I read the message twice, slumping against the wall as the full impact of the truth hit me. Simon reached out as if he was going to hug me, but then seemed to think better of it and leaned against the wall next to me.
“Now do you believe me?”
I started to shake my head, but it turned into a nod. “I don’t get it. The Camille stuff started around the time Josh and I were getting close – why would he want to attack my sister? And why would he have written all those awful things about me?”
My face burned with shame when I realised how completely Josh had sucked me in, but my embarrassment morphed into rage. I took a stride towards Kingston Street.
Simon pulled me back. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to tell Josh Turner exactly what I think of him,” I said, attempting to free my arm from Simon’s firm grip. “And then I might break his texting fingers.”
“Leave it, Al,” said Simon. “There are more effective ways to deal with scumbuckets like Turner, and I’m sure Maz has thought of all of them.”
“I know the perfect revenge,” Maz said when I phoned to tell her what Simon had discovered. “It’s an oldie, but a goodie. I’ve been saving it for someone who truly needs to be taught a lesson. All we need is a few supplies and a kitchen.”
Simon and I split up to get the ingredients Maz dictated. While I visited Kingston Health Foods, Simon nipped back to the pharmacy. We met back at the laneway and practically jogged to my place, where Maz was waiting for us, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Are you sure this’ll work?” I asked, unloading my shopping bag full of dried figs, dates and apricots onto the kitchen bench.
“The website said it was one hundred per cent effective,” said Maz, ticking each item off the recipe she’d printed out.
“It won’t actually harm him, though, will it?”
“No permanent damage,” said Simon, studying the recipe over Maz’s shoulder. “But it’ll put him out of action for a few hours.”
“And if those few hours happen to be during the soccer final,” grinned Maz, “then that’s simply bad luck.”
“I still don’t get how some dried fruit is going to have that big an impact,” I said.
“Sorbitol,” answered Simon. “It’s a naturally occurring sweetener in stone fruits. And when it’s consumed in large amounts, it has a laxative effect. The bran’ll also help it along a bit.”
Maz tossed all the fruit into a saucepan and added a glug of prune syrup. “And the chocolate-flavoured senna will make sure nothing’s left to chance. If you’re feeling guilty about it – which I suggest you shouldn’t after everything that creep’s done to you – think of it as a detox.”
“I don’t feel any guilt at all,” I assured her. “If I can humiliate Josh Turner one tenth of the amount he’s humiliated me and Larrie, I’ll be satisfied. I can’t wait to see his face when these hit him.”
“I promise, these will really put the ‘power’ in power bar,” said Maz.
“You know, I wasn’t planning to go to the game tomorrow, but I think I’ve suddenly rediscovered my passion for soccer,” said Simon.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” agreed Maz. “I think I’ll take my camera, in case there are any good action shots for Whit’s Wit.”
While we waited for the sticky concoction to set, we went through the rest of the plan for the next day.
“How long before the game does he need to eat them?” Maz asked Simon.
“I’d say three or four hours will be plenty of time, if he has a few.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about that,” I said. “From what I’ve seen, Josh can scarf down energy bars all day.”
“So, if you give them to him at recess and do the whole what-a-lovely-girlfriend-I-am-making-you-treats-before-your-big-game routine, that should be plenty of time before the match starts.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.”
“Time for the finishing touch,” said Maz after we’d cut the cooled mixture into bars. “Al, I think you should do the honours.”
I dipped a bar into the saucepan of melted brown goo, coating it thoroughly. “This stuff’s so freaky – it even smells like chocolate.”
“That’s why we tell people with little kids to keep it where they can’t reach it,” said Simon. “One piece is all you need to, uh, get things moving.”
Maz laughed. “Oh, Josh’ll be moving all right. Moving off the field to the toilets as fast as he can!”
Once the bars were all dipped to her satisfaction, Maz left to feed Ziggy and Major Tom. Simon stayed behind to help me clean up.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, watching me fill the biggest lunchbox I could find with our special bars.
“Absolutely certain,” I said. “Josh Turner must pay for his crimes.”
“Don’t you think you should tell your parents, so they can do something more official?”
If Simon had been Camille, Mum and Dad could have spoken to his parents directly and the Lutzes would’ve made sure he left Larrie alone. But Mrs Turner was a different case all together.
“Like what?” I asked. “Missing the most important soccer match of his life is a much harsher punishment than anything Masch can dole out to Josh when he hasn’t actually broken any school rules.”
We were still scraping hardened dribbles of energy-bar mix off the baking trays when Mum got home. Her face fell when she saw us in the kitchen together.
“What do you think you’re doing having friends over when you’re grounded? Getting help with an assignment is one thing, but–”
“Sorry, Mrs Miller,” interrupted Simon. “It’s my fault. There’s a bake sale for charity at the soccer final tomorrow, and I’m not much of a cook. Al very kindly offered to help me.”
I nodded mutely, holding up the container as proof.
“I suppose it was the least you could do after all the help Simon’s given you with your schoolwork,” said Mum. “But you still should’ve called me to make sure it was okay.”
Simon turned to face me. “See, I told you she’d understand,” he said with a wink. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. I won’t forget to bring the energy bars.”
He picked up the lunchbox and his backpack and headed for the front door.
Simon’s inspired excuse gave me an idea.
“Mum, about the bake sale. Ms Brand asked for volunteers to work on the stall, and I thought it might be good for my conduct report if I helped out.”
Mum started to shake her head, so I thought I’d better lay it on a bit thicker. “Obviously I’ll be grounded for an extra day to make up for it.”
“Okay, if it means that much to you. But I expect you home straight after the game. And you can help me make dinner tonight.”
Mum and I were still in the kitchen when Larrie got home from Beth’s. Mum was making a curry paste while I chopped veggies.
“Yuck, what smells like chocolate?” asked Larrie.
“Allison was doing some baking for school,” said Mum.
“I hope you washed up properly. If there are any traces of chocolate in my food–”
Ordinarily, that would’ve been enough to set the two of us off on one of our fights, but Larrie was too busy riffling through the newspapers and mail on the kitchen table to take the bait. “Has anyone seen my phone? This is the last place I remember having it.”
Oh shiz. When I grabbed Larrie’s phone that morning I hadn’t thought about how I was going to get it back to her without starting World War III. I got it from the pocket of my bag.
“Sorry. I must’ve accidentally picked it up this morning when I was rushing for the bus,” I said.
Larrie checked the screen. “No messages?”
“Not one.” I figured it was better if she didn’t know about Camille’s video threat.
“Well, that’s something. Thanks for taking care of it.”
And she went upstairs. Without screaming. Without telling me off. Without ordering Mum to tell me off. Even Mum was surprised.
Al Miller is in a state of shock.