Money Bags

by Leanne Davidson

  Crofty and Harriet are around here somewhere, too. I’m just not sure where. There wasn’t enough room for them in this section, and boy, was Harriet miffed! As for Crofty, he was too busy with his beloved Sonnex 2000 video camera to care.

  Ted was whisked away as soon as he got here. He’s in the Green Room with the other nine contestants, getting some last-minute instructions from the producers.

  ‘Oh look,’ says Mrs Dimple excitedly. ‘Here they come.’

  The contestants make their way to the stage. The applause is deafening.

  I check them out. Size up the opposition.

  Boy. Girl. Boy. Boy.

  That’s four. Haven’t spotted Ted yet. Just like him to be lagging behind.

  Girl. Girl. Boy.

  Hmmm. That’s seven. Still no Ted. He must want to make a late entrance.

  Girl. Girl.

  That’s nine ...

  Hang on a minute!

  Where’s the tenth contestant?

  I don’t believe it!

  Where the heck is Ted?

  Jeebs couldn’t sit still. He was too nervous. Prescott Heath was here, he was sure of it. He just wished he knew where, and what he had in mind. Because he did have something in mind. Why else would he have sent him a Money Bags ticket?

  He should have ignored it. Should have pretended it hadn’t arrived. But he couldn’t. He had Brain to think of. And his mates. And now he was here, in the studio audience of Money Bags. Playing right into Prescott’s hands.

  Suddenly there were flashing lights and music as the place came to life, and Jeebs found himself enjoying the atmosphere, despite his wariness. The contestants were brought out in single file, and Jeebs watched as they walked towards the stage. Naturally he was going to get enthusiastically behind Ted Dimple. You had to admire the kid. He wasn’t as smart as Brain Davis, but then, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone as smart as him.

  Jeebs counted the contestants as they were ushered to their positions on stage: three boys and a girl – that was four. Two girls and a boy – that made seven. Another two girls – that brought it to nine.

  Which left the last one – Ted. Where was he?

  Jeebs sighed as he waited. And waited.

  Suddenly he noticed a flurry of activity around the stage. The production staff were running around like headless chooks.

  What were they doing? What was going on?

  Then he realised. They were looking for Ted.

  Ted Dimple was missing.

  Jeebs gulped. There was only one person who could be responsible.

  Mrs Dimple is a quivering mess beside me.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she says worriedly. ‘Where’s Ted?’

  I am wondering the same thing.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Dimple,’ I reassure her. ‘You just sit tight and I’ll sort this mess out.’

  I bolt out of my seat so fast I could qualify for the Olympics. I race through the crowd and head for the Green Room. I’ve got to find Ted. There’s not a second to lose.

  Oh no! It’s empty. There’s not a soul in sight.

  I race out of the Green Room. There are people everywhere. The producers are in a panic.

  ‘Where’s the tenth contestant?’ asks someone frantically. ‘We’re missing Ted Dimple. Has anyone seen him?’

  ‘He was here before,’ says someone else. ‘Isn’t he with the others?’

  I race over to them. I’ll just explain that Ted is my mate; that I know him like a wart on the back of my hand; that if anyone can find him, I can.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say politely. ‘I’m Ted Dimple’s …’

  ‘Oh thank goodness we found you,’ says a skinny young man with so much gel in his fringe it looks like it would snap if you touched it. The tag pinned to his suit says: Chris – Production Assistant.

  ‘Wait! You’ve got this all wrong. I’m not …’

  ‘There’s no need to be nervous,’ says Chris. ‘There’ll be nine others on the stage with you.’

  Normally I would be pumped. Exhilarated! Practically champing at the bit!

  But this is not normal.

  I’m too worried about Ted to be pumped, or exhilarated, or champing on anything. Ted is the one who should be up here, not me. It doesn’t feel right. And Mrs Gribble will have my guts for garters. She’ll think I did this on purpose. I can see the detentions now. She’ll have me picking up rubbish for a month.

  I can’t think. I can’t concentrate. My mind is a jumble.

  Oh Ted! Where are you?

  ‘Just keep your mouth shut and everything will be fine,’ whispered Prescott Heath, as he led Ted through the hustle bustle without incident.

  ‘But …’

  ‘I said, keep it shut. Are you deaf, or just stupid?’

  Prescott Heath had his arm looped around Ted’s for insurance, and they both wore caps, which the former principal had purchased from the two-dollar shop in town. That way they were less likely to be recognised.

  This time Prescott Heath had thought of everything.This time he would not be outsmarted.

  While everyone else was busy, they slipped quietly by. Soon they were in a corridor at the back of the studio. It was dotted with doors and empty rooms, and as they passed by each, Prescott Heath searched for something suitable.

  They had almost reached the end of a second corridor, when they came upon an unlocked storeroom. It contained buckets and mops, and cleaning products of every description. A set of keys hung on a hook outside.

  ‘Ah, here we are,’ murmured Prescott Heath, and he smiled.

  Then he pushed Ted inside, and locked the door behind him.

  CHAPTER 21

  Mrs Dimple is beside herself. Distraught. She is weeping into a hankie. And when she’s not doing that, she’s looking around, obviously hoping Ted will appear.

  I should be there sitting next to her. But I’m not. I’m sitting on stage with nine other contestants. It’s not exactly how I’d planned to spend the day.

  I scan the audience. There is still no sign of Ted. Where can he be?

  ‘Ten seconds,’ I hear someone call.

  Ten, nine, eight …

  Someone must have turned the heating up. I’m starting to sweat.

  Seven, six, five …

  And I’m busting for a pee.

  Four, three, two …

  Bumdrats! I’ve only got home-brand gel in my hair. I hope it doesn’t wilt under all these lights.

  One …

  Suddenly Ken Cooper appears.

  He breezes onto the stage, hair slicked back, and a smile that could light up a room in a power failure. He is one cool customer. A real pro.

  There is music and flashing lights. And the audience goes wild. It’s a pity I can’t say the same for me and Mrs Dimple. But we’ve got other things on our minds. Like Ted.

  Right, concentrate. I can do this. I’ve got to do this. For Ted’s sake.

  ‘Good evening and welcome to Money Bags,’ says Ken Cooper, as he smiles into the camera like it’s his best friend in the world.

  ‘Tonight it’s the All Schools Challenge. Our contestants come to us tonight from every state and territory in Australia. So, let’s get straight into it and go and meet them.’

  The audience claps excitedly. The camera pans across the face of each of us. There is smiling and waving as Ken does the introductions.

  The camera stops on me. I look straight into it. It is a nerve-racking moment.

  ‘And all the way from Daramour in Victoria, comes Ted Dimple,’ Ken informs everyone.

  I feel my mouth go dry.

  I wonder what Mrs Dimple is thinking. I don’t dare look at her. I might fall to pieces.

  Actually, my name is Brain Davis, I want to tell him. I’m not supposed to be here. My mate Ted Dimple is, except that, right at this very moment, he’s missing!

  But I don’t. I smile and wave into the camera like all the other contestants. I hope I don’t look like a doofus!

  It’s all T
ed’s fault if I do. He’s the one who should be here …

  Hang on a minute.

  Oh yes! Why didn’t I think of it before?

  What was it Ted said? The contestants get to spin up a Money Bag and keep the amount of money that’s in it. Wow! That could be as much as ten thousand dollars! The rest of the money goes to the school, of course, for computers, sports equipment, things for the playground; stuff like that.

  I have no choice. I have to look at things from a new perspective. A money perspective.

  I’m here. Ted’s not. That’s just the way it is. Just imagine what I could do with a bag full of money, especially if it’s the ten-thousand-dollar bag full of money!

  Oh boy! I feel that old familiar surge of adrenalin. It is gushing through my veins.

  There is a hush as Ken Cooper gets into position.

  He’s picking up a question card.

  I tremble in anticipation. My heart is thumping hard in my chest.

  I am pumped. I am psyched. I am ready for action.

  Look out Money Bag, here I come!

  CHAPTER 22

  Fired up Finger. I love this!

  ‘You all know how it goes,’ says Ken. ‘The first person with the correct answer in the fastest time will get the chance to play for one million dollars!’

  He whips the audience into a frenzy again. They are clapping, and whooping, and whistling like wild things. How’s a person supposed to concentrate with all that noise?

  He lets loose with the first question.

  ‘A mile is equivalent to how many kilometres?

  ‘Is it:

  a) 1.2 b) 1.4

  c) 1.6 d) 1.8?’

  Too easy! Who doesn’t know that? In the blink of an eye I push ‘c’ on my special keypad.

  The camera is fixed on Ken. He smiles into it. Again. Boy, he must have a sore mouth by the end of the show. I wonder if he practises mouth exercises during the week?

  ‘The answer to that is “c”,’ says Ken. ‘Let’s see how many got it right.’

  A big overhead screen appears. Each contestant’s name is on it. The name flashes yellow if they have the answer correct, and every name is flashing.

  ‘All our contestants knew the answer to that one. But the quickest one was Ted Dimple from Daramour in Victoria, in the time of … yes … phew … 0.8 seconds. That sure is one fast finger, folks!’

  The audience goes wild. Ken looks stunned.

  I make my way to the contestant’s seat opposite to the one where Ken is sitting. I can tell he is impressed. Who wouldn’t be? He shakes my hand. Wow! I hope the kids from school are watching!

  ‘So, Ted, are you ready?’ asks Ken.

  I blush. It feels almost like a lie, being called Ted. But seeing I’m here, I take a deep breath and soak up the atmosphere.

  ‘Ready when you are, Ken,’ I say.

  ‘You know how it works, Ted. Whatever money you make goes into your Money Bag for your school. But, if you get an answer wrong … well, unfortunately it’s see you later Ted Dimple. Okay so far?’

  I nod.

  ‘And don’t forget, if you get stuck on a question you have three opportunities to spin a help line, although you might just spin up The Turkey, and we all know what that means, don’t we?’

  ‘You lose a help line,’ chants the audience.

  ‘That’s right,’ says Ken. ‘But you still get to have a spin of The Big Wheel at the end, of course, whether you win or lose, and you’re guaranteed to win a bag full of money for yourself. As a matter of fact it could be as much as ten thousand dollars!’

  I feel a tingle up my spine. A bag full of money for myself. It is a delicious thought. But I can’t dwell on it. So I put it to the back of my mind. With my thoughts of Ted.

  About Ted. No. No. I can’t go there. Otherwise I will be racked with guilt and start thinking soppy thoughts. How’s a kid supposed to win a million dollars in that frame of mind?

  ‘Ted, are you ready? Ted?’

  ‘Huh? What? Oh yeah. Sure, Ken. I’m ready.’

  ‘Well then, let’s play Money Bags!’

  The audience goes wild. Again. There is foot stomping and thunderous applause. Boy, I’m going to be deaf at the end of all this!

  ‘And here is the first question:

  ‘The word plural means:

  a) one b) more than one

  c) less than one d) almost one?’

  Ha! Too easy! I almost laugh out loud. But I don’t. I try to look serious. Play the game. I am on national television, after all.

  ‘Lock in “b” Ken,’ I say confidently.

  ‘Okay, I’m locking it in,’ says Ken, then he smiles. ‘Yes, that’s correct! It’s time to Spin the Money Bag.’

  Suddenly a huge screen appears with a spinning wheel full of Money Bags on it.

  ‘If you’ll just push the red button on your keypad, Ted, we’ll see how much you’ve won.’

  I push it, and watch the wheel spin.

  When it comes to a stop, the camera zooms in to a close-up of the Money Bag at the very top. Suddenly it disappears to reveal an amount of one thousand dollars.

  ‘Ted Dimple, you’ve won one thousand dollars,’ says Ken Cooper excitedly.

  Ha! That was the easiest thousand dollars I’ll ever make.

  ‘The next question, for another spin of the wheel:

  ‘What time would it be if it was 13.20 hours?

  a) 1.32 b) 11.32

  c) 3.20 d) 1.20?’

  I can’t believe it. Are these questions for real? Even Ted could answer this.

  But I take my time. Ponder the question. Make people think I might be struggling with it. If they only knew!

  ‘Lock in “d” Ken,’ I say after a few moments.

  ‘Yes! Well done Ted. You’ve earned yourself another spin of the Money Bags wheel!’

  So I spin, and this time I add five thousand dollars to my Money Bag.

  There are claps and whistles from the audience. They are egging me on.

  I am really enjoying this.

  Ken looks at his computer.

  ‘The term “mass” means:

  a) the weight of an object

  b) the amount of matter in an object

  c) the size of an object

  d) the measurement of an object?’

  Crikey! Is there nothing I don’t know?

  But I take a deep breath. Bide my time. Keep everyone guessing.

  ‘Hmmm. This is a tricky one,’ I say to Ken.

  ‘Lock in “b”,’ I say finally. After counting to twenty, in fact.

  Ken checks his computer. His face lights up.

  ‘Ted Dimple, have another spin,’ he says excitedly.

  This time I spin up fifty thousand dollars, and Ken reaches over to shake my hand.

  ‘In case you’ve only just joined us,’ he says into the camera, ‘Ted Dimple from Daramour in Victoria currently has fifty-six thousand dollars in his Money Bag. And he still has all three help lines!’

  Then he turns to me and says, ‘I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say, good luck Ted.’

  I wish Ken wouldn’t call me that. It makes me feel guilty. And reminds me of Ted.

  Speaking of Ted … maybe he’s back, sitting right next to his mum in the audience. Cheering me on with the rest of them. He has to be.

  I chance a quick peek into the crowd.

  And feel the blood drain from my face.

  Now there are two empty seats. Right where Ted and Mrs Dimple should be!

  CHAPTER 23

  Jeebs stared in disbelief as he watched the two figures moving quickly towards the foyer.

  That walk. He would recognise it anywhere.

  It was Prescott Heath. He was sure of it.

  And that had to be Ted with him.

  But what were they doing? Where were they going?

  Jeebs rose from his seat, excusing himself politely as he went, then headed quickly in the direction of the foyer.

  ‘What the heck is going on?
’ said Crofty, shaking his head. He was sitting next to Harriet in the centre of the audience. ‘First Ted goes missing. Now Brain’s up on stage …’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ sighed Harriet. ‘I wonder where Ted’s got to, anyway?’

  ‘Beats me. Chickened out, knowing him. Now he’s probably hiding so Brain can’t find him.’

  ‘This is all Brain’s fault,’ snapped Harriet. ‘Ted would have been fine without his help. Brain can be really annoying sometimes.’

  ‘Brain’s not so bad. Look how well Ted did on Quizzical. And that was only because of Brain’s help.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he takes things way too seriously if you ask me. And he expects everyone else to do the same.’

  But Crofty was no longer listening. He was too busy scanning the audience with the Sonnex 2000.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ sighed Harriet.

  ‘What does it look like?’ replied Crofty. ‘I’m trying to find Ted. He has to be around here somewhere.’

  Suddenly Harriet pointed.

  ‘There!’ she said. ‘Heading for the foyer! Isn’t that Jeebs? Maybe he knows something?’

  Crofty looked towards the foyer and saw a figure moving quickly.

  ‘Where do you think he’s going?’ asked Harriet.

  But Crofty was already on his feet, camera in hand.

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ he said.

  CHAPTER 24

  In the very back row of the studio audience, several rows from Crofty and Harriet, sat Len, the studio janitor.

  He always sat up the back to watch Money Bags. There wasn’t much he could do while the show was on and everything was so hectic, so he waited until it finished to tidy up after everyone had gone.

  Generally, most people liked to be further down the front, closer to the action. But not Len. He liked the very last seat of the very back row, where he wasn’t in the glare of the studio lights, and where, if he felt so inclined, he could nod off for a bit and no one would notice. More often than not, he did; even through the clapping, and the cheering, and the occasional foot-stomping.