by Justin D'Ath
‘Just a minute,’ I said, and held the phone out to Prefect. ‘It’s for you.’
He was so surprised, he took it.
‘H-hello?’ he stammered, holding the mobile phone to his ear.
for a second Prefect was concentrating on the phone, not on me. Big mistake. I slammed into him shoulder first, knocking him out of my way. He fell backwards against the wall, tipping over one of the towel bins. The mobile clattered to the floor and went skidding across the tiles. I tried to scoop it up but Prefect’s friend was onto me with the speed of a pit bull. Luckily he couldn’t fight like a pit bull – in fact, he didn’t know how to fight at all. He was much bigger than me but it wasn’t an even contest. A simple leg sweep sent him backside first onto the tiles.
Sorry guys, I thought. You picked the wrong person to bully.
But it wasn’t over yet. While I’d been grappling with his friend, Prefect had regained his balance. He picked up the metal rubbish bin and hurled it at me. I spun around, deflecting it with a side snap kick. These sturdy brown school shoes were useful, after all.
‘You’re in so much trouble,’ Prefect growled, balling his hands into fists and advancing slowly towards me.
I guessed he wasn’t talking about putting me on report this time.
‘Don’t try it,’ I warned, crouching into a cat stance. ‘I’m a karate black belt.’
I started backing towards the door.
Prefect probably knew I was exaggerating, but he’d seen me deal with his friend and the flying rubbish bin. Instead of following me, he went to help his friend up off the floor.
The phone started ringing again but I couldn’t go back for it. I slipped out the door. And nearly had a heart attack. About ten more Hobart Grammar boys were standing outside. The one nearest me wore a prefect’s badge.
‘Where’s your boater?’ he asked.
This time I didn’t answer. I simply turned and walked away. Back into the stands, rather than towards the stadium exit where I should have been heading. When I didn’t answer the phone, the boss would start to panic. But first I had to get away from the Hobart Grammar boys. My only chance was to lose myself in the crowd.
‘Hey, I asked you a question!’ called Prefect NumberTwo.
Of all the schools in Hobart, why had the boss picked Hobart Grammar? I kept walking. But I’d only gone a few more paces before I heard the clatter of running feet. Lots of them. I glanced over my shoulder. They were all after me, about a dozen big, angry Grammar boys, including the first prefect and his friend. I started running, too.
The game had just finished. Everyone was on their feet, filing into the already crowded aisles. I ran the other way, darting and weaving through a crush of bodies with the Grammar boys hot on my heels. People yelled angrily as I barged my way through. Parents dragged their little kids clear.
‘Excuse me!’ I cried. ‘Excuse me! Excuse me!’
I wished I was going the other way. Wished I was part of the huge crowd shuffling slowly towards the exits. The boss would be waiting for me outside. She’d be wondering why I wasn’t answering the phone. Wondering and worrying, and maybe thinking I’d double-crossed her.
I hoped she and Steve wouldn’t panic and drive off without me.
What would happen to Tommy?
‘Excuse me!’ I gasped, squeezing between a woman and a little girl in a blue-and-grey school uniform.
The woman gave me a frosty glare. ‘Where are your manners?’ she growled.
All I could say was, ‘Sorry!’
I knew she would forgive me if she knew what was happening. She was a mother – she’d want Princess Monica to get her baby back.
I glanced over my shoulder. Three Grammar boys were only a few metres behind. They were running single file, pushing through the gap I’d created in the flow of people going the other way. Gaining on me with every stride.
If they caught me, it would be all over, red rover.
There was a crush of bodies ahead. I couldn’t get through. So I swerved out of the aisle and ran flat out between two rows of seats. I could hear the pounding feet of a Grammar boy just behind me. A family was coming the other way. I took a running jump and landed in the next row. Another Grammar boy charged towards me from the other end, using the seats as stepping stones. I ran back the other way, but two more Grammar boys closed in from that end. Another five Grammar boys came filing along the next row up.
I was trapped. They had chased me nearly all the way to the front of the stands. There was one more row of seats, then a wall of people standing along the fence at the edge of the wide green playing field. The game was over, but they’d stayed to watch the two teams leave the oval.
I clambered across the front row of seats and pushed my way through the crush of spectators and autograph-hunters to the fence.
And jumped over.
It was about a metre and a half from the top of the fence to the playing surface. The weight of the backpack overbalanced me and I went face down in the grass. There were boos and jeers from the thousands of people still in the stadium. I was too scared to feel embarrassed. I didn’t think the Grammar boys would follow me, but now I had other problems.
Three Geelong players were walking in my direction. They were huge and sweaty, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. I scrambled to my feet and took off along the boundary. One of them said something and the other two laughed. But they didn’t come after me. They were heading towards the players’ gate, along with all the other players from both teams. I heard a helicopter overhead and looked for somewhere to escape. There was nowhere to hide. Everyone was watching me. Even the big television cameras were swivelling in my direction. I felt like an ant under a microscope.
There was a shout in the distance. Three security men came sprinting across the ground. I found my second wind and ran faster. The crowd cheered. For a couple of seconds I thought they were cheering for me. Then I saw what they saw.
Franky Budd, Hawthorn’s star full-forward, had been signing autographs for a group of primary school kids leaning over the boundary fence about a hundred metres from the players’ gate. I didn’t see him until it was too late.
I tried to swerve around him, but Franky extended a massive hand and grabbed my backpack.
There was a ripping sound, like a zipper giving way, and a wad of one-hundred-dollar notes landed at our feet.
18
WORST DECISION
‘Have you robbed a bank?’ Franky asked, stooping to pick up the money.
I glanced over my shoulder. The security men had almost reached us. I only had a few seconds.
‘It’s the ransom money for Prince Thomas. Let me go or they’ll kill him.’
They say you need quick reflexes, not a quick brain, to be a football star – but Franky Budd had both. ‘Are you the kid in the newspaper?’
I nodded. ‘The kidnappers are hiding out in an abandoned sawmill. Tell the police it’s near Sawpit Road.’
That was all I had time to say before the first security man arrived. He was red-faced and out of breath.
‘Nice work, Franky,’ he puffed. ‘I’ll take him from here.’
The towering AFL player blocked his path. ‘Let him be. He just wants my autograph.’
Turning his back on the security man, Franky slipped the wad of money back into my backpack.
‘Put your foot here,’ he said, quickly making a stirrup with his enormous hands. As he hoisted me over the fence, Franky said softly, ‘Sawpit Road, right?’
‘You’ve got it.’
Ten seconds later I was part of the crowd – one of about twenty thousand school kids filing slowly out of the stadium. I attached myself to a group of Year Sevens or Eights, whose uniform was similar to Hobart Grammar’s except they weren’t wearing hats. Listening to their conversation, I learned that Hawthorn had won the match with the very last kick.
And guess who kicked it?
‘Hey, how cute was that boy who jumped the fence to get Franky Budd�
��s autograph?’ a girl in front of me said as we filed through the shadowy tunnel under the stands.
The girl next to her tittered. ‘How could you even tell, Courtney? His face was covered in paint.’
‘Yeah, but he had nice hair,’ Courtney replied.
As soon as we were out of the tunnel, I separated from Courtney’s group. I didn’t want any of them – especially Courtney – getting a good look at me. When you’re wearing a backpack stuffed full of one-hundred-dollar notes, you don’t want people taking notice of you.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I nearly jumped out of my brand new school shoes.
‘B-b-boss!’ I gasped.
‘There you are, darling,’ she said, and leaned so close that for a scary moment I thought she was going to kiss me. ‘Don’t call me boss, I’m your mother, remember.’
People jostled past on both sides. Any one of the adults could have been an undercover police officer. Not that I cared any longer. I’d told Franky Budd what was going on, and he would tell the police.
‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked.
‘In the car,’ the boss said, linking her arm through mine.
‘Come along, darling, or we’ll be late home for dinner.’
We shuffled through the gates with the rest of the crowd. As soon as we were outside, the boss steered me to the left. We shuffled slowly along the footpath in a sea of people. There were two Hobart Grammar boys not far ahead. Luckily, they didn’t look around. The mass of people gradually thinned. Two blocks from the stadium, we could walk at a normal pace. The boss let go of my arm.
‘What happened in there?’ she demanded, her voice suddenly angry. ‘One minute I’m talking to you on the phone, then someone else comes on the line and we get disconnected. After that, it just rings and rings.’
I told her about my encounter with Prefect and his friend.
‘You’re quite the little Bruce Lee, aren’t you?’ laughed the boss.
She wouldn’t have laughed if I’d told her what else happened. How I’d been chased down to the footy oval and met Franky Budd. And what I’d said to Franky Budd.
A shiver passed through me. She’d kill me if she knew. Literally. Thank goodness there was no TV back at the hide-out.
A small green car pulled in next to the kerb. It was the kidnappers’ hatchback, with Steve at the wheel.
The boss pulled open the back door.
‘Get in,’ she said.
I shucked off the heavy backpack and tossed it into the hatchback ahead of me. For a second, I hesitated. Now was my chance to escape. There were people everywhere – a thousand witnesses if the boss tried to stop me. And why would she? The money was in the car.
But then I thought of Tommy, and got in.
As we drove away, I wondered if I’d just made the worst decision of my life.
19
CALL OF NATURE
The boss didn’t make me keep my head down on the way back to the kidnappers’ hide-out. I guess she no longer cared if I knew its location. They’d be gone by morning.
There wasn’t much to see anyway. It was dark by the time we left Hobart. When the last suburbs were behind us, the boss asked me for the backpack. I passed it through the gap between the two front seats. The boss switched on the interior light and undid the broken zip.
‘Would you take a look at this!’ she said, lifting out a bundle of one-hundred-dollar notes and showing it to Steve. ‘Have you ever seen such a beautiful sight?’
‘Never,’ laughed Steve.
The boss shouldn’t have distracted him. He took his eyes off the road at exactly the wrong moment. We’d just come around a corner. There was something on the road. It looked like a load of black garbage bags had fallen off someone’s trailer. But garbage bags don’t move. And they don’t have red shining eyes.
They were animals – Tasmanian devils.
‘LOOK OUT! ’I yelled.
Steve slammed on the brakes. I was thrown forward against the tug of my seatbelt. Rubber shrieked on bitumen as we hurtled towards the scrum of devils. There were at least six of them. They scattered in all directions, revealing the half-eaten carcass of a wallaby that must have been killed by a car.
Our car went skidding past, narrowly missing the dead wallaby. But it didn’t miss all the devils.
Thump!
We slewed to a standstill about twenty metres further on. The car leaned sideways. Two wheels were in the roadside ditch. Steve tried to drive out, but the engine stalled. He tried again. Same result.
‘Useless piece of junk!’ he snarled, and banged the steering wheel in frustration.
‘Or useless driver?’ asked the boss.
‘What was I supposed to do – run over them?’ Steve said angrily. ‘Tassie devils are as solid as bricks. Hit them in a tinny little car like this, and who knows what damage you’ll do.’
‘More damage than running off the road?’ the boss asked.
‘I didn’t see them until it was too late.’
‘You should have been watching the road.’
‘Who was it who shoved a pile of money in my face?’
While they argued, I clicked my door open and got out.
‘Hey! Where do you think you’re going?’ the boss called after me.
‘Just checking the one we hit.’
‘Get back in the car,’ she ordered.
I kept walking. The kidnappers might call her boss, but she wasn’t my boss. I didn’t think she’d shoot me for helping an injured animal.
The devil looked like it was beyond help. It didn’t move as I approached. It lay next to the dead wallaby, a lifeless black mound about the size of a pillow. Dead, I thought. I bent to drag it off the road.
Behind me, Steve started the car again. The engine roared as he tried to drive out of the ditch. I heard the wheels spinning in soft mud, but the car wasn’t going anywhere. It stalled.
In the sudden silence I heard another sound. Raspy breathing. The devil was alive! It wasn’t moving, but it was alive. I crouched over it, wondering what to do. Tasmanian devils didn’t get that name for nothing. They’re nasty. They have really mean tempers, and for their size, they have the strongest jaws of any animal on earth. One bite and I could lose a hand. That’s not an exaggeration. I once read a magazine article about a horse that died one night and got eaten by devils – all that was left next morning were four iron horseshoes.
‘Promise not to bite me,’ I said, trying to build up the courage to pick up the devil.
The problem was that it was dark – I couldn’t really see what was going on. Was the motionless black creature unconscious, or was it just waiting for my hands to get within biting range?
Steve started the car again. I heard the gears clunk and the reverse lights came on. They were surprisingly bright. Now I could see the devil clearly. There wasn’t any blood and none of its legs looked broken. Most importantly, its eyes were closed. It was unconscious. I took off my blazer and carefully wrapped it around the injured animal.
As I lifted the devil, I was suddenly dazzled by headlights. A car had come around the corner and was speeding towards me. I quickly stepped off the road. The car slowed down. They must have seen me standing next to the dead wallaby, and seen the hatchback in the ditch a little further on, and thought there’d been an accident.
Back in the other direction, Steve gunned the hatchback’s engine and reversed out of the ditch. He kept his foot down, roaring along the side of the road towards me, still in reverse.
The two cars stopped at the same time. They were about fifteen metres apart, with me in the middle. I was blinded by the new car’s headlights. A car door creaked open and someone started to get out.
‘Is everything all right?’ a man asked.
Another car door opened behind me. ‘We’re fine,’ the boss said. ‘My son was just answering a call of nature. Come on, darling, back in the car.’
Before I had time to consider my options, the boss was standing
next to me. She gripped my elbow and led me back to the hatchback, shielding her eyes from the headlights with her other hand. The rear door was already open. I had no choice but to get in.
‘Thanks for stopping,’ the boss called back to the other car, giving them a friendly wave before she slid in next to Steve.
She stopped being friendly as soon as she’d closed her door. ‘No more chances, Mr,’ she warned me. ‘Next time you play up, you’ll wind up as dead as your little furry friend back there.’
I thought she meant the wallaby. But as we drove away, I realised she was talking about the Tassie devil. Like me, the boss had been blinded by the other car’s headlights when it pulled up behind us. She hadn’t seen the bundle wrapped in my arms.
Neither she nor Steve realised they now had an extra passenger on board.
20
PART OF THE GANG
The other kidnappers were expecting us. When we arrived at the sawmill, Peewee was waiting in the dark outside the kayak shed. He lifted the roller door and Steve drove straight in.
‘How did it go?’ Peewee asked, flashing a torch into the car as the boss and Steve climbed out.
The boss dragged the backpack out after her and set it on the floor.
‘See for yourself,’ she said, lifting the top open.
Peewee shone the torch into the pack and let out a low whistle. ‘Is it all there?’ he asked.
‘We haven’t counted it yet,’ the boss said. ‘But I don’t think they’d short-change us.’
Steve picked up one of the bundles and sniffed it. ‘Smells like it’s all here.’
The other two laughed.
They seemed to have forgotten about me. I sat in the car with the wrapped-up Tassie devil on my lap, trying to decide what to do. It was still unconscious. For a while I’d been worried it was going to die, but in the last half-hour there had been some good signs. Its breathing seemed steadier and it had started twitching its legs. And just before we reached Sawpit Road, the devil had made a low growly sound. Luckily the boss and Steve didn’t notice. But now I had to decide what to do with it.
The most sensible thing would be to show the kidnappers. Then hopefully they’d let me put it outside, where it would be free to run off into the forest when it woke up. But it might not wake up. It was midwinter and really cold outside. If the devil was going to recover, it needed to stay warm.
