Just Crazy (7 page)

Slayer stops trying to bite Sooty and starts trying to bite me instead.

He sinks his teeth into my leg.

‘Aaggh!' I yell.

I drop Sooty.

Sooty sprints away towards home.

‘Quick, Danny!' I yell.

I try to run after Sooty but I'm dizzy from spinning around and I run into a tree.

Ouch.

Danny helps me up.

Lisa and Roseanne are just standing there shaking their heads and laughing.

I want to tell Roseanne off for not keeping her crazy dog on a leash but I don't have time for that now. We have to catch Sooty.

Danny and I take off after him. We chase him all the way home.

When we get there, Sooty is in the back yard, lying on the grass, panting.

Danny and I flop down beside him.

‘Poor dog,' says Danny. ‘Look at him. He's exhausted.'

Poor dog? What about me? I've been blasted by Dad, lost at least ten weeks' pocket money,
whacked my head, been blasted by Mum, been humiliated in front of Lisa, hit by a pine cone, bitten by a dog and had a head-on with a tree. And Sooty still hasn't been sick. It's not fair.

‘What now?' says Danny.

‘I hate to say it,' I say, ‘but I think we're going to have to tell Ms Livingstone the truth.'

‘But you said . . .' says Danny. ‘You said . . .'

‘I know, Danny' I say. ‘But that was before we'd tried everything. He's not going to spew. The only thing left is to wait until it comes out the other end, and there's no way I'm going to touch that.'

‘Hang on,' says Danny, grabbing my arm so hard it hurts. ‘Look!'

He's pointing towards Sooty.

I don't believe it.

Sooty's wandered to the edge of the lawn and is being sick.

It's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen!

‘Good dog, Sooty,' I say. ‘Bring it all up. You'll feel better.'

He coughs a few more times and walks away.

‘Come on, Danny,' I say. ‘We've got work to do.'

We go over and kneel beside the pile of
steaming, frothy goo. It's a yellowy sort of colour with patches of brown.

I grab a stick and start poking at it, looking for the flying saucer.

Danny does the same.

I find a piece of what I think is our assignment, but on closer examination it turns out to be part of a chocolate wrapper.

Searching through Sooty's vomit with a stick is not exactly my idea of a great afternoon's entertainment. But what's really bad is that there's no trace of the flying saucer. Or the aliens.

I push aside another lump of half-chewed chocolate and then I see something green. There they are! Our aliens!

‘Danny!' I say. ‘I found them!'

Danny stares down into Sooty's sick and smiles widely.

‘I bet those guys are pleased to see us,' he says.

‘EEERRRGGHHH! I don't believe you two!' says a voice behind us.

I turn around. It's Jen.

‘You are gross!' she says. ‘I've never heard of anyone weird enough to play with their own sick!'

‘It's not my sick!' I say. ‘It's Sooty's!'

‘I'm going to tell Mum,' she says, putting her hand up to her mouth. ‘You two need help. Serious professional help!'

Jen turns and starts to run.

I'm already in enough trouble. I don't really think Mum needs to know about this.

‘Quick, Danny' I say. ‘Help me stop her!'

We get up and run after her. I grab Jen's shoulder.

‘Get your spewy hands off me!' she screams. She shakes us off and runs up the steps into the house.

‘That's all I need,' I say, turning back to Danny. ‘But at least we found the aliens.'

‘Oh no,' says Danny, ‘look!'

Sooty has returned to his vomit. And he's eating it like he hasn't eaten for a week.

‘Get away from that, you crazy dog!' I scream.

We run over to scare him away, but it's too late. They've gone. He's eaten them.

Again.

‘You stupid dog!' I yell. ‘You ate our aliens! Twice! I'm going to kill you!'

I put my hands around his throat and start to squeeze.

‘Andy!' says Mum sharply. ‘What is wrong with you today?'

She's standing outside the back door.

I let Sooty go.

‘Nothing, Mum,' I say.

‘Nothing?' she says. ‘Your father told me about the chocolate. And Mr Broadbent has just been on the phone telling me what you were doing to Sooty in the playground. Then Jen comes in and says you were sick and she saw you playing with it. And now I find you strangling the poor dog.'

‘But . . .' I say.

‘No more of your pathetic excuses,' she says. ‘Please! Until you learn to treat Sooty better you can sleep in his kennel and he can have your bed.'

She turns and storms back inside.

I look at Sooty. This is all his fault.

I kneel down, hold his head and stare into his eyes.

‘Are you happy now?' I say.

He wags his tail, leans forwards and licks my mouth.

I think I'm going to be sick.

'm standing in the middle of the school oval.

I'm trembling.

And I'm covered in sweat.

Am I crazy to be doing this?

No.

In fact, I'd be crazy
not
to do it.

This sort of opportunity doesn't present itself every day. Besides, it's a perfect morning for flying. The sky is clear and it's not too windy.

Mr Pickett, Danny's dad, is running this year's school fete. It's on today. Danny and I have been here since 6 a.m. helping him set up. For the last hour we've been filling balloons with helium. We're going to put them
along the school fence and front gates. We've also got some weather balloons that were donated by the local army disposals store. We've painted a letter on each one. Put them together and they spell ‘FETE'. Mr Pickett's idea is to attach them to four really long pieces of rope and float them high above the school to let people know the fete is on. Which is what's going to happen. Eventually. But first I'm just going to take them for a little joy flight.

Danny and I have tied two enormous bunches of party balloons to the front straps of my backpack, and the four giant weather balloons to the back of it.

The balloons are tugging at my backpack, pulling me upwards. My toes are just touching the ground. The only thing keeping me from floating off is that Danny is holding on tightly to my arm and the rope around my waist.

‘Okay,' I say to Danny. ‘Let the rope out about ten metres and then haul me back in. Got that?'

‘Are you really sure you want to do this?' he says. ‘I don't think it's a good idea.'

‘Are you kidding?' I say. ‘Of course it's a
good idea! It's a great idea! It's a brilliant idea! It's perfectly safe. Just don't let go of the rope.'

Danny shakes his head.

‘I won't let go,' he says. ‘You can count on me.'

I'm not leaving anything to chance, though. That's why I'm holding a long sharp stick. Just in case.

If Danny does let go, then all I'll have to do is burst a couple of balloons and I'll descend slowly and safely. It can't go wrong.

‘Come on, Danny,' I say. ‘Before your dad gets back. He said he'd only be half an hour. We don't have much time.'

‘Are you ready?' says Danny.

‘Roger,' I say.

‘Roger?' says Danny, looking around. ‘Who's Roger?'

‘Nobody,' I sigh. ‘It's what pilots say. It means yes.'

‘Oh yeah,' says Danny. ‘I forgot. I'm just a bit nervous. If Dad finds out about this he's going to kill us.'

‘Come on, Dan,' I say. ‘Your dad will never know. I'm just going straight up and straight down.'

Danny nods.

‘All right, Roger,' he says. ‘Have fun.'

He lets go of my arm.

My backpack pulls even harder against my chest and I quickly start floating upwards.

I can't believe it. It's working, I've always wanted to fly, and now I am.

I flap my arms and call down to Danny.

‘Look at me!' I say. ‘I'm flying!'

‘Go, Roger!' yells Danny.

‘Stop calling me Roger, you idiot!' I yell.

‘Roger, Roger!' yells Danny.

I shake my head. I can't believe I'm trusting this moron with my life.

I look all around me. It's a great view. I can see forever. The neighbourhood is laid out below me like a little toy village. And there's my house! Wow!

I wish I could stay up here all day, but it's cold and the wind is much stronger this far up. I should have worn a jumper.

‘Danny!' I yell. ‘That's enough. Bring me down!'

He looks pretty small from up here, like a little boy flying a kite.

He waves back. Then he starts letting out the rope to make me go higher. He obviously can't hear me.

‘No, Danny!' I scream. ‘Not higher! Lower!'

I point towards the ground.

He points at me and points back to the ground and shrugs.

I nod wildly.

‘Yes, Danny!' I yell. ‘Down!'

He starts trying to pull me in, but he seems to be having trouble. The wind is really strong up here, and I'm starting to drift towards the edge of the oval.

Danny is leaning back, straining on the rope. But it's no use. He's not pulling me down — I'm pulling him along.

Uh-oh.

This is not fun anymore. And the wind seems to be getting even stronger.

‘Come on, Danny,' I call. ‘You can do it!'

But he can't hear me. And he can't do it, either. He is being dragged to the edge of the oval where it slopes steeply away to the fence. He takes two giant steps, trips and tumbles down the bank . . .

I feel myself whoosh high and fast into the air. Danny has let go of the rope!

I can see him lying at the bottom of the bank, holding his leg. He's getting smaller and smaller and smaller.

Aaaaggghhh! I'm floating away!

What am I going to do?

How am I going to get down?

What if I just keep going up and up and up until I end up out in space?

This was a bad idea.

A dumb idea.

A crazy idea.

A bad, dumb, crazy idea.

A crazy, bad, dumb, bad, bad, dumb, crazy, bad idea.

And I've only got myself to blame. Which makes it even worse. I hate that.

Hang on. The stick! I forgot about my stick!

I don't have to worry about a thing. All I have to do is burst a couple of balloons and I'll go down instead of up. Mr Pickett won't be happy about me bursting the balloons, but at least I won't just disappear and never be seen again, which will make
me
happy.

I raise the stick as high above my head as I can. I try to poke a hole in the ‘F' balloon but it just bobs away. The skin is tougher than I thought. I jab at the ‘E' balloon. It bobs away as well. I try some of the party balloons but it's no use. There's nothing to push
against. This stick was another bad, dumb, crazy idea.