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THEY BAGGED UP SOME more, less heavy now because the seawater had run off, and set off via their new short-cut. After a long, hot hike through the bush they arrived at the road. There was almost no traffic. Three vehicles went past them, kicking up gritty dust for them to spit out later. No-one stopped.
Sometime about lunch-time they finally plodded into town and went straight to The Bountiful Earth. Cedar and Cypress were surprised to see them. “Welcome, Young Souls!” they said, “Have you got something there for us?”
Randy said nothing. He just hefted his bag up and dropped it on the counter. It went ‘spludge’ and oozed thick, seaweedy water.
“Ahhh!” squawked Cedar, quickly trying to wipe up the water, “No here!”
Leaving Cypress watching the shop, the males all trooped into the store-room. They emptied their shopping bags into a plastic bin on the scales. It came to 8.95 kilograms.
“Hmm,” said Cedar, fingering the curly pink-and-green strands, “It’s a bit sandy, boys. I would like it a lot cleaner.”
“Sure,” agreed Piho readily, “So, ah, that’s going to be, like: $88, isn’t it? Hey; make it $85, on account of the sand.”
Cedar pursed his lips and frowned, “Yes, okay, but I’m afraid you’ve caught us short; - we’ve called in an expert to check the species, but he’s not due till this evening, or maybe even tomorrow.”
Randy began to panic, but Piho gave him a swift dig in the ribs. “That’s cool,” said Piho, “like if it turns out the wrong stuff, we’ll just give the money back.”
“No need for that,” said Cedar, “I’ll just give you a post-dated cheque.”
“What the f... ah.., I mean w-what exactly is that?” asked Randy.
“A cheque with tomorrow’s date on it. That way, if our expert confirms that you boys.., you People, have found the right stuff, then you can go ahead and bank it.”
Randy tried to look wise and understanding, “Ahh-huh.” although he was very disappointed about the lack of cash. They left with a few minutes later.
“Stay cool, dude,” said Piho as he carefully pocketed the cheque, “There ain’t nothing we can do about it. If it ain’t the right stuff then it ain’t the right stuff.”
“It’s not that! I just wanna go down the spacies place and play some video games! If we could just convince those weirdos it’s the right stuff!...”
“Where ya going?” asked Piho suddenly.
“Trying to find a phone box.”
“What for?”
“To look up someone.”
“In the phone book?”
“Yeah! In the flippin’ phone book, where else?!”
“They don’t put phone books in phone boxes any more. We need a Post Shop.”
“I knew that!” Randy turned around, looking for the Post Shop. There was one on the main drag, wasn't there? He'd seen it yesterday ... Ah, there! They went in. He found the local phone-book and looked up TURINGER, J.
“Ah: 144 Beach Parade, Haulaway Bay. That's gotta be her.”
“Isn’t that Tammy’s name?’
“Yup. But this is her aunt. She’s a marine biologist.”
“So?”
“So she can identify the stuff so we can go get our money! Come on!!”
“Aww geez, man...” groaned Piho, “..oh, okay!”
#
PIHO CAME ALONG, QUIETLY. It only took them ten minutes to find number 144. It was up a long drive, just past the camping ground. They trooped on up and Randy tapped lightly on the door. Moments later it opened. It was Tammy.
“Randy! Piho! What a charming surprise!”
“Hi. Yeah. Uh ... we were just going by and... Ah: is your Aunty in?”
“Yes. ...?”
“Excellent!”
Tammy seemed puzzled.
Randy hastened to explain, “Ah, like, you see, it’s kinda like, y’know, that seaweed stuff I gave you? ...”
“Oh! You wouldn’t believe what we found out about that! Yes, come in! Aunty Jan wants to ask you about that!” Tammy stepped aside and gestured within.
Randy felt a hand tug at his pack. “Leave it outside,” whispered Piho, “it stinks!”
Packless, the boys gingerly stepped inside. It was a lovely house, cool and dim and old-fashioned, and almost immediately Randy became aware that the smell of seaweed was following him in. He glanced suspiciously at Piho, sniffing audibly. Piho was peering at him, equally suspicious. “Gee!” said Randy suddenly, loudly and cheerfully to Tammy, “Isn’t it great living so close to the sea!”
“Aunty Jan?” Tammy called into a side room, “Someone to see you.”
There was a the sound of a computer going ‘beep-blup’, then Tammy’s aunt came out. “Oh!” she said, “You’re Randalf, aren’t you? You found the sample. And Pi - ?”
“Piho. It means ‘bravado’.”
“Ahhh...” said Jan Turinger, as if adding it to her memory. “Now, Randalf, where exactly did you find it?” she asked, leading them at once to a room where a number of large detailed maps were spread out on the table, “Somewhere on this beach, right?”
“Y-yeah,” Randy studied the map, “right here, by this little bridge.”
“Ah! In the water?”
“No, sort of tangled up in the grassy stuff.” He poked accurately at the map.
“Right; so above water level, then? By how much?”
“Um, no, not by much. Maybe so:” He waved his hands, indicating the distance.
Jan Turinger frowned and gazed thoughtfully at her map. Tammy did too.
Then she said to her aunt, “So it is in the stream then?”
“Probably,” murmured the biologist, “but it isn’t conclusive. The tide could have picked it up from somewhere else and washed it in.” She looked up at Randy, “Have you seen any other bits around?”
“N-no, no. Never.” He glanced meaningfully at Piho and continued, “Strange stuff, isn’t it? What, ah.., what exactly is it, anyway?”
“Well, it’s definitely bullenima exasperantia, but how it came to be here is a complete mystery! But it’s certainly an interesting find!”
“Yes, yes,” mused Randy thoughtfully, trying to wipe the huge grin off his face, “really interesting, and so rare! Umm, could you write that down for me? That weird name? I’m, ah, I’m actually sort of interested in this kind of stuff.”
“Sure.” Ms Turinger took a piece of paper, wrote out the weird name, and handed it to him, saying, “It’s so refreshing to meet a teenager who takes an interest in science. Most kids these days just want to get enough money to rush down to the video-game parlour and waste their brains.”
“Uh, yeah. True. Thanks!” Randy took the paper and immediately glanced towards the way out.
“You off already?” asked Tammy.
“Y-yeah. We’ve got a, a, a big project going. Sorry, can’t stay.”
“Awww. We were about to have a meeting, a planning session actually. It would be lovely if you could stay. I mean: you care so much about the environment, and with your incredible organisational skills...”
“Eh? What do you mean?”
“Oh, Randy! Don’t be so modest! What about that fund-raiser you organised last year at school? You know, selling the manure!”
Randy and Piho glanced at each other. Piho rolled his eyes and heaved a silent sigh. Randy shuffled uncomfortably, mumbling, “Aww, it was nothing really. Anyway, ah, we really do have to get going. Sorry.” He started moving toward the exit.
Tammy was disappointed, but she smiled politely and said, “That’s okay.”
“Thanks for the info,” said Piho cheerfully to Ms Turinger, who was once again pondering her maps.
“Mmm, yes, and thank you too.” she replied distractedly.
Tammy showed them out. As Randy passed close to her at the door she whispered, “Come see me sometime.”
He glanced up, meeting her eyes. “Yeah, sure.” he murmured, feeling his whole belly sort of roll over at her glance.
“Alone.” she added, then she shimmied her left shoulder in that very cute way she had, gave him a quick cute smile, and went in.
Piho had been watching. He chucked Randy his bag and said, with a big grin on his face, “Woooo! She’s got the hots for you, Dude!”
That sort of talk always embarrassed the heck out of Randy. He quickly changed the subject, “I’m hungry. You got any spendo?”
“Nuh. But I’ve got a post-dated cash cheque for eighty-five dollars..”
“ - Which is pretty bloody useless for buying a pie!”
“You said it.’ Piho suddenly leapt sideways and kicked at a fence. “Damn it! Damn this whole stupid thing! Now we’ve gotta walk all the way back to Bubba’s just to get some lunch! You and your stupid ideas!”
Randy had moved out of range the moment Piho went birko. He’d seen it before. “Hang on, Dude, hang on. We ain’t far from the beach-house where I’m staying. So let’s just cruise in for lunch.” He glanced at his watch, “Timing’s perfect!”
#
RANDY’S PARENTS WERE flopped in deck-chairs and Beau was on the patio artistically shuffling around a pile of crap she’d dragged home from the beach. Randy knew better than to go near her. He’d rather poke at a rottweiler.
“Hi, Mum,” he called, “Ah.., Piho and I came into town to ahhhh.., to just like hang out and ah.., we went to visit Tammy and ah.., can we make a sandwich?”
Lunch happened. They were obliged to talk, but carefully didn’t mention their seaweed venture. Then they got stuck with doing the dishes. Time passed, and Piho continued to complain about the long walk they still had ahead of them. “Geez! Wish I’d bought my bike!” he finally said.
A light went on inside Randy’s head, like a reluctant candle finally starting to burn. Where had he recently seen some bikes? Where? And only recently too ...
“That’s it!” he shouted, and began dragging Piho out the back door.
“What the fudge are ya doing!?”
“Come down here. Come on!” He hauled him down the back steps, “Look!” Piho looked under the house where Randy was pointing. There, jammed into a dim and dusty corner, were two grim and rusty bikes
“Geez bloody strewth!” squawked Piho the moment he saw them, “I’m not riding one of those!”
“What’s the matter with them?”
“What’s the matter with them?! They’re dork-mobiles! That’s the matter with them! Look at them! They were probably made in the seventies! I do not want to look like the Brady Bunch! Urgh!”
Despite this Randy grabbed one and hauled it out into the light. It had two flat tyres, but everything else seemed all right. It was one of those silly looking things with kiddy-sized wheels but adult-height seat and handle-bars.
“Hey, cool, it’s got gears!” he suddenly said.
“Where?” snorted Piho doubtfully.
“There. That little chain thingy.”
“That’s a brake, isn’t it?”
“No. There’s the brake. I tell ya, it’s gears. Look, here’s the control.”
“Three?” sneered Piho, “It’s only got three gears?”
“And carriers! Excellent!” Randy patted the carrier and tried the spring clamp. Then he unclipped the pump and started fitting it to the tyre valve.
“You’re not serious?” said Piho, standing back with a dark scowl on his face.
“Course I am! We can make two or three trips a day on these. Think of the money we’ll make!”
#
RANDY DID ALL THE WORK, found some oil, and got the bikes working, except for one tyre which resolutely refused to inflate. Eventually he had to wheedle his father into driving them into the town and buying them a bike spanner and a puncture repair kit. But they still needed helmets. Then Randy’s mother said, “Aren’t there two helmets hanging up in the laundry?” They went and looked. The helmets were bright orange, and hideously ugly. Piho began to rebel again.
It was around four that they finally got going. Piho biked along under a cloud of shame, his sunglasses on and his face down. Then, as they were going through the centre of Haulaway, Randy suddenly remembered something. “Hey! We haven’t checked out that info yet! If it’s the wrong stuff they’ll take the cheque back and then we’ll be stuffed! I owe Dad for those bits. C’mon!” Randy abruptly stopped outside The Bountiful Earth.
But Piho held him back, “You can’t go barging in there, pulling jars off the shelf! It just wouldn’t look cool; like we don’t trust them or something.”
Randy thought hard. Today he was on a roll. His brain was really in top gear.
“Ah.., ah.., I know! We’ll just tell them the truth.”
Piho laughed and shook his head.
Randy had to agree: it was a pretty stupid idea.
He looked hard at the shop, still struggling with this major mental problem, then suddenly he said, “Hey, they’re not even there! Just the shop assistant! She won’t know us with our helmets on. Come on!”
But Piho cringed back, “No, no, just you, man. I’ll watch the bikes. Here, wear my shades. Got the paper?” Randy pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket, folded it neatly into his hand like a cheat-note, and crossed the road. He peered carefully into the shop one last time, and went in.
“Can I help you?” asked the sales assistant cheerfully as he went in.
“Ahhh, yeah, no. Just looking,” he mumbled, “Is Cedar around, or Cypress?”
She glanced for a moment towards the upstairs part of the building, “I’m sorry, they’re meditating...”
Excellent! – thought Randy.
“... Is there anything I can do?” she added.
“No, no, just looking.” He mooched down the isle, took down a jar of vitamins, pretended to study its label, put it back, and repeated the same ritual in another place. Then he drifted to the Sea-Life Jelly display, turned a jar, and carefully compared the funny words on the label with his secret piece of paper. A perfect match!
“Is there something you particularly need?” spoke the assistant right beside him. He startled in fright. How long had she been there? Did she recognise him up close?
“No! No, ah ... ” Randy’s started talking hastily as he edged away, “See: ah, Mum asked me to find some ... some ... some stuff, but but I forgot what’s it’s called. I-I-I’ll go ask her. Okay? Do you mind? I’ll be back.” And he hurried from the shop.
Of course he didn’t go back.
“It’s the stuff, man!” he told Piho when they met up again, “Bull’s Amnesia Esperanto or whatever it’s called! WE’RE IN BUSINESS!!”