Natural Born Loser

by Oliver Phommavanh

  Mum’s forehead creases into a frown. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘I think they were saying ‘oooooo’ like gorillas wanting bananas.’ I jump around dragging my hands along the floor.

  Mum grins. ‘Maybe because they were monkeying around.’

  I groan. ‘Save the lame jokes for when Dad gets home.’

  She takes my face in her hands and looks me in the eye. ‘Don’t worry about those banana-heads, Raymond. Barryjong Primary needs a fresh start.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  Russell Carney is a mega banana-head who could make King Kong choke. Why did he have to start booing us? How can we hope to get everyone on side after that?

  While Mum gets dinner ready, I stick the natural born leader tips sheet on the back of my door. I read the first tip:

  1 Follow leaders you look up to.

  That’s easy for me. I follow Zain because he’s cool, and Randa because she’s a future prime minister. I don’t know much about Ally yet, but I look up to her because she’s taller than me. But it’s Mr Humble who I really want to follow. He’s really kicking butt at Barryjong Primary. And he’s always out on the playground, hanging with kids and getting to know them.

  Dad knocks on the door. ‘Hello, Mr Prefect.’ The list falls onto the floor at his feet. ‘Wow, who gave you this?’

  ‘Mr Humble gave one to all the prefects,’ I say. ‘He’s teaching us to be leaders.’

  ‘Your grandpa would have been so proud if he was still around.’ Dad sits down on my bed. ‘You know, I wish I was you now.’

  ‘You wanted to be a prefect like Mum?’

  ‘Nah, I mean I wish someone gave me a chance like that too.’ Dad stares at his hands. They look like a dirt road full of bumps and tiny potholes. ‘My boss, Mr Vo, looks half my age, and only started five years ago. But he had better English skills and the qualifications to be a manager. It’s always been like that for me.’

  ‘You would make a great boss,’ I say. ‘You’re good with people.’

  Dad’s got such a friendly face. He always gets chosen by street artists when he’s in the crowd because he brings you in with those soft eyes.

  ‘Yeah, I mean, everyone looks up to me at work,’ he says. ‘Mr Vo calls me the unofficial boss. I just wish it meant a pay rise.’ He laughs.

  All this time I’d thought Dad was a follower, but he’s a leader. Well, an unofficial one without the fancy title.

  Now I have a chance to be a real leader at Barryjong, Dad’s another name on the list of people I can’t let down.

  On Thursday, Mr Humble takes us out of class to practise our hosting duties for Friday’s assembly. He divides us into pairs. Randa and I go through our lines from the side of the stage. Zain’s doing some beatboxing on microphone and Ally’s dancing to his sounds.

  Randa moans. ‘As if his voice wasn’t annoying enough.’ She reads over her lines. I bet she’ll have it memorised by Friday. She rushes up to Mr Humble. ‘Can we have a prefects’ spot, where we can talk to everyone for a few minutes?’

  That sounds like something Kayla would do. Randa sounds a lot like Kayla sometimes, trying to show off. Randa’s proud to be a teacher’s pet. Miss Saxena might as well give her a collar to wear.

  Mr Humble gives her the thumbs up. ‘How about you all come onto the stage before the national anthem?’

  ‘What if the kids boo us again?’ I say.

  ‘Then we just have to win them over before they do,’ Randa says. ‘They’ll be fine when they know we’re on their side.’

  I hope she’s right. Otherwise, it’ll be feeding time for the bullymons.

  ‘Score! It’s three–four as I take the lead!’ Dad yells as he takes off his shirt, running around our backyard. He slaps the fence as if they’re supporters. And I thought Zain went over the top with his goal celebrations.

  Dad and I are having one of our regular games of backyard soccer on our pitch between the shed and the veggie patch. Once Dad settles down, I tap the ball to start the next play.

  ‘Watch this.’ I launch the ball at Dad’s goal. It knocks over a pot plant goalpost but it goes in. ‘It’s four–all and the crowd goes wild.’ I lean my ear over to my cheering fans – the lemon tree at the back.

  We trade killer shots at each other for another five minutes but the scores are still tied.

  ‘Have you been reading those leadership tips?’ Dad says.

  ‘Stop trying to distract me.’ I kick the ball hard and it goes way off course, bouncing off the fence. Rebounds are allowed in this game. I wish there was a convenient fence at school too.

  ‘No, I’m serious.’ Dad traps the ball between his feet.

  ‘I’ve been reading the four tips every day. I’m thinking about tip number two today, practise the things that make you feel uncomfortable,’ I say. ‘That’s pretty much everything I’m doing as a prefect, like hosting tomorrow’s assembly.’

  ‘It’s always good to challenge yourself.’ Dad folds his arms. ‘Now try to get through me.’

  ‘You’re on!’ I try to copy Zain’s spinning kick and I send the ball at the hills hoist pole, hoping it rebounds into the open field. It flies past Dad’s defences and I lunge at the ball to put it past him for the winning goal.

  ‘Oh yeah!’

  I go on my knees with my arms in the air, as if I’m Michael Kola from the Western Wizards. Dad pretends to mob me, going for a hug. If I did that at school, the ball would probably land on the roof or in somebody’s meat pie. I’m all right at soccer when the field’s shrunk to the size of a car parking space.

  But maybe Dad’s right, I should challenge myself to do more – or better still, dare myself.

  I always used to switch off during Friday assemblies when I sat in the back of the hall, but not any more. It’s hard to zone out today, sitting near the stairs to the stage, facing the whole school.

  ‘I love sitting on chairs,’ Zain says, stretching out. ‘It’s another prefect perk.’

  I look at the hard floor the rest of the kids are sitting on. ‘That’s true.’

  We sail through the assembly. Randa’s memorised all of her lines, but I’m reading from the sheet. I stumble around a few words, but no one laughs or boos. So far, so good.

  Randa brings Ally and Zain up for the prefects spot. ‘As your prefects, we will make Barryjong better.’

  A few kids clap. I glance at Russell as if he’s the glaring sun, I don’t want to stare at him too long, otherwise I’ll burn my eyeballs.

  The kindy kids at the front are fidgeting and rocking back and forth. The Year Sixers are turning to one another, making funny faces and chatting behind their hands. I’m getting mega uncomfortable up here.

  ‘Say something, man,’ I whisper to Zain.

  Zain turns to me. ‘I dare you to say something …’

  ‘Seriously?’ I say. Zain’s supposed to be a motor-mouth, now his engine’s blown up. I feel like Dad’s whispering in my ear, about challenging myself. ‘Dare accepted.’ I take the microphone. ‘We came up with a list of what we want to do,’ I say. ‘First thing is that we want better air conditioning in classrooms.’

  The whole school gasps. It feels like I’ve frozen time, freezing everything, including myself. It would be such a lame superpower. Then it all turns into wild applause. Now it’s like being under a gushing waterfall. Is this how Zain feels when he scores a goal?

  I touch my prefect badge and feel a surge of electricity zapping through my bones. ‘We’ll be the best prefects ever.’

  Ally does a few dance moves in front of me. ‘Yeah, we’re going to make Barryjong cool again!’

  A chant rises up from the middle of the audience. ‘Raymond, Raymond, Raymond …’

  I can’t stop grinning. People know who I am. Zain howls at me. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘Hey, you dared me,’ I say.

  ‘I dared for you to speak,’ he says. ‘I didn’t expect you to kick butt.’

  I’m grinning like crazy. Those leade
r tips are like the words of a spell or something.

  After the assembly, everyone’s looking at me, as though I’m their friend – like I really am a somebody to them.

  Randa’s head looks like a burst olive. ‘What were you guys thinking?’ she says under her breath.

  ‘We were just thinking on our feet,’ Ally says. ‘Nobody’s booing us now.’

  Randa throws her hands in the air. ‘We’re prefects, not genies.’

  Mr Humble walks over. ‘My office. Now.’ He almost sounds like a normal principal, the kind where you only see him if you’re in deep trouble.

  We cram ourselves into Mr Humble’s office. Randa’s jotting something in her notebook. ‘We can just tell the kids the truth,’ she says. ‘Tell them that someone kicked a soccer ball at Raymond’s head and he’s got concussion.’

  Mr Humble strokes his beard. ‘Well, we can’t make crazy promises,’ he says. ‘So I’m afraid Randa’s right.’

  Zain sighs. ‘Okay, I’ll get my soccer ball.’ He turns to me. ‘I promise I won’t kick the ball too hard, RayBee.’

  ‘No, Zain!’ I stand up. ‘How much would it cost to get air con for one classroom?’

  ‘You’ll need to rob a bank,’ Randa says.

  ‘If we had some rooms with new air con, then kids would work better. Isn’t that what you want, Randa?’

  Randa breathes in my words. ‘You win, Raymond.’

  I turn to Mr Humble. ‘Why can’t we do some fundraising, see how many classes we can get air con for?’

  Mr Humble leans back in his chair. ‘I’ll look into the costs, Raymond. You guys can go.’

  ‘So, we’re not in trouble?’ Ally says.

  ‘Only if we don’t deliver,’ Zain quips.

  I smile. ‘Well, it’s not Mission Impossible.’

  ‘Yeah, just Mission Impossibly Expensive,’ Randa mutters.

  We all stand up to leave. Mr Humble reaches out and taps my hand. ‘You took a risk out there, Raymond. Nice move.’

  ‘I got carried away,’ I say. ‘But maybe there is a chance.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  I step outside and Randa’s eyeballs are hitting us like boxing gloves into our guts. ‘We are dooooooomed,’ she says.

  ‘But imagine if we did have air con in our rooms,’ Ally gushes. ‘It might even cool off Russell in class. Poor Mr Lovett is going to be bald by the end of the year.’

  ‘What’s it like being in the same room with him?’ I ask.

  ‘He walks around like he owns the class. He snatches my colour pencils without telling me.’ Ally sighs. ‘He’s a black hole that sucks up any learning or fun.’

  Good thing Russell’s not in our class. He could send Miss Saxena into retirement. We say goodbye to Ally and step inside 6S. The blinds have been turned down. Everybody’s on their backs on the floor, reading books.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Randa says.

  ‘We’re cooling down,’ Miss Saxena says. ‘You can read quietly for ten minutes.’

  We all grab our novels and find a spot on the floor. I lie down, wedged between Zain and Bilal. I bet from up above, we look like fish fingers on a tray. I open up my book, but all I can think about is how cool it would be to have air con. Imagine if we did actually do it, we’d be the prefects to go down in history as the coolest leaders ever.

  We’re on our way to Auntie Angelica’s house for Sunday lunch, and for cousin Kayla’s regular show-and-brag. But this time I have something of my own to brag about, at least. I did consider wearing my prefect badge on my Wizards jersey but no one would wear their badge on the weekend.

  I knock on the door and Kayla must have been waiting there to pounce. She’s in a bright pink top with her captain’s badge pinned proudly to her chest.

  ‘So where’s yours?’ she squeals.

  ‘Who told you?’ I take my badge out of my pocket. ‘Your mum, duh!’ Kayla swipes it from my palm and holds it up in the air. ‘Mine’s bigger and better.’

  ‘That’s because you’re so perfect, duh!’ I say. Kayla waves me away. Uncle Irwin’s at home for once. He’s wearing his headset and comes over to shake my hand. ‘Congrats, Raymond.’

  ‘Thanks Uncle,’ I say. ‘You’re still working?’

  ‘I’ve never stopped.’ Uncle tilts his head. ‘I’m leading three projects at the same time.’

  Auntie Angelica snatches Uncle Irwin’s headset. ‘Come on, time for a lunch break.’

  We all sit down for some roast lamb. After lunch, Auntie Angelica places a chocolate mud cake in the middle of the table.

  Gina licks her lips. ‘Is it Jack’s birthday again?’

  Auntie grabs a knife. ‘No, this is to celebrate Raymond being a prefect.’

  ‘Thanks, Auntie.’ It’s nice to get a prefect perk outside of school.

  Jack jumps up on his chair. ‘I want a big slice, Mummy.’

  Gina pretends to karate chop the cake in half. ‘I want this much.’

  ‘Raymond should get the first piece.’ Auntie cuts me a slice. ‘So why did your principal pick you?’

  ‘He wanted to give me a chance.’

  ‘They must be really desperate,’ Kayla says. ‘No offence.’

  ‘Kayla!’ Uncle Irwin says.

  ‘Hey, I said no offence.’ Kayla helps herself to a slice.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say, thinking that most of the kids at our school probably feel the same way.

  ‘Seriously, what are you guys going to do?’ Kayla says.

  I lick my spoon. ‘We’re trying to get new air con for more classrooms.’

  Kayla chokes on her cake. ‘Did Mr Humble win the lottery or something?’

  ‘No, we’ll do some fundraising.’

  ‘Gina will be in Year Six by then,’ Kayla says under her breath.

  ‘If you need any tips, let me know,’ Auntie Angelica says. ‘I’m part of Kayla’s school P and C. Last year we raised enough funds for a new electronic display board at the front gate.’

  ‘What’s a P and C?’ Gina says.

  ‘Parents and Citizens group,’ I say, thinking it would be good to have parents join us in some fundraising. They have the actual money.

  ‘Don’t worry. Raymond and the other prefects have a plan,’ Dad says.

  I nod. I’m sure Randa’s busy working on some plan right now. I just hope Mr Humble finds a really cheap air conditioning company. Or knows someone who can help us rob a bank.

  Kayla and I go for seconds of the cake. Jack goes for thirds. Gina tries going back for a fifth slice, but Mum holds her back. It doesn’t stop Gina scooping up the rest of Dad’s slice he’s left on his plate. Gina’s mouth is a vacuum when it comes to sweets.

  Kayla and I go over to the living room and sit on the plush new couch in her living room. ‘So is your friend, Zain, the school captain?’ Kayla says.

  I shake my head. ‘Mr Humble’s only wants prefects this year.’

  ‘That’s stupid,’ she says. ‘Every school needs captains.’

  I sit up. ‘That’s what Zain said. How come?’

  ‘Being a captain is a big deal because you’re representing the whole school. It’s a huge responsibility.’ Kayla points to herself. ‘Like last week, our local politician visited my school. So Mohammed and I greeted him and took him around the school, pose for photos …’

  ‘Anyone could do that,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, we made it look easy,’ Kayla says. ‘But you have to handle the whole pressure of not making any mistakes.’

  I wonder if what I promised about the air con was a mistake.

  ‘Being captain shows everyone how important you are. Plus Mum says it looks good on my record,’ Kayla says. ‘Not just anyone can be a school leader … unless you have a looney principal. No offence.’

  No wonder Zain was itching to be a school captain. He must be devo about it. He’s already captain of our soccer team, but they’re a bunch of losers who haven’t won a game all season.

  ‘Mr Humble wants us to be a team,’
I say. ‘We can all work together and share those captain duties.’

  Kayla picks at her nails. ‘That just means nobody was good enough to be captain.’

  I’m waiting for Kayla to say ‘no offence’, but she just keeps watching TV.

  ‘Oh yeah? We’re like four captains,’ I say. ‘That’s double the captains you guys have.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh, Raymond.’ She elbows me in the ribs. ‘You could have eight captains and Barryjong would still be a scummy school.’

  ‘We’ll be the best prefects that Barryjong’s ever had,’ I say, trying hard to believe we can be. I can’t wait to prove Kayla wrong.

  On Monday morning straight after assembly, the four of us are asked to meet outside the school office for a photo shoot.

  ‘It’s for the school newsletter and banners,’ Mr Humble says.

  I can’t wait to give Kayla a few hundred copies of the newsletter.

  Good thing we’re doing the photos first thing in the day, before my armpits become mini rainforests.

  ‘Before Mr Sanders gets here, I’ve got some news to share,’ Mr Humble says.

  He takes us into his office. He looks like he’s been in here all weekend. There are cookie crumbs scattered everywhere. He brushes them off his desk with a stack of papers, but that doesn’t get rid of the crumbs caught in his bushy beard.

  ‘I called every air conditioning place around, and here are some costs that will cover each classroom or block.’

  Randa mouths the numbers, like she’s doing the sum in her head. ‘Oh wow, we need to rob a few banks to do the whole school.’

  ‘Maybe we just start with the classrooms that need it the most?’ I scan down the list of costs. ‘How about we just do the Year 1 and 2 classes. That’s only twenty thousand dollars.’

  ‘Only,’ Randa mumbles.

  ‘Year Sixers deserve to have air conditioning first!’ Zain lifts up his arms. ‘One Year Six boy can out-stink a whole Year One class.’

  ‘Nah, it’s the infants who feel it more.’ I think about Gina’s red flustered face when she’s home. ‘We can move to the other Years later.’

  Zain wipes his forehead. ‘As if the other Year Sixers need more reasons to kill us.’