The Hundred-Mile-an-Hour Dog Goes for Gold!

by Jeremy Strong

  Tina looked at me. ‘There isn’t a newspaper shop round the corner,’ she said.

  I grinned back at her. ‘There isn’t a boy up the road either,’ I reminded her and we did a quick high five. ‘Come on, let’s try the back of the house.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yep.’ I tried to sound very certain, and of course I wasn’t certain at all, and my heart was doing somersaults, but we had to find out what was going on.

  We were in luck. All was quiet in the back garden, but there were voices coming from an open downstairs window. Tina and I crept up to it, still crouching down. I took a quick peek.

  Mrs Akani-Numa was sitting opposite Kriss. His eyes were closed and Mrs Akani-Numa was talking to him in a low, dreamy voice.

  ‘You are feeling sleepy. You are so tired. Your legs feel heavy, like lead. You can hardly run. You are so tired. You just want to lie down and go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep.’ Mrs Akani-Numa paused and then gently asked Kriss how he felt.

  ‘I must sleep,’ he droned in a voice that seemed to come from Zombie-Land. ‘I must sleep. I am so tired. No more running. I must sleep.’

  Mrs Akani-Numa smiled to herself. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘That is very good. Now then, when I snap my fingers you will wake up. You will remember nothing of this. You will be thinking, now I can run really fast. But on the day of the race all you will do is want to sleep. Ha ha!’

  Mrs Akani-Numa snapped her fingers and Kriss woke with a start. He beamed at her.

  I dropped back down to my knees. ‘Let’s get out of here. We’ve got to think what to do next.’

  We slunk away and went to Tina’s house. We sat on the edge of her bed for ages, kicking our heels and wondering what to do. The whole thing was mad. We talked about telling Tina’s mum or my parents, but I shook my head.

  ‘You know what they’re like. They won’t believe us. We don’t have any proof. It’s our word against theirs. If we tell the police, they’ll question Kriss and he’ll just say what he’s been hypnotized to say. It feels like we’re trapped.’

  ‘We’ve got to tell Kriss,’ Tina insisted. ‘We must warn him.’

  ‘Yeah. We can try that, I suppose. Do you know where he lives?’

  Tina shook her head. ‘There must be some way of contacting him.’

  We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. ‘Thought of anything?’ I asked eventually, and she shook her head again. We felt so useless! It was driving me crazy.

  ‘The only thing I can think of,’ I ventured, ‘is to Google his name and see if it comes up with any leads.’

  Tina pulled across her laptop. Sometimes I’m quite envious of Tina. I haven’t got a laptop, but she has. I’ve got a dad, though, and she hasn’t. I’d swap my dad for a laptop any day! (No, not really! But you know what I mean!)

  We Googled ‘Kriss Okonjo’ and up came a pile of information about his trophies and races, and there was the name of the running club he belonged to and a telephone number for the club.

  ‘We’ll try that,’ I said. ‘It’s the only chance we’ve got.’

  Tina passed her mobile to me. A man answered. We asked if it was possible to speak to Kriss Okonjo.

  ‘He’s not here,’ said the man.

  ‘Can you give us a phone number for him? It’s very important,’ I said.

  ‘Like I said, he’s not here,’ the man repeated. ‘He’s not here for anyone. Nobody can ring him. Kriss left early for the training camp. He’s gone and we’re not allowed to contact him now until all his races are finished. Nobody can contact him. Goodbye.’

  The phone went dead. Tina and I looked at each other. This was getting worse and worse.

  10. Another Brilliant Plan – Possibly

  I hardly slept at all that night. A thousand and one ideas were going through my head. There must be something we could do, but I couldn’t think of anything. By the time morning came I was at my wit’s end. There was one day to go before Kriss’s race.

  At breakfast I tried telling Mum and Dad about the plot to slow Kriss down.

  ‘Trevor, you must have dreamed all this in the night,’ said Mum.

  ‘It’s true.’

  Dad folded his newspaper and chuckled. ‘People don’t do things like that. Hypnotize a world-class athlete? That’s the sort of rubbish you read about in stories.’

  ‘It’s true,’ I repeated. ‘Tina and I went to their house. We heard what Mrs Akani was saying.’

  ‘You think you heard,’ corrected Dad. ‘I know what you and Tina are like. You’re always hearing things.’

  I stared at my dad. I was always hearing things? What on earth was he on about?

  ‘Dad –’ I started, but he interrupted, waving his paper at me as if I was a fly to be swatted.

  ‘I don’t want to hear any more about it. Go and play with your girlfriend or do something useful.’

  Grrrrrrrrr! I clenched my teeth and stamped out of the house. Go and play with your girlfriend. I knew Dad thought he was being funny, but he was no better than Charlie Smugg, if you ask me. Anyhow, I took him at his word and went off to Tina’s house.

  She suggested we should go to the police, so we did. You can probably guess who was behind the desk – Sergeant Smugg – Charlie’s dad.

  ‘Oh. It’s you two troublemakers,’ he growled, so I knew we weren’t going to get anywhere even before we had started. But we had to try.

  Between us we unfolded our story. Sergeant Smugg stood behind the desk resting his head on one hand and looking utterly bored. He even yawned loudly several times. That’s how much attention he gave us. When we finished, he gave a tired sigh.

  ‘I happen to know Mr and Mrs Akani. Mrs Akani treated my wife.’

  ‘Was it for spiders?’ Tina asked.

  Sergeant Smugg gave her a sharp look. ‘No, actually she had a fear of donuts.’

  Tina hastily clapped a hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh.

  ‘Donuts?’ I repeated.

  ‘Yes. She only had to see a donut, and it would make her shake all over and want to run in the opposite direction. I lost count of the number of tea shops I had to leave because my wife had suddenly made a dash for the door screaming, “Don’t let the donuts get me!”

  Mrs Akani treated my wife successfully and now Mrs Smugg can look at a donut without fainting or running off. So your accusation that Mrs Akani is making Mr Okonjo run slowly is, to my mind, totally ridiculous. Goodbye.’

  That was the end of our visit to the police. I had one more idea, the very last one. We went back to Tina’s and looked on her laptop for the phone numbers of hypnotists.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who it is,’ I said. ‘We just need to speak to one or two.’

  ‘Try this number,’ suggested Tina, and I dialled. A man answered. I took a deep breath and went on.

  ‘I just have a question, but it’s very important,’ I explained. ‘I want to help someone who is stuck in hypnosis and wants to get out of it. How can that be done?’

  ‘Well now, of course, the whole point of hypnosis is that it remains deeply embedded in your mind and you don’t come out of it at all.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that, but suppose you DO want to get out of it. Can you stop your mind from obeying the hypnosis?’

  The hypnotist cleared his throat. ‘Normally, the procedure would be for the person who put the hypnotic suggestion in the mind in the first place to undo it. That is the normal practice.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that too, but suppose the hypnotist had died and couldn’t undo it?’

  ‘That doesn’t usually happen,’ was the reply.

  I gritted my teeth. ARRRRRGH! Would I ever get a useful answer?!

  ‘But suppose they did? Suppose for example the hypnotist got run over by a bus?’

  ‘Buses don’t normally run people over.’

  ‘JUST IMAGINE ONE HAS!’ I yelled, and hastily quietened down. ‘Please, how can the hypnosis be broken?’

  ‘Well now,’ the man droned on. �
�I suppose that if the patient who has been hypnotized has a sudden shock, that might jolt them out of their hypnotic state, but that would only work when the patient was following the hypnotic suggestion.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, and put down the phone. I turned to Tina. ‘We have to go to the International Games tomorrow and, somehow, we have to give Kriss a shock that will make him forget he’s been hypnotized. And it has to be done while he’s actually racing.’

  Tina stared at me with wide eyes. ‘Well that’s going to be really, really easy, isn’t it?’ she declared heavily. ‘We may as well give up right this minute.’

  I fell back on Tina’s bed and stared at the ceiling. How could we possibly shock Kriss, and do it while he was actually in a running race? What were we supposed to do?

  ‘We could stand at the side of the track and throw something at him?’ I murmured.

  ‘Throw what?’ Tina asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Our shoes? Our packed lunches?’

  ‘People will love that,’ Tina said. ‘We’d be arrested in no time at all and get thrown out. Your mum and dad won’t be very pleased when that happens, will they?’

  ‘It’s ridiculous,’ I grunted. ‘Kriss really thinks he’s going to run faster than ever and it will actually be slower than ever. It’s so unfair.’

  Tina was silent for a few moments. Then she just said, ‘Mmmmm.’

  ‘Mmmmmm what?’ I asked.

  ‘You know what you said about throwing our packed lunches at Kriss. Do you think that would work?’

  I sat up. ‘Probably not. I was joking.’

  ‘I know. But it would be a big surprise.’

  We both chuckled at the idea of hurling sandwiches at the passing runners. ‘It would be a bit like when Kriss sat on that pizza and Streaker chased –’ My voice died in my throat. We looked at each other and at the same moment we grabbed each other’s shoulders.

  ‘Streaker!’ I shouted. ‘We don’t throw sandwiches. WE THROW STREAKER! We take her to the International Games and as Kriss goes past we let go of Streaker. Kriss is bound to be wearing his lucky running shorts, and they’ve got pizza stuck all over them.’

  ‘Unless he’s washed them,’ Tina pointed out.

  ‘It’s our only chance,’ I shot back.

  Tina nodded. ‘OK, but how are we going to get Streaker to the Games? Your parents aren’t going to let her come with us, are they?’

  ‘No. We shall just have to smuggle her in somehow.’

  Tina nodded again. ‘Yep. Easy-peasy. Just smuggle a large dog into the International Games. As you do.’

  We both groaned in despair and fell back on to the bed.

  11. Mrs Akani Strikes Back!

  In fact the first part turned out to be pretty simple. We put Streaker into Tina’s biggest bag. All we had to do was hide her head whenever my parents were around and make sure she could breathe. Because it was Tina’s bag, they didn’t ask any questions, though my mum did give Tina a funny look and say she thought Tina must be carrying an awful lot of packed lunch if she needed a bag that big.

  ‘It’s got my coat in it as well,’ Tina told her. ‘In case it rains.’

  Streaker thought hiding in Tina’s bag was great fun. The problem was that she wanted to play Getting In And Out Of The Bag even more. It was a bit of a struggle at times. However, we were already in the car and on our way to the Games, so Tina and I were pretty happy. We sat in the back of the car with our fingers, legs, toes, ears, eyes and almost everything else crossed for good luck.

  Then Streaker began whining.

  ‘What was that noise?’ demanded Dad.

  ‘What noise?’ I asked.

  ‘That whiny sort of noise.’

  ‘It was the wind on the side of the car, I think,’ I suggested, just as Streaker did it again.

  Dad grunted. ‘Sounds more like Streaker, if you ask me. We haven’t got Streaker on-board, have we?’ And he laughed, because he was joking, and I laughed and pretended to agree with him.

  ‘Yeah, where’s Streaker? Is she under the bonnet, Dad?’

  ‘No, she’s clinging on to the roof with all four paws,’ joked Dad. ‘Ha ha ha!’

  Streaker suddenly stuck her head out of the bag and went ‘Ooooooo!’

  ‘That was Tina,’ I said hastily. ‘I think she’s pretending to be Streaker.’

  ‘Ooooo!’ went Tina, obligingly.

  The trouble was, I knew what that whine meant. What Streaker was trying to say was: ‘I want to do a wee-wee!’

  I frantically whispered to Tina. ‘We’ve got to get Streaker out of the car and out of the bag so she can do a wee.’

  Tina whispered back. ‘What are we going to do? Point her out of the window?’

  ‘Don’t be daft! You pretend you need the loo and take her with you!’

  ‘Trev, when I go to the loo I don’t take a large bag with me, especially if it’s got a dog in it.’

  ‘Well you’re going to have to this time,’ and before Tina could stop me I reached forward and tapped Dad on the shoulder.

  ‘Sorry, Dad, can you stop soon? Tina needs to, erm, you know.’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ Dad exploded. ‘We only left the house half an hour ago!’

  ‘Sorry,’ muttered Tina as Dad pulled over.

  ‘You’d better go behind that hedge,’ said Mum as Tina opened her door. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Tina said.

  ‘Why are you taking your bag? You don’t need that.’

  ‘It’s got some –’ Tina stopped. What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t think of anything.

  ‘Toilet paper!’ I said quickly.

  ‘You’ve brought your own toilet paper with you?’ asked Mum in amazement. ‘Is that what you usually do?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tina answered lamely. ‘My mum never lets me go anywhere without toilet paper. Just in case.’ And she hastily vanished behind the hedge.

  Dad turned round and looked at me seriously. ‘Trevor,’ he said, holding up a warning hand. ‘Don’t marry her. Any girl who carries toilet paper with her “just in case” must be a bit, you know, crazy-crazy!’

  ‘Dad, she’s not my girlfriend,’ I told him for the billionth time, as Tina reappeared. She settled in the car and off we went.

  After that there were no more problems. I think Streaker must have gone to sleep. We headed for the Games and soon we were threading our way through the crowds and taking our seats in the huge arena.

  It was amazing! The arena was filled from top to bottom with thousands and thousands of people. We were lucky enough to have seats only two rows back. There were loads of events going on, mostly running races. They did the 100 metres, 200 metres, hurdles and all sorts. It was really exciting and we cheered ourselves silly.

  Then came the event we had all been waiting for. The 3,000-metre steeplechase was starting and you should have heard us cheer when the names of the runners were announced and they called out Kriss! It was fantastic. The only trouble was that by this time all the cheering and shouting had woken Streaker, who was desperately trying to get out of the bag while Tina and I were desperately trying to keep her in it. We couldn’t shut the bag tight because the poor dog had to breathe. Besides, we were waiting for the moment of moments. Luckily it was almost upon us.

  The athletes lined up, the starter called, ‘On your marks!’ The gun went off and so did the runners. They went pounding past on the first of seven and a half laps. Kriss Okonjo and Azi Numa were bunched up in the middle at first but as they got to the fifth lap they both began to break for the front. We roared at Kriss as he went past.

  ‘Go on, Kriss! You can do it!’

  Now the pair of them were out at the front on the far side of the track, keeping pace with each other. They came round for the sixth lap. Kriss was beginning to fall back. I could see the strain on his face. He looked so tired! Azi was edging ahead quite steadily. Not only that but Kriss had now been overtaken by three other runners
. He was way back in fifth place and still losing ground. This was terrible. Mrs Akani’s hypnosis was doing its awful work.

  It was time to set loose our secret weapon. ‘This is it,’ I hissed at Tina. ‘Next time Kriss is passing us we have to rush to the front and drop Streaker over the fence.’

  ‘Will it work?’ asked Tina.

  ‘Too late to ask that now. It’s our only chance. Here comes Kriss. Get ready! Now!’

  Tina and I leaped from our seats and clambered over the surprised people in front of us.

  ‘Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Oops! Sorry!’ I called out as we trod on people’s legs and laps and shoulders and heads and tumbled and stumbled forward, while they shouted and bellowed at us.

  ‘Oi!’

  ‘Geroff!’

  ‘You clumsy clods!’

  We reached the fence and tipped Streaker over the top and on to the track just as the runners were whizzing past. For a moment Streaker just looked at them and everything else around her, and then suddenly she was off. She was running with the runners, leaping and barking.

  The crowds in the stand began to laugh and cheer while the dog raced between the runners’ legs, and then Streaker must have seen Kriss, or maybe she’d got a whiff of pizza. Suddenly she put on speed. She was running, she was racing and barking, catching up with him. Kriss glanced behind and saw the dog coming for him. Instinctively he put a hand over his bottom to protect himself. Streaker was after pizza pants!

  She was almost at his heels and now Kriss was lifting his feet higher, taking longer strides. HE WAS SPEEDING UP! Faster and faster he went, tearing through the field. He was in fourth place – third – second, with only Azi Numa in front!

  But what was that terrible bellowing going on? Who was that on the track? IT WAS MRS AKANI! She was on the running track, waddling after the runners. She had a megaphone in one hand and she was shouting at Kriss.

  ‘YOU ARE FEELING SLEEPY! YOUR LEGS ARE LIKE LEAD! YOU CANNOT LIFT YOUR FEET! THEY ARE STUCK IN CONCRETE! YOU HAVE EATEN TOO MANY JAM PUDDINGS AND CAN NO LONGER MOVE!’