The Mystery of the Squashed Cockroach

by R. A. Spratt

  ‘Training animals to compete against each other is not my idea of a good time,’ said April. ‘I’m amazed no one has reported this to the RSPCA.’

  ‘I’m amazed no one has reported this to a pest controller,’ said Fin. ‘One spray and there wouldn’t be any entrants.’

  ‘How can you be so callous?’ demanded April, turning on Fin. ‘Cockroaches have feelings too.’ Pumpkin started barking and lunging at Fin. ‘That’s right, Pumpkin, you tell him.’

  ‘Cockroaches are an ancient, simple life form,’ said Fin, backing away from Pumpkin’s tiny but razor-sharp teeth. ‘You have absolutely no evidence that they are capable of higher levels of feeling.’

  ‘Plus they p-poo on food if you leave it out uncovered,’ added Joe. He didn’t like the thought of food being wasted.

  ‘You should reconsider,’ said Mr Lang, raising his voice so he could be heard over Pumpkin’s yaps. ‘You want to fit in here, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve never tried to fit in anywhere in my life,’ stated April proudly.

  ‘Except that time you tried to fit yourself inside a postbox,’ Fin reminded her. ‘You managed to squeeze yourself in there all right. It was getting out that was the hard part.’

  April did not like it when Fin reminded her of that incident. To punish him, she let go of Pumpkin. Fin ran from the room as the tiny, lightning-fast dog gave chase. April ran after them. If Pumpkin caught Fin, she didn’t want to miss that.

  ‘S-S-Sorry,’ mumbled Joe, as he picked up his bag.

  ‘Well, you think about it,’ Mr Lang called after them. ‘When you realise you’ve made a terrible mistake I’ll have the forms here for you.’

  Joe, April and Fin loitered outside the admin building, consulting their new timetables. Well, Joe and Fin did. April screwed her paperwork up into a ball and used it to play fetch with Pumpkin. ‘We’ve got PE down on the football field,’ said Fin.

  ‘Ugh,’ said April. ‘Let’s skip it.’

  ‘You can’t skip your f-f-first lesson on your f-f-first day,’ said Joe.

  ‘Of course we can!’ exclaimed April. ‘We can pretend we couldn’t find it.’

  ‘How can we not find a football field?’ asked Fin. ‘It’s pretty big and distinctive-looking, plus I can see it from here.’

  ‘I’ve PE next period, but I’ve got maths now,’ said Joe. He looked like he wanted to cry. He didn’t like maths.

  ‘It’s not too late,’ said April. ‘You can make a run for it. I’ll get Pumpkin to create a diversion for you.’

  ‘You could homeschool yourself,’ said Fin. ‘You’d like that. Reading books all day and not talking to anyone.’

  Joe nodded. ‘But there would be so much f-f-fuss.’ Joe hated fuss even more than he hated talking to people. Usually because fuss involved a lot of long and intense bouts of talking to people.

  He trudged off towards the maths block. April and Fin ambled in the other direction.

  There were thirty students already milling about on the corner of the football field nearest the PE teacher’s office. April stood on the bank above the field, hands on hips, surveying her new classmates like an emperor surveying his kingdom. Pumpkin sat at her heels growling, as if waiting for April to signal which one to attack first.

  Fin stuck his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders and tried to squeeze himself in so that he would appear insignificant and unthreatening, basically as little like April as possible.

  ‘Come on,’ said April, nudging Fin. She’d evidently had enough of trying to stare down her peers. ‘Let’s get this over with. Let’s make our first impression.’

  ‘You know, you could try smiling and being nice to people,’ said Fin, scurrying along behind her as she strode down the bank.

  ‘Hah!’ scoffed April. ‘Then they’d think I was weak.’

  ‘People like weak people,’ said Fin. ‘They make good friends.’

  ‘I don’t need to suck up to anyone,’ said April. ‘I’ll just use my normal charm and they’ll be eating out of my hand in five minutes.’

  ‘We’re doomed,’ muttered Fin.

  April sidled up and stood next to the rest of the class. Everyone was looking at her, which Fin found mildly relieving. At least his plan to go unnoticed was working. April stared back at her classmates. Her stare was so intense it was as if she were superman, trying to burn a hole in a solid steel wall with her eyes. Several children looked away as she locked her gaze on them. One brave boy spoke.

  ‘You’re wearing the wrong uniform,’ he said. He was a skinny boy with a lot of freckles, but he apparently had courage disproportional to his size.

  ‘Says who?’ asked April menacingly.

  ‘You just are,’ said the boy. ‘It’s the wrong uniform.’ He gestured to his own clothes. He was wearing a polo shirt and elasticated shorts, which matched what everyone else was wearing. April and Fin were still in their button-down shirts, leather shoes and, in April’s case, the despised skirt.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked April, taking a step closer and glaring into the boy’s face. ‘The uniform police?’

  ‘My name is Darren,’ answered Darren literally. ‘You can’t run around in the regular uniform.’

  ‘Why not?’ demanded April, poking the boy in the chest with her forefinger. ‘I can do what I like.’

  Fin winced. There was going to be a fight or April would taunt the boy until he started crying. Either way, this was not a good first impression.

  ‘But when we do cartwheels and handstands everyone will be able to see your undies,’ said Darren.

  The rest of the class burst out laughing. The tension had been broken. Fin laughed nervously too. He wanted to be part of the group. April’s face went bright red. She looked like she was considering fighting everyone.

  ‘Why do you have a dog here at school?’ asked a blonde girl with pigtails, an unusual look for anyone over the age of five. She had the air of a goody-two-shoes about her.

  ‘So I don’t have to bite you myself,’ threatened April.

  ‘I’ve got three cattle dogs at home,’ called out another boy. ‘They’d use your dog as a chew toy.’

  The class laughed again. Louder this time.

  ‘Nice one, Kieran,’ said Darren, giving the boy a high five.

  April’s face screwed up with rage. Fin would have grabbed her arm to restrain her, but he didn’t want his arm to be broken.

  ‘Get ’em,’ she whispered to Pumpkin, and her dog took off like a rocket. Pumpkin leapt straight for Kieran’s groin. Kieran jumped back just in time and took off running with Pumpkin close on his heels.

  Now April laughed.

  ‘That’s enough!’ called a man with a thick accent. The class fell silent. The man was wearing a bright red tracksuit, so either he had terrible dress sense or he was their PE teacher.

  ‘We’ve got new kids,’ the pigtail girl called out.

  ‘And they’re not wearing the sport uniform,’ added Darren.

  ‘Dibber dobber,’ sneered April.

  ‘It’s just a fact,’ said Darren.

  ‘It’s just a fact that I’m going to rearrange your face at break time,’ said April.

  ‘I’m busy at break time,’ said Darren. ‘That’s when we all play bowls.’

  ‘Huh?’ April was getting increasingly confused.

  The teacher walked over. He had thick dark hair and a muscly physique.

  ‘I’m Mr Popov, you’ve heard of me?’ he said. It was unclear from his tone whether this was a statement or a question. He had a strange way of speaking in staccato half sentences that were grammatically muddled, as if he were following a pattern from his first language.

  ‘No,’ said April rudely.

  ‘I was a boxing champion in my own country,’ said Mr Popov.

  ‘I don’t approve of boxing,’ said April. ‘Too many brain injuries. I prefer wrestling.’

  Mr Popov glowered. ‘Since these students do not bring correct uniform, no sport for anyone today. We do
theory.’

  The rest of the class groaned.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ said Fin. ‘We didn’t know we were going to have PE today.’

  ‘You bring pencils, didn’t you? You bring paper?’ said Mr Popov. ‘Because you know you will be having maths and the English. But always “no” for sport. Always complete surprise you have sport.’

  ‘It’s our first day,’ said Fin.

  ‘And you no have sport at your old school?’ asked Mr Popov.

  April was looking in her schoolbag. ‘Actually, we don’t have pencils or paper either. We came equally unprepared for all our lessons.’

  Mr Popov stared at April. ‘In my country children do not answer back to teachers.’

  ‘What country is that exactly?’ asked April suspiciously.

  Mr Popov paused and coloured slightly. ‘None of your business. You will be quiet now,’ he said. ‘I will discuss your attitude with Mr Lang when I see him. Everyone into the classroom.’

  The class groaned again.

  Mr Popov marched into the room next to his office. The students straggled in after him. ‘Thanks a lot, newbie,’ whispered the pigtail girl as she walked past. Most of the rest of the class contented themselves with merely glaring menacingly.

  April leaned close to Fin. He instinctively flinched away, but she just whispered to him. ‘I bet he’s a Kolektiv agent.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Fin in alarm.

  ‘Mr Popov. He says he’s a boxing champion,’ said April. ‘Why would anyone good at anything want to work here?’

  Pumpkin trotted back and proudly dropped a swatch of clothing at April’s feet. It looked a lot like the crotch from a pair of boys’ gym shorts. There was no sign of Kieran.

  ‘Good dog,’ said April, patting Pumpkin on the head.

  Inside the classroom the students were getting out their pens and paper. Mr Popov had insisted that April tie Pumpkin up outside. She didn’t have a leash, so she’d had to make an improvised one out of shoe laces. Not her own, of course; she’d forced Fin to give her his.

  ‘Today we learn about interval training,’ said Mr Popov. ‘Everyone get out your cockroaches.’

  All the other students started rifling through their bags, pulling out shoeboxes, jam jars and Tupperware containers.

  ‘Did he say cockroaches?’ asked April.

  Fin just shrugged. He was as baffled as her.

  ‘Today you will develop a program to increase the cardiovascular capability of your cockroaches,’ said Mr Popov.

  The goody-two-shoes pigtail girl put her hand up.

  ‘Yes, what is it, Matilda?’ asked Mr Popov.

  ‘The new kids don’t have cockroaches,’ said Matilda.

  Everyone looked at Fin and April.

  ‘What?’ demanded Mr Popov. ‘No uniforms, no pens and now no cockroaches!’

  ‘Come on!’ exclaimed April. ‘You can’t have expected us to know we needed cockroaches.’

  ‘But the race is this Saturday,’ said Matilda.

  The other students started muttering to themselves.

  ‘We’re not entering the race,’ said Fin.

  There were several gasps of shock.

  Mr Popov sighed. ‘Fine, you sit at the back. Observe what everyone else is doing. Just no getting in the way.’

  ‘Aren’t we supposed to be learning about our physical education, not the physical education of cockroaches?’ asked April.

  ‘It’s analogous,’ said Mr Popov. ‘You apply what you learn training cockroaches to your own training.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure this is not in the standardised curriculum,’ said April.

  ‘Well, it’s in my curriculum!’ yelled Mr Popov. ‘Go to the back of the class.’

  April and Fin watched as the other students broke up into small groups and started running their cockroaches through short exercises. It was all very peculiar. One group encouraged a cockroach to run up the tube of a vacuum cleaner by luring it with a piece of old toast. Another put their cockroach in a clear plastic hamster ball then rolled it around on the floor. And yet another group had a tiny cockroach-sized treadmill made out of a hand-cranked kitchen whisk.

  ‘They’re all barmy,’ muttered April.

  ‘Nutty as fruitcakes,’ agreed Fin. ‘But please stop telling them that. We’re never going to make any friends if you’re not nice to people.’

  ‘I don’t want to be friends with a bunch of cockroach lovers,’ said April. ‘I don’t see why we can’t go home to the city.’

  ‘Because we’d be killed or kidnapped by Kolektiv agents,’ stated Fin.

  ‘Sounds less painful than sitting here watching this,’ grumbled April.

  At their old school there is no way the students would have cared about cockroach racing. They were all too busy being carted around a myriad of after-school activities. And if there was ever any free time between the yoga, Brazilian jiujitsu and macramé lessons, they would have spent it staring at an electronic device, playing a game or bullying somebody on social media (the most bloodthirsty computer game of all). There is no way they would have spent a split second looking for, catching or training an insect. Let alone a disgusting great big brown one.

  After half an hour of experimenting, Mr Popov called his class to order. ‘Right, we test your work. Bring your cockroaches to the front.’

  Mr Popov rolled out a round mat that was two metres in diameter. Then he produced a large dish with a handle.

  ‘Is that the lid of a wok?’ asked April.

  ‘Duh,’ said Matilda. ‘It’s a replica of the official cockroach race ceremonial shield. We’re trying to copy race conditions.’

  ‘All competitors under the shield,’ said Mr Popov. He raised one edge and the students tucked their roaches underneath. ‘All right, on the count of three. One … two … THREE!’

  He whipped back the lid, revealing ten cockroaches. None of them moved. The students all stared at their roaches intently.

  ‘I can see why everyone finds this such an exciting sport,’ said April sarcastically.

  ‘Shhh,’ said several people around her.

  ‘We’re all just standing here, staring at insects,’ said April. ‘Why should I “shush”?’

  She looked around. Everyone was watching the cockroaches. Some people seemed to be praying, others rocked anxiously and Matilda fiddled nervously with her hand.

  ‘You’ll spook the cockroaches,’ whispered Darren.

  ‘Puh-lease,’ said April, but she was soon interrupted. A cockroach had started to move.

  ‘They’re off!’ cried Darren.

  The rest of the class started screaming too, cries of ‘Come on!’, ‘You can do it!’ and ‘Run, please run!’ echoed around the room.

  It was all over in about two seconds. One cockroach made a start, paused, then at lightning speed scurried straight for the outer ring.

  ‘She did it!’ exclaimed Matilda, swooping forward and snatching up her roach. She fumbled it into a Tupperware container so quickly she momentarily got her sleeve caught in the lid. ‘My Bertha was the fastest!’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Mr Popov.

  April snorted. ‘Don’t congratulate her,’ she said. ‘She just cheated.’

  ‘How dare you!’ exclaimed Matilda.

  ‘I dare because I’m one hundred per cent correct,’ said April. ‘You cheated.’

  ‘April, please don’t do this,’ said Fin.

  ‘That cockroach isn’t the one that crossed the line,’ said April, pointing to the roach scurrying about inside the Tupperware. ‘Matilda swapped it out. I saw her. She has another one up her sleeve.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Mr Popov. ‘This is just a class exercise. There’s no motive to cheat.’

  ‘There is if you want to practise cheating for the big race on Saturday,’ argued April.

  People were starting to look less contemptuously at April and more contemptuously at Matilda now.

  ‘She’s making it up!’ accused Mati
lda. ‘She’s new and she’s got no friends. She’s got no proof.’

  ‘But the proof is right there, up your sleeve,’ said April. ‘The original cockroach must still be in there. I saw you hide something up your cuff.’

  ‘I did not,’ said Matilda.

  ‘We’ll soon see,’ said April. And with that, she finally got to do something physical in physical education. She leapt on Matilda. All the other students stepped out of the way so April had no trouble getting hold of her. Matilda tried to fight her off, but April had a firm grip on her cuff. Eventually both girls pulled so hard, the entire sleeve tore off in April’s hands.

  ‘What have we got here?’ said April, looking inside. ‘Aha!’ She pulled out a small plastic tube, the type vitamin tablets come in, and removed the lid. ‘A cosy little bedroom for a cockroach.’

  April shook it out. The cockroach and a small push-button fell into her hand.

  ‘Hey, that’s not a normal cockroach,’ said Darren.

  ‘Everything’s abnormal here in Currawong,’ said April.

  ‘No, there’s something not right about it,’ said Animesh, a stocky boy whose cockroach had come second in the race.

  ‘Give me a look,’ said Fin. He picked up the cockroach. ‘It’s not a cockroach at all!’ he cried. ‘It’s a robot!’

  There were gasps from the rest of the class.

  ‘Look,’ said Fin. ‘You can see the metal hinges on the legs. And right there is the cover for the battery.’

  ‘And that button is the remote control she used to operate it,’ said April.

  Matilda burst into tears. ‘I’m so sorry. I just really wanted to win.’

  ‘We all want to win,’ said Animesh witheringly.

  ‘But my dad won, and his dad won, and his mum won, and her cousin won,’ wailed Matilda. ‘There’s so much pressure to maintain the family tradition.’

  ‘What, were they all cheats too?’ asked April.

  ‘I can’t be the first person in my family to lose the Cockroach Races since Great-Uncle Waldo,’ wailed Matilda. ‘He’s eighty-one and he’s never lived it down. It’s haunted him his whole life.’