May Moon's Book of Choices(Text)

May Moon’s Book of Choices

Sam Jam presents May Moon’s Book of Choices Illustrated by Jeffrey Yeh

May Moon’s Book of Choices

Paperback

ISBN: 978-962-7466-21-5

Text and illustrations © 2012

The Hong Kong Institute of Certified Public Accountants

www.hkicpa.org.hk

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. The right of Nury Vittachi to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted, as have his moral rights with respect to the Work.

Dear readers,

Welcome to the latest May Moon adventure!

In this book, May learns a lot about how choices are made, and trust and respect gained, when it comes to money matters, or in the workplace.

This is a really important subject because when it comes to work and money, it is very important for people to be able to trust each other. Hong Kong is known for its trustworthiness in matters of business, which is one of the reasons we are a successful financial centre.

As certified public accountants whose work involves handling money, it is very important that other people can trust us. The accounting profession has a long history of working hard at earning and keeping other people’s trust. We gain trust by showing honesty, fairness, integrity and care in all that we do.

CPAs or certified public accountants have a set of values to follow and when we make choices of dos and don’ts, we have to make them within the bounds of those values. During our years of training, CPAs learn to put those values to use for a lifetime, so we make the right choices as often as we can.

Have a fun time reading May Moon’s Book of Choices and watching how May Moon learns money morals by making the right choices. (If you learn a little bit on the way, that will be a bonus!)

Sincere regards,

Hong Kong Institute of CPAs

Prologue

It was a dark and stormy night. In fact, it was SO dark and stormy that even film directors who make scary movies were staying home, sitting on their sofas with their mothers.

The street was deserted. Overhead, the sky was blueblack and starless, and only the tiniest sliver of new moon shone in one corner, shedding a ghostly light on a few leafless trees.

At ground level, there was almost no light at all. The only house on this avenue was dark, silent and empty, as was the street.

Or was it? No. A group of three people came into view and could be seen approaching the single old building. They walked steadily towards the closed door.

But before they reached it, something else moved on the street, behind them. It was a woman, and she was clearly trying to stay out of sight. She kept hiding behind trees and lampposts, while keeping her eyes firmly on the trio in front of her.

The group reached the door of the house. They opened it wide—and light shone from the doorway. Sounds could be heard, too: was there a party going on in the house? Maybe. It was hard to see past the new arrivals.

They entered. The door shut behind them with a thud.

Then the woman following in the shadows ran quickly up to the door. A sign on it said: “Ghost Club.”

She did not knock. Instead, she reached for the door-

handle and gently turned it.

She swung the door open—and gasped. For now it opened straight onto a brick wall. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. She just stood there with her mouth open.

Then she tapped the wall. It was solid. Yet only seconds ago, she had seen people enter the building through this doorway.

The woman sneaked around to the window and shone a flashlight into the room. It was empty and dusty, and looked like no one had been there for months, or maybe years.

Where did those people go? She shook her head and said out loud to no one in particular: “I must be going crazy.”

Chapter One

Nine hours later, 68 and a half kilometres away, a sensible-looking woman wearing sensible glasses was eating a crumbly Danish pastry at a desk in a small bank.

Brrrp-brrrp. Brrrp-brrrp.

She snatched up the ringing phone efficiently with her left hand while using the other to wipe a napkin across her mouth. “Hello, Margaret Moon here.”

She heard a low rumble in reply. Either an earthquake was phoning her—or it was her boss, Mr. Dreck, who had possibly the lowest voice in the world.

“Congratulations,” Mr. Dreck’s voice growled like thunder.

The woman sighed. “Hi, boss. Okay, what have I done now?”

“Hey! Why so suspicious? I was being nice.”

“Because you’re congratulating me, but my only achievement today has been to kill two cappuccinos, a Danish and my diet.”

Mr. Dreck laughed, a sound like an all-timpani orchestra being sucked into a black hole.

“Don’t be so negative, Margaret,” he said. “I have good news. You are being assigned to be head of banking at South Abbey Downs. It’s a big town, so it’s a promotion for you. You deserve congratulations.”

The woman thought for a moment before replying. “South Abbey Downs? Isn’t Sammi Yeung the bank chief there? And isn’t that town going broke?”

“Er, yes. But the place is too big for Sammi. We need

someone who can get the job done. That’s you.”

Margaret Moon rolled her eyes. “You mean you need someone too dumb to say NO to a tough assignment,” she said.

“Same thing.”

She laughed. At least he was being honest.

“You accept the assignment? Good. I’ll send you full details in an email.”

As she lowered the phone handset, Margaret Moon felt like a bus driver who had just been diverted onto a route with danger signals all over it.

That night, she broke the news to her daughter.

“We’re moving house,” she said. “We’re going to a new town.”

“Yippee,” said May, a spirited child with a big appetite for adventure.

Her mother decided that encouraging positive expectations would probably be a bad thing at this stage. “Well, it may not be a ‘yippee’ thing, to be honest. The place we’re heading for may, er, take a bit of adjusting to.”

“Oh,” said May, puzzled. “Are you saying we’re moving to, like, a HORRIBLE place? Why would we want to move somewhere bad?”

Mrs. Moon sat down next to her daughter. “No, I’m not saying that it’s a bad place. It’s just that—well, it doesn’t have a reputation as a fun spot. We’re going to have to cheer it up a bit ourselves, I think.”

May refused to be satisfied with this answer. She remembered the last time her mother tried to cover up something—and a few days later, they were in a panic, packing to leave town.

“Okay, what happened? Did you do something wrong?”

“No. I did something right. The bank has asked us to move, to say ‘thank you’ to me. I’m being promoted.”

She took her daughter’s hand and looked her in the eye. “One of the things you learn when you grow up, Maisy-May, is that it’s not necessarily a bad thing when things get tougher. It could simply mean that you’ve been given a bigger challenge, because someone high up thinks you’re capable of greater things.”

May was puzzled. Did she mean God or Mr. Dreck? Or both? She looked suspiciously at her mother. “If you do something right and you get sent somewhere bad, it feels like you’re being punished,” she said.

“Well, that’s not true in this case,” Mrs. Moon said firmly. “Sometimes, being given a really tough road to travel is actually the biggest compliment you can get. And in such cases, getting to your destination leads to the greatest feeling of triumph ever.”

She smiled at her daughter and hoped it was true.

Just before May turned off the light in her bedroom that night, she felt thirsty, and crept out of bed. Or perhaps the truth was that she was just too excited to sleep. Also, there was a lot of noise from the living room. Her mother’s book group was meeting, so half a dozen adults were talking at once.

She slipped out of bed. As she approached the main room, she heard her mother talking to a friend about her new job.

“My boss was really happy with what I did in the village. That’s why I’m being promoted to head of banking in a medium-sized town.”

“What you did in this village was a miracle. What town are you moving to?”

“South Abbey Downs.”

The chattering stopped.

After five seconds of silence, a voice asked: “Sadtown? You’re being posted to Sadtown?”

May’s mother laughed—but it was a fake laugh, and no one else joined in. “Yes, I know that’s the nickname for it. But the real name is South Abbey Downs, and I think I’d rather call it that. But yes, you’re right. It’s the place that most people know as Sadtown.”

“Er, good luck,” said two people at once. Their tone of voice suggested that she would really need it. May crept back to bed, worries creeping into her mind. Clearly, another awfully big adventure was coming up.

Chapter Two

A week later, May and her mother were packed and ready to go. Her father, a school principal, was busy setting up a school overseas, and wouldn’t be back until the end of term.

May went from house to house in the village, saying goodbye to her best friends. She kept blinking to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes, but it was hard. They all promised to keep in touch, but she knew that she would lose some of them.

Ten minutes later, as they were driving out of the village, May asked, “So, what’s this all about, Supermom? What’s the problem you have to fix at this place?”

“I’ll tell you the truth, Maisybelle. Sadtown is the biggest problem town in the country. People say it’s turning into a ghost town. The community is shutting down, bit by bit, and no one really knows why. But you and I are going to find out what the trouble is—and we’re going to fix it.”

* * *

South Abbey Downs was much bigger than the village they had just left. It had thousands of inhabitants, and filled up a big chunk of the east side of a large valley in the south of the country. It was a big collection of houses and apartment blocks built on an old, disused quarry, so the land under the buildings was dusty and polluted, and it was all owned by the Valley Mining Corporation.

They were greeted at a tea house in the main street by Sammi Yeung, one of Mrs. Moon’s old friends from

her student days when she was studying accountancy.

“I thought this was a new town, but it looks old,” said May, pointing to a boarded-up shop and an empty house with broken windows.

“It’s a young town but a dying one,” said Sammi. “Everything’s disappearing: people, things, businesses, and worst of all, hope.”

May put up her hand to ask a question, forgetting that she didn’t have to do that when she wasn’t in school. “What do you mean ‘disappearing’? Like a magician makes things disappear?”

Her mother said: “I think she meant it as a figure of speech.”

But Sammi shook her head. “No. Sometimes, things LITERALLY vanish. Stuff gets stolen all the time. People disappear too. Last week, people were seen going into a place on the edge of town called Ghost Club. Seconds later, they vanished—and so did the door they entered through, according to a witness.”

Mrs. Moon said, “Was the witness sound of mind?”

“The witness was ME,” said Sammi. “It was just weird. You may be right—I could be losing my mind. Comes from spending too much time in Sadtown, maybe.”

May’s mother opened her mouth to say sorry.

“Don’t apologize,” said Sammi. “It sounds crazy to me, too. That’s when I told the bank headquarters this place was too strange for me.”

“So THAT’S why they called me,” Mrs. Moon said.

Sammi smiled at her old friend. “If you fix this place, Margaret, you’ll be famous. It’ll make your career.”

“And if we fail?”

Sammi snapped her pencil in half. “Mr. Dreck will be MOST unhappy.” * * *

May toured part of the town with a kid called Jeremy,

Sammi’s nephew.

“There are lots of houses for sale,” he told her. “Lots of people want to leave. So do the kids. The town is really boring. There’s nothing to do. There’s no one in the park to play with, the school’s half empty and the youth club has closed.”

They jumped onto a bus and went to the other side of town, which was filled with swampland. “This part used to be farmland, but it’s polluted and full of mosquitoes now,” Jeremy said.

When he took May back to her mother, the girl waited until he was gone, and then said: “This place is like SO over. Let’s do whatever we have to do and get out, fast.”

Mrs. Moon shook her head. “There are young people around. And that means it has potential. You never know what kids will achieve—isn’t that the truth, May?”

After they had settled into a hotel, Mrs. Moon told her daughter that she had called a meeting of 10 town leaders for the following morning. They would come for coffee at the hotel.

Chapter Three

The next morning, Mrs. Moon bustled around, getting ready for her meeting. The mayor sent a note with his apologies, but the other nine people turned up on time.

She greeted them politely. “I’m the new bank manager for this town,” she said. “And I know you’ve had money problems. But I know that if we work together, we can make things better for everyone.”

A man with bags under his eyes put up his hand. “How? There are no jobs. The factories are disappearing. That means no one earns any money to buy anything. Which means that all the shops will eventually disappear. We just get poorer and poorer.”

A woman with worry-lines on her forehead nodded. “Not only are the jobs going, but so are the people. All our young folk, as soon as they finish studying, move out of town.”

A sad, bearded man interrupted. “The only people moving IN are ghosts. They gather at Ghost Club after midnight, I hear.”

Mrs. Moon started to laugh, thinking he meant it as a joke, but the others shivered and nodded. She pretended she was just clearing her throat. “Ahem. Yes, the town has been shrinking lately, I did hear that,” she said. “But let’s remember—the biggest factor that affects your personal money situation is not your wage packet. It’s your attitude.”

May, who was sitting at the next table doing some drawing, remembered that as an important lesson she

had learned in her younger days.

She interrupted with some wisdom of her own. “Being solvent has nothing to do with your income, and everything to do with your attitude,” she said. “Somebody famous said that, but I can’t remember who. And solvent, by the way, means not spending more than you have. That’s VERY important.”

The adults turned to look curiously at the girl.

Her mother smiled at her daughter and continued: “May’s right. And we’ll help you develop a mindset that will help to free you from money worries. I’ll offer a course which will give you advice on how to make your money grow. And my daughter will talk to your children about the same thing. She’s been on national television for her ability to teach money management skills to young people.”

May leapt off her seat and bowed.

The townsfolk didn’t clap or even smile. A man at the back said to Mrs. Moon: “You’re wasting your time. This town is history. I’m planning to move out myself, before the end of the year.”

The conversation continued on the same lines for about half an hour. Then most of the townsfolk rose to their feet, ready to slouch gloomily out.

Suddenly a man with white hair marched into the hotel coffee shop.

“Ah, you’re all still here, good, good. I have some news,” he said. “Forgive me for interrupting your meeting, Mrs. Moon. I’m Ricardo Lee, the mayor of South Abbey Downs. We spoke on the phone yesterday. I finished my meeting and rushed here. I hope you won’t mind if I make an announcement. It’ll be something that will interest you, too, I think.”

“Go right ahead,” said Mrs. Moon, who had run out of things to say to her miserable audience.

“I have just been informed by the central government that a major grant from a corporation is available for a new arts centre to be built in the valley. It will be an entertainment complex which will include a theatre and a community centre. There’ll be lots of new jobs.”

Some of the townsfolk lifted their heads at this news.

“I think it’s very good news indeed. The Valley Mining Corporation, the main landlord of this whole district, has offered to sponsor it,” the mayor continued. “But of course there’s no guarantee that we’ll get it here. There are other towns in the valley.”

The worried woman said: “There are only two big towns in the valley, and the other one already has an arts centre.”

“True,” said Mr. Lee. “So in fairness, we SHOULD get it. But, well, you never know.”

Mrs. Moon said: “That’s a great idea. An arts centre is just what this town needs to bring it to life.”

Chapter Four

May stepped into the children’s section at the town library—always the first place she looked for when they moved to a new home.

“Can I join the library please?” she asked the staff member at the counter. “I’ve just moved to this town. We arrived yesterday.”

“Certainly, young lady. We’d be happy to have you,” said the librarian, a young man with a moustache and kind eyes. “You just have to fill in this form.”

As she wrote down her name, she saw the man’s eyebrows rise.

“So your name’s May Moon?” he asked.

“That’s right. Have you heard of me? I was on TV once.”

“I didn’t see you on TV, but I have heard of you— just today, funnily enough,” he said. “We have your new book in stock. It arrived this morning. It’s odd: I don’t remember ordering it. Perhaps it’s a free sample sent by the publisher. What a coincidence that your book arrives the same day you do.”

May blinked. What new book? She hadn’t written a book lately.

She was about to say so, when a thought struck her. She’d gotten a reputation as a money expert for young people, but the lessons she taught came from magic books, which seemed to appear just when she needed them. Could this be another one?

She hardly dared hope.

Forcing herself to stay calm, she gave the librarian a

happy smile. “Er, my new book’s arrived? Hooray! Could I see it? I haven’t got a copy myself yet.”

The librarian stepped into a back room to get it.

Less than a minute later, he emerged holding a small book in his hand. “I thought writers always got advance copies of their books from their publishers,” he said. “Maybe they sent a copy to your old address by accident.”

The book was similar to the previous volumes. It had her name as part of the title: May Moon’s Book of Choices. No wonder the librarian thought that she had written it.

She reached for it. “Can I take this out?”

The librarian’s eyebrows came together as he lifted the book out of her reach. “No, sorry. I haven’t catalogued it yet. But I tell you what, I’ll do it as soon as I can, and I’ll reserve it for you. Come back later in the week, maybe Friday, and you can take it out then.”

She thanked him, and reluctantly lowered her hands, which were itching to grab it and see what was inside. Was this another magic book, with a different message—a message she would need to help her help Sadtown? * * *

That day and the next two days passed quickly.

May and her mother found an apartment and moved into it.

The girl went to the local school and worked hard at making friends. It was not easy. The problem was not that the other kids were unfriendly. It was just that they seemed tired and unhappy all the time. They simply had no energy to make new friendships.

She realized that Sadtown had gotten its name not just because the letters S. A. D. were the initials of South Abbey Downs. It really did seem to have an air of

unhappiness about it. There was something wrong with the place, but she couldn’t work out what it was.

Mrs. Moon, once she had moved her things into her new office at the bank, wrote out a plan about how they could make best use of the new arts centre to bring the community to life.

She invited some of the adults over to talk about it.

“We could have pantomimes for the smaller children, pop music for the teenagers, and drama for the adults,” she said. “We’d need architects and construction people first, to build it. Then we’d need interior designers and painters and decorators.”

“Lots of activity, and plenty of new jobs: that’s what we need,” said the man with baggy eyes, half-smiling for the first time.

“Yes,” said the worrying woman, her worry-lines fading from her forehead. “Then when it’s ready we’d need actors and singers and theatre staff. We’d need ushers and ticket sellers and someone to raise the curtain.”

Mrs. Moon said: “Hmm. But first there will have to be some investors to pay for all the start-up costs, until the tickets are sold and it starts making money.”

As the adults were leaving, May said to her mother: “This is going to make our job easier, right?”

“It sure will.”

“And I have a feeling that I may soon be able to help, too,” the girl added, thinking of the magic book that would be in her hands by Friday.

Chapter Five

On Friday morning, May was waiting at the library at nine o’clock, when the kind-eyed librarian opened the door.

“Goodness,” he said. “You ARE keen.”

Ten minutes later, she had checked out May Moon’s Book of Choices and run down to the park.

She sat on a bench next to an empty playground in which every piece of equipment was broken. Then she closed her eyes, said a quick prayer that this book would be as magical as her earlier ones, and opened the pages.

The built-in fairness detector, by Reeder Page, CPA

Welcome to an unusual book—a book for young people about the right and wrong of money.

To start with, I have a question for you. When someone is unfair to someone you know, do you feel annoyed?

Do you feel like saying: “That’s not fair.” Yes? Well, if you do, hold on to that feeling. I don’t mean you should hold on to the feeling of being upset. But try to maintain the ability to instantly tell the difference between right and wrong, and feel something about it.

This is something that children can do better than many grown-ups.

When something unfair happens, children know immediately. They stamp their feet, shout “that’s not fair” and want it set right.

Lots of adults lose this ability, and have to think hard to work out whether something is good or not.

The ability to instinctively tell the difference between right and wrong is sometimes called natural morality.

It seems that we are all born with it.

Some people hold on to it all their lives, while others seem to lose it.

Is it important?

Yes. It’s one of the most important things in the world, as we’ll find out in the next chapter.

The book was curious, May decided. It was definitely interesting, but it was very different from the earlier magic books.

The illustration on the page showed a man with a fresh face. He looked nice enough, she reckoned, although there was something about his face that made him seem a little crazy.

The girl looked around to make sure she was alone. Then she spoke out loud to the picture, with her earlier magic books in mind: “Good morning,” she said. “Are you magic? Are you like Turner Page or his dad, Contents Page?”

The illustration did what illustrations normally do. Nothing.

“Can you move? Can you speak?”

The picture stayed still, just a flat image on a page.

She sighed. What a disappointment. “Oh bother! I hoped you’d be magic like Turner.” Still, she could read the book, and perhaps still find out something useful— although the first chapter seemed quite unlike the opening pages of the previous books.

“I’m very glad I’m not,” said a voice indignantly. She looked down at the picture. Had it spoken?

She gasped. “Are you magic like Turner Page?” she repeated.

“Certainly not,” said the illustration, popping up and folding its arms. The tiny figure stood on the page and looked up at the girl.

“But you ARE,” said May, delighted. “You are magic.”

“You asked if I was magic like Turner Page. The answer to your question is: No, I am not ANYTHING like Turner Page. Noisy youngster. Always playing his guitar and disturbing my afternoon nap. Youngsters these days! I don’t know what the—”

“I mean, you are MAGIC,” interrupted May. “My mom and I have a big task ahead of us. We’ve moved to a town with big money problems. And we hope you’ll help us, like your family members helped us before. Are you expert on money, too?”

“Me? Certainly not.”

May was taken aback. “You’re not? But I thought all of you Pages had the same interest.”

“I have no interest at all in that sort of thing,” said Reeder. “I leave that to my brother Contents and his son Turner.”

“But why are you here?” asked May. “Are you going to help me with my assignment in Sadtown?”

“If macro-economics is what you want advice on, the answer is no. There’s more to life than money, you know. I thought you learned that in book one, May Moon and the Secrets of the CPAs? Now I have to go: it’s time for my mid-morning nap. See you.”

He flattened himself, turning back into the illustration, and froze.

May was baffled.

* * *

Before the day was over, the mood of the townsfolk changed again.

The mayor entered the bank just before it closed,

and took off his hat. He’d lost the excited look he had had a few days earlier. “I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Mrs. Moon: I made some more enquiries about the new arts centre. It will not be in this town after all.”

“Why not?”

“I have it from reliable sources that the biggest town in this district, Cashland, a place on the other side of the valley, is expected to get the grant.”

“But I thought that town already had an arts centre?”

“They do. They have two, in fact.”

“So why aren’t we getting the new one?”

Mr. Lee looked around for somewhere to sit. They were in Mrs. Moon’s new office at the bank, and it was still very messy, with papers everywhere.

She quickly cleared some files and folders off a chair.

He sat down. “Thank you. One of the main reasons why our town is so poor is that all the resources from the central government and corporate sponsors tend to go to our neighbours. Cashland is a town run by a rather difficult man. He and his colleagues grab everything.”

Mrs. Moon sat down opposite him. “You better tell me the whole story.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell—since it’s all a bit of a mystery. Cashland seems to have an endless supply of money,” he said. “They try to buy loyalty. They use it to get their own way all the time. It makes it difficult for the rest of us.”

May, who entered the office and heard the last part of the conversation, said: “How do they make all this money? What do they do?”

“They don’t seem to make anything, or do anything, so no one knows where the cash originates. If they keep records, they don’t reveal them to anyone.”

Mrs. Moon said crossly: “But it doesn’t seem fair for them to get another arts centre, when we don’t have one at all.”

“That’s right. But the Cashland mayor, a guy called Dr. Isla Grabbit, has persuaded the corporation sponsoring the new arts centre to grant it to the most creative town in the valley.”

May put up her hand. “Is it like a competition, then? We could win, I suppose.”

Mr. Lee shook his head. “Dr. Grabbit only proposed that because he knew that they would automatically win. Cashland has an arts academy, a music academic, a performing arts school, a huge musical instrument store, and so on. There are already several big-name TV entertainers who came from Cashland.”

May’s mother asked: “What about us? Do we have any talent in this town?”

The mayor shook his head. “We don’t even have a school band,” he said. “We can’t compete.”

Mrs. Moon said: “I think you’re right. It sounds hopeless. Well, never mind. There are sure to be other ways we can improve this town.”

May, horrified, piped up: “Wait, wait. You’re not abandoning the contest before it even starts, are you?”

The mayor turned to her: “If the grant is being awarded to the best performers, then we’re definitely not going to win, May. Unless you’re secretly the world’s greatest superstar singer in disguise.”

It was meant as a joke, but May did not take it as one. She folded her arms crossly. “You’re not defeated until you stop fighting for what you want,” she said. “I’m going to go and talk to the children. We’ll sort it out for you.”

She heard the mayor chuckling as she left the room. “Your daughter is very strong-willed,” he said.

“She sure is,” she heard her mother say. May got on the bus to Jeremy’s house, and took out her book to read on the way. * * *

Actions don’t have labels, by Reeder Page, CPA Morality is important.

Imagine a world where no one knew the difference between good and bad. Robbers could run around free. They could lock up all the police officers in jail. They could take whatever they wanted. And no one could do anything to change it. It would be a terrible place.

To avoid becoming like that, it’s vital for communities to recognize that some actions are good and others aren’t. But most schools don’t teach morality; not directly, anyway. Some people learn it from their families, or from faith groups, or from the way people around them behave. We also learn it from movies, television and books.

We can learn about morality by tackling questions of ethics. Ethics is a word meaning “issues dealing with right and wrong.”

These issues can be fun to think about, rather like tricky puzzles to solve.

Actions don’t have labels, so sometimes it’s hard to know whether doing something is right or wrong.

I’ll show you what I mean with an example.

We all know that stealing is wrong, agreed? But what if you stole a tiny bit of medicine to save someone’s life? Is that a good thing to do or a bad one? Or half and half? It’s a tough question with no easy answer. That’s what makes studying ethics difficult but intriguing.

The book was interesting, but May couldn’t work out why her magical book was about right and wrong, instead of being about money.

Surely that sort of information wouldn’t be any help

in the situation they were in? Hard cash was what they needed. She slipped the book into her bag as the bus reached its destination.

She found Jeremy in the playground near his house, playing with a tall, skinny girl.

“There’s going to be a music contest, and the most creative people in the valley will get the new arts centre,” May said.

“I heard about this,” said Jeremy’s friend Denise. She wore tinted glasses and was in May’s class at the new school. “It’s going to be called Valley Idol. My Dad said Cashland is going to win. It’s a town full of singers and musicians and dancers. They even have professional junior pop groups. No one else has a chance of winning.”

“But we must be able to do SOMETHING,” May said.

There was silence.

“I don’t think so,” said Jeremy.

“Jacob’s sister Cara can sing,” said Denise. “She’s not bad.”

“But she’s just a kid,” said Jeremy. “She doesn’t have a backing band or even a microphone. She just strums a guitar and sings as loud as she can over the top of it. No way could she do a pop concert. It’s not the same.”

“Give me her address,” said May. “I’m going to see her. She may be our only chance.”

“Okay, if you want to see her, I’ll come with you,” said Jeremy.

Denise took out a notebook from her bag. “I’ll do some detective work while you guys are gone,” she said.

On the bus, May opened her book again.

Jeremy was intrigued, and they read the book together.

Money and morality, by Reeder Page, CPA

In ancient times, as humanity spread, most communities developed their ideas about right and wrong—or ethics— through stories.

Almost every group of people in the world, whether they live in cities or jungles or deserts or snowfields, have ancient stories designed to teach people about right and wrong. For the first few thousand years of human societies, groups which had these tales had more happiness and less crime, so the stories spread.

In more recent centuries, almost every country added a second book, a list of laws, to try to make a very clear division between good deeds and bad deeds. These books are lists of decisions of judges, and are called case laws, statutes or ordinances.

Money was invented about 3,000 years ago (you can read about it in the first May Moon book, May Moon and the Secrets of the CPAs) and sparked the growth of its own list of questions about what is right or wrong.

Some people blamed money for the growth of crime in society. Others acted as if money could buy happiness. As the years went by, people realized that neither was true.

Lots of people have thought about money’s place in our lives, and more books have been written on that subject than almost any other topic.

But in the past few years, especially since the financial crisis of 2008 (you can read about this in the second May Moon book, May Moon Rescues the World Economy), it has become clear that yet more wisdom is needed on the rights and wrongs of dealing with money. This area of study is often called business ethics.

Chapter Six

A guitar flew out of a window.

May dived out of the way. But Jeremy, who was wearing basketball shoes, leapt up and grabbed it before it hit the ground. “Gotcha! Hey, I always wanted a guitar. I see an opportunity for stardom here.”

May said: “I see a sign that someone is in a bad mood.”

They went into the building and saw an angry young girl stomping down the stairs.

“Is this yours?” Jeremy asked, holding up the guitar.

“It was. I don’t need it any more.” She spoke bitterly.

“Cool,” said Jeremy, giving the top string a twang.

“Give it back to her,” barked May. Jeremy was so surprised at her bossy tone that he immediately did as he was told.

Cara was also surprised. She looked at the new girl. “Hey, you’re May, the so-called junior money expert, aren’t you? Some people were talking about you at school.”

May curtsied. “May Moon, at your service,” she said.

“Maybe you can help me,” Cara said. “Money’s my problem.”

They strolled outside and sat on a bench in the dilapidated playground outside Cara’s home.

Cara explained that she had entered every musical contest and talent show in the valley for the past four years. But singers and duos and bands from Cashland won the top prize every time. “They’re good singers, but I’m not bad. I’m as good or better than some of

them. Yet they always win, because they have so many advantages. They have professional musicians teaching them, they have their own private rehearsal studios, and they have the latest gear—guitars, drums, synthesizers, everything.”

“Too bad,” said May.

“It’s worse than bad,” said Cara. “It’s horrible. This morning I heard about the Valley Idol contest, and I called Fabiana, one of the Cashland kids, to see if they were entering.”

“I bet they are,” said Jeremy.

Cara nodded. “Not only are they determined to win, but their dads have hired a real live pop star to come along and train them.”

“Who is it?” May and Jeremy asked together.

“Cool Baby IceMan, the rap singer.”

There was silence. “Is he famous?” May asked eventually.

“He’s MEGA-famous, if you know anything about modern music,” Cara said. “He has his own TV show. With him behind the Cashland kids, no one else has any chance.”

May thought for a while. “Maybe the judges will prefer you and your guitar, instead of a group trained by a flashy pop star. You never know.”

Cara looked skeptical.

“It’s SO not fair. I saved up for a year to buy a simple guitar and a tambourine. But even the youngest kids from Cashland get synthesizers, electric guitars, electronic drum pads, music computers—all that fancy stuff.”

Jeremy raised his hands to get their attention. “Ladies,” he said. “If you want my opinion, I would say that music is not about having expensive machines. It’s about, well, music,” he finished rather lamely.

“That’s true,” said Cara. “But you try to get an audience bopping to a tambourine when your rival has got the latest, fully-programmed electronic drum kit.”

Jeremy put one hand on Cara’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “Cara,” he said. “Be cool. May and Jeremy are on the job. We’ll fix it, okay?”

“Er, yeah, sure,” said May, wishing she sounded as confident as her new friend. “We’ll do something about it.”

The boy said: “Meet us at May’s apartment, the one over the bank, after school. Five o’clock, okay? We’ll have a plan by then.”

“Deal.”

On the way home, May and Jeremy sat on the bus and read the next few pages of May Moon’s Book of Choices.

Business basics, by Reeder Page, CPA

If you want to be successful in business, you have to start off by creating something that is worth something to someone.

You can’t get real value out of any system, unless you’ve put real value into it first.

So let’s say you’ve put together some good ingredients, like flour and sugar and chocolate, and a recipe and a kitchen and a shop and staff. With all these things, you make a cookie store.

Experts will work out the value of your business, and you can let people buy a share of it, and you can use that money to set up more branches of the store.

If you look at the financial pages of newspapers, you would think that business was all about numbers. There are pages and pages of lists of figures, most in tiny print. They represent the value of shares of companies such as your cookie store.

When a stock market crash happens, most of these numbers suddenly get smaller. The amount of money in the

system shrinks. People lose their savings. Bosses cannot pay workers, so workers lose their jobs. Unhappiness spreads.

The role of experts, by Reeder Page, CPA

But where does the money go in a financial crash? Who took it away? Where is it now?

In fact, it hasn’t gone anywhere.

The money was just an estimate of what people thought companies were worth.

For example, a toy company making a popular robot could be worth a lot of money. But its estimated value would fall if the toy went out of fashion.

If lots of prices fall at once, we call it a crash.

Is anyone to blame?

We hope not. People in the financial business are just like people in any other job, like teachers or police officers or fire fighters: most of them work hard at doing their job as well as they can.

But in any job, people sometimes slip. These experts may get lazy, or they may be tempted to cheat or make other bad choices.

That’s where business ethics comes in. This is the name for a group of guidelines which help people do the right thing in every situation.

We can think of it as a system for making sure everyone PLAYS FAIR.

Cara arrived at May’s home bang on time.

“Did you get me some music gear?” Cara asked.

“Er, no,” Jeremy replied.

“You promised!” she complained.

“Actually, we promised we’d try to sort out the problem. That’s not the same as getting you loads of expensive gear.”

“You’re a phony, Jeremy.”

May looked up from her book. “Here’s an important money principle: you can’t get real value out of any system, unless you’ve put real value into it first.”

“What does that mean?” asked Cara. “And what’s it got to do with me or music?”

May’s mother and her friend Sammi Yeung, who had overheard the conversation, stepped into the room from the kitchen.

“Let me explain that one,” said Sammi. “When May’s mother and I were students studying accountancy, I used to cook horrible frozen dinners from the supermarket freezer. But then May’s mother, who was my flat-mate, taught me something important about cooking. If you start off by putting in really good ingredients, like fresh meat and fresh vegetables, it’s really hard to ruin it.”

“But you still manage it sometimes,” Mrs. Moon teased.

“You’re spoiling my analogy,” said Sammi, laughing. Cara looked baffled. “I don’t know what any of that has to do with music,” she said.

Sammi Yeung said, “Quality in means quality out. Cara, you’ve spent two years writing and singing songs. Your values are those of a real singer-songwriter. You’ve got good songs, and a strong voice—a voice which is powerful, because you’ve never been able to afford a microphone or amplifier.”

Mrs. Moon added: “The Cashland kids may have bought fancy drum machines and synthesizers. But they’re just pressing buttons and producing prepackaged synthesized sounds. You’re delivering genuine musical talent.”

“Hey, what are you doing?” said Cara, as Jeremy picked up her guitar and placed it in her hands.

“I’m giving you your guitar so that you can get ready

to perform something for us, and I’m setting up my video camera. You’re going to sing for your supper, Cara.”

Mrs. Moon laughed. “Good idea. Sing us a good song and you can stay for dinner.”

The food smelled delicious. Cara opened her mouth and started to sing.

May tapped her foot to the rhythm of the song, but couldn’t help stealing a glance at the next chapter of her book.

The importance of integrity, by Reeder Page, CPA

Most people have some savings. You may have cash in a piggy bank. Or perhaps you have a savings account in a bank. Or maybe you have a savings book, and can check regularly when the amount goes up.

Money doesn’t stay still. The prices of the toys or clothes or discs you want to buy go up and down. The money in your bank account can go up and down too, even if you don’t spend any of it, thanks to interest rates, bank charges and so on.

For this reason, most people with a lot of savings eventually need experts to help them manage their money.

What’s the most important thing about choosing the right expert to help you? Do you choose someone with the same colour shirt as yours or someone who likes the same pop group? Or do you just choose someone randomly from a list of phone numbers?

No. You choose carefully, and make sure you find someone you trust. The most important thing is that the expert is truthful, knows what he or she is doing, works hard, and does the right thing all the time. When a person is like this, we say he or she has integrity. You know you can depend on that person.

Accountants are experts in all areas of handling money. Most of the time, it’s other people’s money.

For this reason, accountants spend a lot of time thinking

about integrity, business ethics and organizing things so that financial systems are as fair as possible. Integrity is invisible. It cannot be touched or weighed or canned. But it is one of the most important things a person or a group of people can have.

Chapter Seven

On a Tuesday evening the following week, the sound of raised voices and jangling guitars could be heard coming from the school hall.

The Sadtown youngsters had formed a new band called Cara and the Castaways.

Cara sang and played guitar, Jeremy played the piano, May beat the tambourine and sang harmonies, and a group of younger kids from the next apartment did a dance they had made up.

“Performing is fun,” said May. “If the audiences have half as much fun as we’re having, we’re going to have a hit show.”

* * *

Loopholes, by Reeder Page, CPA

Some business people confuse ethics with laws. They are not the same. Sometimes they can be opposites. (This was explored in May Moon Rescues the World Economy.)

For example, lawyers agree that the spirit of the law is to make rules which help society. Many think of themselves as problem solvers, and they benefit society by solving disputes and debating rights and wrongs in courtrooms. But some business people have lawyers whose main job is to find gaps in the law, called loopholes. The result can sometimes be that their bosses benefit while the community loses.

In recent years, people have been looking for ways to bridge the gap between natural justice, which belongs to all of us, and the sort of legal judgments that feel like the opposite, that feel unfair.

* * *

May sat in bed with her magic book.

“Mr. Page, what do you think? Last week people wanted to abandon the idea of trying to get a new arts centre. But I persuaded everyone that we should enter the contest and win it. So that we get the new arts centre and everyone around here becomes happier. Isn’t that a good idea?”

The man with the crazy look popped out of the illustration.

“Good? Good? I think it’s a terrible idea.”

May was taken aback. “Why? I thought you’d be pleased that we’re not giving up. We COULD win the competition.”

He sighed and folded his arms. “Look here, May. Having a go is a good thing. But you should never try to get what you want through chance—especially when the odds are stacked so heavily against you. Contests are highly unpredictable. They are almost as bad as games of chance.”

“You mean gambling?”

“That’s right. You probably won’t be the best people in the show. And even if you perform wonderfully well, there’s no guarantee that the judges will like you best. It’s all subjective. That means it’s a matter of choice on the part of the judges.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“If you really, really want something, don’t set your heart on winning it. Earn it. That’s the only safe way to go.”

* * *

May was shocked that the host of the magic book was not supporting them.

But when she thought it over, she realized that he was probably right. If they depended on winning the contest to improve the town, there was a chance, and

probably a big chance, that they would fail.

But if they worked to fix the town themselves, it would be hard work—but at least they would be guaranteed to achieve some sort of positive result.

She went to the playground to meet the other kids.

“Hey, guys, as well as practising for the contest, let’s make sure we do other things to bring this town to life.”

“Like what?” Jeremy asked.

“Well, we could see if we could get one of the farms working again. That could be fun. I’ve always wanted to work on a farm.”

Denise said: “My dad’s a farmer. Or at least he used to be. We could talk to him. He’d tell us if there was anything we could do.”

Ten minutes later, the three children were at Denise’s house, listening to her father Ah-Lum.

“The ponds used to be full of fresh water,” he said. “They were perfect for irrigating the farmland. But no more.”

He sighed, stood up and walked to the window. “Look at it now. It’s just a mosquito-infested swamp. It would cost millions of dollars to clear it.”

Jeremy turned to May. “I was going to offer my pocket money, but I don’t think it will be enough.”

May didn’t reply. She was staring at the newspaper that Denise’s father had been reading. “Look at this,” she said.

They gathered around. The headline said: “Valley Town Splurges on Art.” The article reported that the Cashland council was spending millions of dollars to commission artists in their town to create sculptures and paintings to decorate the streets. The report included an interview with the mayor of Cashland, Dr. Isla Grabbit. “We’ve always been the most creative city

in the country,” he said. “Now we want to be the most creative city in the world.”

Jeremy asked: “Millions of dollars? Where did they get that money?”

Denise’s dad strolled over to the table. “Dr. Grabbit never reveals anything about where his city gets its cash,” he said. “He has secret investments and secret bank accounts all over the place.”

“Isn’t that unethical?” May asked.

The old farmer nodded yes.

“I keep my pocket money in a piggy bank hidden in my bedroom,” said Jeremy. “Is that unethical?”

“Not unless you tell lies about it,” said Denise’s dad. “Dr. Grabbit is being unethical because he hides money so the tax collectors don’t know about it. He doesn’t want to contribute his fair share to the town.”

Secrets and lies, by Reeder Page, CPA

All children know that sometimes you own things yourself, and sometimes you share ownership of things with other people.

If your parents give you new clothes, those belong to you. But if they buy a computer for the family, then the whole family shares it.

When it comes to things which have value, a lot of grown-ups don’t like to share what they have. For example, when they earn money, they don’t want to pay taxes to the government to pay for the services the government provides to all citizens. They don’t want anyone to ask them to share their property.

If you ask them for information, they will claim that they have a right to privacy. And perhaps they are right. For many people, privacy is important.

Let’s put our ethics hat on and ask a question. What’s right and what’s wrong in this situation?

Smart people have taken many years to think about this. They have made legal lists of things which are private, and so can be kept secret. And they have made lists of things which are not private, and must not be kept secret. This prevents people from being tempted to tell lies and hide the truth. They can make the correct choice between right and wrong.

For example, if you don’t want to tell your friends how much money you earn (if you are a grown-up) or how much pocket money you get (if you are a child), you don’t have to. That’s private.

But if the government is building a new hospital, and asks everyone to pay a tax of 1 percent of their earnings to cover the cost, then people have to be honest and pay their share. You can’t tell lies to evade paying taxes. * * *

On the bus back into the centre of town, May and Jeremy scanned the magic book, determined to find answers.

“Mr. Page,” she said to the picture in the book. “You’re not like Turner Page or his father Contents Page at all, I agree.”

“Quite right,” said the illustration in the book, popping up and smiling. “I see you now understand that. I talk in riddles, rather than offer black and white solutions.”

“Can you tell us something that will help us fix a farm?” May asked.

“Two things grow as rapidly as young love,” said Mr. Page, crossing his hands over his heart. “A compound savings account and a Spirodella plant.” He winked at Jeremy and smiled at May.

Jeremy blushed and moved a centimetre away from his companion.

May just blinked at the figure on the page. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m speaking plain English,” he said. “It should be clear enough to you.”

She thought for a moment. “I know about compound interest, and how it can make your savings grow. Is that what you are telling me? I already learned that from the other magic books.”

But the image had flattened itself back into an unmoving picture.

May felt that the magic book was teaching them something else. But what was it? * * *

She spent the evening looking in encyclopaedias and on botanical websites.

“What are you doing, Maisy-May?” her mother asked.

“I’m researching Spirodella—it’s a miracle plant,” she said. “It grows like compound interest, speeding up its growth rate as it expands.”

Mrs. Moon left her to it and returned to her newspaper. But she looked up again when her daughter squealed with excitement. “What is it?”

“I found out something else about Spirodella. It grows best in pond water, and it de-pollutes ponds as it grows!”

“Interesting,” Mrs. Moon said.

“Mom, tomorrow I want you to drive me to the nearest seed shop, please. We are going to go and buy some plants.”

* * *

Conflicts of interest, by Reeder Page

In movies and stories, business people are often bad guys. They wear black suits and they do bad things to make money for themselves.

In real life, business people are just like any other group of people. Most of them are normal individuals who go to their

workplace every day and toil hard to earn money, just like teachers, gardeners, school bus drivers and everyone else.

But one particular group of people, sometimes called financial professionals, may feel they have an extra-tough challenge in their jobs when it comes to making right and wrong money choices.

A client, who is a person who has saved up some cash, tells them: “I’ll pay you a small fee to work out which is the best place for me to put my savings.”

But at the same time, bankers tell them: “We’ll pay you a very, very large fee to tell all the savers that my bank is the best place for their savings.”

Financial advisers will need to have a lot of integrity to avoid the temptation to do what’s best for themselves instead of what’s best for the client.

To try to stop this situation from happening, financial professionals make strict regulations for themselves. These are known as conflict of interest or independence rules. These say that financial professionals should always avoid getting into these situations so they won’t have to face these choices. But if they can’t avoid it, they need to be honest about the situation to the client, and make a full disclosure of all the facts.

And if they ever have to choose between what’s best for them and what’s best for the client, they should always choose what’s best for the client.

Chapter Eight

Two days later, May persuaded Ah-Lum to invite many of his farmer friends to attend a breakfast meeting at his house. Several of them came, since they had nothing else to do, as all the farms were closed.

It was a bright, breezy, pleasant morning, so the meeting was held at picnic tables outside the main farm building. Ah-Lum cooked breakfast—egg and ham sandwiches, and the kids brewed fresh coffee.

May, Jeremy and Denise announced that they were going to play a little game. They handed out small flowering plants to everyone.

“See this flower?” announced May, using a microphone she had borrowed from the school’s music department. “It’s Spirodella, a water plant. I’m going to plant mine right here.”

She dropped to her knees and planted the shoot in the soft ground at the edge of the swampy land.

Denise said: “Everyone has to plant one somewhere. It’s for good luck.”

Some of the farmers grumbled, but most of them got out of their chairs and put one of the plants into the ground. They did it to humour the youngsters— but at the same time they were pleased to be planting something, anything, again. It reminded them of happier days, when their farms were thriving.

An hour later, after everyone planted their shoots and had had a good breakfast, Jeremy took the microphone. “Thanks for coming. We’re going to all meet here again tomorrow, at exactly the same time, and there will be a

nice surprise for all of us.”

“No way,” said one of the farmers. “Too many mosquitoes.”

Denise said: “There’ll be a free breakfast and good coffee for everyone again.”

May added: “And there will be announcement about the farming community that I guarantee you’ll find interesting.”

“I’ll be here,” said Ah-Lum, gravely.

“But you live here,” complained the farmer sitting next to him.

Everyone laughed.

Ah-Lum defended himself. “Even if I didn’t live here, I would still come.”

The meeting broke up. As the farmers strolled off, chatting and laughing, May crossed her fingers. They seemed to have enjoyed getting together—and she hoped that most of them would return the next morning. *

The following day, almost three-quarters of the town’s farmers came to Ah-Lum’s farm. The lure of good company drew them to the scene, and the smell of sizzling ham put everyone into a cheery mood.

But when they got to the picnic tables outside the main building, it wasn’t the food they found themselves staring at.

“Wow,” said the oldest farmer in the group. “There’s a whole carpet of flowers now.”

He was right. The small bunch of plants they had placed in the soil just 24 hours earlier had grown rapidly.

May took the microphone and said: “Spirodella can double in size in less than a day. We’ll plant more today. Wait till you see it tomorrow. And it grows best in pond

water.”

One of the farmers scratched his head. “It’s all very pretty, little miss, but what’s the point of it? You can’t eat it. You can’t sell it in the market.”

“There IS a point to this operation. Spirodella depollutes ponds as it grows. The water will soon be clear.”

There was a silence as this fact turned wheels in the farmers’ brains.

“These egg and ham sandwiches are great. Same plan tomorrow?” the old farmer said.

“You got it,” said Denise.

The farmers gathered Spirodella plants to place in their own swampy ponds.

Chapter Nine

After a week of meeting for breakfast at Ah-Lum’s farm, the farmers had made a habit of it.

“It’s amazing,” said Ah-Lum, looking over the scene in front of him. “The water is just a huge mat of flowers as far as the eye can see.”

“As Spirodella grows, it absorbs pollutants and cleans waste water,” said May.

“Hey, I’ve just noticed,” said a farmer. “No mosquitoes.”

“And it eliminates mosquitoes,” May added.

Ah-Lum patted the young girl on the head. “Hah! You’ve taught farmers something about farming. And I thought you were supposed to be a money expert.”

Denise, who was good at deductions, and wanted to be a detective when she grew up, said: “Don’t you see, dad? This is not just about farming, right, May? It’s about personal savings and compound interest, isn’t it?”

Ah-Lum scratched his head. “You kids are too smart for me.”

May nodded. “Put your money in a savings account and it will earn a tiny bit of extra money called interest. Leave your original sum and the new money in the account and next time both will be rewarded.”

Denise added: “The deposit grows, and its speed of growth also grows.”

“Like Spirodella,” said Ah-Lum.

A man wearing a hat waved his hand.

“Hello,” he said. “Thanks for the lesson, which is very

clever. I’m Tom, Jeremy’s dad, and I’ve been running the building and loan society at this town for many years. What you say is true. But can I ask something?

“The highest interest rate I’ve offered is 10 percent, but these days I’d be lucky to offer half of that, even to my best savers.”

May clicked on the calculator function on her mobile phone and handed it to Jeremy.

“Let’s see if your son is smart with money like his dad,” she said. “Okay, Jeremy, if your dad saves $100 a week for you at 5 percent compound interest, how much will you have in 10 years?”

Jeremy bit his bottom lip to help him concentrate and then rapidly pressed the buttons. Then he clicked the green button to get the result. “I’d have $67,000.”

The adults, even Tom, who was an accountant, looked surprised. You could hear them gasp.

Chapter Ten

A week later, May and Jeremy were up to their knees in water, planting seeds to make a rice paddy field.

“I never knew farming was so much fun,” said Jeremy.

“I’m glad you like it. We’ve got three more fields to do after this one,” said May.

“Arrgh!” he replied, pretending to faint in horror.

May laughed.

“Hi guys,” said Sammi Yeung, speaking from the grassy bank on the side of the paddy field. “You kids have done wonders encouraging the farmers to get back to work.”

The young money-expert smiled. “Thanks. But you know, I reckon the really bad money management habits are not here, in this poor town, but over the river.”

Jeremy looked towards the few big houses of Sadtown. “Where the rich folk live?” he said.

“Yes. Some of them have several cars in each driveway although almost everything is in walking distance,” said May. “So wasteful.”

Sammi said: “True. Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your valuable farming work, but I just came to tell you that Ricardo Lee, the mayor, has called a meeting at the town hall. Coming?”

“Sure,” said May, wading to the side. “It must be good news! With the farms back in action, the economy must be reviving.” * * *

Secret deals can get you in trouble, by Reeder Page, CPA

Business ethics are important for everyone, not just people who work directly with money.

People in every job, even farming or teaching or singing, have to make ethical decisions.

Let’s say you work on a farm, and the boss gives you some money and tells you to buy a new tractor.

Instead of buying the best tractor at the best price, you use the farm boss’ money to buy an over-priced tractor from your brother or your flat-mate. Then you use the extra profit to pay for a big-screen TV for the two of you to enjoy together.

Even if the farm boss doesn’t find out what happened, it’s still an unethical thing to do and a bad choice. Accountants call this a related party transaction, because it involves a deal with someone connected to you. In business, accountants ask all related party transactions to be done out in the open and never in secret.

If you are making deals which involve several people, it’s important to be fair to everyone. * * *

“I have still more bad news,” the mayor said. “It never seems to end. We have been reviewing the budgets. The revival of the farms will eventually benefit the town when the farmers can pay taxes again—but I don’t know if we can survive until then. We still have to pay bills for everything, every day, from street lights to schools. The town is deep in the red and is set to go bust—soon.”

Mrs. Moon asked: “How come? I thought things were getting better.”

“They are in some areas,” said Mr. Lee. “But not in others. The town’s money is being used up on basic resources, like electricity, gas, running water, and so on.”

May dug her elbow into Jeremy’s side. “I knew it!

Wasted resources are the problem.”

“We’re going to have to review the finances completely,” the mayor said. “I will form a committee with Margaret and Tom and a few other people, and we’ll announce our findings in a week.”

May turned to Jeremy and Denise. “That gives us time to make a difference. Let’s go.”

The three children went from house to house, rich and poor, offering advice on saving resources.

But the same thing happened at every door.

First, May would knock. When the occupant opened the door, she would say: “Hi. We’re the junior financial committee. Will you allow us to share our money management skills with you, and teach you how to cut wastage?”

Jeremy would add: “You would benefit personally, and the whole community will benefit too.”

And then the door would be slammed in their faces. Sometimes, the adults would say, “No thank you.” But often they would say nothing at all, letting the slammed door speak for them.

After the kids had received the same disheartening response from almost every house on two whole streets, they decided to stop and review their plan.

Jeremy said, “This isn’t working. Adults can’t be bothered to do anything to save resources.”

May’s face brightened. “You’re right. But I’ve got an idea—if the adults aren’t interested, let’s go to the kids.”

That afternoon, May and Jeremy invited all the other kids in town to a meeting at the playground, while Denise said she had some detective work to do.

This time, Jeremy made the speech. “We, the kids of South Abbey Downs, have to take charge of saving money in our homes,” he said. “That way it doesn’t

matter that the adults are too lazy to do it.”

“And we benefit too,” added May. “Here’s the deal. You tell the adults in your family that you will do all the work that will save them money. You will turn off the lights, you will install water saving devices in the shower and the toilet, you will organize a recycling bin and so on. We have a list for you.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” said a thin boy.

“Yes, but the adults’ part of the deal is this. Half of the money saved has to be added to your pocket money at the end of each month.”

The kids gasped.

“Who’s in?”

There was a big show of hands.

Just before the meeting broke up, Denise ran into the playground. “Hey, everyone. Come to Ghost Club— Detective Denise has something to show you.”

Excited, they all ran to the old house in the dark, abandoned part of town.

In the bright daylight, the spooky house didn’t look nearly as scary as it did at night.

Denise said, “I came over to this part of town to sign up people for our resources-saving scheme, and I worked out how the trick was done.”

“What do you mean?” May asked.

“They say that ghosts come here to party, and they vanish. Well, look at this.”

She turned the handle left and the door opened to show a brick wall. “That’s what Ms. Yeung saw when she came here. But look what happens when I press really hard and turn the handle to the right, instead of left.”

She closed the door again and re-opened it. This time, both the door and the false brick wall behind it opened together.

In front of them was a narrow corridor, leading to a staircase.

“If you look through the window, the room seems empty. That’s because there are mirrors on the outside wall of the corridor. Inside, the corridor leads to a narrow staircase—and to a tunnel.”

May said, “I bet someone is using this tunnel to steal stuff from the town. Who could it be?”

“I don’t know,” said Denise. “But the tunnel goes northwest. It’s an old mine shaft, I think. And if I’m right that tunnel leads straight to Cashland.”

Insider trading, by Reeder Page, CPA

When you buy something, you make sure you don’t pay too much, don’t you?

If you collect cards, for example, and someone offers you a rare card for a month’s pocket money, you have to decide if it’s worth it or not. You check with other collectors to find out exactly how rare it is, and how much other people have paid for it or something very much like it.

But what if you use some sneaky or dishonest trick to find out when the price of something is about to go up—and then you buy up as many as you can at the old price, so that you can re-sell them all later at the new price?

You’ll get rich through dishonesty.

That sort of trick is an unfair way for a small number of people, known as insiders, to make a lot of money, while people who can’t get this information lose out.

To stop this, financial people have made extra rules for themselves. These are called the insider trading laws.

These say that professionals such as accountants, lawyers and bankers should never make the choice to use advance information about price changes to make unfair profits.

Chapter Eleven

There was just over one week left until the Valley Idol contest. May had introduced Jeremy, Denise and Cara to Mr. Reeder Page. At first, they had been so amazed at the way the tiny figure came to life that they forgot to listen to his lectures.

But after a few days, they became fascinated by his curious tales of how right and wrong should be considered in the business decisions you make.

And they found themselves relating what they learned to events in their lives.

Six days before the show, both Cara’s band and the Cashland Kids were using a rehearsal studio in a village called Hamlet to practise their songs.

“Hi Cara,” said Nik Diamond, the handsome lead male singer of the Cashland band. “Are you going to do a cute little guitar strumming thing, warm up the audience for us?”

“Nope,” said Cara. “We’ve got a great band with a great sound. I think you’ll be warming up the audience for us.”

“Come here,” said Nik, beckoning her. “Take a look at that.”

He pointed through the doorway into Studio One, where an array of musical equipment was laid out.

“That’s a state-of-the-art synthesizer, with patch memories containing every instrument in the world,” he said. “I found some loops on the internet to use. And it can all be programmed in advance, so we don’t

really have to play it. We can just sort of jive around and look cool, which is really important for pop singers. It’s all about image, you know.”

“I prefer to play my music live,” said Cara.

“You don’t have a choice, kid,” said Nik. “What we’ve got cost a fortune. You could never afford it.”

He strolled over to the electric pad drum kit. “You click this button and the bass drum and snare do an automatic four-four rhythm. The only thing the drummer has to do is add a few licks on the hi-hat or a cymbal clash or two. And everything is in perfect time.”

“You’re lucky,” said Cara, with a sigh. “Keeping everyone in time is one of the hardest things to do in a band.”

Nik gave her a condescending smile. “What do you guys have for a rhythm section? Like one tambourine, or something?”

Cara didn’t answer, since he was right: the only thing they had to keep them in rhythm was May on the tambourine.

But before she could change the subject, the door burst open. Nik’s drummer Fabiana, wearing a glittery jacket, raced into the room.

“The guys who run the music company just told me some amazing news,” she said. “They got some really hot inside information. The record company is about to sign a mega deal with the world’s biggest band, The Beetroots, which is coming out of retirement. The leaders, John Lemon and Paul McCabbage, are going to play together for the first time in years.”

“Wow, that’s incredible,” Nik said.

Cara agreed. “Whatever they produce is going to be the biggest selling record of the year, for sure.”

“They’ll make a fortune,” said Nik.

“And not just them,” said Fabiana. “Us, too.”

Cara was puzzled. “What do you mean, us?”

“It’s inside information. Don’t you know what that means?”

Cara had no idea what it meant, but she didn’t want to appear foolish. “Of course I do,” she said.

Nik knew she was lying. “It means that it’s information that nobody but us knows, facts we can exploit.”

He pulled out his mobile phone.

“I’m phoning my dad. I’ll make sure we buy a few thousand dollars’ worth of shares in the record company before it’s announced and the shares go up.”

Fabiana said to Cara, “You should do the same thing.”

“But why?”

“Because it’s easy money. You buy shares when they are cheap. When the announcement is made, the value of the shares will go up, and everyone else pays much more for them. Then you sell and make a huge profit.”

Cara wasn’t sure how to respond.

“We’re not really focused on money,” she said. “Making good music is our thing.”

Fabiana sneered at her. “You’re crazy. Do you know how much cash you could make on inside information like this?”

Cara couldn’t help but be intrigued.

The rich girl said: “Listen. On this deal alone, if you play your cards right, you could earn enough money to throw away your crappy old guitar and tambourine, and buy ALL the equipment in this room.”

Cara stared at the synthesizer, the electric guitars, the electronic drum kit and the other amazing instruments. Her eyes widened and her heartbeat sped up.

“I gotta go talk to May,” she said, rushing out of the room.

Chapter Twelve

“You look worried about something,” May said, as her friend approached her in the library and grabbed her arm.

Cara nodded. “The record company has just signed a deal with the Beetroots for a reunion album. It’s going to be announced next week.”

“Yay, I love the Beetroots,” said May.

“Fabiana’s dad is going to buy loads of shares in the record company. She says their value will soar and make her richer than ever.”

May’s expression changed. She was thinking about what she had read in Reeder Page’s book. “But do you think it’s right to use inside information to make yourself richer?”

“Fabiana and Nicky are going to do it. We need money more than they do. Don’t you see that?”

May didn’t know how to respond.

“I need to see a friend and get some advice,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

May raced to her bag, which was hanging up outside in the corridor of the library.

She picked up the book and told Reeder Page about the problem. “It’s easy money, according to Fabiana. And Cara says that we need the money more than the Cashland kids do, which is definitely true.”

“Interesting issue,” said the illustration, coming to life, popping out of the page and combing his mussed hair. “Now we are getting down to something really fascinating. Well, do you really want my advice?”

“I do.”

“Will you follow it, whatever I say?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Okay. Here it is. I say you hand Cara your savings book, so she can buy the shares she wants. Let her make the decision.”

“What?” May was shocked.

“You heard me.”

“But, but—I didn’t expect you to give me that answer.”

“Oh, so you are the sort of person who makes promises and then reneges on them? Come on, May. You promised. I hoped you were a kid with integrity.” He started to climb back into the illustration.

May sighed. “I guess I did promise.”

With heavy heart, she took her bank savings book out of her bag and walked back to the library shelves where Cara was waiting.

Ten minutes later, they were standing outside the bank. May had handed her bank savings book to her friend. Jeremy had joined them.

“Do you really mean it? I can have the money?” Cara asked.

“If that’s what you want to do,” she said.

Cara did not reply at first. Then she said: “Using insider information may not be fair. But it’s even MORE not fair if the rich people get even more money, and the poor get nothing.”

Jeremy said, “Ladies, if I may make a comment. This isn’t about being rich or poor. It’s about making the right choices—moral choices. Do you want to be like them or like us?”

Cara looked at her feet. “I don’t know what to do.”

May said: “This is something you have to decide. You

can step into the bank and take the money. Or you can turn around and walk away.”

Cara didn’t move.

The three children stood outside the bank in silence. A dog barked in the distance. Further away, they could hear sheep baa-ing on a farm.

Then Cara moved to a nearby bench and sat down. She pulled out a pad.

“What are you doing?” May asked.

“I’m writing a song. They say that the best songs are about personal struggles. This should be a good one!” She handed the savings book back to May. “I won’t be needing that.”

Jeremy applauded.

Cara said, “Nik and Fabiana will end up with money. But integrity is more valuable than money, right?”

Before either of the others could respond, all three heard their names being called. “May! Jeremy! Cara! Check this out.”

Girl detective Denise was running down the road towards them, carrying a mobile phone.

Cara was busy jotting down notes. “I have to keep reminding myself about the whole integrity thing. Music is not about the instruments, it’s about the songs and the voice. If I focus on that, one day maybe I’ll have a hit record.”

Denise arrived, out of breath, and showed the others a picture on the screen of her phone. “You already have one,” she said. “Look—that video Jeremy filmed of you singing for your supper last week. You have 10,000 hits on the internet.”

Cara covered her mouth with her hand and dropped her pencil.

Before you make a decision indoors, look outside, by Reeder Page, CPA

People who want to make a profit usually think about how much their raw materials cost, how much they can sell their finished products for, and how soon. But in recent years, people have started to realize that there are other costs too—things which are important, but are never listed in company financial records. These are the things outside the factory. For example, if you own a factory and it pollutes the area around it, someone will have to pay to clean it up. If the factory is far away from the customer, you may have to use a lot of trucks or planes to transport it to the customer, which could be bad for the environment.

It’s not just green issues, either. What about jobs in the community? If you make the choice to move the factory to a cheap place, you may make more money, which as the owner, you might see as a good thing. But what if people in your town are jobless and unhappy? They’ll see it as a bad thing.

These issues are sometimes called invisible costs, and are ethical matters that people sometimes ignore.

Chapter Thirteen

It was the day of Valley Idol. There were six bands signed to perform, including the Cashland Kids and Cara and the Castaways.

Cool Baby IceMan had been promoted from trainer of the Cashland band to chief judge of the contest. This seemed unethical to May, but she did not know how to complain about it. The rest of the judging panel was made up of representatives from the Valley Mining Corporation, which was sponsoring the contest for the new entertainment complex.

IceMan took the microphone.

“Yo dudes,” he said. “I have a nice little extra surprise for you. As well as getting the grant for the arts centre for their town, the winner of this little contest will be on my new show, Unlimited and Unplugged.”

Nik said, “Unplugged?”

“That’s right. It’s for acoustic and a cappella bands. Electronic beats are useful as elements of a song, but no more than that. A song is fundamentally a message that comes from a human heart and is delivered by a human voice.”

Nik and Fabiana looked stricken.

“I want to hear what’s inside you, not what’s inside a machine someone bought for you,” the pop star continued.

Nik whispered to Cara: “Look, I’ll swap you this $15,000 synthesizer for that cheap guitar.”

“No, thanks,” Cara said, without looking at him. When their moment came, Cara and the Castaways

sang their heartfelt songs about the dilemmas of life through the eyes of Sadtown kids. They used a simple guitar backing, while the younger kids danced in front of them.

This was followed by the Cashland Kids, who had programmed their synthesizer to play background electronic loops while they rapped over the top of the music about how great it was to be rich and behave really, really badly and never get caught.

The other contestants included a barbershop quartet, a five-piece boy band, a choral group, and a folk duo.

The judges then discussed their decision for five minutes, before heading back to their seats on stage.

“We have a winner,” said IceMan. “One of the bands we saw gave a performance from the heart and delivered a valuable message. We liked the simplicity of the music, the quality and originality of the songwriting, and the authenticity of the whole package. It had musical integrity.”

Nik and Fabiana’s faces fell. Cara and the Castaways were the only group which had written an original song for the competition.

Cara closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe it. After having come second or third in more than a dozen music contests, she couldn’t believe that she had actually won one.

IceMan said: “So, it gives me great pleasure to announce that the winner is….”

“Wait.”

A sharp, clear, male voice rang out across the auditorium. A tall man, very well dressed, with bushy eyebrows, marched on to the stage.

“My name is Dr. Isla Grabbit,” he said. “And I have some important news for you.”

IceMan turned to look at him. “If you could kindly get off the stage, dude, we are kinda busy here right now.”

“No, you’re not,” said Dr. Grabbit. “You’re sacked. You’re the one who has to get off the stage.”

IceMan looked furious. “Who do you think you are? I was hired by the Valley Mining Corporation, which, may I remind you, is the main sponsor of this event.”

“My name is Isla Grabbit and I am the mayor of Cashland. I am a businessman. I have been buying shares all morning, and I have just become the majority shareholder of Valley Mining Corporation. In other words, I am now your boss. So consider yourself sacked.”

IceMan was struck dumb for the first time in his life.

Dr. Grabbit turned to all the other judges. “And so are all of you,” he said. “Get up and get out.”

The judges talked to each other in tones of outrage and refused to move. But when Dr. Grabbit advanced towards them, they took fright and ran off the stage.

“We need a bit more professionalism here,” he said to the audience. “I have a better idea about who will make good judges for us.” He pointed to individuals in the front row. “You, you, and you. You can replace the judges.”

Cara’s mouth dropped open.

“Who has he chosen?” May asked.

Cara was so shocked she couldn’t speak.

Jeremy said: “He’s chosen the parents of the Cashland Kids.”

The new judges took their places at the table, and discussed the winners for just 30 seconds. Then they spoke to Dr. Grabbit, who took the microphone that IceMan had left.

“I hereby declare that the winners of this competition are the Cashland Kids. Congratulations. You win the

arts centre for your home town.”

Cara fainted.

Even youngsters need to think about the morals of money, by Reeder Page, CPA

Did you ever find some money that someone had dropped in the playground? What did you do with it? Did you keep it or try to find the owner? What if it was quite a lot of money?

If your first urge is to say “finders keepers, losers weepers” and run off to hide it before its owner comes looking for it, your sense of natural morality may already have been lost! Many young people, and adults, would try to find the owner.

Consider the issues. If you find $50 and run off with it, you’ll be $50 richer. But you’ll probably feel a bit guilty. You’ll know that you haven’t earned it. And you’ll know that one of your school mates will be unhappy, having lost it.

On the other hand, if you give it to the school staff, you won’t have any of those bad feelings.

If no one claims it, the school can give it to you officially— and then you can spend it all, openly, without guilt.

Or if the owner does appear, you may make a new friend—something which can be worth more than any sum of money.

Best of all, if you act with integrity, your reputation will be boosted—and as we’ll find out later, that’s often more important than people think.

Chapter Fourteen

The following day, May, Jeremy, Cara and Denise sat in the dilapidated playground, too depressed to even speak to each other.

“Winning by cheating is not winning,” Jeremy eventually said. “Keeping your integrity is a bigger, better prize to have.”

They all knew that he was telling the truth. But it did nothing to cheer them up.

“It’s never nice to be cheated,” May said.

“It’s better to be cheated than to cheat,” said a voice from her backpack.

May took the book out of the bag and glared at the magic figure.

“Being ethical is hard,” May said.

“Yeah,” said Jeremy. “Doing the right thing sucks.”

Cara said: “We get to keep our integrity. But they get a new arts centre, worth a million, zillion dollars. I think they got the better deal.”

Denise said: “I think having good ethics makes things harder, not easier.”

Reeder Page said: “You know what? In this situation, I agree with you, 100 percent.”

“You do?” May asked.

“Certainly,” he said. “But the harder road is a better road to take, if it’s the one that leads to the right destination.”

“Look! What’s that?” Jeremy sprang to his feet and pointed to the main road leading in and out of town. There was a huge cloud on the horizon. Something

big was coming.

Denise’s fist flew to her mouth. “What is it?”

They all stood up and scrambled up the hill to watch.

Other townsfolk had seen the cloud of dust, too. Within five minutes, dozens of people were standing on the slope looking at something approaching.

“It’s a truck,” said May.

“It’s more than one truck,” said Jeremy.

“It’s a fleet of trucks,” said Denise.

“It’s Dr. Grabbit’s Cashland Corporation,” said Cara. “I recognize the logo.”

The fleet of huge trucks rumbled past them into town, shaking the ground and throwing up dust and dirt. They came to a halt in the town square, blocking the roads.

The front truck door swung open and Dr. Grabbit stepped out. By this time, hundreds of townsfolk had gathered.

“Good morning,” he said. “I’m coming with some good news. I am now your landlord. I own this town.”

Denise’s father Ah-Lum shouted angrily, “You own half the valley. You don’t need our land too.”

“No need for such an inelegant show of emotions,” Dr. Grabbit said. “I give you my word that I am not going to order you off this land.”

“How can we trust you?” asked Tom.

“I don’t think you have any choice,” Dr. Grabbit said. He walked around, unsmiling, looking at the faces of the growing crowd. He stopped when he came to May Moon’s mother.

“I understand that thanks to this lady, and her daughter, you have become interested in financial issues,” he said. “Well, I don’t object. I think it’s actually a good thing. My men are happy to offer you a wide range of options for investing your money.”

Ah-Lum shouted, “We don’t want your advice.”

Dr. Grabbit gave him a condescending smile. “What are they telling you to do? Save money? Make ethical choices? Earn compound interest? Rubbish. My investments return 20 or 30 percent a day!”

The accountant Tom said, “It’s lies. You can’t trust him.”

But what could they do? They watched as Dr. Grabbit’s henchmen set up a string of stalls along the main road. Many of them had posters offering profits of at least 20 percent a day, and guaranteed millionaire status for all investors within one year.

The accountant Mrs. Moon stared at the posters. “These rates of return are astronomical,” she said.

The accountant Sammi Yeung agreed. “He can’t possibly guarantee such huge paybacks. But his people are good salesmen. Look—you can see how tempted everyone is.”

Many Sadtown people gazed with interest at the posters going up.

May’s mother said: “It’s easy to offer a lot if you never intend to deliver it.”

“How can we prove these investments are fantasy?” Sammi asked.

May had an idea. “Why don’t we put up our own stall, where we can give good money management advice? That’s what I used to do at school.”

“We’ve got to do something,” said Margaret Moon. They got a table from the bank and placed it on the side of the street with a sign over it. It said: 2 p.m. lecture: Understanding Risks and Rewards. Sign up for free ticket.

But the townsfolk walked straight past their stall. Not one stopped to sign up.

“Our message isn’t as enticing as theirs,” said

Jeremy.

The bad guys had signs saying:

Money to burn!

More cash than you can count!

Be an instant billionaire!

Superfast wealth!

The townsfolk flocked to Dr. Grabbit’s stalls, while the space in front of May Moon’s stall stayed empty.

“This isn’t working,” May said. “We need an alternative plan.”

The children gathered around May. They knew her ideas would be more creative than anything the adults could come up with.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “There’s an old sports stadium in this town, right?”

“Sure, right next to the school,” Jeremy said.

“I’ll need your help. We need to set up a running track.”

* * *

Making ethical choices isn’t easy, by Reeder Page, CPA

One of the trickiest things about ethics is that people often think that it’s a personal thing.

Grown-ups who talk about these things will talk about “my morality” and “your morality” as if everyone has their set of laws.

In a way, that’s true. A bad deed may seem very evil to one person, while it seems only a bit naughty to another.

But while there may be differences in the personal morality of one person compared to another, the same is not true of societies—members share a common morality, and this is a combination of laws, natural morality, and the conventions of the society.

If you have friends who are breaking a law, you have to make some urgent ethical choices yourself. The first thing to do is to make sure that you are not part of any law-breaking

activity yourself. Put some distance between yourself and the problem.

And then you have to think about how to make things better. In some situations, you may wish to talk to your friends—they may not know that they are breaking the law. But what if they do know, and are doing it deliberately?

It’s important to consult adults you can trust in such matters. And sometimes you have to lose friends if you want to keep your integrity.

Chapter Fifteen

Before the day was halfway through, posters appeared all over town. They said:

Extreme sports

This afternoon 3 p.m.

All invited

Free admission

Free freshly cooked egg and ham sandwiches

By 3:30, many of the townsfolk were assembled at the stadium, eating Ah-Lum’s sandwiches.

May got hold of a megaphone and addressed the townsfolk.

“It’s a very simple game. Each team of six has to run to the other side of the stadium.”

Ah-Lum called out a question: “What are all those obstacles in the middle of the track?”

May said: “You have a choice of three routes. You can run round outside the track. It will take longer but there are no obstacles. Or you can run straight through the middle of the track. It’s shorter but there are lots of obstacles, like hurdles you have to jump.”

“What’s the third choice?” Tom called out.

May said: “You get in this cannon and we shoot you across the stadium. It’s super fast.”

Tom looked worried. As an accountant, he was used to measuring risk and this one looked too risky for him.

“Is it safe?”

“No,” said May, laughing. “Of course not.”

“Have you ever fired anyone from this cannon before?”

“No.”

“Does it come with any guarantees?”

“No.”

“I don’t fancy that,” Tom said.

Jeremy took the megaphone. “Okay, guys, you have 10 minutes for team discussions to decide which route to take,” he said.

The benefits of being ethical, by Reeder Page, CPA

In previous chapters, we said making ethical choices can cost you money and friends.

That makes it sound like bad news.

Now here’s the good news. In the long run, being ethical is likely to bring you much more money and many more friends. Here’s how it works:

People who study successful companies and individuals have discovered that the most valuable thing they have is not their idea or their factory or any particular product. It is their reputation. It’s worth more than their possessions or clothes or factories put together.

For example, some companies make hi-tech objects, like personal computers. But even when a product they have spent years researching and developing is finished and placed in the shops, the company’s share price and expectations stay high. That’s because the product is not the most important thing—but the company’s reputation as a reliable producer of successful hi-tech objects.

A good reputation is so important that it sometimes appears in the company’s accounts, where it is often called goodwill. Many companies make special rules, called internal controls, to make sure workers keep making the right decisions and never damage the company’s reputation. * * *

Ten minutes later, Denise went around to all the groups to collect their decisions.

She totted them up and reported back to May and Jeremy. “No teams are going to risk the cannon. Six are going around the track. Four are going through the middle.”

May shot the starter gun and they were off.

“Come on, Tom,” shouted Mrs. Moon, as the accountant took the long, obstacle-free route.

“Come on Ah-Lum,” shouted May, as the farmer ran through the middle, leaping over and under obstacles as fast as he could. * * *

When it came to the prize-giving, May gave a little speech in advance.

“Nobody chose the super-fast, super-risky route, which involved being blasted across the course by a cannon. So we averaged out the times for the other two routes, and guess what? The short route and the long route got exactly the same results. The average time was identical.”

Mrs. Moon took the microphone from her daughter. “This is a fun race that May and her friends organized for you. But it’s also a lesson. Each person needs to know their own place on the risk-reward scale. Some don’t like risk at all. The people who don’t like risk took the long safe route. Others will take some risk in the hope of getting where they want to be faster. These people took the obstacle route. Everybody thought the cannon was too risky. It’s unethical to make people who don’t like risks put their savings into risky accounts.”

She looked around at the faces to make sure they all got the message before continuing. “None of you chose the most dangerous way, which means none of you are reckless gamblers. What do you think the cannon

represents? Kids, can you turn it around?”

The children spun the cannon around, so that people could see what was written on the back: “Cashland Corporation Investments.”

“Look,” said Denise.

The main gates to the stadium had opened and Dr. Grabbit and his henchmen were marching towards them.

“Mrs. Moon, you and your daughter are stopping these citizens from putting their money in my wonderful investments,” he said.

“No, we aren’t. We’re just equipping them to make their own decisions.”

“It’s irrelevant, anyway. I’ve decided that you people are too much trouble to bother with. I’m throwing you all off this land. Pack your bags and get out now.”

He grabbed the microphone and his voice echoed out around the stadium. “Did you hear me? All you revolting Sadtown people—pack your bags and leave this town right now or you will be arrested for trespassing. You have one hour.”

Denise looked distraught. “Mrs. Moon, what should we do?”

“Pack your bags,” she replied. “We’re leaving. Smart money managers know when to make the choice between staying and cutting their losses and going.”

Chapter Sixteen

An hour later, a long line of people were marching out of the town.

“We grew up here,” said Ah-Lum.

“We spent our lives here,” said Tom.

“This town was just coming back to life,” said Denise.

Suddenly there was a loud smash. Someone had thrown a rock through a window.

“What are you doing?” Ah-Lum asked the man, a young farmhand.

“We made this town nice for ourselves, not for others,” the farmhand said.

“Yeah,” said the young man’s wife. “Let’s ruin it before we go. We can poison the ponds and pollute the river.”

Mrs. Moon shook her head. “No. What Grabbit has taken from us is something which has value. But if we turn into vandals then we will be letting him take away our values, too.”

“But where do we go? What do we do?” said the young man.

Tom said, “The new owner has transferred ownership to us of a piece of land two kilometres away, on the northern border of Sadtown.”

Ah-Lum said, “Two kilometres north? You mean Stonyground?”

“Yes.”

“We can’t farm there. It’s barren rock. We’d be better off living in a youth hostel in the big city.”

Mrs. Moon said, “Ownership of a large piece of land

is rarely a bad thing.”

The farmer scratched his head. “But we’re a farming community. We can’t plant crops on solid rock.”

Tom said, “That’s true, but we don’t have to be a farming community. We could do other things.”

A week later, the community was living in mobile homes and temporary shelters. It looked like a happy holiday campsite. The grown-ups were mostly grumpy, but the children loved it.

May was helping cook over a camping fire.

Jeremy, who had spent the afternoon in town shopping, leapt out of a bus and raced into the middle of the site. “Have you seen the news?”

“Have you forgotten?” Ah-Lum said. “We don’t have televisions. That’s one of the blessings of living in Stonyground.”

“There’s been a global stock crash. Investors are rioting outside the stock market building,” Jeremy said. He pulled a newspaper out of his bag and gave it to the farmer. “The newspapers say the most over-extended company of all is Cashland Corporation.”

Mrs. Moon explained, “Over-extended means they borrowed more money than they could pay back.”

The front page of the newspaper showed angry investors surrounding a bank.

“Somehow this piece of land seems calm and pleasant all of a sudden!” laughed Ah-Lum.

No investment is entirely free of risk, by Reeder Page, CPA

Because investment accounts go up and down, it’s really important to make sure you are happy with the savings account you have.

If you want your savings to grow fast, you have to accept an amount of risk. If you want a low risk investment, you’ll

have to be content with earning less money. The two types of investment are sometimes called high yield and low yield.

Risks are a tricky topic. Accountants have to take risks as part of their jobs. Accountants have a guardian role and a commercial role—that means they have to keep watch that things are being done the right way, but they also play an important role in making sure businesses work successfully.

People sometimes get the idea that certain investments have no risks and cannot go down in value. Lots of people think this is true about houses and apartments. Because property costs a lot, banks lend money to people to buy it.

But the truth is that even property can fall in value. If people cannot pay back the money they borrowed, we say they are over-extended. It’s like they reached out to grab something and then fell over.

In a stock market crash, lots of prices fall at once, and many people become over-extended.

That night Denise had some questions to ask May.

“That thing in the paper…”

“The stock market crash?”

“Yes. Does that affect us? I don’t own any shares. My dad might.”

“Yes, but even then, you may be affected, right, Mom?”

Mrs. Moon nodded. “Market crashes affect everyone, because there’s less money around, and jobs disappear.”

May thought about the second magic book she had read. She said, “I’ve got a book I can refer you to that explains it simply.”

“Don’t worry, Denise,” said her father, looking up from the bonfire he had been cultivating. “Our family savings are safe. I’ve always been very careful.”

“Thank goodness.” Denise rummaged around in her school bag. “By the way, dad, we did geology at school today.”

“That’s nice, child,” said the old farmer, all his attention on the sausage he was now roasting over the fire.

“I decided to do some investigation on this rock,” Denise continued.

The farmer peered at the plain-looking lump of stone his daughter held in her hand. “It looks pretty ordinary to me.”

“It’s a piece of Stonyground, the rock we’re living on. I showed it to the geology teacher. He nearly fainted.”

Ah-Lum laughed. “Well, if your teacher thinks it’s gold or silver, I’m afraid he’s wrong. He’s welcome to it.”

“It’s not gold or silver. It’s something called lithium.”

“What!?” The exclamation came from Tom, the accountant who worked for the savings and loan company. He walked over to Denise. “Can I see that?” She handed it to him—but it just looked like ordinary stone. “He said this was lithium?”

“Yes.”

“Lithium is used to make batteries for smart phones,” Tom said. “And it’s one of the most valuable substances in the world.”

Mrs. Moon peered at the rock. “We need to get this double-checked.”

Sammi Yeung said, “And then we need to get this piece of land re-valued.”

Ah-Lum was so stunned that he let his sausage fall into the flames. “I’m beginning to REALLY like our new home,” he gasped.

Cara was sitting on the other side of the campfire

listening to the radio. “It’s time for the news report,” she said. She turned the volume up.

The news announcer spoke crisply and quickly. “The stock crash which has been shaking the financial markets has claimed another victim,” he said. “Cashland Corporation has gone bankrupt. The chairman, Dr. Isla Grabbit has fled.”

“Interesting,” said Tom. “That means he’ll default on the land purchase.”

Ah-Lum looked over at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes,” Tom said. “Sadtown is ours again.” May smiled, and turned to the last few pages of the book she was reading.

Ethics and the long payback loop, by Reeder Page, CPA

As you have found out, it’s not easy to be an ethical person. There’s a constant stream of hard choices to make.

And you often have to take the hard road, when it seems other people are taking an easy road.

But the most wonderful thing about having integrity and being an ethical person is that there is a payback loop— although sometimes the reward is hard to see, and it takes a long time to arrive.

But it’s still vital. If you make sure you make ethical decisions at every stage of setting up a project or an organization, it may take you a much longer time than your rivals, who might cheat or lie or cut corners at every stage to do it more quickly.

Yet you can be confident there will be big benefits in the long run. You just have to wait.

Twin streams of bright light lit up the campsite. They came from the headlights of a sports car.

“Yo dudes, how you doin’?”

A figure in a shiny, multi-coloured suit leapt out of the open-top car and strode into the middle of the field.

Cara gasped. “Cool Baby IceMan,” she said.

“The very man,” said the pop star.

“What are you doing here?” said May.

“I got some news this afternoon that I thought would interest you guys. Thought I would deliver it to you personally.”

The children gathered around him.

“The authorities are looking into somethin’ called insider trading,” he said. “Under investigation are some youths and their parents from Cashland. They bought shares in a music company after getting some insider information while using a recording studio.”

Cara looked guilty. Clearly she remembered how close she had come to doing the same.

“But it seems that all the trouble was limited to them,” he continued. “No one else who was using the recording studio at that time seems to have taken part. Well done for keeping out of trouble on that one.”

Cara looked up and thanked her lucky stars that she had made the right decision.

“But that’s not what I came to tell you,” IceMan said.

He paused, to make sure everyone’s attention was on him.

“The same youths were earlier today found guilty of pirating the music loops for the song they played at the Valley Idol competition for a new arts centre,” he said. “As a result, the Cashland Kids have been automatically disqualified. The runners-up will be declared winners of the competition.”

“So we win?” said Cara, in a tiny voice.

“So we’ll get the new arts centre?” May asked.

He nodded. “Yep. But you know, that’s not what I came to tell you, either,” he said.

He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “I came to give you this. It’s an invitation to appear on my new show, Unlimited and Unplugged. I’m going to feature Cara and the Castaways on the first episode of the new season.”

Cara fainted.

Chapter Seventeen

A month later, South Abbey Downs had been resettled by its original owners. There was a huge party in town.

“Everyone looks happy,” Mrs. Moon said.

“Oh, we are,” said Ricardo Lee, the mayor. “We’ve licensed mining rights for Stonyground to lithium battery makers around the world.”

“And we’ve listed the venture on the stock market,” said Tom, with a satisfied smile. “That means people all over the world can use their personal savings to buy a piece of this safe, successful venture. Their personal finances will grow, and so will ours.”

The mayor said that the town was in line for an environmental award for the best recycling achievement of the year, thanks to the children. “It’s a nice trophy to have. And the kids have already benefited by getting a huge increase in their pocket money,” he said. “That’s trickled down to the toy shop and the sweet shop, so everyone’s happy.”

The party was being held to introduce Ghost Club.

Sammi Yeung said: “It’s got a new name now: The Guest House. And anyone can come and stay here free of charge, any time you want.”

The house had been re-done and was now nice and cosy. The tunnel, which had indeed led to Cashland, was sealed off with a thick concrete wall. None of the unethical people from Cashland could ever creep into Sadtown unnoticed again. But the town had made the generous choice that the people of Cashland, who were

now really quite poor since the Cashland Corporation went bankrupt, were welcome at the Guest House, too.

Jeremy, May and Denise stood at the edge of the party, drinking lemonade.

“Can I borrow that book of yours?” Jeremy asked. “I want to read it again.”

May shook her head and gave a little shrug. “Sorry. It’s a magic book. It appeared when I needed it—but then vanished when the problem was over.”

Denise said: “That little guy in the book was a bit weird, but he made good sense, once you thought about what he was saying.”

“Yes,” said May. “I really miss Reeder Page.”

Jeremy was aghast. “You mean there was only one copy of that book—and it has disappeared, like, gone forever?”

May smiled. “Not gone forever,” she said. “My mom and Mr. Page made a special deal before he disappeared. She has arranged for copies of it to be made, to be distributed to children. Someone will draw pictures of us, and there’ll be a nice colour picture on the front page. It’ll be called May Moon’s Book of Choices.”

“Phew,” said Jeremy. “I can’t wait to get a copy.”

May filled up their glasses with lemonade so they could drink a toast to the new book—but before she could do so, there was an interruption.

Cara raced up to the trio. “Come on guys, what’s a party without any music? It’s time to rock this joint.”

Suddenly, they were not a group of kids standing at the edge of a party full of grown-ups. They were the hottest band in town, heading for the stage. Cara and the Castaways was top of the bill tonight.