20
WE ARE SO BUSTED
Everything happens fast.
One minute we’re in the air and the next, we’re landing in Mrs Jones’s camping ground. Our arrival creates a huge fuss. People run and scream, except for two long-haired men with tinfoil hats who drop onto their knees, worshipping the helicopter. Two uni students stand on top of their caravan, filming us and waving.
The helicopter guy turns and gives the medic a look which says — what a bunch of weirdos.
Of course it’s noisy, so I can’t explain how helicopters appearing though storm clouds might look like UFOs. Also, I’m betting Ana’s mask won’t help, especially when she presses her face against the glass. Ana does look like an alien. But I’m pretty sure everyone calms down when we land and two ordinary kids get out, even if one is being carried by a medic with space-age-looking overalls.
Out of nowhere the SUV couple appear, poking their heads over the medic’s shoulder and asking questions. Holding up their cameras, they ask for photos. The medic shakes her head. ‘We’re not doing interviews.’
I shake my head. Interviews? Of course, they’re reporters! No wonder they acted nosy and stayed in the camping grounds, close to the action and taking photos. They’re journalists writing a newspaper story.
Phew! We’re not being investigated by government agents. Talk about a huge relief, but my knees feel wobbly already and I’m light-headed. Someone’s holding ice packs against my arm and pulling off my wet T-shirt, wrapping warm blankets around my chest. Another pair of hands examines my head, and says, ‘Just superficial cuts, better keep a close eye on the little girl, though.’
A different pair of hands clap my shoulder. ‘Well done, kid. Your tinfoil and reflective vest saved the day.’
Did they? I don’t know. But the shivering stops and bandages get smoothed over my cuts, just as Mum comes running with Alex and his parents, followed by Harriet and Constable Curtin. There’s a lot of hugging and shouting, and nothing much matters, until Mum says, ‘Lucas, what on earth happened?’
Well, it’s like tugging a thread from a jumper. If you pull too hard, the whole thing comes undone. So, once we start explaining, we can’t stop. And, then? We’re in a whole lot of trouble.
Harriet disappears into the crowd, dragged away by her parents for dry clothes and explanations. Alex’s mum climbs into the helicopter with Ana, thanking me over and over again until the door shuts and they fly off to hospital for a check-up. So it’s just us left behind; Alex, his dad, Mum and Constable Curtin.
Alex and I get marched into the O’Learys’ garage, seeing as they’ve got power generators and bags of frozen peas. Mum presses frozen veggies against my biggest bruises, but her lips grow tight and thin. Five minutes ago, everyone called me a hero because my vest attracted the attention of the chopper and I saved Ana from hypothermia. Now, everyone’s folding their arms and glaring.
‘Okay,’ says Constable Curtin, while Mum checks the cuts on my elbow. ‘Let’s start at the beginning. How exactly did Ana go missing?’
Alex looks at me, and I stare back. He drops his gaze to his feet and says, ‘I was supposed to stay home and watch her but I went out. I was moving sheep from one paddock to the next and, um, I got distracted.’
Mr Chan leans over the counter, eyes widening. ‘You were doing what? Wait, you were the one who let out all the sheep?’
Alex nods.
Mr Chan flings his hands out, accidentally knocking packets of Minties off the shelf. ‘WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?’
Alex mutters, ‘It was an accident. Are the sheep okay?’
‘Yes,’ roars his father. ‘No thanks to you!’
My mum clears her throat. ‘I still don’t understand. Why were you moving sheep?’
Her eyes glance towards the door like she’d rather leave than hear the answer. Alex doesn’t speak, he’s too busy staring at his hands, so I say, ‘Well, we were trying to pretend aliens moved the animals. You know, because people believe aliens make livestock act funny … but we never meant for any sheep to get loose!’
No one says anything. Mr Chan looks at Mum and her mouth drops open. Did the ice-cream freezer’s humming grow louder, or was it always that noisy? At last, Constable Curtin taps his foot. ‘So you’re saying you kids faked the alien sightings?’
‘Yes.’
‘All of them?’
‘Yeah, but we had a good reason, see—’
Mum holds up one hand, cutting me off. She slams the veggies down onto the counter and her mouth starts opening and closing, struggling for words. Then Constable Curtin turns to Mrs O’Leary, standing in the doorway with cups of tea. ‘Rita, could I get a chair and maybe a cup of coffee instead? Looks like we’re in for a long night.’
But Mum doesn’t need chairs. She grabs hold of the counter’s edge and her cheeks flood with colour, like someone tipped raspberry cordial onto a white tablecloth. ‘You mean the photos of aliens … that was all you?’
Alex and I both nod, staring at the ground.
‘The lights in the sky?’
‘My kite. I used glow-in-the-dark stickers.’
‘Your kite?’ She swallows hard. ‘And the crop circles?’
‘We used a motor mower and a weed whacker.’
Mrs O’Leary snorts and I look up, but she’s just a shadow hovering around the doorway. I only see Mum. Somewhere in the world behind her face, I hear Constable Curtin saying, ‘Of course it was kids. I knew it wasn’t flaming aliens.’
He sounds relieved and a little amused, but there’s nothing funny about Mum’s expression. Her face looks hot enough to burst into flames, but she’s not frowning. She looks blank, like something sucked the feelings out of her body. Constable Curtin throws Mrs O’Leary a look which sends her hurrying towards the kitchen, muttering about coffee.
‘I don’t believe this,’ says Mum and her quiet voice sounds worse than Alex’s dad’s yelling. Despite the heat spreading over her cheeks, her expression sounds cold, like she’s talking to a stranger. ‘You lied to me, Lucas. You lied to this whole town. What am I supposed to think about that?’
‘No Mum, it wasn’t like that …’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘No, we wanted to save the school! We wanted people coming to our town and spending money, so the economy would improve. Then people would have jobs, buy houses and stay, so there’d be enough kids to keep the school open … and …’
Suddenly, it all sounds stupid. What did I think would happen? That we’d become the alien capital of the world? That our parents would open a tourism centre and save the school by selling pamphlets and guided tours?
Alex’s dad groans, lowering his head into his hands and resting against the counter. Without looking up, he says to Constable Curtin, ‘I suppose this will be in all the newspapers?’
‘Um — it will have to be reported, then it becomes a public document. We’d have trouble keeping it quiet, especially with journalists in the campgrounds. They’ve been sniffing around for a story for days.’
My heart sinks into my stomach. I open my mouth to say sorry, but I make a strange gasping sound and realise I’m about to cry. The newspapers? Embarrassed in front of the whole country? All I wanted to do was help our school. Now I’ve failed in front of millions of people and Mum looks likes she going to cry, too. I can’t think of anything worse.
I rub a sleeve across my nose, sniffing. ‘I know you must be angry, Mum—’
She holds up her hand, cutting off my sentence. Then she shakes her head and looks away, like she can’t bear the sight of me. Staring at the door, she says, ‘I’m not angry. I’m just so … disappointed.’
And I was wrong, that was worse.