So Feral! (7 page)

My
challenge is definitely impossible.

We walk and we walk.

Laura starts to waddle. Jonnie is methane propelled. And Andy’s beginning to look like a steamed cabbage. I’m worried he’ll get heatstroke. Even though it’s boiling, he refuses to take off even one of his T-shirts.

We walk. Cordelia talks.

‘… stupid old Eucalyptus all falling to bits …’

‘… Daddy’s going to pay for this …’

‘… blisters on my blisters …’

I hope her tongue gets blisters.

I go into survivor mode. Fade out one left-right-left and one Moaning Minnie. Fade in immediate problem — my challenge.

How to kiss Miss Reynolds?

I’m so busy planning that I don’t see a tree root. I trip, falling into Cordelia. My nose hits her lips. At least I think it was only my nose. Anything else would be too gross to contemplate.

Whack!
Cordelia Foxheart has turned into a boxer. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I ask, ducking for dear life.

She goes for me — poke, jab, bash — just like a heavyweight boxer. And all the while she’s screaming, ‘Miss Reynolds!’

‘What’s your problem?’ I yell, trying to get out of the way.

Cordelia is wiping her mouth and belting me at the same time. ‘You tried to kiss me!’

‘Kiss you? I fell and hit you with my nose, you idiot.’

Lowie shouts, ‘Toby and Cordelia kissed!’
Kissed-isst-st
echoes round the valley. Lowie’s hooting and hollering and dancing some stupid jig.

Laura shrieks, ‘Practising for Miss Reynolds eh, Toby?’ She crouches down, laughing so hard she’s fit to bust. I seriously hope she wets herself. That’ll put a dampener on her challenge.

Jonnie’s in on it, too. But every time he laughs the air pressure rises.

In fact, everyone’s screaming with laughter. Everyone, except Cordelia and me.

‘Cut it out!’ I yell. ‘Enough’s enough.’

Cordelia turns on me. ‘I’ll give you enough. You desperate depraved individual! You, Hard-up Harry, you!’ Cordelia blabbers on.

I pray for a plague of frogs, locusts — anything to shut her up.

‘I’m going to get you for that. You better watch out!’ She goes for the all-time hollering record. ‘Miss Reyn-o-lds! Toby tried to kiss me.’

Miss Reynolds plants her nose one centimetre away from mine.

I think of my challenge. She’s close enough for a quick peck.

‘Toby H-h-hartnett!’

Quick peck, be buggered.

‘H-h-how dare you!’

Fumes flood my face. They get in my teeth, my eyes, my hair. Everyone’s laughing so hard that even the kookaburras have left.

‘When we get back, young man, you and I will be examining the meaning of the term
unwanted advances!’
Miss Reynolds reeks stronger than a garbage dump.

I make a break-through decision.

I will forfeit the Pollen Tree Cup.

I have to walk beside Miss Reynolds all the way to Devil’s Peak and all the way back. Mouth breathing is my only defence. Boy, does it dry you out. By the time we get back to camp my teeth are covered with clag.

Miss Reynolds is still cross. She barely talks to me. It’s the only ray of sunshine in a bleak situation.

Cordelia walks past, her lips pursed like a dried-out abalone.

People are still laughing as we wait for the stragglers to arrive. I pretend not to notice.

‘Hanging’s too good for ‘im.’ That’s Jonnie’s voice.

‘Tie him to an anthill at midday.’ That’s Laura.

‘I could strangle him with my bare hands,’ says Lowie, doing a Hulk impersonation and glaring at me as he pulls up.

Surely they’re not talking about me?

‘I’ve got cheek chafe,’ hisses Laura when she comes past.

‘Raw meat!’ I’m showered with Lowie’s spit. ‘That’s my feet.’

Jonnie walks over and stops a ruler-length away. He turns, bends over …

I’m inhaling sewage! I think I’m going to be sick.

‘Nice day,’ says Andy, wafting past. Today’s T-shirt is already on the nose. ‘For
rats.’

Everyone is dirty on me — my friends, Miss Reynolds. And Cordelia Foxheart’s out to get me. I’ve blown more than my challenge.

‘Toby. Come over here, where I can keep an eye on you.’ It’s not the words, it’s Miss Reynolds’s tone that sets me off.

I’ve had it! I’ll show them. I’ll do my challenge.

I walk over and plant myself in front of Miss Reynolds. I will kiss her now, keel over and put an end to all my misery.

‘What did you think of Devil’s Peak?’ interrupts Miss Reynolds, looking around the group. ‘H-h-hands up!’

What am I doing? I am standing in front of Death-breath.

Several hands go up. ‘Not much,’ says Laura. ‘I agree,’ adds Jonnie.

‘Hmphh!’
Miss Reynolds snorts, triggering nuclear fallout.

Everyone staggers back. It takes all my strength not to follow. I’ve got to get this over with. I’ve got to complete my challenge.

I suck in lungfuls of air, psyching myself for the worst. I lean forward.

‘Watch out for the devil!’ I yell. Don’t ask me why. Stupidest thing I’ve done.

Miss Reynolds jumps back with fright. Her foot disappears down a wombat hole. She goes A over T.

As she’s falling I get a squiz up Miss Reynolds’s shorts. Reminds me of a carcass at the butchers.

It’s like a slow-motion movie. I watch as she tries to stay on her feet. I do what any sensible kid would
not
do. I hurry to help her up.

‘Oooohhh,’ she moans, lying still.

I have visions of being charged. Murder by Smart Alec remark.

‘You okay?’ I ask, desperate for some sign of life.

‘H-h-help!’ is the reply.

I’m not that desperate. Typhoon Tonsils flatten me.

Miss Reynolds grabs her foot, her face scrunched with pain.

‘Deep breaths,’ calls out Cordelia. ‘It helps.’

‘That’s for childbirth, stupid,’ I say.

Miss Reynolds starts huffing with gusto.

I am going to expire. Calling her Dog-breath would be too kind.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to give you a fright. It was only a joke.’

‘Life can be one big
challenge,’
says Laura, with a knowing look in her eye.

‘Miss Reynolds. You could sue Toby,’ Cordelia says with a sneer. ‘I know I would.’

Miss Reynolds does not answer. She just barks at me, ‘Give me a hand!’ She grabs hold of my arm, gripping so hard my triceps become biceps.

‘Silly boy. You’ll have to help me get the first-aid kit from my office.’

It is the longest 500 metres.

Sheer agony.

‘Cause no matter how hard you try to avoid it, you still have to breathe.

‘The only piker we’ve got for the Pollen Tree Cup is Toby.’ Lowie makes the announcement after dinner. ‘It’s our last night,’ continues Lowie. ‘I vote he’s out of the challenge.’

I’m stunned. I look around, appealing to my friends. ‘We never set a time limit.’

There’s no support there.

Laura’s not doing it easy. She’s sitting like a trussed-up pig. Must be up to upside-down-back-to-front-and-inside-out.

And Andy is second cousin to the Michelin tyre man. He tries to look tough by giving me the hairy eyeball and crossing his arms, but he fails. His upper arms are now so fat that they refuse to anchor. They float up, reinforcing the fact that he is only good down wind.

Jonnie’s only good down wind, too, but for completely different reasons. His insides must be starting to fester. He’s all bloated and has stopped eating. He says he’s run out of room. I reckon if you pricked his tummy he’d soar on a jet-propelled fart.

And Lowie?

Lowie’s already scratching his name on the Pollen Tree Cup. ‘Ya wuss-bag,’ he says again, this time kerthumping me on the back.

‘I got the hardest challenge out of everyone,’

I say.

Loud guttural noises follow my remark. ‘It’s true.’

‘My undies have cut off all the circulation,’ growls Laura, with emphasis on each word. ‘My bum’s so numb I’m legless.’

‘That’s nothing,’ says Andy, pointing to his own bottom. ‘I’m so dirty I’ve got gravel rash of the crack.
And
between my toes.
And
under my arms.’

‘Well, you guys don’t live in a force-field like I do,’ accuses Jonnie. ‘It’s deadly. Face it, Toby. You’re a piker.’

‘My challenge is the worst,’ I repeat, but deep down I know it’s not.

‘What do you think?’ Lowie asks our group. ‘Should Toby be in, or out?’

‘None of
us
have choked,’ Laura points out.

‘We
‘re not wimps,’ agrees Andy, scratching under his arms like a hairy gorilla.

‘Yeah,’ says Jonnie, slamming his fist in his hand and triggering an explosion. He grabs his bum and gasps, ‘Fartleberry!’

I feel sorry for the guy. He really is doing it hard.

‘You can die from my challenge,’ I say. ‘Air poisoning.’

Just then Cordelia Foxheart walks in. I ignore her and continue, ‘I promise I’ll do it. I promise I’ll get Miss Reynolds tonight!’

‘Get Miss Reynolds? What?’ asks Cordelia, with a sneer. She reminds me of a wolf. ‘Get more of her underwear, you mean?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. What would I want with abra?’

Cordelia laughs. I can see her fangs. She’d make a good werewolf. ‘I hear they’re really
daring!
Brief enough to make a pretty sling shot. It’s the elastic, you know.’ She delves in under her shirt, stretching out her bra strap to demonstrate.

‘Show someone who’s interested,’ I say, rolling my eyes.

Cordelia grows a snout and barks, ‘If you want Miss Reynolds she’s in the storeroom.’ And just like that, she walks out.

‘Perfect,’ I say, getting up. ‘I’ll see Miss Reynolds now.’

Lowie stands, too. ‘May as well come — for the laugh. Besides, I want proof. Anyone else coming?’

The rest shake their heads. They are unable to move.

Lowie and I hurry out. When we get close to the storeroom it is pitch black. There’s not even a light on.

‘I’ll stay outside,’ says Lowie, slipping in behind a giant wheelie bin, ‘and keep watch. Once you’re in I’ll take a squiz through the window, okay?’ His punch gives me a dead arm. ‘Lay one on her, lover boy,’ he says with a chuckle.

I shrug and whisper, ‘Yeah, sure,’ then wonder why I’m whispering. I walk up to the door, but slowly, and knock.

No answer.

In the still night air I can hear singing. It’s faint and seems to be coming from inside.

‘Miss Reynolds,’ I call, then louder, ‘Miss Reynolds!’

The singing continues.

I stand there, not sure what to do. ‘Miss Reynolds!’ I’m almost shouting. I look to see if anyone else is around. There’s Lowie, pulling a face like his lips have got stuck in a linen press, but that’s all.

I turn back to the door, my heart pounding. I want this over as quickly as possible.

I hear a ‘clunk’ inside. My pulse rises from a scamper to a full-on gallop. I’m beginning to wonder if I should be here.

Clunk. Screeeeech. Clunk
. It takes a moment to realise it’s the sound of my own heart.

Suddenly, the singing stops.

The hairs on my neck stand up to match the hairs on my head. I put my mouth to the keyhole and in a stage whisper I ask, ‘Miss Reynolds? Are you all right?’

Silence.

A rustle behind sends me whirling around. I almost fall off the step.
Phew!
It’s only leaves in the wind. The last time I remember being this scared
was when I was a kid and thought there was a monster under my bed. My skin prickles, then smoulders at the same time. I shiver.

I’ll only try once more, I say to myself, turning back to the door.

Tap, tap, tap.

This time the door opens.

I look up, hoping to find the cheery face of Miss Reynolds. There’s nobody there.

‘Hello-o-o-o,’ I say in a quivery voice.

And then at last, an answer, ‘In here!’

I turn and can just make out the dim outline of Lowie. I give him the finger and go inside.

It’s dark and I have to flick on the light. The globe is really weak, the pool of light reaching only as far as the first stack of shelves. I see reams of loo paper — the recycled sort. The sort that makes you wonder what the scratchy bits are.

There is no Miss Reynolds.

‘Out the back!’

I should wait for her to come to me, but I don’t. I’m desperate to get this over with.

‘Coming!’ I call, striding down the aisle.

First I see black. Then I see red. A thousand lights pop off in my head.

Black is because it’s dark.

Red is because I’m smothered by something warm and furry.

The popping lights are from a camera.

‘Gotcha!’ Cordelia Foxheart looms large from behind the door. ‘Surprise!’ she yells, lightbulb flashing. ‘I told you you’d pay for coming on to me like that. I told you I’ve got guts.’

It is then I realise that I am wearing Miss Reynolds’s fox-print undies on my head. The ones that have gone missing. Thank goodness I’m not wearing the bra.

Cordelia is click-click-clicking like there’s no tomorrow, her camera spewing out instant photos.

I wrench the undies off, yelling, ‘Get lost!’ and trying to cover my face.

‘Wait till I show these to Miss Reynolds,’ crows Cordelia, waving the photos. ‘Won’t you be in for it!’

I want to smash her face, but snatch at the camera instead. We tussle. The bulb continues to flash. Cordelia sidesteps and takes off down the aisle. She beats me to the door.

‘Catch her!’ I scream at Lowie. He’s just standing there, watching Cordelia whiz past.

Lowie does a flying tackle. He’s a good mate, Lowie.

He misses.

‘She set me up!’ I screech, running after Cordelia at full pelt. ‘To make Miss Reynolds think I stole her stuff!’

We lose her. Cordelia’s done a Houdini. We don’t know where she is. Probably waving the photos under Miss Reynolds’s nose.

Andy and Laura rock up. Jonnie’s coming behind. With each step he
fffwhooshes
like a balloon that’s sprung a leak. I get a rotten-egg headrush.

‘What’s happening?’ asks Laura, readjusting her undies for the umpteenth time.