DAY 9: Sunday, Christmas Eve
My skims: 0
Wriggler’s skims: 0
World championship cancelled. Wrigs and I are no longer friends. Officially.
Money made for tinnie: $0 ($735 to go—it’s up to me on my own now.)
Wrigs nearly knocked the door down when he came over.
‘I reckon he’s a terrorist setting up a secret base.’
‘Who?’
‘Mr Black.’
‘That dude from the river? Why would he set up a secret base in Pensdale?’ I said. ‘I reckon he owns the deserted house and wants to sell it. He won’t want us around while he’s doing it. He’ll build a fence to keep us out, or worse still, call the police to arrest us for trespassing.’
‘If he’s a terrorist, he’ll just kill us,’ said Wrigs. ‘There’s no way I’m going back down there.’
So we went Christmas shopping with my mum instead. Most shopping centres have glass lifts and cool shops and cinema complexes. Our one in Pensdale doesn’t have any of those things. All it has is a wishing well that you throw coins into and it sings, ‘Thank you very much!’ in a really stupid voice.
While Mum was off buying stuff, Wrigs and I played Shadows. It’s a game we’ve played since we were little kids. We take it in turns to pick someone in the crowd, and then see how long we can follow them around without them noticing us. As soon as they notice you, you’re out.
What makes it really hard is that the closer you get to your target person, the more nervous you get. When you’re nervous it’s more likely you’ll do something really obvious, like run into them or kick the back of their shoes or something.
I always win, because Wrigs has got red hair and always gets spotted by the person he is following. Normally I’m jealous of his hair because rangas get a lot more attention than the rest of us. You never hear anyone saying, ‘Gee, look at that guy’s hair, it is so mousy brown.’ Or, ‘I want the kid with poo-coloured hair on my team.’ Rangas have got it made, except for when they play Shadows.
I was on a great Shadow. I had picked up the trail of a really fat bloke. He had no idea I was there. I was going for the highest level of Shadows—Mastershadow. You do this by getting really close to the person you are following. Then you time your steps with theirs. It looks fantastic. You look exactly like you’re their shadow.
I had just made it to Mastershadow when Tearley cruised up next to me and said, ‘Hey, Dribbler, are you trying to pickpocket this guy?’
The man-mountain stopped and swung around. I walked straight into him, bounced off his stomach and fell over. He looked down at me like I was the biggest freak in the history of freakdom. Then he walked off. Tearley was laughing her head off.
‘Why did you do that?’ I shouted at her.
‘It looked weird,’ she said.
‘It’s a game.’
‘More like an affliction.’
‘I thought you were grounded,’ I said.
‘No, I told Mum the beanbag thing was your idea,’ she said. ‘She’s really angry at you. She’s going to tell your mum all about it when we come to your place on Boxing Day.’
Great, that’s all I need. I’ll be the one grounded until I’m twenty-two.
‘Do you want to go skimming?’ she asked.
‘How do you know how to skim?’
‘Wriggler taught me. He said that you two were trying out for the world record. I reckon it’s a great idea. I’ve been practising and I’ve got up to sixteen.’
‘Sixteen,’ I said. ‘That’s hopeless.’
Sixteen. I hadn’t even got sixteen.
‘When did he teach you?’ I asked.
‘Last week. He came around to wash all this orange paint out of his hair so he wouldn’t get in trouble at home. We went down to that falling-down house by the river. It’s pretty cool.’
I turned around looking for Wriggler. He was standing next to the ‘Thank you very much’ wishing well, looking for someone to Shadow.
‘Hey, Wrigs,’ I called out. ‘Tearley said that you taught her how to skim.’
He came over. ‘Yeah, she’s really good at it. She got ten on her first day.’
‘And I’ve been practising,’ Tearley told him. ‘I’m up to sixteen now.’
‘Sixteen!’ said Wrigs. ‘That’s awesome. You haven’t got sixteen, have you, Digs?’
I couldn’t believe him. How could he? And to take her to our secret place. Skimming is what Wrigs and I do. And I’m the one that’s going to be world champion, not Tearley.
‘Yeah, let’s go,’ Tearley said. ‘Bet I can get twenty.’
‘No, I don’t want to,’ I said. ‘You might as well go with your boyfriend—Wrigs.’
So much for a merry Christmas.