5
THE SPACEMAN SPECIAL
The National Herald
Crop Circles in Wairarapa
Locals from the rural town of Ashton Hill have again reported unconfirmed alien sightings. This time, reports centre around mysterious circles appearing near State Highway 1. Local resident Edith Jones (89) claims the crop circles were the result of landing unidentified spacecrafts.
Noises, heard last night by Mrs Jones, were described as low and mechanical. Upon investigating, she claims to have seen, ‘something short, green and humanoid in shape’. Furthermore, Mrs Jones disclosed to our reporters, ‘The alien conversed on matters regarding world peace and apples.’
When pressed further, Mrs Jones explained, ‘I grow quality apples, on account of the manure, so we talked about farming. The little man seemed partial to Granny Smiths.’
Constable Curtin investigated the scene and reported the discovery of a large circular mark cut into the grass. Constable Curtin has been quick to remark that, ‘there will be a logical explanation which, at this point, hasn’t been determined. Inquiries will be made. However, I do not believe there are aliens in Ash Hill.’
Little green men? Lights in the sky? Crop circles? Readers are invited to reach their own conclusions.
We’re sitting on the wall next to the Tools ’n’ Tucker Garage, spending our Saturday morning blowing bubbles with Hubba Bubba gum and watching cars.
The wall doesn’t sound like much, but it’s the local meeting point for Ash Hill kids. It’s low and made from scoria stone, blown from a volcano millions of years ago. Harriet says that’s the most exciting thing to happen in this town and we missed it. (Is she for real? Volcanic activity might attract tourists but living on a volcano is so dangerous that keepsafekids.com won’t even cover it. Guess they’re thinking no one would be that dumb.)
Alex keeps laughing over the newspaper article, while Harriet shakes her head. I’m saying, for the millionth time, ‘How was I supposed to know I looked like an alien?’
Harriet snorts, sunlight glinting off her glasses. ‘We’re just lucky she didn’t get a good look at you. If it wasn’t dark she would’ve figured it out for sure. I mean, how many giant green turtles do you find in the countryside?’
Ana sits on the ground, picking stones and muttering, ‘Birds likes seeds. Feed the birdy!’
She’s dressed in a Tweety-Bird onesie and banging her foam beak into the dirt. Thanks to her latest costume, Ana’s also developed a passion for birds and she’s determined to fly. We’ve had to rescue her off the bus roof twice, which isn’t easy as she’s not keen on letting anyone carry her down, except Alex. I shake my head. ‘Well I’m not taking any more risks, Ana can have my ninja turtle outfit, I’m done dressing up.’
Ana doesn’t look at me, but Alex smiles. ‘Thanks, she’ll like that. It might give us a break from the bird obsession. She built a nest in Mum’s car last week and guess who had to clean it out?’
Harriet rubs one foot into the dirt, frowning. ‘About last night. We got lucky. If Mrs Jones had walked any closer she would’ve recognised us. We need to make our next move carefully.’
‘But what can we— Whoa, look at that! A Ferrari!’
A car pulls up to the garage, shiny and silent, swerving into the space with the grace of a circling hawk. The door swings open and we’re all staring because fancy cars never stop in Ash Hill for petrol. Our tanks only cover diesel and cheap fuel, nothing for expensive cars.
A man jumps out and stretches. He’s wearing designer sunglasses and squeaky shoes which creak as he walks around the car. He nods at us. ‘Hey kids, is this the place?’
Alex glances around at the empty main street with its few scattered shops. ‘Are you lost, mister?’
A woman with shiny blonde hair slips from the passenger side, walking towards Squeaky-Shoe Man. Pushing up her sunglasses, she grins at us. ‘We just drove for over an hour, hoping to see some crop circles. You kids know where we could spot one?’
‘Uhhh …’
And then, the garage owner, Mrs O’Leary, comes hurrying out the shop door with her husband close behind. Wiping oil off her hands, she asks, ‘Do you two need jumper cables?’
The strangers shake their heads and laugh. The woman waves her hand at us, shiny red nails slicing the air. ‘No, we’re asking for directions. Is this where the aliens were supposed to have landed?’
Alex snorts and Harriet almost pushes him off the wall, whispering, ‘Shhh!’
The O’Learys look at the couple like they’re not very bright. Clearing his throat, Mr O’Leary says, ‘You can’t believe everything you hear. Probably a hoax. I mean, there’s no such thing as aliens, right?’
‘No, no, of course not.’ Squeaky-Shoe Man nods, but then looks around with a hopeful expression. ‘Still, it’s something to do on a Saturday afternoon and we’d love to see that circle. I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could take a look? I’m happy to pay.’
Mr O’Leary glances at his wife. ‘I’m not sure. I mean, those marks are on private property …’
Harriet calls out, ‘Why don’t you ask Mrs Jones?’
‘Uh, yes.’ Mrs O’Leary glances over with her eyebrows raised, surprised to see us listening. ‘That sounds reasonable. Give us a minute, we’ll call her up.’
Next to me, Harriet leans back on the wall and mutters, ‘Guess what?’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘I went over and visited Mrs Jones this morning. We had a chat about her crop circles. Turns out she needs new paint for her verandah. I pointed out tourists might pay to take a look … she’s not stupid. Watch and see.’
My mouth drops open. She already thought of this happening? For the first time, I wonder if Harriet’s annoying for a reason. Maybe it’s not easy being a kid who’s smarter than everyone else. I mean, her brains must be huge. How do they even fit inside her head?
Around lunchtime, several minibuses turn up, filled with tourists heading for the coast. A short man with a sunburnt nose leaps out, saying, ‘Not our usual petrol and toilet stop, but we’ve had a few requests. Everyone’s asking about aliens. Don’t suppose you could help us out?’
The O’Learys appear with homemade brochures hot off their printer. Tourists pour from the bus, holding up their cameras and phones, looking left and right like little green creatures might leap out from behind the petrol pumps. Every single one of them buys The Spaceman Special — $10 entry into Mrs Jones’s field with a free filtered coffee and discounted snacks. At first I’m surprised, but Mr O’Leary explained they get half the fee for organising the tours and locking the gate after the tourists.
No prizes for guessing who gave Mrs O’Leary that idea.
Harriet looks so pleased that I decide not to share my fears about the risks of encouraging tourists. Extra cars could increase air pollution and raise the chances of ozone depletion or death by lung disease. Still, I don’t want to ruin her moment, so I focus on being helpful. We jump off the wall and walk around the garage, telling tourists stories about seeing imaginary UFOs while they wait in line to pay for their tickets.
When the last tourist passes through the gate, we all sit back on the wall, grinning and looking out across the fields which stretch into the horizon like a green sea. Two drones buzz in the distance, surveying the fence lines. Most farms are small, but Gunderson’s Creek needs drones to keep an eye on all their boundaries because it would take hours to cross on a quadbike … Hang on, there’s an idea.
‘You know, tourists won’t keep coming once the circle grows back. We’ve got to think of something else.’
Harriet squints at me, holding her hand up against the afternoon sun. ‘Like what?’
‘Drones. Could anyone lend us one? We’ll make it look like a UFO. I mean, they already fly, right? We just need to make one light up.’
Harriet nods her head like a yoyo. ‘That’s a great idea! My brother’s got an old one we could use. Let’s try tonight. Tonight, tell your mum you’re invited to my house for dinner. Alex, maybe you could fly a kite at the same time, so we’ll have two sightings.’
I’m not sure how I feel about getting stuck with Harriet, but Alex hasn’t invited me to his house for ages, so I can’t make an excuse and tag along with him. Anyway, Harriet might need help with the drone, I’ve heard her brother’s one isn’t great. We’ll also need to dress it up like a UFO and I’ve already got ideas.
Alex frowns. ‘I guess that’s a good idea. But didn’t your brother say—’
Mrs O’Leary interrupts, calling across the garage forecourt. ‘Kids! Can I have a word?’
We look up and see Mrs O’Leary waving. She’s standing near the petrol pumps, wiping invisible smudges off her doorway. We all hurry over, hoping she might have lollies. After all, we did a great job talking up UFOs with the tourists.
She frowns at us. ‘Kids, I was thinking …’
‘What?’ asks Harriet, looking innocent and wide-eyed.
‘All this talk about aliens, someone must be faking it. Obviously there’s no such thing as UFOs. I don’t suppose you lot know anything about it?’
‘Nothing, Mrs O’Leary.’
Mrs O’Leary frowns. ‘You kids gave a very detailed description of the UFO to those tourists. Did all of you happen to see an alien spacecraft?’
‘I dunno,’ says Harriet, ‘I mean, we were hanging around in my backyard. We saw something, but I never said it was a UFO. It could’ve been anything, maybe a piece of space junk?’
I swallow hard. It wouldn’t take a lot of detective work to figure out we weren’t together on the night people spotted a UFO.
Mrs O’Leary leans against the petrol pump. ‘I’m watching you kids, that’s all I’m saying.’ She shakes her head and then wanders into the store. ‘UFOs … honestly.’
My stomach flips over. We’d better watch ourselves or we might get caught and all our plans will go down the drain. If I mess up, my school friends will be shipped off to different schools and the only way I’ll see Dad’s grave will be on Google Maps.
I can’t let that happen. We need to make sure our drone plan works and that it stays top secret. Trouble is, now I’ve got to worry about Mrs O’Leary because I think she’s onto us.