Streaker was watching all this with great interest, following every move the pizza made, right into the bag. Now she was trotting after the bag as I headed for the front door.
‘Just taking Streaker for a walk,’ I shouted.
‘OK!’ Mum answered, and in no time I was out of the door and heading up the road.
Once we reached the field I let Streaker off her lead. Normally when I do this she immediately goes zooming off at hyperspeed in a dizzying blur of legs and I don’t see her again for half an hour or so. But she had her nose glued to the plastic bag and was not going anywhere until she knew what was going to happen to that pizza.
I pulled it from the bag as carefully as I could but, even so, several bits dropped off, which was annoying but hardly my fault as I was struggling to keep the pizza out of Streaker’s jaws. She was barking around my legs, trying to climb up me and generally getting overexcited, especially when the bits of food fell off.
The pizza was also a bit floppy. If it had just come out of the oven it would have been stiff and crispy, but it had come out of the fridge, so it was cold, clammy and floppy. I held it as best I could. I already had a sinking feeling that I wouldn’t be able to throw it very far.
‘OK. Streaker, get ready. This is it. Test flight, number one.’ I drew back my arm and flung the pizza into the air. I think it must have flown a good three CENTIMETRES before it fell to pieces and most of it landed on my feet. I was left holding a small, soggy bit of crust that had broken off when I tried to launch it. Streaker very kindly leaped up and gobbled it down, along with my fingers.
‘Ow! Streaker! Do you mind!’
I put her back on the lead and trudged home. I was fed up, mostly because it had happened just like Tina had said it would. I could hear her voice ringing in my ears. ‘The food will fall off … it will be all floppy … it will fall to bits.’ She is such a know-all.
I was determined to show her up. I knew my brainwave had been a good one. There must be some way to make it work. I now knew that floppy, cold pizzas wouldn’t fly, so that left me with two choices.
1. Get a crispy pizza straight from the oven. Problem: almost impossible to achieve. Plus it would be too hot coming straight from the oven AND by the time I got it up to the field it would be too cold and all floppy again.
2. Use a frozen, uncooked pizza. Problem: would Streaker fancy it?
I plumped for choice number two. Maybe it would work. There was only one way to find out.
There were plenty of frozen pizzas in the freezer – well, four at any rate. Mum was still rowing in the front room. She’d been at it for ages. She must have been halfway across the Atlantic by now. Dad was still out with his golfing buddies. Slipping a frozen pizza up my jumper was easy-peasy. (I couldn’t find a plastic bag.)
Streaker was getting confused. She kept looking at me, wondering why we were going back up the road we’d only just come down. I think she was also wondering why I was walking in such an odd way, sucking in my chest, trying to avoid contact with an ice-cold, rock-hard pizza. My shirt was getting damp and clammy. I honestly thought I might be the first person in history to get frostbite on their tummy.
As soon as we stepped into the field, I pulled out the pizza and gave my stomach a good rub to warm it up. Streaker didn’t seem to be the least bit interested and spent more time looking at the fluffy clouds in the sky than the pizza. I shoved it right under her nose. She sniffed it once, shook her ears and wandered off to examine a dandelion.
I waited five minutes and let the sun melt the glaze of ice on the top of the pizza so at least she could see bits of cheese and salami. It seemed I’d picked my favourite pizza, which was a shame, but I couldn’t go back and change it. I showed Streaker the pizza again and this time she was a bit more interested, so I threw it.
Streaker went charging after it. Unfortunately, pizzas don’t fly as gracefully as frisbees. Mine went slicing through the air for a few metres, wobbled, tipped to one side, went into a nosedive and crash-landed. Streaker immediately clamped her teeth round it, expecting to get a nice juicy chunk of pizza and instead her teeth simply stuck in the slightly defrosted bread and topping. She shook her head from side to side, trying to dislodge it, but her teeth were firmly glued. She looked as if she had a dinner plate stuck in her mouth and carried on shaking her head, again and again, and growling. I managed to grab hold of her and after a bit of levering and twisting she got her top jaw free and then the bottom. I looked at the pizza. It had teeth holes right the way through and a lot of dog-slobber. Lovely!
I tried throwing it once more and this time the pizza skimmed a lot further. Streaker went bouncing after it and managed to get it just as it landed. Things were looking up, but the pizza was defrosting. I gave it one more try. Streaker actually jumped into the air, trying to snatch it, but again the pizza landed first. This time Streaker ate it. So she’d now had two pizzas, but at least she was getting the idea.
I was about to head back home when the Akanis arrived, along with Kriss. They waved and I went over.
‘We’re going for gold,’ grinned Kriss as he did his warm-up exercises. ‘I’ve had another hypnosis session. I’m sure I’m going to run fast today. That’s good, because the race is the day after tomorrow. This evening I join the whole team at the training camp, and once I’m there I shan’t be able to speak to anyone apart from my teammates. It will be nothing but training until the great day. OK, I’m all ready.’
Kriss handed his watch to Mrs Akani. I set mine to zero too. Maybe it would keep better time today. Kriss set off and we sat down to wait.
‘Your dog – is she all right?’ asked Mr Akani. ‘She looks a bit off colour.’
Streaker was moping about, her head low down, her ears all droopy. She swallowed and gulped several times and then SPLURRGGG! She threw up right in front of Mr Akani.
‘Sorry,’ I murmured, but there was nothing I could do about it. We moved away to a more pleasant spot and I got into conversation with Mrs Akani about hypnosis. She explained that it was dangerous to try if you didn’t know what you were doing. ‘You can do more harm than good,’ she said.
We soon spotted Kriss on his way out of the woods and got ready with our watches. Mrs Akani punched the air.
‘Well done, Kriss! Eight minutes, five point one. That’s almost a second faster than yesterday. Now, don’t forget, last hypnosis session tonight at seven o’clock.’
I didn’t even bother to tell them what my watch said. (Eight minutes, ten point two! Which was WORSE than yesterday!) I gazed enviously at Kriss’s fab watch. Still, it was good that he was getting faster.
We walked towards home together. Kriss had left his car nearby and drove off, but I saw the Akanis to the end of their road, which was near mine, and waved goodbye as they went into their house.
As soon as I reached home, Mum came out of the kitchen. (She’d obviously managed to find her way back to shore.)
‘Trevor,’ she said, in a tone of voice that instantly put me on red alert. ‘What can you tell me about missing pizzas?’
UH-OH!
8. Trevor and Tina Fall Off the Sofa
I’m still alive. I know, it’s a miracle. How did I escape Death? I told Mum the truth, sort of.
‘Streaker ate it. I left the fridge door open for a few seconds and, the next thing, she’d eaten it.’ (Which she had, so that bit was true, and I reckoned it didn’t really matter where or when she’d eaten the pizza. After all, nothing was going to bring the pizza back – unless you count Streaker throwing it up in the field. Urgh!)
‘But how did she get it?’ asked Mum, quite bewildered. ‘It was on the middle shelf!’
‘Mum,’ I said, ‘dogs can jump.’
‘Let me get this straight, Trevor. Streaker jumped up and swiped the pizza off the plate?’
‘Exactly,’ I nodded.
‘And after that she got a frozen pizza out of the freezer and jumped up again and put the frozen pizza on the plate where the cooked one h
ad been?’ Mum raised both eyebrows. She’d got me there.
‘Look, I didn’t want her to get into trouble so I put the frozen one there. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. You’re always forgetting things.’
‘Oh, am I? Thank you for letting me know. Be careful, Trevor – one day I might forget that you’re my son and I’m supposed to feed and clothe you, or even that you live here. Be warned!’ And with that, she let me go. ‘And take this wretched dog with you!’ she called after me.
So I survived. In fact I reckoned I’d got off pretty lightly. I took Streaker and went to Tina’s to tell her the news.
‘Kriss is getting faster and my watch is getting slower. It’s useless. I’m going to get a new one as soon as.’
‘As soon as what?’ asked Tina.
‘Just as soon as,’ I repeated. ‘When I’ve got the money, obviously. Oh yes, other news just in,’ I added so, SO casually, ‘I tried the pizza-frisbee idea and it’s starting to work.’
‘Really? Truly? The pizza didn’t fall to bits?’
I treated Tina to my biggest smile. ‘I used a frozen pizza.’
‘Frozen? Wow. Did Streaker like it?’
A picture of Streaker with her jaws firmly stuck in the half-frozen pizza came to mind. ‘She couldn’t keep her teeth out of it,’ I said.
‘Oh, that’s good. And did she catch it?’
‘That’s the bit that still needs practice. I’m going to have another go tomorrow. Did you know that Kriss leaves for training camp tonight?’
‘Let’s wish him luck before he goes,’ Tina suggested. ‘Mum wants me to go into town and get some stuff for her. Are you coming?’
‘I guess. Mum’s a bit unpredictable at the moment so it’s best if I keep clear of her.’
‘What’s up?’ asked Tina.
‘She discovered a pizza missing from the fridge and I had to tell her that Streaker had eaten it.’
‘Trevor!’
‘Where else did you expect me to get a pizza from?’ But I was laughing. It had been pretty funny. Even the floppy frisbee had been funny, really, but there was no way I was going to let Tina know about that.
We wandered into town with both the dogs. It’s quite useful when we have Mouse with us. He’s so huge that everyone gets out of the way because he goes ahead, mowing a path through the crowd for us and we sail along behind him.
Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible to sail round Charlie Smugg, especially when he’s got Sharon Blenkinsop with him and they’ve got their arms interlinked. As soon as he saw us, Charlie started singing.
‘Here comes the bride, all fat and wide –’
Which is a bit much coming from an over-large, heavily-pimpled, baboon-eared, ugly-faced cabbage-brain like Charlie. ‘How’s the frisbee-catching going?’ he sniggered.
‘Pretty good,’ I answered. ‘How about your Alsatians?’
Charlie smirked. ‘They don’t need to practice. Got ’em well trained, you see. TRAINED,’ he repeated loudly. ‘That’s not a word your dog understands really, is it?’ he taunted. ‘TRAINED?’
‘Shall we get a drink from the cafe, Trev?’ Tina suggested, ignoring Charlie completely.
‘Good idea,’ I growled.
Charlie chuckled. ‘Yeah, you two luvvy-wuvvies go and get a drinky-poo. Then afterwards you can go and buy her a wedding ring! Hurr hurr hurr!’
Honestly, Charlie Smugg is about as funny as rice pudding. (In other words totally yuck.)
Charlie and the luvverly Sharon went sloping off, chortling and smirking. We collected the shopping that Tina’s mum wanted and went back to her place.
I like Tina’s house. It’s quieter than ours. For one thing, Tina’s mum doesn’t waste her life constantly rowing or cycling round the front room. We spent most of the time having a fairly useless argument about dogs, frisbees and pizzas, while Mouse and Streaker argued over Mouse’s favourite cushion. All I can say is that the cushion had an awful lot of foam padding inside to start with, but ended up with ALL the padding on the outside by the time they had finished their quarrel and Streaker had won.
Tina put the telly on. It was the news, which is usually utterly boring because it’s always about grey people talking about money and houses and golf. However, today they were talking to some of the athletes taking part in the International Games.
‘Kriss might be on it,’ Tina said, so we sat and watched.
Kriss wasn’t on it in fact, but someone else was – Azi Numa, Kriss’s biggest rival. He was being interviewed by a reporter, Tamsin Plank.
‘Do you think you can beat Kriss Okonjo?’ she asked. He gave a wide grin.
‘Of course! The race is mine!’
‘There we have it,’ Tamsin Plank said to camera. ‘Azi Numa has thrown down the gauntlet. But let’s hear from his fans. Earlier today I spoke to two of them.’
The camera swung round on to two elderly people.
MR AND MRS AKANI!
Were we surprised? I almost fell off the sofa. Tina started to say something, but I clamped a hand over her mouth so I could hear what was going on. Tamsin Plank held up a microphone to them.
‘You believe that Azi is going to win this race, don’t you? Why is that?’
‘He’s the best runner,’ said Mr Akani.
‘He’s the fastest on the planet,’ Mrs Akani added. ‘I think he will take the record this time.’
Tamsin Plank smiled and glanced at the camera again. ‘Of course, I should add that this couple are very special fans and they do have a particular interest in Azi because they are, in fact, his parents!’
And at that point I did fall off the sofa, and Tina fell off with me. We recovered just in time to hear Tamsin saying goodbye. ‘Thank you, Mr and Mrs Numa, for joining us today, and that’s all from Sports Round-Up. Back to the studio.’
Tina and I sat on the floor in silence for a few moments. My brain was in a whirl. Tina reached out, took hold of my hand and squeezed it.
‘What are we going to do?’ she whispered.
I looked deep into her eyes and spoke slowly and firmly. ‘You’re going to let go of my hand, thank you. That’s what we’re going to do.’ And I quickly rescued it from her grasp.
9. Guess Who’s on Television?
I thought hard, trying to get a grip on this startling piece of information that we had just heard. ‘That was Mr and Mrs Akani, except they’re not Mr and Mrs Akani, they’re Mr and Mrs Numa, Azi Numa’s parents.’
‘Why do they call themselves Mr and Mrs Akani then?’ Tina asked.
‘Exactly. There’s something weird going on and I don’t like it.’ I glanced at my watch. Seven o’clock. Kriss Okonjo was about to have his last session of hypnosis.
‘Come on, we’ve got a bit of detective work to do,’ I told Tina.
‘Oh? That sounds fun.’
We set off without the dogs. I didn’t want them getting in the way. Besides, you never knew what Streaker might do.
‘Where are we going?’ Tina asked, trying to keep up with me. I was almost running.
‘The Akanis’ house. I know where they live.’
‘Are you planning to ask them why they call themselves Akani?’
‘No. We’re going to spy on them. I want to see what happens during hypnosis.’
‘Why?’ Tina was full of questions!
‘Because I have an idea there’s trickery going on, and if it turns out to be true then Kriss is in big trouble and he’ll never win that gold medal. First of all, we have to check out the Akanis.’
‘I suppose those people we saw on the telly might just happen to look like the Akanis,’ Tina suggested.
‘Both of them? A married couple turn up, and they both just happen to look like Mr and Mrs Akani? No – those people we saw were definitely the Akanis.’
We hurried on and turned into Marley Avenue. I pointed out a small house on the end of a terrace of four others. A narrow pathway went down the side of the house to the back garden. We walked past, trying hard t
o look inside the front room without looking as if we were looking.
‘We mustn’t be spotted,’ I whispered, crouching down by the Akanis’ front wall. I pulled Tina down beside me. ‘Keep your head low.’
I inched upwards and peered over the wall. The Akanis’ windows reflected light back at me. It was useless. I couldn’t see a thing. A loud voice exploded in my ear and I almost jumped out of my skin.
‘Are you all right down there?’
‘Argh! What?’ I hastily looked up and found a large, young woman looming over me, frowning.
‘I said, are you all right?’ she boomed. ‘You look as if you’re in trouble. I’m a nurse, you know. Well, training to be a nurse. Exams next week. I could bandage you if you like.’
What on earth was she rabbiting on about? Why wouldn’t she just go away? Tina and I lay on the pavement, gazing up at her.
‘We’re fine, thank you. We don’t need bandaging.’
‘How about I take your pulse? Wait a moment, I’ve got a whizzo electronic thermometer in my bag here. I could take your temperatures.’
‘We’re fine,’ I repeated, keeping my voice as low as possible. The last thing we needed was some daft nurse attracting attention to us.
‘No head wounds? No cuts or abrasions? Broken bones?’ the nurse bellowed.
‘No!’ I hissed back.
‘I know!’ the nurse shouted. ‘I bet one of you has diarrhoea – you know, runny tummy!’
‘There’s a boy up the road who’s just been sick,’ Tina suggested. (Clever girl, Tina!)
I nodded hard. ‘And I think there was blood too,’ I added.
‘Really? My goodness. He might die,’ said the nurse. ‘I’d better go and save him.’
‘I think you better had,’ I went on. ‘He was up the road and round the corner, near the newspaper shop.’
‘Don’t worry!’ cried the nurse-who-wasn’t-quite-a-nurse-yet. ‘I’m on my way.’ And she ran off making a noise. ‘Nee-naw, nee-naw, nee-naw!’
The Hundred-Mile-an-Hour Dog Goes for Gold! Page 4
