Suddenly everyone around us is moving. For a second I think they’re all rushing to get the ball. Then I see that the smugglers have opened the gate to the boats. It’s time to get on board. That must be why everyone gasped.
I force all thoughts of the ball out of my mind.
Already people are streaming through the gate and onto the boats. I grab Bibi and push between the people who are still getting their belongings together.
‘Mum,’ I yell. ‘Dad.’
Finally I spot them, trying to wait for us. But they’re being carried through the gate by the crush of people. Mum sees us. She points us out to Dad. They hold up our rucksacks and wave frantically at us to come to them.
That’s what I try to do.
By the time Bibi and I get through the gate, Mum and Dad aren’t that far away. They’re struggling against the crowd, which is pushing them slowly towards the furthest boat.
Then Bibi pulls her hand out of mine. ‘I’m going to get the ball,’ she says.
Before I can stop her, she’s squirming through the crowd towards the other boat.
‘Bibi,’ I scream. ‘No.’
I fling myself through the clamouring bodies towards her. By the time I finally reach her, she’s lying on her stomach at the edge of the dock, jabbing down into the water with a long stick. She’s trying to reach the ball, which is bobbing on the water between the boat and the dockside.
‘Leave it,’ I yell, grabbing her arm and pulling her up. ‘We’ll lose Mum and Dad.’
She glares at me tearfully.
‘If we lose the ball,’ she says, ‘we won’t get to do the plan. We won’t get to be soccer stars and form a new government and go home.’
I stare at her, torn. Part of me knows she’s right, but the other part is desperate to get moving.
‘I can make a new ball out of cardboard,’ I say, dragging her away from the edge of the dock. ‘I’ve done it before.’
Even as I say it I know it’s not the same.
Then somebody snatches the stick out of Bibi’s hand.
It’s the boy.
‘I’ll get it,’ he says. ‘We’ll go halves.’
Before I can move, the boy slips over the side of the dock and disappears.
I drag Bibi to the edge and stare down, horrified.
The boy is crouched inside one of the big tyres that are hanging off the concrete wall. He’s reaching down for the ball with the stick.
Is he mad? If the boat bumps into the dockside, he’ll be crushed.
‘Watch out,’ I yell.
‘I’m OK,’ he replies. ‘I’ve done a lot of fishing.’
Then he slips. He tries to get his balance, but he can’t. He gives a howl and tumbles into the water.
‘Help,’ I scream at the people milling around me. ‘There’s a kid in the water.’
Nobody is listening. They’re all too busy getting onto the boats. Bibi thumps a couple of people, trying to get their attention, but they ignore her.
I look around wildly for a smuggler or a sailor or even a policeman.
Nothing, just desperate people.
There. On the deck. The man in yellow overalls. He looks like a sailor. He’s got a long pole with a hook on the end. Perfect for rescuing people.
I grab Bibi and we claw our way through the crush of people and stumble onto the boat.
‘Quick,’ I yell at the sailor, grabbing his overalls and trying to drag him towards the side. ‘There’s a kid in the water.’
The sailor doesn’t seem to understand.
I shake him.
I yell louder.
I grab the pole.
The sailor scowls at me and snatches it back. Then he slaps me in the face.
I stagger, stars in front of my eyes. Through them I see Bibi kick the sailor. He knocks her down. She grabs his leg and bites it. He picks her up and flings her over his shoulder.
‘Bibi,’ I croak.
I try to get to her but I’m too giddy and I’m still staggering towards them as the sailor throws Bibi over the side of the boat.