Launched! (5 page)

After a substitute afternoon tea of jam finger biscuits the kids headed off for more bike practice, promising Mr Lark that they’d see him the following Tuesday.

‘You’re on cheese scone practice for the rest of the week,’ joked Bryce as Mr Lark waved from his front veranda.

‘Cheeky-y-y-y!’

It was one of those beautiful afternoons when the sunlight streamed through openings in muffin-shaped clouds and the air was full of the caws and coos of birds and the chirrup of crickets. It was that leisurely time after school but before peak hour. As the kids coasted round a bend, they savoured the warmth on their backs and the way
the road loomed up to greet them, before levelling out to distance itself again. Like a chain of atoms they moved as one, each rider linked to the next. They weaved and ducked between street signs and parking meters, under billboards and tree branches, in a constant game of follow the leader.

‘Anyone up for a criterium?’ called Darcy, whirling around and pulling up.

‘What a criterium?’ asked Tong.

‘It’s where we ride around a certain number of blocks and do laps.’

‘Like a road race but a heck of a lot shorter,’ said Bryce.

‘Make me fit and strong,’ said Tong. The others laughed—already they could see the determination and grit in their new friend, and admire his desire to make the most out of every opportunity.

‘Make us all fit,’ said Darcy. ‘All that sprinting and cornering, blocking and drafting—it’s got to be good for the trials.’

‘How far?’ asked Clem. ‘Don’t forget I’ve got Bella.’ The extra weight of Bella in her basket slowed her down, changing both momentum and equilibrium, but she didn’t mind.

‘Just a few blocks. Past The Van, then back to here.’

‘Why don’t we start at The Van? That way I can
tie Bella to the bumper bar. We’ll be back before she’s even noticed we’re gone.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Let’s do it.’

‘Fine.’

Mio was the first to reach The Van. What she saw there made her shiver. A nugget of unease formed in her belly. Someone had scrawled all over The Van. The faded—but still beautiful—sunset and bird could barely be seen under the ugly black marks.

‘Oh, my God!’ said Clem when she arrived. ‘We’ve been done over.’

‘Ferals!’

‘Scum.’

‘
Cá uon
!’

‘What’s that mean?’ asked Clem.

Tong wore a slight grin as he translated, ‘Bad fish.’

Clem grimaced. ‘Bad fish’ll do.’

Peace signs, once faded, had been traced over with thick whorls of paint, so that now, instead of peace they had a jarring, violent look.
The Private Property Keep Out
sign had been whited out and in its place were the words,
Shooting star.

‘Wonder what it means,’ said Clem, furious that her beloved van had been violated. She turned to Bryce. ‘Any ideas?’

Bryce studied the words, thoughts firing off in his head. Shooting stars…shooting stars were pretty; you saw them at night; they lasted only a second or two; and didn’t the science teacher say they were meteoroids hitting the Earth’s atmosphere?

‘Bryce, you said that “toy” meant something in graffiti, does “shooting star” mean something, too?’

Bryce was about to shake his head and say ‘No’ when he remembered something. Something from last year. He’d been sitting with some friends, it was a cold night, late, and they huddled to keep warm. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember who was there. There was Brick, and Tude, and some kid he didn’t know, and Adz, of course. Earlier that night he and Adz had scrounged two whole barbecued chickens and gorged themselves stupid. They were so stuffed that when they lay back their stomachs rose to the heavens like massive mounds of compost. Suddenly, this light had exploded and trickled down the vast sky like a raindrop, only to fizzle before their eyes. What was it Adz had said?
Shooting stars are nature’s graf.
It was a weird thing to say, but poetic, and it stayed with Bryce long after the star had gone. He thought about it some more—nature’s graffiti was found in shadows, reflections and lightning, in animal
tracks, mud fissures and fossils. When you thought about it, nature’s graf was everywhere. Bryce studied the words on The Van, straining to make some sort of sense of them. He wondered what had happened to Adz. To all of them.

‘Well does it?’ repeated Clem. ‘Does it mean something?’

‘Nope.’

Darcy paced up and down. ‘Mongrels!’ His voice came out all punchy. ‘Wonder who did it?’

‘No idea,’ said Bryce. ‘Let’s check out the other side.’ He ventured around the front of The Van, anxiety bubbling as he imagined what he might find. But there was nothing except the gaping doorway. Bryce hopped off his bike, propped it against The Van and peered inside.

‘See anything?’ called Darcy.

All was as they’d left it. The milk crates, the TV, the old suitcase. Nothing had been changed. Bryce’s breathing grew more relaxed. But then he saw it, and the tension exploded with such a force that he almost cried out.

‘Well…?’

Beside him, Mio gasped. He hadn’t heard her approach, so was doubly shocked. Mio shoved her hands in her back pockets so Bryce wouldn’t see them shaking. It was just one word, a small word, but it had the potential to change everything.

One by one the others joined them, peering inside their van. After an initial chorus of ‘Oh’s, the silence thickened.

Clem turned to Bryce, her eyebrows raised and questioning. Bryce shook his head in protest. ‘It wasn’t me,’ he said, but the words rang hollow in the empty van…and hollow in Clem’s heart. Clem moved away, burying herself in the warmth of Bella’s body.

Mio stepped aside and Tong took her place. His written English was better than his spoken English because Vietnamese and English share the same letters. Immediately he knew what the problem was. For on the back of The Van, in trademark greeny-blue letters, was the word
PHREE.

‘Don’t suppose you know how that got there, do you?’ asked Darcy.

Bryce cursed himself for telling them his old tag. Was it going to plague him for the rest of his life? ‘It wasn’t me. Honest. Why would I bomb The Van?’ he implored. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’ He started to jiggle up and down, his thoughts tumbling around as he tried to make sense of this mess.

‘That’s twice we’ve seen it,’ said Mio. ‘The word “PHREE”.’

‘Three times,’ corrected Clem. ‘I also saw it at the station, on the wall.’

Bryce looked up at his friends. He saw questioning in Mio’s eyes, simmering distrust in Darcy’s and hurt in Clem’s, but it was the look on Tong’s face that clawed at him the most. He saw pity, the look you see just before someone turns away from you, unable to watch your humiliation a moment longer.

‘I’m going to say this, and I’m only going to say it once,’ said Bryce, his words peppering like gunshot. ‘Don’t believe me if you want, I really don’t care, and this is my final word on the subject…
I did not do it
.’

The light returned to Mio’s eyes. A smile seeped into the corners of her mouth. Tong said nothing for a very long time. He studied Bryce, his eyes boring through him as though he was examining Bryce’s soul. Then he exhaled and bowed deeply.

Bryce felt a king tide of relief. But what about the others? He stepped towards Clem. She looked at him, then screwed up her nose and inched back, saying, ‘Sorry Bryce. I just don’t know!’

‘I do,’ said Darcy. ‘I know.’

‘The sad fact of the matter is…’ said Bryce, his words ringing out strong, ‘you don’t know what you don’t know.’ This was the wisdom of Mr Lark.

And Darcy knew it. He ground down hard on his pedal, pushing off with his free foot on the
ground. ‘Come on,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘we’ve wasted enough time.’

A few moments later Clem followed, then Tong, Bryce and Mio, but the gracefulness of their line was broken and shadows fell across their path.

The afternoon went from bad to worse. As soon as the kids pulled up at the unused train siding, they were confronted by uniformed men. Despite the fact that it was a uniform he did not recognise, Bryce froze. What if it was some new branch of the police? What if he got in trouble again?

‘We’ve had reports of trespass,’ said one man. ‘Railway’s hired us as extra security.’

Private security guards! For the second time that afternoon Bryce melted with relief.

‘You’re going to have to move along.’

‘It’s a bit heavy-handed, don’t you think?’ said Clem. ‘Hiring security guards for a few kids.’

The security guard was about to answer when a crackle emanated from his walkie-talkie.
‘Foxtrot Charlie. Foxtrot Oscar. Do you copy? Over.’

Clem started to giggle. There was something about these men playing at being truckies with CB radios, or commandos in the army, that tickled her sense of humour. Why couldn’t they just say, ‘Hello’?

‘Roger Oscar.’ Why couldn’t they just say, ‘Yes’? Clem giggled again, scoring a blistering look from the guards.

‘Anklebiters at haircut palace. I repeat, anklebiters at haircut palace. Over.’

‘Copy Oscar. We’ll highball to the high rise and meet you there. Over.’

‘Roger. Over and out.’

As the two guards took off on foot Mio asked, ‘What was that all about?’

Bryce gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Haircut palace means a low bridge. Some kids at a bridge as far as I can tell. Probably the High Road overpass. It’s the only one round here.’

‘Let’s go watch,’ said Clem. She turned and asked, ‘Hey, Tong. Want to come?’

‘Yes.’

‘Maybe we shouldn’t.’ Mio sounded unsure. ‘We might get in the way.’

‘No, we won’t,’ said Darcy. ‘We’ll keep our distance.’ Before Mio could protest again Darcy
chased after the guards, with Clem his shadow and Tong not far behind.

‘Come, Mio. We ride.’ Tong took off, all the while looking back at Mio, calling, ‘Come!’

By the time Mio caught up, she could see that the guards had called for a reinforcement. Three of them now swarmed over and under the overpass, checking behind bushes and in some scrubby grass. ‘Found anything?’ she asked Clem.

‘No.’

As Tong watched the guards, signalling to each other, snapping orders into their walkie-talkies, and turning over every blade of grass, ice formed in his chest. His heart fluttered, then hammered a warning:
e-scape, e-scape, e-scape.
He hoped whoever had been here had got away.

‘Halt!’ The word ka-boomed through the chill afternoon air. On their bikes the Freewheelers snapped to attention. Tong closed his eyes.
E-scape. E-scape. E-scape.

‘Leave me alone.’ The voice was shrill, splitting the atmosphere like a machete. It was a girl’s voice.

Tong flinched. Sweat broke out on his top lip. His frozen body prickled with heat.

‘Leave me alone. Stop! Stop!’

Dung lai!

‘Stop!’

Dung lai!
Different words. Same meaning. Even the voice could’ve been the same. Tong tried to quash the nightmare images but they ricocheted through his mind like a pinball. He’d been told the story so many times. His grandmother, cowering, her arm raised to shield her face from the raining blows. Her shirt, muddied and ripped. How their neighbour lay helpless, beaten on the ground, screaming ‘
Dung lai!
’ till his voice spluttered and went out. His beloved grandmother, dragged off to a hidden gulag, the so-called re-education camps—to be returned a broken woman.

‘No, don’t!’ The girl’s voice echoed through the still air.

Then it was his grandfather’s voice he could hear.
Ac gia, ac bao.
[As the call, so the echo.]

Tong would answer that call! With a scream he jumped off his bike and launched himself at the guard, his face contorted with fury. He was yelling and wailing, and the words came out all a-jumble–Engnamese and Vietlish. Despite being slight, Tong was steely strong. His grip on the guard’s arm never weakened. The guard was shouting. Other guards came running. More shouting. Darcy, Clem, Mio and Bryce screamed too, and flung themselves into the melee. Clipped to Clem’s basket, Bella went ballistic too, and when the bike stand gave way, beagle and bike joined the fray.
With her first charge, Bella managed to sweep two guards off their feet and snare them in spikes and chains. If the bike hadn’t wedged itself around a post she would’ve knocked over the other one as well. Bella scampered back and forth, as far as her lead would allow, snapping and snarling at every grey ankle in sight.

Darcy had one guard by the arms. Mio and Clem had another.

Spying an opening in the throng, Bryce reached down and yanked the girl to her feet, so hard it was amazing she didn’t launch into the stratosphere. And as he did so he glimpsed her face. His mind hurtled backwards. He knew her. From where? The streets! He felt a pang. This girl was still trapped, but he’d got away. He shivered. She didn’t seem to have recognised him, and for that Bryce said a silent ‘thank you’. ‘Sh,’ he hissed as he half-dragged, half-pushed her towards a gap set in the bridge. He remembered it from the old days. They’d often come here to smoke, cocooned under the bridge, safe. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the opening was there for drainage. None too gently, he pushed the girl towards the gap. ‘In!’ he ordered and then, ‘Shush!’ Tong kept up the fight, watching the girl scuttle into the opening and disappear into the blackness. It was only when Bryce had
returned to the group that the kids stopped screaming and let go the guards’ arms.

‘What the heck do you think you’re doing?’ yelled one guard.

‘Crazy kids.’

‘Wait till we tell your parents.’

At the word ‘parents’, the Freewheelers blanched—even Tong, who now thought of his Auntie Kim-Ly and Uncle Hai as his parents. What would their parents do? They could all be grounded. Or worse.

Quick-thinking Bryce stepped in. ‘Sorry. It was an accident.’ He grabbed Tong in a headlock, almost lifting him off his feet. ‘This boy here’s delusional. Thinks he’s at war. Been tough where he comes from.’ Tong wriggled and squirmed at his indignity. ‘It’s the uniforms, see. Makes him psycho.’

‘Eeeeyah!’ said Tong, kicking out his foot in an imitation of a martial arts combatant. Bryce gripped him harder so that Tong began to flail around with his arms, making little gurgling sounds.

Mio frowned. At first she thought Bryce was trying a diversionary tactic, but now she wasn’t so sure. That headlock could strangle Tong. She was about to intervene when she saw Bryce’s eyes dart towards their bikes. He was telling her something.
Get on!
Tentatively she inched towards them, signalling Darcy to do so, too. Clem was already disentangling Bella and picking up her bike. Bryce edged away, getting closer and closer to Tong’s bike and his own. No words were spoken, but the Freewheelers knew what they must do. Put as much distance between the girl and the guards as possible in the best way they knew how.

‘Ride!’

Five kids leapt on their bikes and had already started pedalling before the guards knew what was happening. Then the guards’ training kicked in and they gave chase. The Freewheelers moved like lightning away from the bridge, but as they fell into formation Bryce panted, ‘Slow down. They have to follow us. Away from the girl.’ In the lead Darcy pulled back, blurred legs and spokes taking on their true form. Seeing the kids slow down, the guards quickened their pace. Over his shoulder Bryce caught glimpses of reddened faces, heaving chests and pounding thighs. He thought of the girl, tucked away safely, and smiled to himself in the half-light.

How easy it was to lure the guards back to the station and how easy it was to just keep on going and ride into the twilight. Several blocks away, they ducked into an alley and began winding their way back towards home.

‘Who is she?’ demanded Clem when she got her breath back.

‘And why did we have to save her?’ asked Mio between gulps of air.

Both girls slumped in disappointment when Bryce answered, ‘I don’t know.’

Darcy snorted like a recalcitrant camel. ‘You don’t know! You mean we busted ourselves over some girl you don’t even know?!’

Bryce bit back, ‘Wouldn’t you want someone to do that for you? Besides, it wasn’t just me. Ask Tong why he went berko. He started it.’

Mio’s voice softened as she asked, ‘What happened, Tong?’

Tong put his head down and pedalled furiously. His thoughts were a whirlwind that he couldn’t contain. Who was the girl at the bridge? He didn’t know. What he did know is that she reminded him of the story of his grandmother. And he didn’t want to see anyone pleading like she’d had to. How could he explain? It wasn’t even something he’d experienced, something he’d seen with his own eyes. It was as if he’d inherited a memory. A memory so painful he didn’t want it to live again. How could he describe life in Vietnam before? Tong kept pedalling. It wasn’t that he chose to remain silent; it was that there were no words.

Darcy pulled up abruptly, and because he was lead rider the others did the same, swerving in all directions to miss each other. ‘Good practice for the bike trials,’ he said with a smirk. But his smile disappeared when he looked at Tong. He chose his words carefully. ‘Tong. That boy at the bridge, you, was one I’ve never seen before.’

Tong hung his head, silent.

‘That boy looked like he could kill.’

‘No!
Khong bao gio!
[Never!]’

Clem jostled her way through the bikes and put her arm around Tong’s shoulders. He shrugged. Unlike Vietnam, there would be no tears in this moonlight.

Bryce got off his bike and did the same. Darcy and Mio joined them, five heads slotting together like a mosaic, with Bella weaving in and out of their legs. Finally, Tong pulled away. He wanted to tell them why he charged the guard, but the words wouldn’t come. One day, maybe, but not now.

‘It doesn’t really matter why Tong took on the guard, or why we helped that girl,’ said Clem. Her voice grew firmer as she went on. ‘Some things you just do.’ She thrust out her hand, palm down, and in a voice that rang into the night she said, ‘Freewheelers.’

‘Freewheelers.’

‘Freewheelers.’

‘Freewheelers.’

But one voice was missing.

‘You not want me,’ said Tong in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

‘Hey,’ said Bryce, grabbing Tong’s hand and placing it on top of the others. ‘You might be one crazy aggro firecracker, but you can ride like the wind and you’re part of our group.’

‘Freewheelers!’