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Bloodsuckers and Blunders

Page 13

by Poppy Inkwell


  ...

  Do you want to know where the body is? I’ll give you three guesses. It’s not at the Brothers’ Bar in Surry Hills. It’s not even at the local pub on King Street. Where did Boris the Imbécile make his delivery?

  Emma, Katriona, and Ling Ling were about to find out...

  CHAPTER 42

  Lift-off

  The Sunday news presenter was having a field day. High-speed car chases were a dime a dozen but one rarely reported one with such dramatic footage. The original feature about Sookie the Surfing Dog got shoved aside for the news that there was a giant mango on the run, with a Priscilla-look-a-like dumping the contents of a suitcase at pursuing police. Katriona was not doing it on purpose. As soon as she unzipped the designer luggage, Ling Ling’s sari whipped out and wrapped itself around Katriona’s eyes. She managed to bring it down to her neck so she could rummage through the rest of the bag for the GPS but things kept flying out. Katriona stopped to look around and realized that if she peered around the giant mango, she could see where exactly they should be going. Maybe they didn’t need the GPS after all? With full confidence, she yelled, “Straight ahead,” to Ling Ling, and “Overtake, or get lost,” to the four police cars behind her. The sirens were driving her mad.

  Ling Ling was in complete agreement with Katriona. She gestured to the police cars to drive past her and when they didn’t, she sped up to avoid them. It was very stressful. It didn’t help that Emma was sitting next to her, bouncing up and down. “The time! Look at the time!” And then Ling Ling saw him — one of the many strangers whom Ling Ling recognized as part of the odd collection of people she waved to from her apartment every morning — a truck driver parked on the other side of the road. A truck driver, she realized, who could give them directions...

  “Hold on,” she yelled up at Katriona, who grabbed the bag straps just in time.

  Ling Ling executed a perfect U-turn and slammed on the brakes so that she was eye-to-eye with the semitrailer. The driver, a whiskered fellow with rheumy blue eyes, a bulbous red nose, and a gold tooth, recognized her as the-woman-in-the-window whom he had never met, but who he waved to on King Street as he passed through the big city. He took another slurp of coffee from his flask. Ling Ling stepped out of the van.

  It looked like that was about to change.

  The four police cars did not predict Ling Ling’s intention and therefore ended up in each other’s laps with a squeal of brakes and bone-crunching metal, eighty meters away. Their abrupt course created deep furrows in the red earth next to the highway and several dings in the chassis. As Ling Ling explained their predicament to the truck driver - which way to Newtown? - a second helicopter from a rival channel landed and a reporter emerged.

  Back in the television studio, the news presenter wished she could lip-read because her producer was screaming in her earpiece to find out what was going on. By the look of it, the truck driver, the three women and the two news reporters were in negotiations, while the four-car pile-up of police cars formed a messy stack in the background. She was live-to-air and everything had to be done with a smile.

  She smiled.

  “Stay tuned to Sunday Morning Express. We’ll have more exciting action for you, after the break.”

  ...

  “The time! The time!” Emma reminded them all.

  “They could take you,” the truck driver said, gesturing with his head at the helicopters.

  “Absolutely!” the two reporters said together and then frowned. A bidding war ensued. Both wanted to question this intriguing trio of women about their oversized cargo.

  The three women shrugged. It wasn’t as if the police were in a position to help, staggering about their battered cars in bewilderment, so they said goodbye to the truck driver, retrieved their luggage, and became airborne with the helicopter with the most room for their belongings.

  “Firstly, anything you’d like to say to our audience out there?” the successful reporter asked the three women with a smug wave at his rival.

  Ling Ling looked down. The camera followed her gaze and honed in on the crash site before lifting. “Don’t speed,” she said solemnly to the lens.

  CHAPTER 43

  The battle begins

  Coach McNeeson was worried. Apart from Prita and Preyasi, the rest of the Gibson Gibbons were unusually sluggish and bleary-eyed. Admittedly it was 9 o’clock on a freezing Sunday morning, and the frost on the grass had barely begun to melt, but McNeeson had hoped they’d be psyched with the home team advantage. Even though all their supporters were in Gibbons colors chanting encouragement, however, it failed to register with the girls.

  “Buck up,” the gentle Scotsman chided, “I’ve seen zombies more alive than you.” At this, Sofia shrieked and took off for the girl’s toilets. Coach McNeeson looked startled, his bushy eyebrows rising like two furry half-moons.

  Alana excused the team and went into a private huddle. “We have to pull ourselves together,” she urged everybody. “If we don’t,” she said with a worried look at the Barbarians doing one-armed push-ups, “we are SO dead.”

  With this sobering thought in mind, they returned to McNeeson’s warm-up and refocused. It wasn’t easy but they stopped checking over their shoulder for a walking corpse. Coach McNeeson clapped his hands and gestured for a last minute talk. He reminded them that although the Barbarians looked stronger, faster, and more selfassured than their own team, the Barbarians didn’t have what it took to win. Alana and her friends were mystified. The coach had just provided three solid reasons why the Gibbons were going to get beaten. What hope did they have?

  “You,” McNeeson said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke with emotion, “know what it’s like to lose and how to fight on!” He waved a hand at the opposition. “They haven’t got a clue. They’ve never lost in their lives! That makes them vulnerable. Their arrogance is their downfall. Their overconfidence is their weak spot. Their pride makes them blind. I want you to keep at them like a dog with a bone.” McNeeson bared his yellowing teeth. “I want you to be the stubborn camel that refuses to budge.” He paced back and forth. “I want you to be the annoying mosquito that won’t go away.”

  The girls looked thoughtful. They could be determined, stubborn, annoying. Hadn’t all of them persevered in one way or another this year to achieve amazing things in the restaurant, on the violin, in the classroom, or on the skateboard? They might not be as physically strong as the Bluejay Barbarians, but the Gibbons could have the stronger mind.

  “Uh-oh,” Alana whispered.

  “What?” asked Maddie, concerned.

  “I think I just learned something profound from Coach Kusmuk!”

  Thunderous shudders announced the arrival of a helicopter. Three gorilla mascots made their way down a rope ladder. They stopped halfway down and beat their chests. “Go Gorillas!”

  (It looked like the stolen Kombi van had yielded more than just a giant mango.)

  “It’s gibbons, not gorillas. Go Gibbons1” someone in the crowd yelled.

  “Gorillas, gibbons, same-same lah!” one of the mascots said with a dismissive wave of a massive paw. The three of them descended to the field and lumbered toward Alana and her team.

  “Hahaha,” a snide voice chuckled, “still monkeying around, I see.” It was Battle-Axe. The Bluejay Barbarian’s coach. With the three gorilla mascots approaching from one end, and Sofia drawing a third eye on everyone’s foreheads to ward off evil at the other, Coach McNeeson could see why Battle-Axe found the Gibbons amusing, laughable even. Heck, even he had to admit that behind all his brave talk, he was worried for his team. But the big difference between the Barbarians and the Gibbons - apart from ten centimeters and two kilos in weight — was that the Barbarians were individuals playing for personal glory, not a squad playing for the team. The Gibbons loved soccer and cared for each other. What they didn’t have in muscle they made up for in team spirit. They had teamwork, and Coach McNeeson knew that together, they could pull off a win.
r />   The little man aimed a vicious finger at McNeeson’s chest. It was a stretch at 135 centimeters high so he was only able to bury his tiny digit into McNeeson’s belly button. “I take this game seriously. You and your little band of misfits are nothing but a bad joke waiting to implode.”

  “We’ll let our feet do the talking,” McNeeson replied, stepping back from the belly button poke and warding off the wave of protests on his team’s lips.

  The referee’s whistle blew.

  The Bluejay Barbarians stopped arm-wrestling on the grass. Sofia finished “cleansing” the pitch with burning sage.

  The battle began.

  CHAPTER 44

  Football frenzy

  The Gibbons were struggling against the Bluejay Barbarians within the first ten minutes of the game. The Barbarians were stronger and faster, and it was all the Gibbons could do to steer clear of the beefy elbows that found their faces. In the eleventh minute, a kick from the Barbarians’ Number 10 from the halfway line sent the ball soaring unexpectedly into the net.

  Khalilah buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry!” she cried, as Player Number 10 pumped her fist in the air and collected applause from the crowd.

  “No worries, Khalilah!” the Gibbons reassured her. Alana had been expecting it. The Barbarians’ Number 10 was a killer player with wicked footwork who was acutely possessive of the ball. Nobody else had touched it since the starting whistle, preferring to take a punt from the halfway line than pass. And why not, Alana shrugged. It paid off, didn’t it? That was until the Barbarians’ Number 10 tackled her own player to steal the ball soon after play resumed. A ripple of surprise ran through Alana’s team. How big was this girl’s ego? It was then that Alana realized the Barbarians’ weakness. Number 10 never passed the ball. She was too intent on performing tricks, playing for herself, or claiming credit to work with her team, and she could tell it infuriated the other girls. The Gibbons may not be able to outrun the Barbarians or muscle their way out, but at least they had teamwork. Alana suggested a new strategy and the Gibbons felt the results within moments.

  “I was open. I was right there,” a Barbarian player berated their Number 10. “Why didn’t you pass?” The Gibbons exchanged a triumphant look. They had converged on the one player without bothering to mark any of the others. The attempted kick for goal had been headed out of the way by Maddie, who gave everybody the thumbs-up sign before rubbing her head with a grin.

  The next time the Barbarians’ Number 10 had the ball and got blocked she did pass. But Alana was prepared for that too and intercepted it, pulling away with the ball down the field. Number 10 tore after her with a grunt of surprise and caught up, but Maddie had already collected the ball and was passing it to Prita. The ball disappeared down the field and was heading for the Gibbon’s goal with a kick from Preyasi’s boot. The Barbarians’ goalkeeper rushed forward to grab the ball, just as another teammate ran up to boot it out of the way. There was a desperate fumble. Prita caught up and joined in, but by then the ball had rolled free of the three of them. Alana swerved and scooped it up with her boot, taking off for the undefended goal posts. The goalkeeper scrambled after her. It became a race. A race Alana wasn’t sure she could win, so she flicked the ball to Maddie, just as player Number 10 descended on her, teeth bared. It was too little too late. Maddie took the shot and buried the ball deep into the net unimpeded.

  Number 10 rounded on her teammates with a snarl. “See what happens when I pass the ball?”

  “What were you doing so far out of goal, anyway?” another Barbarian scolded the goalkeeper.

  The whistle for half-time sounded. The girls continued to quarrel while Alana’s team celebrated. With the score at one-all, the home crowd was going wild. The three gorillas did star jumps. James hugged Jefri. Flynn and Sofia led a group of Gibbons supporters in a Mexican Wave.

  “That is exactly what I’m talking about,” Coach McNeeson beamed. “Gritty defense that’s relentless. Relentless!” he cried. “You’ve rattled their cage, now. You’ve got them running scared. Now all you have to do is keep it up.”

  “Together,” reminded Alana.

  “Together,” the other girls chorused.

  The Barbarians didn’t look like they were running scared, but they did look angry. One girl poked another in the chest and got poked back. Number 10 was blaming everybody and shouting, while Battle-Axe tried to break up a fight which had broken out between two others. The referee’s whistle sounded.

  “Is it too much to ask for you to win this thing?” Battle-Axe yelled as his team trooped back onto the field. “It’s not like I’m asking you to donate a kidney!”

  The girls on his team threw him a filthy look.

  The Barbarians’ Number 10 took off on her own again and after dribbling the ball past all of the Gibbons, took another shot at goal. It was a kick made under pressure though, and the angle was all wrong. Khalilah made a spectacular dive. To her relief, she managed to push it wide and it skimmed past the goal post. A second Barbarian made the same play, this time fending off her teammate, Number 10, as well. There was a lot of pushing and shoving between the two girls. In the end, the other Barbarian player fell as Number 10 took a vicious swipe at her legs. The ball rolled free of the pitch. The two girls exchanged furious words. Prita took the throw in and this time Alana headed the ball so that it dropped softly at her feet. Then she took off and danced around each of the Barbarians who tried to tackle her. They were fast and powerful, but she kept her feet light.

  The music for the waltz snuck into her head and without thinking she began to hum and count. “One, two, three, dodge, one, two three, step back...”

  She dove for the right. Number 10 was there, anticipating her, but it was a dummy move. Like a magician with a false sleight of hand, Alana sidestepped the outraged striker and then shot the ball through another player’s legs, to catch up with the ball minutes later.

  “That’s a ‘nutmeg’! The Falcons taught her that!” James told anybody who would listen.

  Preyasi was wide open so Alana sent the ball across the field before running forward to collect it again on the return with a high kick that smashed the Barbarians’ defense. The ball hit the top post and bounced on the goalkeeper’s head before falling backward into goal. Score!

  The crowd went ballistic.

  The gorilla mascots replayed the move with kung fu kicks of their own. Jefri and Flynn began to waltz. Sofia did cartwheels while James caught flies with his mouth. The Falcons hadn’t taught Alana that move and neither had James. Where had that ninja kick come from?

  The Gibbons were now one up but the Barbarians fiercely protested the goal. “No! It’s not fair!” Number 10 ranted, shadowing the referee at his every turn and getting into his face. The referee looked up, angry. Soon they were nose to belligerent nose. When several firm warnings didn’t work, the referee thrust a yellow card into the air. “No way! You can’t do that to me!” Number 10 protested. She turned and shoved her teammates aside before reaching over and burying her teeth in Khalilah’s shoulder with a yell of frustration.

  A shocked Khalilah screamed.

  “What? I didn’t do anything!” howled the Barbarian’s Number 10. The half-moon holes in Khalilah’s torn shirt told a different story.

  Number 10 had earned a red card. Number 10 was off. The Barbarians were down one player.

  “I can still play,” Khalilah said, wincing. Her shoulder was already turning the color of grapes.

  Coach McNeeson shook his head. It looked like he’d have to organize a tetanus shot. “You’re up, Sofia,” he called.

  “But, but... they bite,” she protested with wide eyes.

  McNeeson looked at his watch. There wasn’t much of the game left. “Don’t worry. The biter’s been sent off and your team will help defend the goal. We’re up two-one, anyway. Anything we get now is a pure bonus,” he assured her. “Believe me,” he smiled, looking over at the other team, “Christmas for me has come early.” Battle-Ax
e was giving the disgraced player a severe dressing down.

  “Go Gibbons!” the Gibbons supporters screamed. “Go! Go! Go!”

  With Number 10 on the bench, the rest of the Barbarians had a chance to share the play and moved the ball easily between them, despite being outnumbered. Before long, Sofia saw the ball coming toward her at what she calculated was 42 km/hour before pouncing on it with both arms and legs. Phew! Saved! But as she scrambled to get up, Sofia accidentally scissor-kicked the ball back into the goal in a move which sent the other team into paroxysms of delight. The score had equalized. Sofia covered her face in shame. An own goal! How could she be so stupid? “I suck!” she moaned. “I’m so sorry!” she told her teammates, but they had already resumed play.

  Maddie touched the ball lightly to Alana who flicked the ball to Prita. Preyasi was ready to receive the ball as usual but the Barbarians were one step ahead of the twins and their player twirled in the air to block the shot. The ball bounced off her back with a force that sent the girl sprawling.

 

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