Red Samurai

by Tiffiny Hall

  ‘What’s with her lately?’ Jackson asks. ‘The fruit thing with no hands and hanging out with Hero’s clan?’

  ‘Lecky’s going through a lot at the moment,’ I say.

  ‘Did her favourite boy band split up?’ Jackson jokes.

  ‘I’m serious. She needs our help. Training will be the best thing for her. She needs the focus.’

  ‘That’s nice of you to help her,’ Cinnamon says. ‘Lecky never helps anyone else.’

  ‘Well, we’re sisters,’ I say.

  ‘She doesn’t act like it,’ she says quietly.

  ‘One day it will pay off.’ I cross my fingers behind my back. I’m hoping that Lecky’s new powers will bring us closer together.

  Jackson escorts Cinnamon and me to class. As I walk down the corridor, I imagine walking arm in arm with Elecktra through Gate One, with matching red boxer shorts poking out from under our school skirts.

  Riding on the bus with Elecktra is interesting. I thought people would think she looked crazy, in her cape sequined with rainbow stripes, but instead they look at her admiringly, as if she is wearing a designer piece straight off the runway. She’s so pretty that I don’t think people’s eyes even register what she is wearing. The cape only illuminates her natural beauty: the colour in her hair and cheeks, the gold sparkles in her brown eyes.

  We arrive at an office building. Elecktra sees a man entering it and chases after him.

  ‘I’m here for the casting of the magician in the Natural Glow Vitamins commercial,’ she says.

  I cringe. I can already tell this is going to be embarrassing. The man tries to speak, but Elecktra cuts him off.

  ‘I haven’t seen the previous ads. I’m on TV more than I watch it,’ she lies.

  The man’s glasses fog a little. He’s carrying a clipboard and a pen and wears a thin tie that seems to strangle his triple chin. He clears his throat.

  ‘Lecky, I don’t think he is the person —’

  ‘You’re probably wondering why I’m wearing this elegant cape?’ she continues before the man can speak. ‘As well as being gorgeous and talented, I’m also a future-Merlin-Award-winning magician.’

  The man is now slightly amused. I doubt he knows about the Merlin Awards, or even cares. Lecky’s dream has been to win a Merlin since she was six. They are the Oscars of the magic world, the highest prize for any magician or illusionist. I always believed that Lecky could win because I’d never met someone more out of touch with reality than her.

  ‘I have a blog. It’s going to make me famous. Blame my inner pop star.’ She shrugs, then looks around. ‘No competition today? My show reel is doing its job!’

  The man says nothing, now entertained by Lecky and her cape.

  ‘I’m available to shoot immediately. I’m a size zero, with a one in front. Check this out,’ she says, ‘I can even do Ninjutsu.’ She performs a series of percussive strikes Mum taught her, finishing on a double body block to the man’s nose. He flinches.

  ‘As you can see, I’m fit. That’s what vitamins are all about, being fit on the inside,’ she boasts. ‘I can make any disease disappear with a flick of my cape.’ She smiles. ‘Classic me, talking about myself. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m —’ the man begins.

  ‘I’m the face of Shimmer Shampoo,’ she interrupts.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ I say. An elbow lands in my gut.

  ‘Would you like to see my surprised face?’ she asks the man, then, without waiting for a reply, she opens her mouth and cups her cheeks with her hands. ‘I’m so surprised right now,’ she says with taut cheeks.

  ‘Great acting,’ I mumble, beyond embarrassed.

  ‘We sell tyres here,’ the man finally manages to say.

  Elecktra frowns. ‘You sell tyres?’

  He pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought you were a casting director,’ she protests.

  ‘No. No, I’m not,’ says the man.

  Elecktra stamps her foot. ‘This is totally the second time this has happened to me,’ she says, then points a finger at the man. ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘So, do you want to buy some tyres?’ the man asks.

  ‘We’re going,’ Elecktra says, pulling my arm. ‘I’m over it!’ Typical Lecky. She won’t even bother to find the real audition place now.

  ‘That went well,’ I say, then shoot the man an apologetic look. He shakes his triple chin.

  Elecktra looks back over her shoulder. ‘You’ll be seeing me around,’ she calls, flicking her cape. ‘On billboards.’

  SIX

  Thursday afternoons are the busiest time of the week for our school nurse. Every Thursday we end the day with sport and heaps of kids try to fake sickies. If you’re not sporty, then Hindley Hall is not for you. My geography teacher, Sergeant Major, is ex-military and keeps the students and staff in good condition. Mum sent Lecky and me here because she believes sport is important. ‘You have to exercise your mind and your body,’ she always says. Mum’s philosophy is all about living in the Gym of Life. Meaning you have to be active all the time, take-the-stairs-not-the-lift kind of stuff. Lucky there’s no skyscrapers in Lanternwood, otherwise we’d be in trouble. You’ll never catch Mum standing still while waiting in a line — she’ll be stretching.

  Today Sergeant Major is hosting a mini Olympics, which will be great practice for the sports carnival next week. There will be sprints, relays, long jump, a water bucket race, balance beam and noodle toss. We used to do javelin, but with so many kids now studying martial arts, Sergeant Major thought the javelin was too much like a weapon.

  I’m in the under-fourteens division and put my hand up for the sprints and noodle toss. Cinnamon is beside me, her wet hair pulled back into a high ponytail. It must have taken her ages to tame her curls into cooperation. She wears navy-blue knee-length shorts and a gold T-shirt.

  ‘New uniform?’ I ask.

  ‘Nope. Just never worn it,’ she says, smiling. Cinnamon hardly ever wears her sports uniform because she always comes up with an excuse not to participate. The House captains and teachers never choose her to compete and she would never volunteer. I wish she would. Competing is such fun.

  Elecktra is in the under-seventeens division with Jackson. She is dressed like an elite sprinter, with racing sunglasses, a sweat headband and a pinned sign on her sports T-shirt that says OUT OF MY WAY. To top it off, she has turned up with one yellow runner and one neon orange runner. I have no idea where she managed to find odd-coloured trainers, but I bet everyone will be copying her next week. It’ll be a Lecky trend for sure.

  Sergeant Major gathers all the under-fourteens around him. The hairs on my neck spike as I feel Hero slither in behind me; I sense the dark shadow of his samurai aura before I see him. The shadows are thickening around school. Not friendly shadows but samurai shadows. The auras of samurai are not translucent like normal shadows, but smear across the ground like mud. It’s as if samurai can sense you if you step into their shade. I glance across the oval and see samurai shadows standing across the grass despite the overcast day. I shiver. I turn slowly to look at Hero and his lead eyes are ready to meet me. They aren’t wet like normal eyes, but matt like leather. His eyes scare me the most. They have no light.

  ‘I need one more girl for the under-fourteens, four by one-hundred-metre relay,’ Sergeant Major says, looking down at his clipboard. He is wearing his usual uniform: camouflage pants, black T-shirt and a whistle. ‘Any volunteers?’

  I’m running the four by one hundred metres with Poppy O’Leary and Tippy Ling. We volunteered because we are in the same House and often compete together. Poppy and Tippy are both Gate Two and we Twos try to band together. No one volunteers. They are either competing already or don’t want to compete with Gate Twos. Sergeant Major surveys the group, then his eyes crease into a smile.

  ‘Sold,’ he says, pointing behind me.

  I spin around to see Cinnamon’s arm high in the air, waving. She winks at me.

 
‘Awesome!’ I say to her as Tippy and Poppy gather around.

  ‘Can I run last?’ Cinnamon asks.

  Tippy looks at Poppy, then at me. ‘Sure,’ she says.

  ‘This is my first race. Ever,’ Cinnamon says. I expect her to be nervous, but she doesn’t seem to be. She looks pumped.

  Jackson jogs over to us. He has proper sprinting spikes on — he always has the best gear. ‘Good luck, Rox,’ he says.

  ‘Thanks. Hey, Cim is competing,’ I tell him. Poppy and Tippy nod.

  Jackson runs his hand through his hair and smiles. ‘You’ll kill it,’ he says and I feel Cinnamon blossom like a thirsty flower in the rain.

  ‘How’s the wind?’ he asks me, smiling. I glare at him. As if I’d ever use my powers to cheat in a race.

  ‘You’re up, girls,’ Jackson says as Sergeant Major calls our race.

  I see Elecktra out of the corner of my eye, watching Jackson speak to us. I wish she’d give up. He’s clearly not interested in her, or her mismatched trainers. Elecktra sees me staring at her and goes cross-eyed. I gasp. She uncrosses her eyes and mouths, ‘Joking!’ I shake my head at her. She’d be stupid to use her powers here where everyone can see.

  ‘Good luck,’ I say to Cinnamon, hugging her. She is still composed, acting like a total pro. Poppy, Tippy and I high-five, then take up our positions around the oval. The school gathers to watch. I see Jackson across the oval and it makes me suddenly nervous; it’s the butterfly Olympics in my stomach again.

  Sergeant Major stands at the start line. ‘Ready. Set,’ he booms.

  I hold my breath, looking back at Poppy poised on the marks.

  ‘Go!’ Sergeant Major roars.

  Poppy launches off the start line, churning herself forwards with her arms, not her legs. She is struggling in fourth place as three Gate Ones sprint ahead of her.

  ‘C’mon, Pop!’ I yell at her as she nears me. I hold my hand out behind me and when I feel her slap it, I sprint. My legs pump as my arms power me forwards. I keep my head down. When I finally look up, I’m out front and only five steps from Tippy. I slap her hand and she takes off. She’s the fastest of us all with long gazelle-like legs; Little Athletics after school has paid off. Poppy and I cheer as she bounds forwards, leaving the Gate Ones in her stride and offering Cinnamon a head start.

  Cinnamon looks anxiously behind her, but her knees are steady. Her eyes are on Tippy and with her pulled-back hair, she is all business. Tippy slaps Cinnamon’s hand and Cinnamon sprints away. I’m cheering so loudly I sound like a frog. She holds her own with the head start, but soon the others catch up and overtake. I half-expect Cinnamon to give up, but she doesn’t stop, her eyes remain focused on the finish line. A burst of red hair flies free from her ponytail and flaps in the wind like a red flag. Cim crosses the finish line in fourth place. I run towards her and give her the biggest hug.

  ‘You legend!’ I say, jumping up and down. ‘That was your first race!’

  ‘I have to keep up with you,’ she pants, hands on knees. ‘And I didn’t stop.’

  Tippy and Poppy join us and we group hug. We didn’t win, but having Cinnamon compete feels like winning. Cinnamon glows more with satisfaction than sweat. I’m so proud of her.

  ‘Rox, will you come with me after school?’ she asks.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Secret,’ she says, giving me a toothpaste grin. She wipes the sweat from her brow and stares at it. I think sweating is a first for her too. She’s full of firsts lately. As I watch her high-five Poppy, her red hair fighting free, I suddenly realise she’s looking healthier. Fit even. She looks like she could make it through the gauntlet of Gate Two now without puffing.

  ‘Are you going to enter the talent quest tomorrow?’ Cinnamon asks as we walk over to the noodle toss. I shake my head. ‘But you could win! Especially if you show some cool ninja moves,’ she says.

  ‘As if!’ I say. ‘I can’t let anyone know I’m the White Warrior. I’ve already had one close call. Lucky Elecktra saved me.’ A sudden wave of pins and needles shocks my body as I realise I’ve walked into a samurai shadow. A tall Year Nine with dirty yellow hair glowers down at me. I leap back into the light.

  ‘Lecky saved you? What with — her hair straightener?’ Cinnamon laughs.

  ‘She did all right,’ I say. ‘And besides, she’s being nicer to me these days.’

  Cinnamon rolls her eyes. ‘You wish.’

  ‘Every year. On my birthday cake,’ I say.

  ‘That’s your wish? You’d rather get along with your sister than have a pet?’ she asks.

  I think about this for a moment. I’ve yearned for a pet for years now, but Mum doesn’t like animals inside and our yard isn’t big enough. The only way I can pretend to have a pet is to visit the pet store with Cinnamon and hold the puppies, kittens and rabbits there.

  ‘Maybe Elecktra will use some of her magic tomorrow,’ Cinnamon says as we park ourselves in front of the noodle toss to wait my turn. We watch kids try to throw a pool noodle through hula hoops. I’m glad Sergeant Major has lightened up. It used to be regimented fitness drills only, but now he adds in fun games too. I think he’s finally accepted that we’re not in the army.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I ask.

  ‘I heard Elecktra’s entered the talent quest tomorrow,’ Cinnamon says.

  ‘She did what!’ My stomach flips. She will use her powers for sure. I knew that cape meant trouble.

  ‘Quick!’ Cinnamon yanks me out of Gate Two. I’m dying to know our secret destination. We run down the street with our school socks flopping around our ankles. I love seeing Cinnamon run. Her tomato-red hair sets a mean pace; in the wind it looks wet, as if there’s ketchup dripping across her shoulders. I thought she would be tired after sport this afternoon, but she seems even more energetic. I don’t know what’s come over her lately. She’s walking to school every day with Rescue on a leash, she’s taking home Mum’s recipes and trying to eat ninja nutrition.

  ‘You will love this,’ she says. ‘I’ve been planning it for days. Mum’s meeting us.’ Her hair whips me in the face as we turn a corner. Up ahead Cinnamon’s mother, Mrs Evans, waits by her car. She has the same curly red hair as Cinnamon, but harnesses the ringlets into a knot at the nape of her neck. I’ve always liked Mrs Evans. She lets us stay up late during sleepovers. Cinnamon’s house has a conversation pit in the backyard covered with fake grass and sometimes Mrs Evans helps us to pitch a tent and sleep in it under the stars. She’s a cool mum.

  As we approach, she walks around to the boot of the four-wheel drive and opens it. Cinnamon grabs my hand as we pull up at the rear. Inside the car stand two sparkling mountain bikes, black striped with pink.

  ‘I’ve been wanting Mon to ride a bike for years,’ Mrs Evans says to me. ‘When she mentioned that she would only ride if you came, I couldn’t help myself and bought two.’

  I gaze at the bikes. They look really expensive, but Cinnamon’s parents can afford them. My bike is so old it still has a basket and streamers attached to the handlebars. Both Elecktra and I are embarrassed whenever we ride it.

  ‘Cool,’ I gasp, reaching out to touch the handlebars. ‘They even have gears!’

  Cinnamon nods proudly. ‘I can’t wait to show you where we’re going. Hop in,’ she says, sliding into the backseat of the car.

  Mrs Evans drives us twenty minutes from school. I watch Lanternwood drift past the window. I like my town because it is so organised. The evergreen trees decorated with lanterns grow to the same height and stripe the wide boulevards that coil neatly into the centre of town like a snail. Many of the houses are identical too, except for our yellow apartment. I’ve always hated that it stands out so much, but Art thinks it makes life easier for the postman.

  We pull up at a wall of trees. I arch my neck to see past them, but they’re too dense. Mrs Evans helps us to take the bikes out of the car.

  ‘Where are we?’ I ask.

  ‘Surprise.’ Cinnamon smiles.

&
nbsp; Mrs Evans hands me a blue helmet and I snap the buckle closed under my chin.

  ‘Have fun,’ she says. ‘I’ll wait here.’

  Cinnamon and I set off on a brick path that threads through the trees. We ride past a sign that says Hole 19.

  ‘Is this a golf course?’ I call out to Cinnamon in front of me. Her hair trails behind her like dragon’s breath.

  ‘Yes, an abandoned one,’ she calls back. ‘I don’t think anyone from Gate One even knows it exists.’

  The path twists through freckled grass and shallow sandpits. Tall palm trees reach into the sky like fingers. Not an adult, golf cart or even a golf ball is in sight. Up ahead I see a group of kids tying strings around tree trunks. Cinnamon slows down and lifts her face to the sky. I pull up beside her and crane my neck back too. Way up in the sky are kites: fluorescent boats, pastel planes, striped eagles and unfurled butterflies.

  ‘They’re practising for the kite championships,’ Cinnamon explains.

  One kite is so large it takes six kids to hold it. Some kites are so high they are mere buttons of colour in the jacket of blue. We roll our bikes onto the grass and prop them on their stands, then sit down beside them to watch.

  ‘It’s really peaceful here,’ I say to Cinnamon. Silence drapes over everyone when a kite is launched, then it’s as if you can feel every kid holding their breath as it takes its first dip and glide. My favourite kite is a red boat with rainbow sails gliding across the waves of sky. It reminds me of our kitchen table, which is forged out of different woods from old boats. I allow the sway of the red boat kite and the tickle of the breeze to lull me into a daydream. I imagine myself fastened to one of those kites and sailing above everyone else. Art is always telling me to take myself to five thousand metres when I get stressed. He says it’s a good way to shrink a problem or to find a new perspective. I try to look deep into the blue, past the kites to five thousand metres, but the sky swallows me up and I am distracted by the animal-shaped clouds.