14

ANOTHER BRILLIANT IDEA … I THINK

I’m sitting inside the bus, working on our blog, while rain pours down the windows. Harriet sits in the driver’s seat, folding tinfoil into hats. She’s making a killing selling $3 alien caps which the tourists find hilarious, though I wish they wouldn’t wear them while driving. Reflection from tinfoil could blind oncoming traffic and cause serious accidents. I’m thinking about designing warning labels.

Beneath our feet, Ana ignores everyone, performing roly-polys down the aisle in her ninja turtle costume. Alex and I lean over his laptop, trying to answer questions from schools around the country.

Harriet’s decided I’m the best writer in the group, but she must rate her own skills because she keeps asking me to change sentences and add new ideas every two minutes. After half an hour, I’ve only managed a few paragraphs.

BLOG ENTRY 23

Thanks heaps for your support and for signing our online petition. We liked your suggestions for keeping our school open, although mrsboyle@willowbankschool I don’t think we could kidnap the Minister for Education and hold her for ransom. It’s against the law and based on popularity polls, I’m not sure the government would pay that much for her release.

Yes, librarian@baverstockprimary, we did find a photo of the Education Minister online as a child in her school uniform. You’re right, she went to a rural school, so how weird is that? I think if we could’ve talked to her as a kid, instead of now, she would’ve agreed with us. Mostly I’m just confused. Why would anyone think money was more important than schools? Do adults forget about being a kid, going to school and hanging out with their friends?

‘Are you done yet?’ interrupts Harriet, placing a crinkled hat on the dashboard. ‘The blog’s important but we need to focus on faking alien sightings.’

‘There’s too many tourists now,’ complains Alex, pressing his head against the window and staring out at the rain. ‘Just look at what happened on Tuesday night. Their cars moved faster than my dad’s farm drone. We’re lucky it fell into the silage pond where no one could find it.’

Turns out, alien sightings are easier to fake when no one’s watching. After the poultry farm riot the number of tourists in our town doubled, even though Mr Winter let TV1 NEWS crews in to prove he wasn’t hiding alien bodies. Now, the camping grounds are packed, Mrs O’Leary and Mrs Jones have become famous with TV and magazine interviews, and some locals have started renting out their spare rooms. Trouble is, with the tourists being grown-ups without farms (and apparently no jobs), they stay up all night watching the skies. None of them need to get up early for cow milking or school, and the second we fly a kite or drone they tear across town, car lights blazing and digital cameras hanging out their windows.

At least they’re spending money. (In fact, Mum says Mrs O’Leary’s put up the price of milk something shocking.) They’ve also been great about signing my petition. All I do is walk across the camping grounds after school, wave my forms and tell a few stories about seeing UFOs. I’m getting roughly twenty new signatures a day, not counting the online ones. So between the petition and increasing tourism, I think we’re guaranteed an A for our project.

Still, it’s hard work.

‘Alex’s right,’ I say, pulling my first aid bag onto my lap. ‘There’s too many people, but if we don’t fake a UFO sighting soon, the tourists will leave. This weather doesn’t help, either.’

We all know the river has a habit of flooding in bad weather, turning from a large creek into a raging torrent. I think the camping ground should be safe but you never know. Once, before I was born, there was a huge storm and I’ve seen pictures of Mum and Dad riding dinghies along Main Street. You can still see the flood lines on the older houses, where dirt and water left tide marks on the paint. I’m no expert on tourism, but I don’t think bad weather will help us unless the tourists hire kayaks and enjoy white-water rafting.

Harriet looks out the window and sighs. ‘We haven’t faked any UFO sightings for five days. I heard one camper saying if he didn’t spot one soon, he’d head for a thermal water park instead. We need to distract the tourists so we can fake a decent UFO sighting, but somehow make sure they see it, too.’

I clear my throat, watching rain dribble across the glass. ‘You know, Constable Curtin’s holding a meeting in the school hall tomorrow night, just before dark. Even the tourists are invited. Mum reckons he’s going to talk about increased litter and traffic.’

Everyone frowns at me like I’ve suggested running naked down Main Street. They don’t want to go anywhere near the police, not when they’re faking UFOs. Personally, I would like having Constable Curtin around more often, just in case of emergencies. We don’t usually see him, except when he buys petrol from the O’Learys, otherwise it’s road and internet safety lessons once a year at school. (Constable Curtin says he always remembers my name because I ask the most questions. It’s good to see someone appreciates my interest in safety.)

Alex turns towards me and says, ‘How is a town meeting helpful?’

‘Well, Constable Curtin wants everyone there. Even the campers, because he’ll also talk about keeping an eye out for suspicious behaviour, that sort of thing.’

Harriet frowns. ‘Yeah, there’s been some weird stuff going on. People are imagining aliens everywhere. Mrs Anderson told my mum she heard “unnatural noises” coming from the church bell tower last night, but it wasn’t us. She must’ve imagined it.’

‘Really?’ mutters Alex, eyes slipping back towards his screen. ‘My dad said he’d heard something weird, too …’

‘Are you listening?’ I interrupt, waving my arms. ‘Everyone will be there, which means we can pull off something awesome because no one will be around to watch us. They’ll all be in the school hall.’

‘Oh.’ Her mouth gapes as my word sink in. ‘That’s brilliant!’

‘Exactly!’

Alex raises one eyebrow over the edge of his Chromebook. ‘Okay, I see what you’re getting at. Not bad.’

I nod. ‘Thanks, but we still need to come up with a plan. We can’t fake a UFO sighting without witnesses, we’ll need evidence and we’ve already taken photos. We need something new this time.’

Alex lowers his phone and says, ‘Actually, I’ve got an idea.’

‘Yeah?’

‘You remember how we read those online articles claiming animals were acting strangely around UFO hotspots? Well, people will notice if their livestock does something, um … unexpected.’

Harriet frowns. ‘How unexpected?’

Good question. For a second I’m imagining Mrs Anderson’s cows dressed in bonnets and tap dancing down Main Street. I’m about to point out we don’t have time to train animals, when Alex says, ‘Just weird stuff like disappearing and then reappearing in another field.’ He glances out the window. ‘Well … we could definitely do that, right? I live on a farm and I help Dad all the time, it’s not hard.’

‘Oh!’ says Harriet ‘You’re right, that’s easy. You could totally move some sheep with your dad’s dogs. It’s not very exciting, but it’ll get the farmers talking and the papers might notice.’ She reaches out and taps the steering wheel. ‘Animals disappearing mysteriously … better than nothing, right?’

I press the bag under my chin. ‘Hang on, if animals disappear we’ll be accused of stealing. You know farmers rely on their stock. Everyone would panic.’

Alex shrugs at his screen. ‘I’ll just move my own animals around a bit, have them appear in a few strange places. I wouldn’t do anything stupid. It’s like Harriet said, I know what I’m doing.’

We all look at each other and, at last, Harriet nods. ‘Sounds like it’ll work. Let’s do it!’

She’s right, it’s a sensible plan, so why do I feel nervous? Alex’s dad doesn’t let him move stock alone, is there a reason for that? But no one else seems worried and we haven’t got a better plan, so I keep my mouth shut.

All the same, I’m worried.