‘Place your snails inside the inner circle .The first snail to go over the outer circle is the winner.’
The seven snails were very colourful. Stick-on dots, nail polish blobs and white-out marked their shells.
Grade 2 was colour co-ordinated. The yellow dot on Sunny matched the jockey’s yellow parka.
At 1 o’clock, the race began. The black circle was drawn on the white board.
‘Ready,set ,go,’ said Mrs. Tasker.
The snails bunched together.
‘Come on, Super Snail.’ India had loaned her snail to another class.
‘Run Racer!’
‘Move quickly…please…Eat-My-Dust.’
Yells filled the courtyard. Teachers covered their ears. Mrs.Tasker turned off the microphone.
Eat-My-Dust was in trouble. The snail started to follow the line of the inner circle. It slithered round and round.
Other snails began to slither over it.
There was a snail traffic jam.
When Eat-My-Dust started to crawl over the top of Super Snail, it didn’t worry Mario.
But then something terrible did happen. Excitedly Liam picked up St Mount to point the snail around the right way.
‘Disqualified!’ roared Mrs. Tasker.
‘Oh! No!’
By 1.15 ,no snail was near the finishing circle.
‘We’ll stop the race in one more minute.’ Mrs. Tasker decided. ‘Unless a snail moves across the line in that time, there will be no winner.’
There was a roar of disappointment.
‘Out of seven snails, surely one could find the finish!’ said Mario. He ignored the ‘Where’s our money?’ being muttered behind him.
When Mrs. Tasker’s watch showed 1.16, the Great Mount Street Snail Race was over.
India smiled as Mario returned her fifty cents. It took him all afternoon to return the other bets.
‘Put salt behind the snails. Then they’ll move,’ said India.
‘Yeah? Well maybe next time I’ll borrow a salt shaker from the school canteen,’ said Mario. That afternoon he sat in the corner, sulking until home time.
After school Mario called Liam. ‘Come and have a look at this.’ There were two sugar lumps on the table in the shelter shed. Art and India watched. They knew Mars Bar was planning a trick of some kind.They knew he was broke.
‘Want a bet?’ offered Mario.
‘What sort of bet?’
‘I bet you two dollars that a fly will land on my sugar lump first.’
Liam looked closely at the sugar. He felt in his back pocket.
‘Haven’t got two dollars. Only got fifty cents.’
‘Okay,’ decided Mario. ’Of course, I’ll win, so it doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes it does.’ As a new kid, Liam was a bit worried. ‘Fifty cents is all I’ve got.’
‘Where’s your fifty cents, Mario?’ asked India who had been watching closely.
‘Shhh,’ Mario reached across the table and touched the two sugar cubes in front of Liam.
‘Which one?’
‘I’ll bet on this one,’ Liam chose the one closest to Mario. He was learning.
‘Okay,’ said Mario. Art was worried that Mario didn’t look worried. They had to wait for a while. The rain had stopped. There were lots of flies buzzing around. Sometimes they landed on the table. Then they flew off.
‘Perhaps they’ve got radar like pigeons.’ Art was thinking aloud.
Mario looked up. ‘Radar! Did you hear about the police radar getting mixed up with the rubbish? It was in a street behind the racecourse. The trainers were laughing about it.’
Liam grinned. ‘D’you know who picked it up?’
‘Easy to do. The parts could be useful for something. I did have a look at it. But I put it down again. ‘Mario shook his head.’Dunno what happened next.’
Art was not going to tell him.
‘Shh. There’s a fly coming.’
At last, a fly landed near Liam’s sugar. His eyes brightened.
Then the fly circled and went onto Mario’s sugar and landed.
‘I win!’ cried Mario.‘I knew I would.’
‘How did you know?’ Liam felt he’d been tricked.
Mario put the fifty cents in his pocket.
Art had been watching closely. He picked up Liam’s sugar cube and smelled it.
‘Fly spray. If you put fly spray on a sugar cube, the fly goes somewhere else.’
Poor Liam didn’t know what to do. ‘But I took the sugar cube that was in front of him.’
Art nodded. ‘Mario was counting on that. He sprayed that one.’
‘What if I had chosen the other one?’
‘Then he would have lost.’
‘Sounds a bit like cheating to me,’ said India.
‘Mrs.Tasker told me,’ said Art with a strange smile.
‘Mrs.Tasker told you how to cheat?’ India was surprised.
‘No. She gave me a book about con men.’
‘Have you been reading?’ India was even more surprised.
Art nodded. ‘A little bit. There’s pictures too.’
‘Confidence men?’
Yes, the ones who used to trick people out of their money.’
‘Con artists?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened to them?’
‘They moved around a lot.’
India laughed. “I’ll bet they did. Mar’s Bar’s gone home already.’
‘With my fifty cents,’ said Liam. ‘Can I borrow you book tomorrow Art? ‘
‘If you like. I’m finding out about doves. Magicians make some doves disappear.’
‘Once I saw a magician make a dove appear out of a top hat,’ said India. ’But you’re not a magician, Art.’
‘Wait and see,’ said Art.’ Saturday is the deadline. Serena has to be back for the wedding photos.’
Chapter 8
Wedding Doves
‘How many bridesmaids? ‘ India was filling her bag with bulk dry dog food. Tiny ate so much, it was cheaper to buy in bulk.
‘Six or seven. It’s a big wedding,’ said Mr. Snip-pets who was washing a pigeon in the sink.
‘What colours are the bridesmaids’ dresses?’
‘All the colours of the rainbow.’
Why don’t you dye the birds to match the dresses?’ India watched Mr. Snip-pets carefully wash the pigeon.
‘What?’
‘If you haven’t got your Serena back in time, you’ll need something special for the photos.’
‘Matching birds. Colour co-ordinated,’ Mr.Snippets smiled. ‘That’s a thought.’
‘Would you paint them?’ asked India, thinking of Tiny’s luminous mouth.
‘No. I’d use vegetable dye. Lasts about six weeks.’
‘How many colours in the rainbow?’ asked Art.
India answered immediately. She remembered that sort of stuff. ‘It depends whether you mean the main colours or the shades. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. But wouldn’t you have to match the girls’ dresses?’
‘That’s a point. I’ll find out.’
‘You could have striped in footy team colours,’ suggested Art but India didn’t think much of that idea. Her football team didn’t have stripes.
‘Tiny’s food is heavy. I’m taking it home. See you at school tomorrow.’
‘D’you want me to carry some?’ offered Art who really wanted to look around the yard of the pet shop. There must be clues somewhere that he had missed.
‘No. See you.’
Sleuth Art didn’t find much. There were several logs, an overgrown vegetable plot and some sheds out the back.
The gate which opened onto the back lane was padlocked.
Of course, a bird could f
ly over the top. In or out!
Mum had asked him to get a lettuce, so on the way home, Art called into the shopping centre. The fruit and vegetable place was downstairs. Art stepped onto the escalator.
His foot landed halfway between the steps which slowly grew further apart. He slipped. He grabbed the side.
The escalator kept moving down. GIANT SALE,MAGIC PARADE,SUMMER MUSIC. Posters filled the walls beside the escalators. Art looked at the pictures. There was one with a dove. A magician was pulling a dove out of his top hat.
‘Hey!’
Art hurried down the escalator and then returned upwards, so he could look at the poster again.
It was a white dove. And the magician was performing centre stage tonight. He saw it said THURSDAY.
He arrived at the bottom again. He jumped off quickly before his heels were clipped.
Down at basement level, empty shops with windows like blank eyes watched him.
He decided to get Mum’s lettuce first. She’d be mad if he didn’t. Then he’d find the magician.
Art couldn’t sop thinking about doves. Every time he heard a bird noise, he looked around.
Who might have taken Serena? Where might she be hidden?
Who’d want to take her? Could the magician be involved?
Lettuces were piled on a table outside the fruit shop. Red tomatoes, yellow bananas and purple passionfruit. The colours of the rainbow vegetable colours. Vegetable dye. Pigeons. Art’s mind was back to the mystery of the disappearing doves. He didn’t notice Mario.
‘One lettuce please.’
Art handed over the money. He looked sideways.
Photo Fantasy, the shop next door, belonged to a photographer. In the window were smiling people, all dressed up. Some were holding balloons or sparklers. Others were leaning against racing cars. One was hugging an elephant. None seemed to be doing ordinary things.
Just then, Mario pushed towards him. ‘Hey, Art!’
That’s when it happened.
A woman with a baby was pushing a shopping trolley. The child struggled to get out of the seat. The mother leaned over. She didn’t look where the trolley was going. The trolley hit the front table of the vegetable display. The lettuce table wobbled, the tomatoes wobbled and the oranges started to roll.
As the fruit fell, it was like an avalanche. Apples. Oranges. Tomatoes. And then the melons. They didn’t just roll, they went splat as they hit the floor.
‘Help!’ cried the shop owner. ‘My fruit!’
The photographer raced out, camera flashing.
He shot the falling fruit, Mario, the owner’s face and Art catching the baby.
That was the photograph which made the front page of the local newspaper. LOCAL BOY HERO.
‘They should have seat belts on shopping trolleys,’ Mum suggested when she saw the photo.
Only later, Art found out that Mario was telling everybody that he, Mario, had saved the baby. The caption underneath read “‘It was nothing,’ said Mario, local Mount Street primary student. ‘I was just doing the vegetable shopping for my grandad. I am a great footballer. Catching the baby was easy.’
Chapter 9
Bird Magic
‘Get lost , Art. I’ll fix things up,’ offered Mario. Once he handed back the baby, Art left. Others were helping pick up the fruit.
‘Thank you. How can I repay you?’
The baby’s mother was still fussing.
So was the fruit shop owner. ‘Oh my display. My fruit is bruised.’
Art just wanted to find the magician. Then he might find a clue to Serena’s disappearance.
At the centre stage of the shopping centre, a magician was doing tricks. Brightly coloured scarves grew out of a top hat. Then he pulled out a white dove.
Could that be one of Mr.Snip-pets doves?
‘Would anyone in the audience like to hold the dove?’
Art moved so fast he nearly dropped Mum’s lettuce.
‘A lettuce! Do you need it? Perhaps I’ll change it for you.’
The magician had an actor-sort of voice. All deep.
Art tried to watch every movement, but the magician was too fast. He swept the lettuce under his cape. The dove was in Art’s cupped hands, and the magician wound coloured scarves around them.
‘Abracadabra!’
The bird was very white. It felt warm and soft. He could feel its heart beating.
‘Serena?’ he said softly.
The bird flapped its wings.
‘I’ll say ,one,two,three. Then throw you hands up, and the bird will fly into the air. Are you ready?’
‘Can I just ask one question?’
‘Quickly.’ People were leaving the seats around the edges of the stage. The magician seemed less magical up close.
‘What type of bird is this?’ Art asked the magician.
‘A dove.’
‘Is it a crested feather foot fantail pigeon?’
The magician looked curiously at him. ‘No. It’s an ordinary white dove. See, it doesn’t have a fantail. It isn’t feather footed.’
‘Oh.’
‘Do you have any other birds in there?’ Art waved towards the bird cage on the stage. And then he pointed towards the magician’s cape. After all, his lettuce had vanished under the cape. Perhaps Serena could fit in there too?’
‘Trade secrets, son. A magician mustn’t tell what’s up his sleeve. But I can show you.’
Very quickly, the magician flung open his cape. He pulled two more doves from the air, showed tiny eggs in his hand and then a puff of smoke filled the stage. When it cleared, Mum’s lettuce was sitting on the ground in a salad bowl with chopped hard boiled eggs. The doves had gone, except for the one in Art’s hands.
‘One, two, three ... let her go!’
Art threw up his hands ,the bird’s wings fluttered , and the dove flew around the stage.
‘Thank you for your help, son,’ the magician patted him on the head. The audience clapped. ‘Egg salad for dinner tonight.’
‘I don’t use fantails. They’re a beautiful shape ,but they don’t fly up much.’
Art remembered Mr. Snip-pets saying that.
‘I’m looking for a missing bird. Serena is a crested feather foot, fantail pigeon.’
‘Do you think someone has stolen her?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Then look for someone who needs a beautiful bird to look shapely.’
That was a useful clue.
‘Mum likes egg salad …luckily.’
Outside the travel agency, he filled in the Fiji Holiday, Visit Singapore and the Romantic Pacific competitions.
He wrote his mum’s name on all of them. Just in case.
Voices echoed around the shopping centre. Snatches of music or microphone voices blared from shop doors.
Just then, Art heard a bird noise. He looked around.
Eerie birdcall music floated out of the New Age shop. Just an audio track.
As he walked towards the first floor level, Art could see a boy coming towards him. Jeans, sneakers, a red t-shirt. The same boy was coming from different directions. ‘Too many mirrors!’ he muttered. ‘And too many birds.’
Art felt as though he had birds on the brain. It was already Thursday and he hadn’t found Serena. The deadline was Saturday afternoon.
Chapter 10
School Photo with Pet!
Friday morning the school photographer was busy. He took photographs of every grade. He shot the netball team and the football team. Then he took several pictures of the cross-country squad. Art would have liked to have been in that photo. The cross country won their final.
‘When he’s ready, say “ Smile. Cheese”, ‘ ordered Mrs. Tasker.
‘I hate cheese. Especially cardboard cheese in school lunch sandwiches,’ c
omplained Mario.
Mrs.Tasker was keen on healthy lunches.
‘Our class will be photographed after recess,’ warned Mrs. Tasker. ‘Please wash your face, comb your hair and pull up your socks. Mario, socks are supposed to be up, not at half -mast.’
Mrs. Tasker made them line up. The tallest children went to the head of the line. Art was somewhere in the middle.
‘Now, go to the General Purpose Room quietly. Fill up the back row first. Shorter children can sit on the floor, legs crossed.’
Art was so busy working out where he was to stand, he didn’t notice the photographer’s face until he turned around.
It was the Photo Fantasy man.
The photographer looked through his viewfinder. Art could tell when the photographer found him.
‘Hi. We meet again. Saw you last night, didn’t I?’
‘Er, yes.’
‘Great shot of the fruit. I like something imaginative.’
‘Good morning. I’m Mrs.Tasker. You’re not our usual photographer. Is something wrong?’
‘Good morning. I’m Sam the Fantasy Man photographer. I’m just filling in for this morning. Bill had to go to court.’
‘I see. Do you want the children in their normal lines? I’d already organised them by heights.’
‘No, I don’t think so. I like to take unusual shots.’
Sam posed children on seats in the yard, up a big tree and beside the giant dumper bin.
He perched Mario on the edge of it.
‘D’you have any class pets? ‘Sam asked. ‘I like to take photos of children with pets. It’s so relaxing.’
‘We’ve got some snails left over from the race,’ suggested Mario.
‘Fine. Birds would be better. Any class budgies?’
They borrowed the Grade 3 budgie.
It dropped on Inda. ‘Yuk!’
‘Excuse me Sam,’ said Art , the part-time sleuth. ‘Do you use birds in your other photographs?’
‘Sometimes.’ Sam adjusted his camera.
‘Do you use doves?’
‘Why do you ask?’
Just at that moment, Mrs.Tasker interrupted.’ Excuse me ... Mr ... er Sam. You must stop now. We’ve spent an hour already. These children have maths to finish before lunch. And you have another four classes to photograph.’
Birds on the Brain Page 4
