2
NO PANTS TODAY
It’s Monday morning and there’s a knock at the door, but I can’t answer it. I’m getting dressed into my school uniform and Mum has gone to work. The knocks get louder.
‘Help! Let me in, bro!’
It’s Justice. He sounds scared. I run down the hallway, half-naked, accidentally standing on the tail of Mongrel, our cat. She bolts and slides into the wall as she tries to turn the corner on the tiles. I open the door and Justice barges past me, slamming the door behind him. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He runs over to the window and peeks between the curtains. His hands are shaking.
‘Calm your farm, cuzzy,’ I say, but Justice just rubs his hands through his spiky hair and peers out the window.
‘They were following me!’ he cries.
I pull him into the kitchen and pour him a glass of milk for his nerves. ‘Don’t tell me Jared Knutz is up to his old tricks again,’ I say.
Justice tries to sip his milk, but his hands are shaking all over the place and the milk goes up his nostrils. He chokes and it spurts back out the same way it went in.
‘Nah, it’s not Jared,’ he says, wiping his nose with his arm. ‘It’s these freaks in a van. They followed me from my house.’
It was an orange van, he tells me, with a big red circle painted on the front. He was too scared to remember anything else. He cut through the park to lose them, and then rode to my house. He didn’t want to ride to school alone.
I finish getting ready and pack my lunch and put my bag on my back. But as we walk out the front door, Justice stops me.
‘Are you trying to scare me even more bro?’ he asks.
‘You’re not wearing any pants.’
I’ve nearly forgotten about the orange van by the time we ride past the newsagency. As usual, Mr Stavros the taxi driver is leaning against his car, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.
‘Yassou, boys!’ he cries out.
We’re already running late for school, but we stop to say hello.
‘You boys know where this Deadly D fella is?’ asks Mr Stavros in his rich Greek accent. Justice and I look at each other nervously.
‘Nah, Mr Stavros. Why do you ask?’ I say.
He hands us his paper and points to the sports pages. ‘It’s a mystery, I tell you!’ he says.
As he drives off, Justice and I read the headline. It’s an article by Scotty Prince. This is what it says:
by Scott Prince
The NRL’s newest superstar has set the league alight with his awesome power, strength and speed. Not many people know much about the new kid on the block, except that he may be destined to become one of the game’s greatest ever players. The only problem is, no one knows where he is.
The Brisbane Broncos have released a statement saying that Deadly D hasn’t returned to training since leaving the field during the game against the South Sydney Rabbitohs. He was last seen on the back of a police horse, galloping down Roma Street. Newly appointed coach for the Broncos, Wayne Bennett, says that he is worried for Deadly D’s safety. ‘His mysterious disappearance has inspired many theories. Some people say that he has been kidnapped. Others believe he has flown to the USA to try out for the NFL. But these are only rumours. No one knows the truth. Please, Deadly D, if you’re out there, just let us know that you’re okay. We miss you,’ says Coach Bennett.
I toss the newspaper in the recycling bin, but two words are burnt into my brain: the truth. Justice and Taylor are the only people who know about my double life. Mum knows about the curse but she thinks I’m a ball boy for the Broncos — not their star player. Shame. It’s time I told her the truth.
We’re only a few streets away from Flatwater State School. Any moment now, the bell will ring and Mr Barwick will be calling everyone into class. But as we turn into Shank Street towards the school gates, there’s a screech of tyres. I look over my shoulder and my heart leaps into my throat. A bright orange van is behind us and its got a big red circle painted on the front. The windows are tinted black and I can’t see inside.
‘It’s them!’ screams Justice. ‘Ride faster!’ Justice takes off, pedalling like a cyclist with an echidna down his pants.
‘I can’t!’ I cry. My legs feel like jelly.
‘There’s no such thing as can’t!’ yells Justice. ‘Just move your big hairy butt!’
We don’t ride up Shank Street — it’s too steep. We turn the corner instead. Our legs are a blur as we pedal faster and faster. The orange van is revving its engine and edging closer to our back wheels. My life flashes before my eyes.
‘I’ll promise to always tell you the truth, Mum!’ I shout. Even though she can’t hear me, it feels like this might be the last thing I ever get to say to her.
‘I love you too, Mum,’ screams Justice. ‘And I promise to never swap Dad’s shampoo with mayonnaise again!’
Before I get the chance to give him a weird look, the orange van swerves in front of us. On the side door, it says ‘BIGTOP’ in shiny silver writing. The passenger window slowly winds down and staring back at us is a clown! He’s smiling but he doesn’t look happy. His face is smeared with white make-up and big red lips are drawn around his mouth. Except for a halo of blue frizzy hair, he’s bald.
‘Want to join the circus?’ he laughs.
Justice and I scream our heads off and we take off pedalling even faster than before. This is way too freaky. The van passes us again. This time, the driver winds his window down. He’s a clown too, but he has a little pointy hat with a pompom on top.
‘We want Dylan Conlan to join the circus!’ he laughs.
Did he just say my name? Luckily for us, a garbage truck pulls out in front of the van and the clown has to hit the brakes. The cars behind screech their tyres and stop just in time. With a garbage truck blocking the road and cars backed up, the clowns can’t go anywhere.
‘Stranger danger!’ I yell to Justice, but he’s already heading towards the safety of school.