Kimi looks at him like he’s mad. ‘I’m Kimi from Tokyo.’
His hand is still extended. ‘Don’t leave me hanging.’
She takes a moment then shakes it.
‘Sorry for the hiding-behind-the-column thing just before. It wasn’t my finest hour.’
She clearly doesn’t know what to make of him.
He opens his mouth to ask about the paper plane letter he sent her when a voice cuts across the deck. ‘Do emus dream of flying? Wow, you’re quite the wordsmith.’
What the?
Dylan turns to see Jason leaning against the ferry’s starboard railing and holding the paper plane letter Dylan sent Kimi.
‘How’d you get that?’
‘You threw it into my room, idiot.’
Dylan can’t believe he screwed up so badly. He was sure the plane flew into Kimi’s room.
‘I guess accuracy’s not one of your strong points. A bit like your drawing.’ Jason studies the picture Dylan sketched. ‘An emu flying. How pretty. Well, maybe not pretty. Homely probably describes it more accurately.’
Both annoyed and embarrassed, Dylan rises off the bench and moves towards him. ‘Give it back.’
Jason ignores him. ‘Our poor Japanese visitor has only been here for one day, one day, and you’re already embarrassing her with weird love letters.’ Jason laughs but it’s not a friendly sound.
Kimi glances at Dylan, confused. ‘What’s he talking about?’
Mortified, Dylan ignores the question and focuses on Jason. ‘Give it back.’
Jason looks down at him with a smirk on his face. ‘Or what?’
Dylan decides to take the second piece of advice his mother gave him about bullies. She told him to ignore them unless they kept bugging him. If they did that, she said to step up and get in their face. And that’s exactly what he does now. He steps up and gets in Jason’s face, even though the kid is much taller. ‘Or we’ll have a problem.’
Jason looks down at him. ‘Really? And what would that be?’
Dylan stares directly into his eyes and doesn’t waver. ‘I guess you’re about to find out.’
A shimmer of doubt crosses Jason’s face. He takes a moment then holds out the piece of paper. Dylan grabs at it – but Jason pulls back and it rips in half. ‘Oops! Sorry.’
Jason lets the paper flutter to the deck then laughs as he turns and walks away.
Dylan picks up the paper and pivots towards him, ready to charge–
A hand touches his shoulder.
It’s Kimi. She shakes her head. ‘He’s not worth it.’
She takes the two pieces of paper from Dylan’s hand and studies the drawing.
Suddenly he’s more concerned about what she thinks of his note than dealing with Jason. ‘Too much?’
She shakes her head and smiles. ‘No. It’s beautiful.’
He’s surprised by how relieved that makes him feel. They turn and look out at the sparkling harbour before them, then he steals a glance at her. No matter what happens in the competition later on, Dylan thinks this has already turned out to be a pretty good day.
The stadium looms within the Sydney skyline.
All the competitors are lined up inside the giant venue. Dylan thinks the markings on the wooden floor look like the place is normally used for basketball or something.
Maureen addresses the group of kids and her voice reverberates across the room. As always her tone is enthusiastic, verging on overexcited. It’s like every sentence she says has an exclamation mark at the end. ‘Competitors, there will be four rounds of heats! The top two competitors in each heat will make the final eight, who will then compete in a special challenge to see who will travel to the World Junior Paper Plane Championships in Tokyo!’
Dylan glances up at the viewing platform. Parents arrive and take positions to watch the action. He notices Jason’s father, Patrick, is surrounded by a bunch of eager fans as he signs autographs and poses for photos. Dylan scans the rest of the spectators but can’t see any sign of Jack. ‘Come on, Dad. Where are you?’ He lets out a disappointed breath. He can’t believe Jack would be a no-show. They drove a really long way to get here and he couldn’t even make it out of the hotel room?
The first three heats come and go, and then it’s time for the fourth heat where Dylan and Jason will face off. Each competitor holds a piece of pristine white A4 paper. Maureen turns to them as she speaks into the microphone, ‘You have ninety seconds to fold your plane. Ready, set, go!’ She hits a stopwatch and all the kids drop to the ground to fold their planes against the floor – except Dylan and Jason. They fold theirs standing up.
Dylan’s plane evolves out of a series of straightforward folds. Again, he uses everything he has learnt so far. The sharp aerodynamic creases, the tail for stability, the wing flaps for lift. He finishes then glances over at Jason. In contrast his competitor’s plane has a tough, stubby design, which he meticulously constructs with sophisticated, confident folds, after which he draws on his signature red eyes.
Maureen studies her stopwatch. ‘Stop! Please take your positions.’ The kids step up to the start line. A wiry kid with huge horn-rim glasses stands beside Dylan. Jason is a few kids further along.
Dylan takes a breath. He’s a bit nervous. In fact, he’s even more nervous than he was at the first competition at the railway yard back home – but now he thinks that being a bit nervous might be a good thing. Yes, it gives him the feeling of a thousand butterflies fluttering around in his stomach but it also, somehow, makes him focus on what he needs to do next, which in this case is throw a paper plane as far as possible.
Maureen almost shouts into the microphone, she’s so excited. ‘Get ready! Three . . . two . . . one . . . go!’
The kids launch their planes and the parents cheer. Unlike the railway yard competition every one of them flies well – except for Jason’s plane, which flies brilliantly. It shoots across the room like a bullet fired from a gun. It crosses the thirty-metre mark and disappears into the distance.
Dylan’s plane is right behind it. It races past twenty metres, then thirty metres – then drops quickly and hits the ground hard. It didn’t even make thirty-five metres.
Horn-rim’s plane closes in, the only plane still aloft and a threat to Dylan making the final. It’s not moving fast but it’s moving fast enough, and it’s still in the air. It glides towards Dylan’s plane, three metres away, two, one. It passes Dylan’s plane.
Dylan is crushed. He’s out of the competition.
Horn-rim’s plane slows drastically, hovers in the air for a long moment – then drifts backwards, gently floats to the ground and lands – one centimetre behind Dylan’s.
‘Nooo!’ Horn-rim bursts into tears and collapses to his knees in grief.
Dylan bends to console him. ‘Sorry, mate–’
‘Don’t touch me!’ Poor old Horn-rim is inconsolable.
Dylan steps back and takes a deep breath, relieved. He looks across at Kimi, who stands near Maureen. She shoots him an excited thumbs up.
Jason celebrates with a fist pump then holds his arms up like a victorious Muhammad Ali. ‘Now that’s what I’m talking about!’
In the crowd Dylan sees Patrick wince at Jason’s boorish display. The other parents clap politely, as do the other competitors, except for the inconsolable Horn-rim. Dylan is incredibly disappointed he can’t see his father within the crowd.
Maureen speaks excitedly into her microphone once more, ‘Now we’ll break for lunch and be back in an hour for the final!’
The first thing Dylan does during the break is call Jack at the hotel. There’s no answer. After a couple more unsuccessful attempts, he takes a seat outside overlooking an athletic oval and sips on a fruit juice box, fuming.
On the grass beside the track Kimi trains with her dad. She takes a running jump then vaults into a forwards flip that becomes a backflip, then another backflip, then another backflip then another. The tumbling run gets faster and faster until she lands on
her feet, face forward, and launches a paper plane. It soars across the field. Twenty, thirty, forty metres. Easy.
‘Whoa!’ Dylan is stunned. He’s never seen anyone throw a paper plane like that before and it’s pretty much the coolest thing ever. And, just quietly, it only makes her more interesting. It also, for the moment at least, makes him forget about Jack.
Clearly happy, Kimi jogs back to her father then notices Dylan. She says something to her dad, grabs her bag and runs over. ‘Hey.’
Dylan’s thrilled she came to see him. ‘Hey, yourself. That tumbling thing was awesome. I mean, really.’
‘Thank you.’ She takes a seat beside him, pulls a paper plane out of her panda-shaped bag then proceeds to make tiny ridges along the wings with her fingernails.
Dylan watches her. ‘What are you doing to that poor plane?’
‘It’s not a plane; it’s a whale.’
Dylan looks at her like she’s crazy. ‘Excuse me?’
Kimi grins then explains as she continues to make the ridges on the paper. ‘The blue whale moves through the water with great speed, despite how big it is.’
Dylan nods, still not sure where this is going. ‘Riiight.’
‘And that’s because there are small dimples all along its body that mean it creates almost no friction when it swims.’ She swipes open her iPhone and shows him a close-up photo of a blue whale’s skin. ‘See? My father always says we should look to the natural world for answers to life’s challenges, so these dimples are my answer for speed.’ Kimi holds up her plane.
Dylan is intrigued but sceptical. ‘You really think they help?’
Kimi throws the plane and it rips across the sky with impressive velocity, then circles back and lands in her hand. She grins. ‘Absolutely.’
He’s impressed. ‘Point taken.’
She studies the plane for a moment then turns to Dylan. ‘Wouldn’t it be great if the competition was about more than whose plane flies the furthest? If it was about the most beautiful flight? Or the most surprising? That’s the competition I want to win.’
Dylan takes this in with a smile. ‘You’re mad – in a great way.’
She nods happily. ‘Why, thank you.’
‘This is it. The final challenge.’ Maureen’s voice reverberates across the Olympic-sized swimming pool. The eight finalists stand on the start blocks as if they’re about to dive in and swim a race. Maureen hands each of them a piece of paper. ‘The goal is to reach the end of the fifty-metre pool without using a run-up. If you don’t touch the end of the pool and set off the buzzer, you won’t be going to the World Junior Paper Plane Championships in Tokyo. You have ninety seconds! Make your planes!’
Maureen hits a stopwatch and the kids fold their planes. A capacity crowd is packed along both sides of the pool and cheers loudly. In lane eight those nervous butterflies have returned to Dylan’s stomach but he uses them to focus on his plane. He continues with his usual classic design, employs everything he’s learnt so far, but this time he includes some ridges along the wings, like the ones on Kimi’s plane. He’s sure she won’t mind. He finishes then looks around for Jack but sees no sign of him in the crowd. It’s a big let-down but he doesn’t have time to worry about it right now; he has a plane to throw and only one chance to get it right. He glances at Jason in lane seven and the plane he is folding. It’s different to the last one, shorter, stockier. He adds the signature eyes.
‘And stop! Now it’s time to throw.’ Rather than throwing at the same time, Maureen walks behind the blocks and directs each competitor to throw one at a time. She points at the boy in lane one. ‘And go!’ He throws his plane and it flies well for about twenty-five metres – then curves back and slams into the water.
The crowd lets out a sad ‘ohhhh’.
‘And go!’ The girl in lane two has slightly more luck but only makes it two thirds of the way along the pool before her plane splashes down.
The crowd releases a disappointed ‘ohhhh’.
‘Go!’ The girl in lane three releases her plane, overbalances, teeters on the edge of the block, hangs there for what seems like a year, arms windmilling, then tumbles into the water. The plane barely makes fifteen metres before it hits the water. The kids all think it’s kind of funny.
Once again the crowd goes with a sad ‘ohhhh’, but this time it’s punctuated with a few giggles.
Maureen points at the girl in the water. ‘Officials, could you please fish her out?’ It takes a moment but they do it, then Maureen turns to the boy in lane four. ‘Go.’
He throws his plane and it races across the pool, then suddenly gains altitude and ascends quickly, keeps going up and up and up. Dylan is sure it’s easily going to make it to the end of the pool–
Clang. It slams into the ceiling’s structural crossbeam and flutters back to the water.
The crowd lets out an anticlimactic ‘ohhhh’.
Maureen points to the boy in lane five. ‘Go.’ He draws his plane back but it unfortunately slips out of his hand, flies backwards, hits Maureen on the top of her head and sticks in her hair.
This time the crowd chuckles.
Maureen pulls out the plane and tries her best to look dignified. She points at the girl in lane six, who throws beautifully. Her plane soars high, then swoops low and touches down at forty metres.
This time the crowd applauds heartily.
In lane seven, Jason stands without, seemingly, a care in the world. As Maureen points at him Dylan can see she tries her best not to grimace. Jason is clearly not her favourite. ‘Go!’
He pulls his arm back then rips it forwards and fires the plane into the air. It races across the water like a rocket, never wavers from its dead-straight trajectory, and lands on the other side of the pool, easy as. The sound of the electronic buzzer reverberates across the facility and Jason showboats, arms raised. Again. ‘Yeah! That. Is. What. I. Am. Talking. About!’ He’s the only qualifier so far.
The crowd politely claps.
Dylan is last up. He realises this is it. If he doesn’t get his plane to the end of the pool, the dream is over.
Maureen points to him. ‘Go!’
He scans the crowd, hoping against hope to find Jack. He sees no sign of him. He shakes it off, takes a deep breath to harness the butterflies in his stomach, leans back and launches his plane as smoothly as he can. It almost seems like his throw is too relaxed, but it isn’t, because the plane explodes out of his hand and cuts through the air with great speed and accuracy. It heads straight for the end of the pool.
But it’s low.
Too low.
It’s barely ten centimetres off the water. Then it drops even lower, skims the H2O. Dylan waits for it to nose into the pool and for it all to end.
Then the plane rises abruptly. It seems to gain speed as it lifts towards the heavens – and heads straight towards the ceiling’s structural crossbeam.
The crowd watches and holds their breath. And so does Dylan. The butterflies in his stomach flutter with a vengeance.
The plane reaches the crossbeam – and edges over with a centimetre to spare, then drops towards the water again, gaining speed as it goes. It’s still twenty metres from home, fifteen, ten, five, three–
Splashdown.
Half a metre from the end.
No!
Dylan’s disappointment is crushing.
This time the crowd lets out a dejected ‘ohhhh’.
But hold on. The plane drifts forwards. And keeps on drifting . . .
Whack. The nose of Dylan’s plane hits the far end of the pool.
Honk. The sound of the buzzer reverberates across the facility.
The crowd cheers.
It takes Dylan a moment to realise he’s actually made it through. ‘Yes!’
With a beaming smile, Kimi stands and claps. Maureen points at Dylan and Jason. She’s as excited as she’s ever been. ‘Our winners! Jason and Dylan! They’re going to Tokyo!’ She’s so excited she missteps, overbalances and plops
into the pool with a big splash.
There’s a long moment when nobody says or does anything. The kids watch Maureen, surprised – then jump in after her. One kid does a huge bomb, another does a gut-buster and another does a safety dive. Dylan can’t remember the last time he actually swam in a real pool so he doesn’t want to miss out. He pulls off his official lanyard and performs an impressive somersault into the water.
All the kids jump in and splash each other, delighted.
All except Jason.
A damp but pumped Dylan pushes open the door and runs into the hotel room. ‘Dad!’
The place is dark, the blinds are drawn and the television flickers with the image of a motor race. Jack lies on the bed, watching it. It looks like he’s been there all day.
Dylan’s enthusiasm can’t be contained. ‘I came second! My plane flew fifty metres and I came second! Fifty!’
Jack pulls himself up in the bed and looks at his son, tries to muster the same enthusiasm. ‘Great, mate. That’s great.’
Dylan talks fast so all his words run together, ‘It was so much fun. Second! In Australia! Imagine how good I’ll be when I find my winged keel. I really need to start practising. I’m thinking we can do it on the weekends and after school. Anyway, the finals are in Japan. So can I go?’
Jack looks at him, genuinely surprised. ‘What? Japan? That’s . . . expensive.’
‘I know it’s expensive but I was thinking that if you started working again and I got a job after school that could pay for it.’
Jack turns and looks at the television again. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about this now. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘Yeah, maybe? What does that mean? Does that mean you’re going to start working? Can I get an after-school job?’
‘It’s Japan. An after-school job?’ Jack rubs his face, talks to himself, ‘It’s ridiculous.’
‘But why? If I get a job and you start working, then we might be able to swing it–’
Jack looks at his son. ‘It’s not going to happen, mate. I’m sorry.’
All the joy drains from Dylan’s face. ‘No, you’re not. You’re not sorry at all. We’re in Sydney and you’ve been in this room the whole time. You didn’t even come to the competition, which is the reason we’re here.’ Frustrated, Dylan moves to the window, yanks open the blinds and blasts the room with sunlight. A view of Sydney fills the balcony window. ‘Look. There’s a whole world out there.’
Paper Planes Page 6
