Natural Born Loser

by Oliver Phommavanh

  Randa runs over with her arms out to save a tray but it’s too late.

  ‘Zain, you clumsy idiot! Now we can’t even sell the rest of these cakes.’

  Zain brushes the dirt off his knees. ‘It was an accident.’

  The teachers and parents all burst out of the staffroom. Mum rushes over, looking worried and shocked at the same time. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Khaled started a food fight,’ Zain says.

  ‘Mum, you make sure Gina is okay,’ I say. ‘I have to find Russell Carney.’

  He’s the mastermind behind all this mess.

  Mum follows me into the battleground. She dodges a few unidentified flying treats, but a piece of cheesecake smacks her right on her nose.

  ‘I’m hit,’ she yelps.

  ‘Lick it off,’ I say. ‘You like blueberries, right?’

  Mum stops to wipe her face. ‘I’ll catch up with you later, Raymond, you go ahead.’

  More parents and teachers run onto the playground and the kids and bullymons quickly scatter like pigeons. Now it’s easier to spot Russell, who’s just standing back against the wall, chomping on a cream bun.

  ‘Hello, Nobody.’

  ‘Why did you tell Khaled to start that cake fight?’ I say, aiming each word at his long, skinny neck.

  Russell grins and shrugs. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘I saw Howard bring in that bag of stale cakes.’

  ‘You can’t prove anything,’ Russell says. ‘Besides, you think having air con is going to make Barryjong better? It’s too late for us in Year Six and too late for this scummy school.’

  I lower my silver tray shield down by my side. ‘You could have given us a chance.’

  Russell chucks the rest of his cream bun at me. I swerve and it clips my ear.

  Russell growls. ‘Nobody tells me what to do, especially you … Nobody. You know what I mean?’

  I feel my body crinkle up like an empty packet of chips, ready to be tossed into the bin. I don’t know what’s going to knock me out first, his fists or his breath. He must have had a peanut butter and smelly sock sandwich for breakfast.

  ‘All your stupid fundraising will fail and you’ll be losers by the end of term,’ Russell says. ‘So enjoy your time as Mr Crumble’s pets while you can.’

  I walk over to Ally who’s picking cheesecake out of her hair. There are crumbs and cake mess all over the playground. The birds are swooping in and taking away the evidence.

  Mr Humble helps Randa and Zain stack the smashed cakes back onto the table.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ Randa says. ‘I thought we had it under control.’

  ‘A few more duty teachers would have helped,’ Mr Humble admits. ‘I’m afraid they were enjoying the cake in the staffroom a little too much.’

  I try to look for Russell but he seems to have vanished into thin air. He must have a teacher detector inside his thick skull.

  I can’t believe it. After all that work, when it was going so well, our cake stall has stalled, like one of Dad’s broken-down buses. I just hope tomorrow’s car wash runs a lot smoother than this.

  But the image of Russell’s smirking face makes me feel queasy, as if I’ve eaten all those stale cakes off the ground. Is he really on the warpath, ready to ruin all of our plans?

  At dinner, we all take turns to tell Dad about the fundraising disaster.

  Gina plays with her food. ‘When are we having another cake stall?’

  I lean my left cheek into my hand and sigh. ‘Not for a very long time.’

  Randa told us that we made four hundred bucks. That was when we’d only sold half the cakes. It would have been a lot more if Russell hadn’t started the food fight.

  ‘We had troublemakers when I was at Barryjong,’ Mum says. ‘Horrible kids who would kick doors down, swing off the fans and turn on all the taps to flood the toilets. But those kids today really take the cake …’

  Mum giggles and Dad cracks up. I want to laugh too but my face feels sore from frowning all day. Mum stops laughing and squeezes my arm. ‘But you can’t give up,’ Mum says. ‘I spoke to some of the parents and we want to form a Barryjong P and C.’

  ‘And will you be the leader?’ I say. ‘Just like Auntie Angelica at Kayla’s school?’

  ‘No, Mrs Bashir said she’ll do it. I’ve said I’ll be the secretary, it’s what I’m good at.’ Mum scoops some more rice from her bowl. ‘We’ll do our best to help out.’

  Gina looks up from her plate. ‘So Mum’s a prefect now? Does she get a badge too?’

  Mum laughs. ‘I want to make up for lost time,’ she says. ‘We need to all work together.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ I say, giving her a hug. I feel fired up, like I’ve just heard a half-time speech from a soccer coach and I’m ready to charge back onto the field. If Mum and Mrs Bashir are still keen to help after today’s disaster, then I’m not giving up either.

  Gina’s still brushing cake crumbs from her uniform as we walk to school the next day. I look up at the threatening clouds. What a day for the teachers’ car wash. Dad always said that whenever he tries to wash the car, it starts to rain. So Dad never washes the car, no matter how many times Gina writes wash me all over it.

  When we get to school, I find Randa near the library.

  ‘Should we postpone it until tomorrow?’ I say.

  She shrugs. ‘The weather report said it wouldn’t rain until later in the evening.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the teachers feel ripped off then?’ I say.

  Randa smiles. ‘Don’t worry, whenever my dad washes his car, it always rains the next day.’

  ‘Ha, mine too!’ I say. I point to her swimming hijab. ‘At least you’re prepared for the rain.’

  ‘I’m more worried about any bullymon who aims their hose at me,’ Randa says.

  I wipe the sweat from my forehead. I wish I’d brought an extra set of clothes.

  After rollcall, the two Year Six classes meet at the back of the oval, where all the teachers’ cars are parked, along with an assortment of buckets, sponges and rags donated by parents.

  Mr Humble is standing beside his giant four-wheel drive. It looks like he’s driven through a volcanic eruption to get to school, it’s so covered in ash and mud.

  ‘I wanted to get my money’s worth,’ he says.

  ‘Actually, I reckon we should charge you double for the dirt per square metre,’ Zain says.

  ‘Done,’ says Mr Humble with a laugh. ‘You’re a good salesman, Zain.’

  Randa stands with Mr Lovett and Miss Saxena in front of the two classes, who are all wearing a colourful assortment of old shirts over their uniforms.

  ‘Thanks heaps for helping us raise money for the air con,’ she says. ‘Make a group of five, grab a bucket and sponges and find a car.’

  ‘We only have an hour, so let’s get to it!’ I add.

  There’s a disorganised shuffle while some of the Year Sixers form groups. Bilal grabs a few boys and rushes to Mr Zybrands’ big old station wagon. I’m glad he’s on the prefects’ side. Russell and half of 6L are just standing around. At least they’re not sabotaging anything – unless Russell has made a bargain with Thor to call up a rainstorm.

  Ally points at them. ‘See what I have to put up with in my class?’

  ‘Forget about them,’ Zain says. ‘They’ll probably have a water fight and be wetter than the cars, but let them. We’ve got this.’

  ‘But we need their muscles to get it all done in only an hour.’ Ally turns to me. ‘You spoke to him yesterday, right? Maybe you can try again.’

  I just avoided getting struck by lightning once, so I don’t want to test my luck again. But I catch Ally’s concerned face and press my hand to my prefect badge, drawing on its superpowers. It would be great to get those bullymons on our side.

  ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

  Zain squeezes my arm. ‘Let me back you up.’

  I laugh. It’s the first time he’s ever followed me into something. I approach Russell with
a sponge and bucket. ‘How about you start with Mr Lovett’s car, then he might let you guys play touch footy this arvo,’ I say.

  Russell snatches the sponge and chucks it over my head. ‘Get someone else to do your dirty work.’

  Zain’s ready to lunge at him, his dreadlocks swirling around his angry face like Davy Jones’s tentacles. ‘Don’t you care about Barryjong?’ Zain hisses.

  Russell doesn’t even flinch. ‘Why should I care? All the teachers here thought my two older brothers were troublemakers, so everyone just treated me the same,’ Russell says. ‘I can’t wait to get out of this dump and join them in high school.’

  ‘But you still have the rest of the year to turn things around,’ I say.

  ‘You’re just wasting time, Nobody.’

  I grab the bucket and sponge. Randa runs over to us. ‘This is hopeless, it’ll take us the whole day at this rate.’

  I look at the row of cars. It looks like they’re on the starting grid. ‘How about we turn it into a race?’ I say. ‘Whoever washes their car first gets a prize.’

  ‘What will they win?’ Randa says.

  ‘How about a canteen voucher?’ Zain says. ‘We can use the funds to cover it.’

  ‘You’re In-Zain,’ Randa says. ‘We can’t afford to lose any more money. You already cost us by ruining those cakes yesterday.’

  ‘You still going on about that?’ Zain puffs out his chest. ‘I told you it was an accident. We’re not all perfect like you.’

  They’re at it again, standing tall like sticks of lit dynamite.

  I’m ready to step in and snuff out their fuses, but Ally beats me to it.

  ‘Hey, I’ve got a giant bag of lollies at home,’ Ally says. ‘Someone gave it to my mum for Christmas, and it’s just sitting there.’

  Zain and Randa stare at Ally and their faces cave in to a smile.

  ‘I don’t know who to feel sorry for more, your family or the lollies,’ Zain says.

  Ally plays with her hair. ‘Yeah, we’re not big on sugar at home, am I weird?’

  ‘In a word, yes, but we’re glad to have you with us,’ Randa says, hooking her arm in Ally’s. ‘You still seem to have plenty of energy for all that amazing dancing, even without the sugar.’

  Ally leans her head into Randa’s shoulder. ‘Thanks, Randa.’

  ‘I might have to drop off my little sister at your house, Ally, when she goes crazy,’ I say. ‘She could do with a sugar detox every now and then.’

  ‘I’ll make her a superfood smoothie,’ Ally says with a smile.

  Randa looks at her watch. ‘Okay, enough chat. We only have forty-five minutes to go, so let’s spread the word.’

  We run over to each of the groups, and it’s like we’ve just turned off the slowmo. Now they’re all rushing around, washing their cars at double speed. Everyone’s still scared of Mr Humble’s monster truck though.

  ‘Let’s do it, prefects,’ I say.

  ‘Can’t we just drive it straight into a swimming pool?’ Zain says.

  Randa grabs a sponge. ‘Come on, boys, hurry up and get to it.’

  ‘Yes, Miss!’ Zain says. Randa stabs him with her eyes and we both grab some buckets, running across the oval to fill them up. There’s a lot more shouting from the other groups, and there are kids scrubbing away at their cars.

  I come back with my bucket and we’re joined by Bilal and a few other Year Sixers. Bilal flexes his muscles. ‘Thought you might need the extra help.’

  ‘What about your car? Don’t you care about finishing first?’ I say.

  Bilal smiles, showing off his braces. ‘I can’t eat lollies anyway, they’ll get stuck.’

  I climb up on the tyre to reach the roof and start to scrub hard at the dirt. Groups are clapping and cheering each other on. It feels like we’re at the athletics carnival.

  A few kids are running back and forth with their buckets to the taps. Zain zigzags past them, without dropping any water. ‘Focus on the tyres,’ he says. ‘They look like a giant chocolate donut.’

  ‘Stop making me hungry,’ I say, as I jump down from the tyre to look at all the work we’ve still got to go. Zain’s right, the wheels are making me have flashbacks to the cake stall. Just then Britney from 6L taps me on the shoulder.

  ‘Finished!’

  Ally and I follow her to Miss Yang’s tiny pink car. It’s sparkling clean.

  ‘Can we have the lollies now?’ she asks.

  ‘I’ll bring them tomorrow,’ Ally says.

  ‘Okay, cool.’ Britney grabs her sponge. ‘Do you guys need any help?’

  As more groups finish washing their cars they come to join us, attacking Mr Humble’s four-wheel drive with sponges and cloths. Zain and a few other boys dump their buckets of water over the roof. There’s a cry from Randa, who’s on the other side.

  Randa comes around the car rubbing her eyes. ‘Is this another accident?’

  ‘I didn’t see you there,’ Zain says, dropping his empty bucket guiltily. ‘Sorry …’

  Randa doesn’t stick around to hear anything else. She stomps off to find a towel.

  Zain stands next to me. ‘I didn’t mean it, honest.’

  ‘The water will help her cool down,’ I say.

  Zain gently kicks one of the tyres. ‘This is like trying to wash a hippo.’

  ‘Is that something you did back in Ghana?’ I ask with a smile.

  ‘No, but my parents took me to a hippo sanctuary in Ghana, so I saw some up close,’ Zain says. ‘They have jaws that could make a soccer ball look like popcorn.’

  Mr Humble walks over with the camera to take a few shots of us working. Everyone’s posing in front of their clean cars. Their shirts and uniforms are soaked but they’re all giggling and pumped up. Mr Humble stops in front of his car and whistles loudly. ‘You’ve conquered my beast.’

  ‘Yeah it was a pushover. It only took a whole class of kids to do it,’ Ally says.

  ‘How about a photo, prefects?’ Mr Humble aims the camera at us.

  Zain calls Randa over for the photo and she stands to the other side of me. ‘I’m still not talking to you.’

  ‘But you just did,’ Zain says.

  ‘Thanks to you, I look like a drowned rat.’ Randa touches her hijab.

  ‘Come on, we’re all wet here,’ Zain says. ‘Stop sooking about it.’

  Randa spots a nearby bucket with some leftover water. She grabs it and throws the water at him.

  Zain yelps as the water hits his face. His eyeballs almost pop out of his skull.

  Randa drops the bucket. ‘Okay, now we look the same.’

  Ally and I have a contest to see who can raise their eyebrows the highest. Ally wins easily.

  Mr Humble takes a few photos. ‘It’s good to see you prefects having fun with each other.’

  If only he knew the truth. I catch a glimpse of Zain. He looks like he’s just been stung. There’s a massive, dark storm brewing here and I’m not talking about the one up in the sky.

  Britney pulls Mr Humble aside. ‘Take a photo of us. We came first in the race.’

  ‘Race?’ Mr Humble says. ‘Whose idea was that?’

  Randa points to me. ‘Seems he’s full of crazy clever ideas.’

  ‘Am I?’ I say. I think of Dad’s own weird schemes at home. Maybe I got it from him. Though I won’t be suggesting anyone freeze their undies anytime soon. The canteen freezers might never be good for food again.

  Mr Humble smiles. ‘Good work, Raymond.’

  ‘Thanks, Sir.’

  My fingers are tingling. I’m getting the same buzz as when I scored my first goal at school. But this time it’s different. I mean, that goal was a fluke. This was real. I put myself out there and my idea caught on and got everyone going. I can’t hang in the background any more, it’s time to step out the front.

  Zain nudges me. ‘Let’s turn every fundraiser into a crazy race.’

  ‘That’s a cool idea,’ I say. If there’s one thing kids at Barryjong love more than lollies,
it’s competitions.

  ‘This is a good experience to have before tomorrow’s leadership course,’ Mr Humble says. ‘Don’t forget to be at school by eight-thirty.’

  ‘I’ll be here at eight,’ Randa says. ‘I can’t wait to talk to some other leaders.’

  She’s really pumped for it. I’ve seen her marking off the days in her diary, when we’re in class. I’m not as excited as her, though it will be good to learn some more leadership skills. But I feel a little scared representing Barryjong outside of our school. What will kids from other schools think of us? Kayla may be right, it is a huge responsibility. Good thing I’m not on my own.

  We pack up and head off the field. Ally’s waving one of the unused rags like it’s a flag. I walk next to her and get smacked on the arm.

  ‘Oops, that was an accident, Raymond.’ She flashes me a quick smile. ‘You’re not going to hit back are you?’

  I look inside my empty bucket. ‘I’ve got nothing. You’re lucky this time.’

  Ally stares straight ahead. ‘I wish Randa and Zain would stop fighting.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I hate choosing sides. I like them both.’ I turn to Ally. ‘Don’t worry, I like you too.’

  Ally giggles. ‘You’re funny, Raymond.’

  I try to laugh with her but I end up croaking like a frog with the hiccups.

  ‘Are we ever going to all work together like a real team?’ Ally says.

  I stop croaking and swallow hard. ‘I think Team Barryjong had a victory today. I mean, we all helped out. Randa organised the groups, I had the comp idea, Zain had enough energy for five kids and got people excited.’

  ‘And I supplied the lollies,’ Ally says. ‘You’re right, we did win.’

  I smile with her. It really felt like things were starting to gel between all of us. Sure, we still have a few problems, but hopefully tomorrow’s leadership course will help solve them. Today was a messy win, but a win all the same.

  My wet uniform keeps me cool until lunchtime, so maybe Dad’s onto something with his frozen undies idea. But I’m soon crispy dry in the scorching heat of our classroom.

  By the time I get back home after school, I’m dripping again, with sweat this time. Dad’s new desk fan is a lifesaver, it’s heaps better than our old air cooler, Shelly, in helping cool me down. But an air con would really help me chillax. It gets me thinking again about the huge goal our prefect team has set ourselves to cool down Barryjong.