the show on Friday. I happily jam away on my guitar.

  Playing the guitar is easy. It’s fun. I know all the chords, even the tricky ones. My fins move so fast they’re a blur.

  It is a bit strange rehearsing without anyone singing the lyrics, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem for long.

  An hour later, Hugo bursts back into the studio holding a stack of papers.

  ‘Time for auditions!’ he shouts.

  We settle onto the studio couch while Hugo sets up a microphone. Hugo’s assistant sails in with snacks for us to eat while we watch the auditions.

  It’s good timing, too. Hunter hasn’t eaten for twenty minutes. Any longer and she might start nibbling on the applicants.

  The first audition goes well.

  Until the applicant tries to swallow Hugo.

  Next up is a herring named Red. When Hugo asks if she knows our lyrics, she nods with gusto.

  We all swap a look. This could be promising.

  But when Red gets to the microphone, she spins around and …

  farts.

  Right into the microphone

  It goes on for ages.

  Hunter starts to laugh. She can’t help it.

  ‘What is she doing?’ I whisper.

  Hunter snorts into her fins. ‘That’s how herrings talk. With their farts.’

  I blink at her. She has to be joking.

  (She’s not.)

  ‘Er, next!’ cries Hugo.

  Two identical bronze whaler sharks sail in, giggling nervously.

  ‘A double act?’ muses Hugo, thoughtfully twisting his moustache. ‘The fans might love that. Give us what you got!’

  The twin sharks sail up to the microphone … then right past it.

  Before we know it they pull out their shell-phones and start taking selfies with us, squealing,

  ‘Hey!’ Hugo bellows at them.

  ‘This is an audition, not a fan club meeting! Get out of my studio!’

  The next applicant is a dogfish. She’s pretty good until she hits a high note.

  We all love the next guy, Johnny Rocktapus. He croons, he jives, he sails through every lyric and nails every note.

  He’s perfect.

  Until the end, when he suddenly goes into complete rockstar mode and starts smashing up the studio.

  ‘NEXT!’ shrieks Hugo.

  ‘Too good-looking!’ says Hugo.

  ‘Too grungy!’

  ‘Too so-fish-ticated!’

  Soon there’s only one applicant left. He does pretty well, too, until …

  GASP! Johnny Rocktapus!

  ‘Let’s call it a day,’ says Hugo wearily. ‘These auditions were roe-ful and I need to get some air!’

  Hugo sobs all the way out of the studio.

  We all look at each other in silence.

  Jawsome is in

  BIG

  TROUBLE.

  Hunter, Gilleon, Gnash and I swim back onto the tour bus. It’s time to go home.

  We’re all feeling flat as manta rays after the auditions. Without a singer, our show on Friday is going to be a total flop.

  I can see the headlines now:

  ‘Wanna play some CrayStation?’ Hunter asks me.

  I shake my head. I know Hunter is trying to cheer me up. After all, I could solve our huge problem in one bite – all I’d have to do is sing on stage.

  But that is

  one-hundred-per-cent fin-possible.

  ‘Naw,’ I say. ‘Think I might go chill out in the jaw-cuzzi.’

 

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