by Ken Kwek
“CHAPATI!” cried Darren, as he slid out of his chair and hopped on top of Tsai Koh, careful not to let any of his hair fall out of place.
A crowd of students gathered around to watch the action. They ooohed and aaahed and ouched as the bullies piled on top of Timothy…
SPLAT “Oooooooooh!”
SPLAT “Aaaaaaaaaaah!”
SPLAT "Ouuuuuuuch!"
…turning him into a human chapati.
Darren checked his quiff, using his phone screen as a mirror, then coolly rolled off the top of the pile. He knelt down next to Timothy’s face, flashed him a grin, and then snatched up the bag of fritters that had dropped on the floor.
Tsai Koh and Big Burt peeled themselves off Timothy. Timothy was so squished, he didn’t even realise there was no one lying on top of him any more, so stayed spread-eagled on the canteen floor.
Darren licked his lips, his eyes locked on Timothy’s. He pulled a fritter from the bag and took a bite into the crispy, fried dough.
“Mmmmm… So shiok!” boasted Darren, as he tossed the bag of fritters to Tsai Koh.
Timothy blinked, which was all the response he could muster.
Tsai Koh took a fritter from the bag, then passed the rest to Big Burt. Big Burt stuffed all three fritters into his mouth at once and emitted a sound, not unlike a pig troughing, before he slapped the empty bag back down on the floor by Timothy’s face.
And with that, the three bullies swaggered off. Now the show was over, the crowd of students who’d gathered around trickled away too.
Rudy released the camera trigger, his hands trembling. His mouth had been wide open in shock for the entire time he was filming – he had to swipe away a trail of dribble from his chin.
Gilbert and Wacky rushed over to Timothy and knelt down next to him, like comrades tending to a fallen soldier.
“Are you okay, Tim? Can you move?” said Wacky.
“Mmf.”
“Is that a ‘yes’?” asked Wacky.
“Mmf.”
“You were totally lit!” said Gilbert.
Timothy weakly held up a hand. He lifted his head and spluttered: “I’m okay, guys. I’ll live. As long as you got it all on film.”
Gilbert and Wacky looked over to Rudy for confirmation. Rudy was staring at the Bolex, with a tight-lipped smile on his face that made him look like he was in pain.
“Rude...?” croaked Timothy.
“I’m really, really, really sorry, Timothy,” said Rudy. “But…I forgot to load the film.”
20
Mouldy Biscuits
“I don’t believe it!” Timothy blurted out all of a sudden. He’d been mute ever since Rudy’s confession in the canteen. In fact, Rudy and Timothy had spent the entire bus ride from school to Uncle Russ Tee’s shop in complete silence.
Rudy was so startled by Timothy’s outburst, he gulped his Milo down the wrong way, so it came out of his nose.
“I’m sorry!” Rudy spluttered.
“Rude! I nearly died out there!” shouted Timothy.
“I’m really, really sorry!” said Rudy. He had apologised at least a zillion times.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” said Uncle Russ Tee to Timothy, joining them from the pantry. He had gone to fetch a first aid kit and a tin of biscuits. “He was nervous and he forgot. These things happen.”
Uncle Russ Tee passed the tin of biscuits to Rudy, then sat Timothy down on an old rosewood divan that, according to him, had once belonged to a friend of a friend’s great, great auntie, who had lain on it to read love letters from an Indian maharajah.
Uncle Russ Tee squeezed out a blob of antiseptic cream onto a piece of tissue and rubbed it all over Timothy’s face. Timothy didn’t have any cuts but Uncle Russ Tee cleaned him up anyway, just as a precaution. He stuck a plaster randomly on Timothy’s cheek too, for good measure.
Rudy squinted at the label on the dented tin of biscuits. It was too faded to read. He prized open the lid anyway and took out a biscuit. It was hard to tell if the chocolate chips were really chocolate chips or if they were actually spots of mould. He bit into one. It was mould.
Timothy sighed. He wasn’t angry, but he felt utterly defeated.
“Come on, boys!” said Uncle Russ Tee. “Even the great filmmakers like Ang Lee don’t always get it right on the first take. You can’t just give up after one try!”
Timothy slumped back onto the divan. He looked at Rudy, who was now stuffing mouldy biscuits into his mouth to stop himself from crying.
Timothy felt bad about shouting at his best friend. But he wasn’t quite ready to forgive him yet. He looked up at the ceiling, pretending to be interested in a cockroach crawling near a damp patch. Rudy spotted the cockroach too, only his interest was genuine. He was wondering if the cockroach would taste better than the biscuits.
Uncle Russ Tee looked at the glum boys and raised an eyebrow.
“I know what you need,” he said with a smile.
He pushed aside the panels of an old Japanese silk screen to reveal the record console. Timothy and Rudy were immediately on their feet.
“Oh no, no, please, Uncle Russ Tee…” said Timothy, feeling his heart shrivel with dread.
“No ‘Yellow River Cantata’, please! We’re fine, we don’t need cheering up!” protested Rudy.
But Uncle Russ Tee raised his finger and bowed his head by way of silencing them. The boys looked at each other and groaned.
Uncle Russ Tee set the record spinning, and the speakers crackled to life. Simultaneously, the boys held up their fingers, ready to plug their ears.
They watched as Uncle Russ Tee reached behind his head and pulled the green rubber band that was holding his hair up in a ponytail. His long salt-and-pepper locks fell down around his shoulders.
Oh, no! thought Timothy. He’s going to do his wild body jerks again.
“It seems,” growled Uncle Russ Tee in his Batman voice, “that some musicians of the millennial set are enlightened.”
Suddenly a bar of ominous piano notes filled the room and then the vocals joined in. It was a tune the boys recognised immediately.
“WARRIORS!” cried Timothy and Rudy together. Imagine Dragons was their favourite band! They sang and stamped their feet as Uncle Russ Tee raised his arms like an overlord marshalling his army.
Timothy and Rudy found two old bamboo parasols in an urn to use as swords. They pretended to spar with each other, and paced around the room, side by side, in step with the marching beat of the song.
Uncle Russ Tee pulled on his cloak and picked out a crooked walking stick from the same urn. He jumped on top of the divan and pumped the walking stick in the air like a magic staff. With his long, flowing hair, he looked like Gandalf…if Gandalf had a goatee.
As the song segued into an electric guitar solo, Timothy moved a large standing fan behind the divan. Rudy swivelled the fan around so it pointed at Uncle Russ Tee. When they switched it on, it blew a pile of papers and food wrappers into the air, along with about a hundred years’ worth of dust. The boys opened their parasols and held them up like shields.
Uncle Russ Tee stood on the divan with his legs wide apart, and played air guitar with the walking stick. His mouth opened and closed to the notes of the guitar solo, his hair blowing wildly by the fan.
On the final twang of the guitar solo, Uncle Russ Tee jumped off the divan. He joined the boys and the trio jumped and danced together in a circle as they roared the lyrics of the final chorus, until the song came to an end with a crash of timpanis.
Timothy and Rudy stood with the parasols in their hands, grinning and panting. Uncle Russ Tee leaned on his walking stick while he caught his breath.
“Well, boys?” he said. “Are we gonna shrivel into our shells, or are were gonna rise up like warriors?”
Timothy and Rudy laughed and threw their arms around their oldest friend, meaning their only friend above the age of twelve.
21
A New Plan
A few days later th
e team were once again seated around the carrom table at Russ Tee Curios. Uncle Russ Tee offered them dried prunes (like, really dried) piled up on a silver tray like Ferrero Rocher.
He uncapped glass bottles of Sinalco and handed them out. The label said it was a fizzy orange soda, but it tasted more like flat syrup or cough medicine.
“After the chapati incident, maybe we should try to capture the bullies individually,” suggested Wacky.
Gilbert shook his head. “Impossible. They’re like wolves, they only ever move as a pack.”
Timothy bit his lip. The incident had deflated his confidence somewhat. He felt it was far too dangerous to attempt entrapping Darren and his sidekicks again.
“What about trying to catch Bella instead,” he said.
“Wouldn’t we become the bullies if we picked on Bella?” asked Rudy. “I mean, four against one.”
“Plus, she’s a girl,” said Gilbert.
“So what if she’s a girl?” said Wacky. “It doesn’t make her any less of a bully. Wake up to gender equality, dude.”
“Listen, guys,” said Timothy, “we’re not picking on her, we’re exposing her. If you think about it, she’s far more devious than Darren and his oafs. She never has to use brute force. She lies to people while smiling at them, then she stabs them in the back. She killed Orange and stole Duke from right under our noses!”
“Your nose,” corrected Rudy.
“We have to do it for Orange and Duke!” cried Timothy.
“For Orange and Duke!” echoed his friends, as they clinked bottles.
“Well,” interjected Uncle Russ Tee, “once a thief, always a thief ! Perhaps you could lure Bella with something precious. Something she can’t resist getting her hands on. Then you could film her stealing it and voilá! We ’ave our proof,” he concluded, in his best Inspector Clouseau impression.
The team clinked bottles again.
“Hmm…but what to use as the bait?” Uncle Russ Tee pondered out loud. “I don’t think your mark will be interested in Sinalco, even if it is the oldest and most delicious carbonated drink in the world. She probably won’t be tempted by a bag of dough fritters either.”
“Something shiny?” offered Timothy.
“Yes!” said Uncle Russ Tee, holding up a finger. “I know just the thing.” He rose from his beer crate and poked around a shelf stuffed with ornaments and lanterns. “Where is it…” he mumbled. “Aha!” Reaching to the back of the shelf, he pulled out a wooden box etched with intricate carvings and set it on the carrom board.
Timothy lifted the lid.
“Forks and spoons?” said Wacky.
“And knives. A total of forty-six pieces,” Uncle Russ Tee proudly declared. “You wanted something shiny, right?”
“Yeah, but they look kinda rusty,” observed Gilbert. He started when Uncle Russ Tee spun round abruptly at the sound of his name.
“What are you talking about? It’s vintage silverware,” tutted Uncle Russ Tee. “And the box is a rare Ottoman!”
“Can’t really see Bella wanting to steal a load of old cutlery,” said Rudy.
Timothy looked at Uncle Russ Tee and chose his words carefully so as not to offend him. “Do you have anything that isn’t so…so bulky and heavy. Something less…er…less kitchen-based?”
Uncle Russ Tee rolled his eyes. He returned the Ottoman box to its place on the shelf and rummaged even further. This time he picked up a small wooden box. It was round and made of plain mahogany.
Uncle Russ Tee placed the box on the table. Timothy lifted the lid. There was something shiny inside.
“That is a nine-karat gold ladies’ pocket watch, with Arabic numerals embedded around a blue enamel dial,” explained Uncle Russ Tee.
Timothy carefully lifted the watch out of the box by its chain. It had an ornate butterfly brooch attached to the chain with jewels in its wings that sparkled when they caught the light.
“The blue gemstones are sapphire and the purple are amethyst.”
All four teammates gasped at the elaborateness of the item. Timothy held his breath as he turned the watch over in his hands, as if his breath might damage it in any way. He felt the weight of it, as he examined the intricate wings of the enamel butterfly.
“She won’t be able to resist it,” said Timothy.
“No, she won’t,” said Uncle Russ Tee. “It’s an 1890, Swiss-made treasure, valued at $2,000.”
“Two thousand?” four voices exclaimed in unison. “Really?”
“Yes, and it belonged to my mother.”
“Your mother?”
Uncle Russ Tee was about to say something else but seemed to choke on his words. He turned away from the children and hid his face in his hands. Timothy noticed Uncle Russ Tee’s shoulders were shaking. Was he crying? Then Uncle Russ Tee threw his head back – and erupted into uncontrollable laughter.
“Did you really think I’d let some snotty tween vampiress get her hands on a nine-karat gold watch?” he chortled.
“So, it’s not worth $2,000?” said Timothy.
“No, no, of course not!” said Uncle Russ Tee. “But it really did belong to my mother. So I do want it back.”
22
The Bella Trap
“Okay, team. Bella’s chief tactic is manipulation,” Timothy announced. He was speaking from experience. “She might seem all innocent, but she’s a wolf ! And our goal is to strip the wolf from her sheep’s clothing.”
It was the week before the Triple S Fair. Timothy and his team were having a debrief. They were standing in an alcove behind the school library. The walls were scrawled with the wisdoms of students of Bangsvale before them, like:
Rudy loaded a reel of film into the camera. He exaggerated the process so nobody could deny he had done it this time around.
“No pressure, Rudy, but if you blow this, that’s it. Finito. No more science project,” said Gilbert.
“Stay cool and you’ll do fine,” said Wacky to Timothy as she handed him a spring roll. “And eat this as you walk past Bella. It’ll make you look casual.”
The team made their way towards the schoolyard, where Bella was playing jump-rope with three other girls. They walked side by side, taking slow deliberate steps that made them look like a gang of American tough guys about to do something really amazing, like save the world from extinction.
Gilbert and Wacky split from the gang and found themselves a bench along the edge of the schoolyard. They had a perfect view of anyone coming and going from there. They had promised to warn Timothy if they saw Darren, Big Burt or Tsai Koh attempt to “chapati” him again.
Rudy and Timothy felt like a pair of special agents on a sting operation – armed with a Bolex camera and a greasy spring roll as weapons. Timothy took a bite of his spring roll, and strolled right up to where Bella was playing.
Meanwhile, Rudy snuck behind a nearby vending machine and positioned himself there so that he couldn’t be seen. He focused on Timothy and Bella and watched through the viewfinder.
Timothy shrugged and looked around the schoolyard in an attempt to appear natural. When he was sure Bella could see, he flipped open the brass cover of the pocket watch and checked the time. The watch read 8.12pm, even though it was 10.45am.
Something caught Bella’s eye.
“Hey, Timothy!” she called out.
Timothy looked over, feigning surprise. He realised he did not look cool eating a spring roll and tossed it aside.
Rudy panned the camera to follow the spring roll that Timothy had thrown. He had to fight every fibre of his natural instinct to keep hold of the camera, rather than abandoning his post completely to retrieve the spring roll. He reluctantly panned the camera back to Timothy and Bella and pressed the record button.
Wacky pulled out her bag of spring rolls and offered one to Gilbert. They watched the scene unfold and were just about close enough to hear what Timothy and Bella were saying.
“Oh... Hi.” Timothy said without even looking up at Bella. He fiddled w
ith the watch chain, trying to look busy.
“I just wanted to say sorry,” said Bella.
“Yeah, you said that before,” sighed Timothy.
“No, I mean it this time. Stealing a hamster is one thing. But destroying the robot you and your friends had spent months building, that was just… completely wrong. I told Darren he’d gone too far and, well, we’re not friends any more.”
“Hah! Hamster slayer!” Wacky shouted. Gilbert had to stifle Wacky’s reaction by stuffing a whole spring roll into her mouth, so as not to attract Bella’s attention.
Wacky composed herself. She swallowed the spring roll and whispered to Gilbert. “What about the fact that she KILLED Orange?
Gilbert nodded in agreement. They both looked back at Bella, their brows furrowed.
“Hmm…okay. Whatever,” said Timothy.
“Friends?” said Bella. She held out her hand to Timothy. Timothy reached in and they shook hands.
“Cool!” beamed Bella as she flashed Timothy a smile. Timothy felt his face go red.
“Hey, what’s that you’ve got around your neck?” Bella asked, as if noticing the pocket watch for the first time.
“It’s a watch,” said Timothy.
“No way!” exclaimed Bella, moving closer to Timothy. “Can I see?”
Timothy let Bella hold the watch, but he kept it safely attached to him with the chain around his neck. “Do you like it?” he asked, trying to suss out her angle of attack. “It’s got a ten-minute snooze function.”
“Stop teasing!” said Bella, socking Timothy playfully on the arm. “Where did you get it? It looks about a thousand years old.”
“An uncle gave it to me,” replied Timothy.
“It’s really cool,” said Bella. She paused, then said: “Timothy, do you think I could borrow this for a few days? You won’t believe it, but Sha-Mayn and I are doing a project about horology for the science fair. This would be such an awesome exhibit. I promise I’ll return it to you after the fair.”
