Milton the Megastar

by Emma Read

  Ralph couldn’t refuse Audrey when she called him strong. He didn’t know what capable meant, so he let that one go, but it sounded good. ‘Fine. Let’s get on with it before Bradley O’Must Get My Hair Done Again comes back.’ He exercised his jaw in preparation. ‘Ugh, I hate chewing up bits of paper.’

  Zoe and Greta were sharing a plate of laulau, lomi-lomi salmon and poi, while Dad looked at them nervously and ate a cheese and ham toastie. He wrinkled his nose. ‘What is that stuff you two are eating? It looks like a purple jellyfish.’

  ‘Oh, Dad, you’re so unadventurous. Have you heard from Mako yet? What’s the plan to expose Mr O’Hair as a tree-killer?’

  Greta dipped a piece of fish in the poi and shushed Zoe.

  ‘Oh, come on – plastic straws? Polystyrene cups? And no one walks anywhere in this hotel. Have you seen all the golf buggies? It’s got to be him, remember he had mud on his boots when we arrived? I bet he’d come straight from digging up the mountain.’

  Dad sighed. ‘Mud isn’t proof, Zoe. But we should go and take a look,’ he said. ‘There’s a great visitor centre in the national park. We can’t come all this way without seeing a volcano, right? We’ll go tomorrow.’

  Zoe clapped her hands, hugged her dad and leapt up.

  ‘Where are you going? You’ve not finished your lunch,’ said Greta, but Zoe had already dashed towards the hotel. ‘Going to get my hat,’ she called back. ‘It’s hot out here.’

  Zoe ran to the lift and fidgeted all the way to the tenth floor. She dived out into the hallway and checked the plant pot, but the spiders weren’t there. Her stomach flipped. Where could they be? They must still be inside. She looked down at the bright orange-and-green patterned carpet and saw a small, torn piece of paper poking out from under Bradley O’Hair’s office door. She picked it up then lay on the floor to look under the door.

  ‘Milton? Audrey? Ralph? Are you there?’ The gap was too small to see under. She sat up and was about to read what was on the scrap when she was suddenly aware of someone behind her.

  ‘Miss Macey, isn’t it?’ It was Bradley.

  Zoe gasped, stumbling to her feet and falling back into the wall.

  ‘What exactly are you doing, young lady?’ He loomed over Zoe, seeming quite big (although Dad had said he was actually only average height) and wide, and despite yet another impossibly tasteless floral shirt, he looked threatening. He fixed his little eyes on her and his mouth turned to a snarl. ‘Are you spying on me?’ he growled.

  ‘I, um, I was lost,’ Zoe stuttered, cringing at the dreadful excuse. ‘Your hotel is just so . . . big.’ She tried a nervous smile.

  Bradley leant away a little and his face relaxed. ‘Well, yes, little missy. It is big. One of the biggest. Maybe the biggest. But still, what were you doing on the floor?’

  Zoe thought quickly, surprised that her obvious flattery had worked. ‘I dropped my, er, earring,’ she said. ‘I think it rolled under the door.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Bradley nodded. ‘All righty, let’s take a look, then. Just as long as you’re not a spy. Top-secret stuff going on in here. Important stuff. Big stuff.’ He slapped Zoe on the back and laughed loudly as he unlocked the door and threw it open.

  Zoe crept in, watching Bradley for any clue that her suspicions were right, that he was on to her and was about to lock her in the office and she’d never be seen again. Keeping hold of the handle, she peered in and saw the spiders looking dazed on the floor. They must’ve been behind the door as Bradley flung it open. Zoe dashed over to them and put Ralph and Audrey in her pocket. Then she picked up Milton and whispered to him.

  ‘Milton. I need you to hang on to my ear. Don’t ask why, just do it, or we’ll all be in a Hawaiian ant stew.’ She stood up. ‘Found it. It rolled right over here.’ She lifted her hair aside to show Bradley her ‘earring’.

  Bradley leapt backwards like a hippopotamus ballerina in a cartoon. ‘Ugh! It’s very lifelike. What is it with you and spiders?’

  ‘Don’t you like them?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘No! They’re creepy and pointless and a nuisance, and they make a mess of my beautiful hotel. A lot like small girls. Now run along, little Miss Macey. And do try not to get lost up here again.’ He stared at her with his cold blue eyes, then slammed the door.

  A Catastrophic Eruption

  Zoe whisked them all back to her room in her hand, apart from Milton who was still clinging on to her ear for dear life. Buzzing with adrenaline, they told her what they had seen on the video – although it took an agonizingly long time on the Spida-Com – then Zoe stuck the chewed-out piece of paper into the book and wrote ‘eco-crazy Maceys’ next to it.

  Finally, the proof they needed.

  ‘We have to tell Dad and Greta,’ she said, slamming her hand down on the bed, then snatching it back with a sharp intake of breath. But it was fine – the spiders were sitting safely on a cushion. ‘Sorry, guys. I know not to do that. I’m just so angry. That awful man. Did you see his scary eyes? And the smell . . . ugh!’

  The spiders mimed fainting.

  ‘Yes, it nearly made me pass out . . . Oh – it made you pass out? You poor things. You are so brave. Here –’ Zoe took a matchbox from her bag – ‘I saved these for you.’ She tipped out a clawful of ambrosia beetles as a reward.

  Ralph looked like he might be sick.

  ‘You’re the most amazing creatures, you know that? Don’t you worry, Milton, we’re going to get up that mountain and find your dad. And put a stop to whatever Bradley O’Scare is up to.’ And with that, she popped the Do Not Disturb door hanger on the outside handle and ran to the lift.

  Owen and Greta were in the lounge, huddled around Greta’s laptop, up to something for sure. As soon as Zoe’s dad saw her coming, he slammed the laptop shut, just like the time she’d crept up on him watching that zombie show.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Nothing, darling,’ said Dad.

  Nothing was more suspicious than ‘Nothing, darling’. Zoe was now convinced that they were keeping something from her, like she was a child. Dad used to tell Zoe everything, before Greta came along, but now it was always them. Like she’d been kicked out of the gang. Zoe pushed the feeling away. This was more important. She had to focus. She sat in the chair opposite, right on the edge. Her hands on her knees. ‘Dad, Greta, if you can tear yourselves away from each other for one minute, something’s happened.’

  Dad went pale. ‘Did you meet a boy?’

  Zoe rolled her eyes. ‘This is serious. Way more serious than boys.’ She leant in. ‘O’Hairy head is definitely the one bulldozing the trees and killing all the wildlife and I can pro—’

  Dad interrupted her with a pointy and not very fatherly finger. ‘Zoe! I’ve already asked you not to call him names. Let’s stick to Mr O’Hair, shall we, until we’ve got proof . . . and after we’ve taken the free boat trip he’s offered us.’

  Zoe groaned. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you – I have proof.’ She handed over the notebook triumphantly. Perhaps now they would listen to her.

  Dad read the front cover. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Our, I mean, my investigation notes.’

  ‘Why Private Eight Eyes?’

  She looked shiftily at the floor. ‘Er . . . ’

  Greta looked at Zoe’s entries in the notebook: the clues about mud on Bradley’s boots, the disregard for environmental issues and the word ‘video’ circled about ten times in different colours. She looked at Zoe, concern on her face and said, ‘Please be careful, Zoe. Mr O’Hair is a person of interest, nothing more. Like your dad said, he’s a bit different but that doesn’t necessarily make him a bad guy.’

  ‘I don’t care about different – I like different, I’m different. But he’s horrible!’

  Mr Macey gasped. ‘Zoe! What’s got into you? Mr O’Hair has been extremely generous, we’re getting this lovely hotel at a huge discount, and the spa day, and all your free movies.’

  ‘And our boat trip,�
� added Greta.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. ‘You are both so focused on freebies and being lovey-dovey with each other and you can’t even see what’s right in front of you. Bradley knows we’re on to him. He’s playing games with you, creating a diversion so you don’t investigate him properly. Well, it’s a good job we’re on the case.’

  ‘We?’ said Greta. Her expression gave Zoe cause to swallow hard. Why had she been so careless and said ‘we’? And with hindsight Private (Eight) Eyes was a bit obvious. She shrunk away from Greta’s knowing look and turned to Dad, who seemed more interested in the spider doodles in the margins of her notebook. They were quite good, if she did say so herself. She grabbed the book and turned to the next page. ‘There’s the proof. Look – it’s from Bradley’s to-do list. Apparently all he does all day is play golf and chop down trees. He’s trying to get rid of you on his silly boat, while he destroys the planet right under your noses.’

  ‘What’s going on, Zoe? This isn’t like you.’ Greta took the book. ‘What list? Where did you get this?’

  Zoe’s mouth went dry and she tried to swallow. She looked over at the bar, at the window, at the door, contemplating a quick escape, but she was trapped under their gaze.

  ‘His office,’ she said to her lap.

  ‘His office?’ Dad repeated quietly. ‘What were you doing in Mr O’Hair’s office?’

  Zoe weighed her options. For the proof to stand up in court she’d have to tell the truth about where it came from. But at what cost? She thought of everything the spiders had gone through to get that tiny scrap of evidence to her. She couldn’t let them down. It wasn’t the Private (Eight) Eye way. She would have to confess.

  ‘I was spying on him.’

  Greta nodded ‘Uh-huh, just you?’ She ran her finger along the edge of the chewed-out scrap of paper and Zoe knew that she’d been rumbled. Her insides burnt – Greta was playing games with her, waiting for her to confess as though she were the criminal. It was so unfair.

  They stared at each other like poker players, waiting for the other to blink.

  Dad came to the rescue. ‘OK, Zoe Macey, PI I don’t want to spoil your game, sweetheart, but I think you’re taking this a bit far now.’

  ‘It’s not a game!’

  ‘Then where’s the rest of the list? Why just this little scrap? How did you even get in there?’

  Zoe closed her eyes and imagined Milton’s dad disappearing under the tracks of a bulldozer. Time was ticking for him and all the happy-face spiders on the mountain and she was the only one who could save them. It didn’t matter the consequences, it was time to give Greta what she wanted.

  ‘I didn’t go in.’ She looked Greta in the eye and took a deep breath. ‘Milton, Audrey and Ralph did. Through the keyhole. That’s why it’s one little chewed-out piece of a list, it’s all they could carry.’ Her bravery wavered as her dad stood up, spilt his drink all over his trousers and roared.

  ‘WHAT?’

  The other guests in the lounge jumped and glared at him.

  Greta sighed. ‘I really hoped I was wrong. Zoe, you brought your spiders on holiday, didn’t you? After everything we talked about?’

  Zoe shrunk into her seat but her voice was defiant. ‘Milton wanted to see his dad. I couldn’t leave them at home.’

  Greta shook her head. ‘I think you should go up to your room, Zoe.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Greta.’

  ‘Zoe, do as Greta says,’ said Dad in a small voice, running his hands through his hair.

  ‘Why? SHE’S NOT MY MUM.’

  The other guests were very pointedly not looking at them now, all furiously reading their books and papers, or staring out of the window at anything they could.

  ‘Up to your room.’

  ‘Of course you agree with her. You always take her side. Why don’t you just go off and get married and forget about me? I don’t know why you even brought me here.’

  ‘Zoe—’ Greta started to speak but Zoe wasn’t about to be interrupted.

  ‘You don’t want me here, you’re always whispering in a huddle, I should just clear off and leave you to it. It’s a good job I brought my friends, at least they still appreciate me. I should go up that mountain by myself.’ She snatched the notebook from the table and as the tears erupted, she ran out to the lobby and charged up the stairs to her room.

  Scruffy O’Hair

  Zoe dangled her hand off the side of the catamaran over the perfectly calm, blue sea. On board, the storm was still raging between her and her ‘responsible’ adults, but this was Bradley O’Hair’s boat, so of course it was big – big enough for her to be at one end and Dad and Greta to be at the other.

  ‘Hey.’ A shadow appeared across her arm. ‘I’m Dillon.’ A boy’s voice.

  ‘Who sent you? Them, or O’Hair?’ Zoe didn’t look up.

  ‘No one sent me,’ the boy said, sounding confused. ‘And I am O’Hair. Just thought I’d say hi. I live here. I don’t mean on the boat. I mean the hotel.’

  ‘You could still be a spy.’ Zoe rolled over and squinted into the sun, unable to make out his face. ‘What do you mean, you’re O’Hair?’

  Dillon moved out of the sun, bouncing the wide netting at the prow of the catamaran like they were on a trampoline.

  She fumbled her sunglasses off, eyes wide and gripped the ropes in alarm.

  He was the scruffy-haired boy in the photo – the photo that fell over during the earthquake.

  ‘You’re Dillon O’Hair?’

  He posed like she was taking a picture. ‘I sure am.’ He had the hint of an American accent, but mixed up with something else too.

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ Zoe snapped and turned away folding her arms, then quickly changed her mind and grabbed the ropes again.

  ‘There’s no need to be rude. I just wanted to say hi.’

  Zoe flushed, mostly with anger but with a smudge of shame too. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude really, it’s just . . .’

  She mentally kicked herself for almost missing the opportunity – this was Bradley’s son. He could well have insider information.

  ‘I’ve had a fight with my dad and his girl- friend. I’m just being grouchy. Do you want to sit?’

  Dillon sat down cross-legged on the ropes. ‘What did you fight about?’

  Zoe thought fast. ‘I wanted to go for a hike in the forest, but Dad won’t let me – he says there’s some building work going on and it’s all closed off, but I told him you can’t build stuff in the rainforest. That wouldn’t be allowed because it’s a nature reserve.’ She watched Dillon’s face closely.

  He was expressionless for a moment then a smile crept across his face. ‘Nicely done, Zoe Macey. I guess there’s no need to pretend any more.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you my name.’

  ‘I know who you are though. I know your dad is Owen Macey and your stepmom is Greta. You’re here to stick your eco-noses in my dad’s business, like that Mako dude.’

  Zoe edged away from him, still clinging on to the rope netting. ‘She’s NOT my stepmum . . . Are you going to throw me overboard?’

  Dillon laughed loudly and a few of the other guests turned to stare at him.

  ‘Don’t be silly. What kind of person do you think I am? No, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you. Report back to Dad if you’re up to anything. But I guess you’re too smart for that.’

  ‘I knew it!’ exclaimed Zoe. ‘Your dad knew we were coming and he’s been trying to keep us away from whatever he’s building on Kilauea.’

  Dillon sighed. ‘Why can’t you just have a nice holiday, like a normal family, and keep your nose out?’

  ‘We’re not a normal family.’ Zoe shrugged.

  Dillon looked directly into her eyes. ‘What is it about you lot and your obsession with conserving the environment? I don’t get it – there’s tons of environment, it’s everywhere.’ He swept his arm out in the direction of the vast ocean.

  Could he really not kno
w? He seemed to be genuinely asking. Zoe wondered if she could be persuasive enough to turn him. Then Dad and Greta would see how much they needed her help. ‘The environment is a delicate balance. Like this boat – if it tips too far one way, we all suffer.’

  Dillon hmmd.

  ‘Whatever your dad is doing, he’s destroying wildlife habitat. Too much habitat loss is a tipping point. There are endangered species up there that need protecting, especially the Hawaiian happy-face spiders.’

  ‘Destroying is a strong word. He’s just building something to impress Mum, as usual.’ Dillon looked sad for a moment. ‘I never see my mum. She’s always off touring the world. She’s a model, actress and singer. She’s amazing, so Dad is forever trying to impress her with his new projects.’

  ‘Like dropping dry ice into the volcano from a helicopter?’

  ‘Yeah, that wasn’t one of his better ideas.’ He paused. ‘You’re right. You’re not normal are you, Zoe Macey?’

  Zoe’s stomach flipped, and it wasn’t the boat. This was how the spider bullying had started at school last year.

  ‘I meant it as a compliment.’ Dillon smiled. ‘Normal is boring. Everyone round here is sooo normal and no one really talks to me. They all think I’m spoilt ’cause I live in a mega-hotel. But I like you. Maybe you’re right about this saving-the-planet stuff, but really, spiders? No one cares about spiders, do they? They’re creepy. Why can’t they just go somewhere else?’

  Zoe risked a smile too, and wondered if she could actually turn this spider-hater into a Spider Warrior. She bounced the netting and Dillon grabbed on in surprise.

  After the trip, Greta and Dad arrived at Zoe’s door, armed with tea and cakes – apparently they were going to talk, which from the way they said it, didn’t sound like a good thing to the spiders. Dad and Greta squashed on to the small sofa and Zoe sat, head down and cross-legged, on the bed with the small die-cut wooden box beside her and her toy tarantula in her lap.