The Day the Screens Went Blank Danny Wallace (best summer reads .TXT) 📖

ones and white ones and yellow ones. All the drivers are standing around with their hands on their hips. Two of them are playing football, but not with a football. They’re using one of those plastic handheld screens they make people sign for stuff on.

‘I’m BORED,’ says Teddy. ‘And I feel sick.’

‘Slow down,’ says Dad. ‘If he throws up, those fish and chips will go to waste and we’re not stopping again.’

‘Which way is the A30?’ I ask because that makes me feel very grown-up and also I feel it’s important to get everything back on track.

‘BORED!’ says Teddy.

‘Don’t worry if they go to waste,’ says Mum, turning to Dad. ‘It’s not like we paid for them, you criminal mastermind!’

‘I am going to pay that woman back,’ says Dad. ‘And keep your eyes on the road!’

‘Lighten up,’ says Mum. ‘What else can go wrong?’

It’s Teddy who sees it first.

‘There’s a police car!’

It’s coming towards us very fast and its blue lights are flashing.

Dad gulps.

‘I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive,’ he says, and Mum slaps his arm because it’s not like it’s her fault!

‘Okay, are we all going to prison?’ I ask. ‘What do I pack?’

‘Just act normal,’ says Dad, as the siren wails louder. ‘Just look like a normal family.’

‘Our car is in bits and you’re covered in cow pats,’ says Mum.

But it’s important we try, and so we all smile and wave as the police car gets nearer…

And zings right past us.

‘He’s probably going to The Rose,’ says Mum. ‘She’ll tell him what car we’re in and he’ll turn round and get us because we were looting!’

‘We were not looting!’ says Dad. ‘We were trying to pay by cheque!’

‘BORED!’ yells Teddy, which is MAD because we’re almost literally in a Hollywood-style police pursuit, and we’re getting away, fast.

It’s weird being in some random little village.

Dad reckoned we had to keep off the road for a bit. Lie low.

There aren’t many people here. The ones I can see are just darting around nervously. I never would have thought that just losing some technology could have such an impact on people’s behaviour. I mean, there are still parks, right? And people can still go out, or walk their dogs, or play with friends.

There’s a small shop on the corner. A few people are walking out of it with big huge boxes of stuff. Toilet rolls piled up high on top of bags of frozen chips and bottles of water. Inside, I can see someone has just bought the last of the lettuce.

Me and Teddy find some squeaky swings on a small patch of grass, as Mum and Dad pace round the car, trying to work out what they should do.

‘We need a map,’ says Dad.

‘The kids are bored,’ says Mum. ‘And you need a wash.’

I jump off my swing and give Teddy a few pushes on his. He wants to go higher, and higher, and he’s absolutely loving it. He’s properly laughing. I love it when he laughs because it makes me laugh too.

We used to go to the park more when we were younger. He’d toddle about and I’d pretend to be a dinosaur and we’d laugh and laugh together. Mum says Teddy would look at me like I was his hero. But then somehow it was winter and we stayed in and maybe we just got used to staying in and doing our separate things.

We’ve got a small garden round the back of our house, and I remember when I was little it was muddy and overgrown and fun. Then we had the garden done and even though it looks much nicer, and I like the artificial grass and all that, it really hurts your knees if you skid along it.

But I feel like we laughed more before. In the jungle garden days. I hope I’m still an okay sister.

‘Hey, Ted,’ I say, because I’ve spotted something. ‘Come with me.’

Teddy has never been in a place like this.

The first thing he said when I pushed open the doors was, ‘Huh?’ Kind of confused, but kind of amazed.

I love these places. They say there used to be loads of them.

‘This is a library, Ted,’ I say. ‘It’s like a massive real-life Amazon.’

Teddy just looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about.

‘Imagine someone downloaded every book you could think of, printed them out, and put them all in here so you could read whatever you liked, for free.’

He starts laughing.

‘I’m serious,’ I say, leading him in. ‘Like a Black Friday deal or something.’

It doesn’t look like anyone else is here. All the computers have bits of paper stuck to them saying Doesn’t Work. Then I see an old lady in a drifty long dress is behind a desk and she looks up at us, and raises her eyebrows.

‘Hello,’ she says, like she’s shocked to see someone in a place that literally lets you do whatever you want for free.

Teddy looks equally shocked and tries to hide behind my legs, so I say hi to the lady, then quietly drag Teddy to the bit where I can see colourful seats because that must be the kids’ section.

‘Aw, Millions,’ I say, picking up a book. ‘Teddy, this is about two kids who find millions of pounds that’s been thrown off a train and there’s all this mad stuff about saints. And this one – this is called Mutant Zombies Cursed My School Trip. I don’t know what that’s about.’

But Teddy is more interested in trying to get the TV in the corner to work.

I could spend a whole day in here. Mum and Dad would always read to me and rub my back before I went to sleep when I was younger, but then sometimes Dad would be late home from work or Mum was too tired or had to do her designs and they