I pull out the sheet Mr Humble gave me and read the third tip of the leadership sheet:
Get to know the people in your team.
It sounds like something Dad would say. I reckon Randa and Zain could spend some more time getting to know each other and making friends, but I already feel I know the people on the prefect team. Then what about the rest of the Year Sixers? Russell Carney’s no team player, more like a team slayer. But I want every Year Sixer to be on our side, even the rotten apples like him. If we can somehow bring him round then maybe, just maybe, he won’t spoil it for the rest of us.
I had no idea he had brothers who went to Barryjong Primary. And they were major bullymons too, by the sound of it. Weirdly, I’m not that scared of him any more. I actually feel a little sorry for him. Not that I’ll be telling him that anytime soon.
Dad knocks on the door. ‘Are you on for a quick game of backyard soccer?’
I turn the fan off. ‘I’m always ready. And sweating’s good for cooling me down.’
Dad only just manages to beat me 3–2 in a very sweaty match, then we head back inside for a shower before dinner. I find Gina in the hallway with my desk fan.
‘What are you doing?’ I say.
‘It’s too hot in my room,’ Gina says. ‘So I’m moving some cool air into there.’
‘How?’ I can see there’s a standard fan on full blast behind her, with another fan blowing from the living room.
Gina shows me her paper. ‘This is my plan.’ It’s four straight blue arrows, from the living room to the hall, then her room. She puts my desk fan on top of a low table and directs it to her own desk fan, which is covered in glitter in case I don’t know it’s hers.
‘Why is your desk fan pointed towards your toys and dolls?’ I say.
‘Because they were stinky hot and sweating, especially my unicorn who does gymnastics.’ Gina holds up a pink unicorn to my nose. ‘See?’
I push the unicorn away. ‘I believe you, Gina. But you’re the one who actually needs it more.’
Gina shakes her head. ‘I’m their teacher. I have to look after my class.’
I break out into a smile. I know how it feels to be stuck in a hot classroom. Miss Saxena tries her best to keep us cool, with drink breaks and quiet times where we lie on the floor after lunch. But there’s only so much they can do in a hot, stinky classroom.
Dad walks in and Gina talks him through her moving cool air idea. Dad looks at her sheet and gives her a sweaty bear hug. ‘Oh my, what a big brain you’ve got! What a wonderful idea.’
‘This coming from someone who puts his undies in the freezer,’ I say.
‘I can’t wait for Santa to bring us an air conditioner,’ Gina says. ‘But won’t he think that’s a weird present cause he lives in the North Pole?’
I laugh. ‘Nah, kids ask for all sorts of weird things.’
‘Can I take these fans to school?’ Gina asks. ‘Maybe it’ll help the other kids who don’t have an air con in their classrooms.’
When Gina disappears back to her room, I jab Dad’s belly. ‘Are you sure Santa’s going to deliver our present this year?’
‘Ho, Ho, Ho, he’s been saving up,’ Dad says.
‘Maybe I could help out too.’
Dad scuffles my hair. ‘Aren’t you saving up for that Wizards jersey?’
‘Yeah … unless I ask Santa to get me one,’ I say with a cheeky smirk.
Maybe Santa could swing by our school to drop off a few extra air conditioners as well.
My heart stings for Gina next year at school. She and her friends are going to melt unless we get air con in those Year One classrooms. They’re demountable classrooms without any trees nearby and face the sun in the mornings. Gina’s brain will be fried by recess. It makes me even more resolved to reach our target.
The next day is our leadership training course, something all the local school prefects are going to, and we get to go there in Mr Humble’s beast.
‘Thanks for washing my car,’ Mr Humble says. ‘It’s not easy, I know, which is why I don’t do it very often!’
Randa takes out a chocolate bar wrapper from under her bottom. ‘It’s a shame we couldn’t have cleaned the inside as well.’
Zain’s telling me about the goal he scored on the weekend for the Barryjong Zappers, while Randa mumbles about everything always being about soccer. She’s still fuming about being soaked yesterday.
‘I wish I could win a game with our school team,’ Zain says, ignoring Randa. ‘No matter how hard we try, we always get smashed.’
‘At least you’re good at soccer,’ I say.
‘You’re getting better too,’ Zain says. ‘You’re in the middle of the action on the field, trying to kick the ball.’
I nod. I am a chaser now. I don’t always get the ball, but it’s tons more fun than being a goalie’s assistant.
Mr Humble pulls into the car park. ‘We’re here.’
‘Wow,’ Randa says. ‘This school looks brand new.’
I’ve been so involved in the conversation I hadn’t noticed where we’d been headed, and when I look out at the school, I gulp. Harrington Heights Primary. I had no idea that’s where the course was going to be. I step down slowly from the four-wheel drive.
‘Hey, Raymond!’ It’s Kayla, standing at the top of the stairs to the front office in her perfect school uniform, waving at me. It’s her school’s brochure picture come to life. I’m suddenly feeling grateful we washed Mr Humble’s car yesterday. I quickly tuck my shirt in and button it up as I check myself in the rearview mirror.
‘You know her?’ Zain asks.
‘She’s my cousin,’ I mutter.
‘Wow,’ says Randa. ‘Now that’s what a real leader should look like.’
I feel my neck tighten even more, and it’s not from the top button of my shirt.
‘Welcome to Harrington Heights! I’m Kayla and this is Mohammed, and we’re the school captains.’
Kayla shakes all our hands. Mohammed gives Zain and me a fist bump, which gets a frown from Kayla.
‘You don’t greet guests like that, Mohammed,’ she says.
I give Mohammed another fist bump. ‘Anyone who annoys Kayla is a friend of mine.’
‘I’ll take you to the learning hub,’ Kayla chirps, ignoring my jibe and coming in beside me. ‘I’ll show you what you’re missing out on.’
Mr Humble stays chatting at the office while Kayla takes us for a tour around the school, walking past their thriving vegetable patch, and gardens with wooden benches.
Zain runs past her. ‘Whoa, is that your soccer field?’
The pitch looks like someone cut it straight out of the Wizards’ home stadium.
Zain runs on the lush grass with his hands out wide like an eagle. ‘I must be in heaven.’
Randa reins him in. ‘Come on, Zain. Don’t make a scene.’
Mohammed laughs. ‘You can all join us in a game at recess,’ Mohammed says.
‘I’m soooooo there,’ Zain says. ‘What position do you play?’
‘Right midfielder,’ Mohammed says. Zain attaches himself to Mohammed like a magnet from then on. They chat about stuff that sounds like advanced soccer. Randa keeps her distance as if soccer might be contagious.
We finally make it to the learning hub, which is already buzzing with chatter from the other school representatives. The room is hexagon-shaped, with a glass roof over the middle. There are beanbags that look like giant jelly beans and half-moon tables on wheels, along with metallic gold and silver chairs. Okay, it’s more of an indoor playground than a library, but it looks like so much fun.
Randa’s face shines as bright as a thousand full moons. ‘I must be in heaven.’ She walks over to a tub of lego and robotic parts and drops to her knees as if she’s found a treasure box.
‘Now who’s making a scene,’ Zain mutters.
‘We have a coding club that meets every week,’ Kayla says.
Randa claws at all the robotic bits and wires like
they’re pieces of gold. ‘I could make my own robot butler.’
If Barryjong got a beautiful space like this, it’d soon be ripped into shreds, or some bullymons would turn it into a wrestling ring and everything would be trashed. We have too many bullymons that would wreck it for the rest of us. Last year, we got twenty new iPads for the school to share and only two survived, barely.
Mr Humble walks in, and his eyes light up when he spots an older lady with curly hair at the front. ‘Hello, Mrs Burrows.’
Mrs Burrows smiles. ‘Nice to see you back at your old school, Harold.’
‘Mrs Burrows helped me believe I could become a principal one day,’ Mr Humble says to us. ‘I learnt a lot from her in primary school.’
Great, so she was Mr Humble’s teacher. It’s like Mum and Miss Saxena all over again.
Randa finds us a moon-shaped table with some gold and silver chairs at the front and we all sit down. There are seven schools represented, and we have enough colours in our uniforms to make a rainbow.
‘Welcome to your first leadership course this term,’ Mrs Burrows says. She goes on to introduce each school and their prefects, filling my head with loads of names.
‘This course is aimed to help you learn how to work as a team. And here’s your first problem to solve together.’
She hands out a sheet of paper with a scenario on it:
You’re on a deserted island and you can only choose five items from the list below to survive.
‘How long do we have?’ Zain asks.
‘Ten minutes,’ Mrs Burrows says.
‘That’s not a long time to live,’ he says with a laugh. We all crack up, even Randa who rolls up her paper and gently thumps Zain’s head.
Every other group has the paper in the middle of their table, but Randa’s hogging ours, so we all have to huddle around her. We all agree on a few things. A fishing rod. Wind-up Torch. But we’re stuck on the third thing. Zain writes down ‘rocket launcher’.
‘That’s ridiculous. There’s no rocket launcher on the list,’ Randa says.
‘But there should be, we could signal a plane or ship,’ Zain says.
I smile. ‘More like blow them up.’
Zain laughs. ‘A soccer ball would be nice too. We could use coconuts for goalposts.’
‘Can you please take this seriously,’ Randa huffs.
I silently agree with Zain about the soccer ball.
If we really were on an island, I bet we wouldn’t last ten seconds before Randa and Zain started ripping into each other. We chuck in a few more suggestions before time’s up and Mrs Burrows makes us share our answers. Every other school is talking about how each item can be used in multiple ways.
‘We chose the glass bottle because it can carry rain-water and also be used as a magnifying glass,’ Kayla says.
Randa clicks her tongue. ‘Oh yeah …’ She crosses out one of our answers.
‘You can’t do that,’ Zain says, from the side of his mouth.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not our turn yet.’
Randa keeps changing our answers until we have more smudges than words on our paper.
Mrs Burrows walks over. ‘And Barryjong … what have you got?’
Ally squints at the paper. ‘We have a torch, fishing rod, um …’
Zain leans in. ‘And we also have a …’
‘No rocket launchers!’ Randa yells. ‘It’s the dumbest idea ever.’
‘I was going to say matches,’ Zain says.
Kayla giggles behind her cupped hands.
Zain folds his arms and turns away from Randa. Hopefully, they can work better together on the next activity.
Mr Humble was handing out some newspaper and sticky tape.
‘For this next activity, I want you all to work together to build up a tower to hold these,’ Mrs Burrows holds up a small packet of chips. ‘The group who can hold the most packets …’
‘Gets to keep them?’ Zain says.
Mrs Burrows laughs. ‘Sure, why not?’
Zain licks his lips. ‘Come on. We can do this, Barryjong!’ he says. ‘We’d have snacks for our next prefects meeting.’
Mrs Burrows gives us ten minutes and there’s paper flying everywhere.
Ally rolls up her newspaper into straws. ‘Make them thick so they stand up straight.’
‘Yeah, let’s try to reach the roof,’ Zain says.
I spread out the newspaper. ‘Nah, let’s just make a giant net. We only need to make tiny legs to make it lift off the ground.’
‘That’s silly, Raymond,’ Zain says. ‘It’s not a tower then.’
‘Towers don’t need to be tall.’
Zain sighs. ‘Look, Raymond, you need to just trust me, okay? I’m the captain …’
I crush the newspaper in my hands. ‘What are you talking about? Nobody’s captain.’
‘I know, but I’m the captain for this activity …’
Randa steps in. ‘Stop being a hog, Zain.’
‘Look who’s oinking,’ Zain says. ‘You took over that last activity.’
‘Stop fighting, guys,’ Ally says, swirling her hands in the air between them. ‘We have five minutes left.’
‘How about you make your tower, and we’ll choose one,’ Zain says.
‘Nah, we’ll just do your thing,’ I say, mostly out of habit.
I help Ally make the legs for the tower. Randa and Zain stick the legs together to make something as tall as Gina’s lazy straw. Randa finishes our tower with a thin sheet on top.
Mrs Burrows starts with our group. ‘It’s the tallest tower here, but how many packets will it hold?’
Randa puts them on the top and it collapses after three packets. We all groan in harmony. It’s the first thing we’ve done together. Mrs Burrows moves onto the other schools. Rubenburg Primary has a tripod tower and it holds six packets. Every school beats us. Mrs Burrows looks straight down at Kayla’s group. ‘What do we have here?’
We all crowd around Kayla’s tower. It’s just a newspaper spread out, held up by tiny stumpy legs. Mohammed’s grinning. ‘It’s still a tower,’ he says.
Kayla spreads out the packets and fits about twenty packets. Everyone claps. I slap my forehead. Kayla gives us a few packets. ‘You can share these around.’
I bet she tells Auntie Angelica and Uncle Irwin all about it tonight.
We all break for morning tea. Zain finds Mohammed. ‘Just wait until you see my skills on the field,’ Zain says.
‘Let’s find some more players,’ Mohammed says. ‘You in, Raymond?’
I nod. It would be nice to play on a proper field. Mohammed and Zain bump into a blonde-haired boy in a Rubenburg Primary uniform. ‘Hi, I’m John Pritchard,’ he says.
‘You up for some soccer, John?’ Mohammed says.
‘Sure, though with so many captains on the field, it might be confusing,’ John jokes, nodding at Zain. ‘You are the captain of Barryjong, right?’
Zain thumps his chest. ‘That’s me,’
I tug his shirt. ‘No, you’re just a prefect, remember?’ I say.
Zain looks at me like I’ve jumped on him with soccer boots. ‘Yeah, but if we did have captains, everybody knows that it would have been me.’
‘Huh? Since when?’ I say.
‘Come on, Raymond, all the kids know I’m the most popular kid at school.’
John shrugs. ‘It doesn’t matter, you look like a captain anyway.’
‘Thanks, you know the truth.’ Zain whips his dreadlocks around as he dances on the spot.
I shake my head. Next minute, he’ll think he can be captain of the Australian Socceroos team. He’s becoming worse than Kayla. It’s like someone flicked a switch on him since we became prefects and he’s turned into a total show-off, especially in front of these other captains.
Mohammed rounds up a few other boys and girls. ‘Let’s go play some soccer.’
‘Yeah!’ Zain heads out the door. ‘You coming, RayBee?’
I narrow my eyes at him. �
�I’m not a school captain like the others … and you apparently.’ I try to sting him with my words but he just shoos me away.
‘Whatever,’ he says.
Zain and Mohammed leave together, already seeming like best mates. I can’t help feeling a bit envious. Randa and Ally are chatting to a bunch of girls in the corner, so I go for seconds, piling up so much food that my paper plate sags in the middle. I sit on a beanbag by myself, checking out the other leaders. Some kids have the air of mini prime ministers strutting around so confidently in their smart blazers and big gold prefect badges. Though it’s not what they’re wearing that makes them leaders, they just make it look natural, like they were born for this. I look down at my badge. It seems to have shrunk since I got here. I sink a little lower into the beanbag.
After morning tea, Mr Humble takes us back to school.
‘So what did we learn today?’ he asks.
‘A soccer ball glides when you play on a nice field,’ Zain says.
‘We’re hopeless at working as a team,’ Randa says.
‘That’s because we don’t have a leader, like the other schools,’ Zain says. ‘We need captains. You’ll back me up, yeah, Raymond?’
I look out the window. Not this time. Why does he care so much about being captain? I wish he would stop being such a show-off when he’s around other kids. I don’t mind when he takes charge on the field, but this is different. We’re all supposed to be equal.
Kayla’s right. Being representatives of our school is a huge deal. All we’ve done is show everyone that Barryjong Primary is a place where kids don’t get along with each other.
Mr Humble looks pretty glum too. He doesn’t seem to have anything to say either and we spend the rest of the trip back to school in an uncomfortable silence.
I’m still feeling rotten when I get home that afternoon. Gina’s not helping by doing her best to annoy me.
‘I’m hot,’ Gina says. ‘Can we go swimming in Mr Wee’s pool?’
Natural Born Loser Page 7
