The mixture is everywhere. All over the entrance hall, all over the wire door and all over Mum. She’s standing there looking like the creature from the black lagoon. The goo slimes off her clothes and collects in a puddle at her feet.
She is just gasping and shaking her head. Nothing in all her years of putting up with my jokes has prepared her for this.
‘I think we need to have a little talk,’ says Dad softly. He appears calm, but his ears are very red, and they’re trembling – that’s not a good sign.
Not that I’m worried.
Any moment now they’re going to notice the inside of the house and see how clean it is. Except for the kitchen, of course. And the sludge on the hall carpet and around the entrance. But that’s easily fixed. Once they notice the light-globes they’ll calm down.
Any moment now I’ll have them eating out of the palm of my hand. Any moment now. It’s just a matter of time.
’m standing right on the edge of this huge boulder, looking over Sealers Cove on one side – where we camped last night – and Refuge Cove on the other. There’s a cool breeze. I close my eyes and imagine I’m the last person on earth. It’s so peaceful. A three-night bushwalk in Wilsons Promontory can be hard work, but it beats school any day.
Suddenly I feel a large hand clamp down on each of my shoulders. I’m shoved forward. My stomach drops. My life starts to flash before my eyes. Then, just as suddenly, the hands pull me back.
‘Tell ya mum I saved ya!’
I turn around. Roseanne O’Reilly is grinning widely.
‘You idiot!’ I shout. ‘What a dumb trick! I could have been killed!’
‘It’s lucky I was here to save you then,’ she says. ‘You should be thanking me.’
‘Thanks for nothing,’ I say.
It’s a typical Roseanne joke. Dumb and dangerous. She’s been pulling this trick on everybody since we left Tidal River yesterday morning. It’s her first time bushwalking. I think she’s a bit over-excited. She’s new to the school. I don’t know why she decided to join the bushwalking club. Probably because no other club would have her.
O’Reilly swaggers back to the trail where the rest of the group are resting against their packs.
‘You should have seen Andy’s face,’ she announces to the party. ‘I really had him packing!’ Not that anybody cares. They’re as sick of Roseanne as I am.
Danny comes over.
‘Scroggin?’ he says.
He hands me a plastic bag full of chocolate buds, sultanas, oats, peanuts and sunflower seeds. I take a big handful and pass the bag back. My hands are still shaking from the fright.
‘Don’t feel bad,’ he says. ‘Roseanne punched me in the nose this morning.’
‘Really?’ I say. ‘Why?’
‘She asked me if I wanted to smell some cheese. Before I could answer, her fist was right in front of my face, and then POW!’
‘She didn’t wait for your answer? That’s not a practical joke – it’s just a punch in the face!’
‘Tell me about it,’ says Danny. ‘She made my nose bleed too.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing. She’s bigger than me.’
‘Fair point. But we can’t let her walk all over us like this. We’ve got to get her back. Got to teach her a lesson.’
‘Sure,’ says Danny through a mouthful of scroggin. ‘But how?’
I sit on the boulder and use a twig to prise a pebble out of the tread on my boots. Suddenly the answer is clear.
‘I know,’ I say. ‘Rocks!’
‘Rocks?’ says Danny.
‘We’ll put rocks in her pack! That’ll give her something to laugh about.’
‘Great idea,’ says Danny, ‘but how are you going to get the rocks into her pack without her seeing?’
‘I’m not going to put the rocks in her pack,’ I say. ‘You are.’
‘Me?’ says Danny. ‘What if she catches me?’
‘She won’t,’ I say, ‘because I’ll divert her.’
There are three rocks – each roughly the size of a small coconut – a few metres down the track. I point them out to Danny.
‘Those will do.’
‘All of them?’ says Danny.
‘All of them. And hide them down the bottom of her pack so she doesn’t find them until tonight.’
‘Hang on,’ says Danny. ‘Which one is Roseanne’s pack?’
‘It’s a blue MacPac,’ I say.
I look around for Roseanne. She’s over ear-bashing Derek Watson, the leader of the trip. She has her compass out and is pointing towards the ocean. Derek is shaking his head. Her first bushwalk and already she thinks she knows better than the leader! She is really something else.
Roseanne has this brand-new compass, which she hasn’t stopped showing everybody for the whole trip. She’s got no idea how to use it, but that doesn’t stop her telling everybody else how to use theirs. It gives me an idea.
‘Hey, Roseanne,’ I say. ‘Can you give me some help checking my compass? I’m not sure if it’s pointing true north or not.’
She’s already on her way over. We go back to the boulder and start comparing compasses, taking sightings onto one of the small, rocky islands out from the coast.
I stall her for about ten minutes and then return to the group. Danny nods and winks.
People are getting ready to move. I sit down and slip my arms through the straps of my pack. It weighs a million tonnes. I packed food for four days, but it feels like I’ve got enough to last for the next four months. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought so much canned food.
But I don’t mind. No matter how heavy my pack is, Roseanne’s must be even heavier.
Not that it seems to be giving her much trouble. She picks it up with one hand, slips her arms through the shoulder straps and strides to the front of the group. She’s off down the trail and around the bend before anybody else has even started walking. You’d think Danny had filled her pack with helium balloons.
Even though my legs are feeling like jelly after the morning’s climb, I walk quickly to catch up with Roseanne. I want to enjoy the sight of her carrying our rocks. If nothing else, it’ll help take my mind off the weight of my own load. No matter how much pain I’m in, she’ll be feeling worse.
She’s walking so fast that after about fifteen minutes we’ve left the rest of the group way behind. The track becomes steeper and slightly overgrown. Roseanne pushes her way past a small tree branch that’s hanging across the track and holds it back for me.
Just as I’m about to grab it, she lets go and the branch flicks back hard against my face. The pain makes my eyes water.
‘Watch it,’ I say. ‘Are you trying to blind me?’
‘Sorry about that, mate,’ says Roseanne. ‘But you should always try to keep at least two metres behind the person in front so that they can’t flick branches in your face.’
‘I was staying behind, but you deliberately held it back for me.’
‘That’s cos I’m such a nice person,’ she says. ‘I thought you’d grab it. Honest!’
‘Yeah, right, Roseanne.’
She must think I came down in the last shower. She’s staring at me with that stupid grin on her face. And, what’s worse, she doesn’t look the slightest bit tired. There’s not a single drop of sweat on her.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask.
‘Great!’ she says. ‘How about you?’
‘Fine!’ I say. ‘Never felt better. You’ve got such a big pack, though. It looks like it must be heavy.’
‘Yeah, it’s heavy,’ she says. ‘But I can handle it. Hey, what’s that on your jumper?’
She points to my chest.
I freeze. Please, God, don’t let it be a spider. Anything but a spider. I look down and Roseanne flicks her finger up my chin, my nose and off the top of my head.
‘Gotcha!’ she cackles, as I jerk backwards – which is not a good move, considering how heavy my pack is. The next thing I know I’m falling off
the track and crashing through the scrub.
I’m in a prickle bush. I can’t get up. I’m on my back, just like an upside-down tortoise.
‘Enjoy your trip?’ calls Roseanne.
‘Shut ya face,’ I say.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, ‘I can’t get up.’
‘Hang on,’ she says. She shrugs off her pack and slides down the bank commando-style. ‘Give me your hand.’
The thought of having to hold Roseanne’s hand is only marginally more appealing than having to hold a live funnel-web spider, but I’m not exactly in a position to refuse.
Her grip is strong and she pulls me up easily.
But I can’t put any weight on my left foot.
I have to sit straight back down.
‘Where does it hurt?’ says Roseanne.
‘My ankle. I think it’s broken.’
‘Take your boot off and let’s have a look,’ she says.
I undo my boot-laces and slip my sock off.
‘Yeah, it’s pretty swollen,’ she says. ‘But it’s not broken. You’re going to need a bandage, though. I’ve got one in my pack.’
Roseanne climbs back up the bank, grabs her first-aid kit and is back in a flash.
She puts a cream-coloured bandage on the top of my foot and wraps it around twice. Then she winds it around my ankle and back under and over my foot again, in a figure-eight motion.
‘Where did you learn to do that?’ I ask.
‘I’m doing my queen scout training,’ she informs me matter-of-factly.
‘I didn’t know that,’ I say.
‘You didn’t ask.’
At last the others catch up.
‘What’s going on?’ asks Derek, craning his neck to see what we’re doing. ‘You two playing footsies?’
‘He’s hurt his ankle,’ says Roseanne. ‘Pretty bad too.’
‘Can he walk?’ asks Derek.
‘Not properly,’ she says. ‘But he can lean on me. He won’t be able to carry his pack, though. We’ll have to unpack it and share the load around.’
Lean on her? Is she crazy? I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’ll be right.’
But Roseanne’s not listening.
She’s lugged my pack up to the trail and is distributing its contents amongst the other walkers.
‘Hey,’ she says. ‘What are you carrying these for?’
She’s holding up three rocks, each the size of a small coconut.
I don’t believe it.
I can’t believe it.
I won’t believe it.
Could Danny be that stupid?
This calls for some quick thinking. I don’t want to end up looking like an idiot in front of the whole group.
‘I can explain,’ I say, trying to act like it’s the most normal thing in the world to carry rocks in your pack. ‘See, I’m a rock collector and . . .’
But Roseanne is shaking her head.
‘Why put the rocks in your pack?’ she says. ‘Why not carry them in your head with the rest of the collection?’
Everybody starts laughing. Everybody, that is, except me. And Danny. This is all his fault. I should never have trusted him.
If only he had never had the stupid idea of putting rocks in her pack in the first place!
After Roseanne finishes distributing the contents of my pack, she slides back down the bank.
‘Put your arm around my neck,’ she says. ‘I’ll help you up.’
My arm? Her neck? She’s got to be kidding.
‘No, it’s okay thanks,’ I say. ‘I think I can walk now.’
‘Suit yourself,’ she says.
I grab a small tree and start to pull myself up the bank. But the pain in my ankle is too much. I miss my footing and fall backwards.
Roseanne lifts me up, places my arm over her shoulder and helps me up the bank.
She might be a pain in the bum, but I’ve got to hand it to her: she knows how to handle an emergency.
Danny is standing at the side of the trail, looking sheepish.
‘Maggot-brained moron!’ I hiss at him.
He just shrugs. He knows it’s the truth.
As I limp alongside Roseanne, we talk. She tells me that this is the sixth school she’s been to.
‘You got kicked out of five schools?’ I ask.
‘I wasn’t kicked out,’ she says. ‘We keep moving. Dad’s a structural engineer. He has to keep moving to where the work is. We never stay in the one spot for more than a year or two.’
‘Isn’t that hard?’ I ask.
‘A bit,’ she says. ‘It’s kind of lonely.’ After a long afternoon we’ve finally made it to Waterloo Bay. Roseanne hasn’t stopped talking and cracking jokes the whole way. Some of them are almost funny, too.
We’re the last ones in. I stagger onto the beach and into the camping area behind the sand-dunes.
‘There you go,’ says Roseanne. ‘How’s your ankle feeling?’
‘A bit better.’
‘Reckon you’ll be right for tomorrow?’
‘I hope so,’ I say.
‘Well, if not, give me a yell.’
You know, I hate to admit it but, even with all her stupid practical jokes and wisecracks, Roseanne’s not so bad. In fact, to tell the truth, I’m kind of starting to like her.
‘Thanks, Roseanne. I owe you one.’
‘You don’t owe me anything,’ she says, putting her hand on my shoulder. ‘But could you just do me one small favour?’
‘What’s that?’ I say.
She gives me this big cheesy grin and winks.
‘Tell ya mum I saved ya!’
t’s the last week of school holidays and I’m flying to Mildura to visit my grandparents.
I’m on one of those little thirty-six seater planes.
I’ve got a window seat, but I want the seat next to me as well. I want to spread out and get comfortable.
I don’t think anybody’s going to sit there now, but I’ve laid a piece of rubber dog pooh on the seat, just to make sure.
I’m doing really well. It’s almost time for take-off and nobody’s sat there yet, and there are still two empty seats behind me.
An old lady boards the plane and shuffles down the aisle.
With a bit of luck, she’ll take the seat behind me and then the air hostess will close the door and I can relax.
But the old lady stops right next to me. I can’t believe it.
‘No! No! No!’ I’m thinking. ‘Keep going!’
‘Excuse me,’ she says, ‘is this seat taken?’
‘Um, er, no, not exactly,’ I say, ‘but I don’t think I’d sit in it if I was you . . . it’s not very clean.’
The old lady bends over and pats the seat. She finds the dog pooh, picks it up and strokes it.
‘It’s only a piece of rubber dog pooh,’ she says. ‘I suppose it’s some young person’s idea of a joke.’
She puts the pooh into an air-sickness bag hanging in front of the seat.
Pretty cool old lady. But how did she know it was only rubber? That’s the very best quality rubber dog pooh money can buy. That stuff even fools my dog.
‘So I can sit here, after all,’ she says.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’
I want to say, ‘Yes, actually, I do mind! There are plenty of empty seats! Why don’t you go and sit in one of them?’
But I don’t want to be rude – especially not to an old lady. And I can’t just get up and go and sit in one of the empty seats myself, because she might think I’m being nasty. She might be really lonely and not have any friends, and me going to another seat might be the last straw.
It’s going to have to be her who moves.
She puts her handbag underneath her seat and settles in with a can of Kool Mints.
This is going to require some pretty quick thinking.
At last the doors are shut and the air hostess welcomes us on
board. She points out the emergency exits and life-jackets and oxygen masks. Some welcome, but it does give me an idea.
The engines start up and fill the plane with their low vibrations.
‘I hope it’s not too rough a ride,’ I say, ‘because I’m a hopeless air traveller. I practically get sick even thinking about planes.’
‘What?’ she says. ‘You’ll have to speak up!’
I lean close to her old wrinkled ear.
‘I said, I’m a hopeless air traveller! I always get sick on planes.’
The old lady smiles.
‘That’s good then,’ she says. ‘We can look after each other. I’m not much of a one for air travel either!’
Oh great. Just lovely. Not only does she take up my seat, now she’s threatening to get sick all over me as well.
The plane shudders and moves forward with a groan.
Take-off is my favourite part.
The captain’s voice comes over the speakers:
‘Good morning and thank you for flying with Southern Australia Airlines. We have almost perfect conditions for our flight to Mildura this morning. We’ll be cruising at around five thousand metres, at a speed of five hundred kilometres per hour. We have a slight tail wind and we expect to reach our destination in just under an hour. We hope you have a pleasant flight.’
‘What did he say?’ says the lady. ‘What did he say?’
‘He said it’s going to be pretty rough,’ I tell her. ‘Hurricanes and tornadoes are expected. He said to hold tight and just hope and pray that you’re not sitting next to someone who’s prone to air-sickness. He said that it’s okay if you want to change seats when the plane stops climbing in a few minutes.’
‘Well, I’m not going to change seats,’ says the lady. ‘I thank God that I’m sitting next to a big, strong young man like you. I’d be too scared to sit by myself in conditions like this.’
Just Tricking! Page 4
