8:13 a.m. Paul and I had been out for ages scoping the streets of Kings. For a town that was supposed to be one of the hottest places on earth right now it sure seemed cool-starved from where we were standing. Yeah, there were whales cruising by, dolphins and the shipwreck round at Samsara, surfers out at The Rock – but we were looking for something explosive and different to anywhere else, something we thought was the greatest thing we'd ever seen. I knew that I'd know something was cool when I saw it but I just wasn't feeling the vibes.
We'd filmed a chubby couple eating chocolate croissants and making out on the rocks at Little Cove, a street-cleaner picking up tourists' wrappers and junk, a Doberman sniffing a Labradoodle's bum in the park, a woman in lycra stinking of perfume charging up the beach, barking something about real estate into her mobile, two backpackers with drool hanging from their mouths sleeping on the beach, a bunch of drowned sewer rats on a surf lesson and rich folks jamming their faces with nineteen-dollar waffles at a café. Clearly all the cool people were still in bed.
'Let's go check the results,' I said to Paul and we crossed Beach Road towards the sand. The beach was the fastest way to school on foot.
That's when we saw Cat. She was hanging on the corner near the Beach Cafe – black jeans and T, black spiral speared through her left ear, silver lip-ring, black-and-white check Converse sneaks, camera in hand. She was about the coolest thing we'd seen all morning.
'Can I shoot her?' I asked Paul.
'Be my guest,' he said.
'With the camera,' I said.
'No, let's go. It's after eight. I don't want to hear the result from her unless it's a win,' Paul said.
We turned to cross Beach Road again when we heard the dreaded cry:
'Bonjour, losers.'
We stopped, turned and Cat was standing there, holding something out to us. A piece of paper.
Paul tried to stop me but I walked over to her.
'Have you seen the latest?' she asked, straight-faced.
I held her gaze for a few seconds then I snatched the paper. I didn't want to look. But I had to. Paul scowled at Cat and peered over my shoulder.
Our vid had 21422 votes! But Cat's fashion thing had 39 746. We'd made up a ton of ground on Monday's results but we'd still been slaughtered.
Cat said, 'I really feel for you guys. I mean, that's totally sweet, you thinking that lightning is cool but I really don't think you quite get coolhunting.'
I scanned the sheet for the comments:
is this guy kidding? lightning farming is insane. no one knows where or when lightning is going to strike, so how do you get a reliable source?
– GeekSpace9, Mt Victoria, Australia
I disagree. It could be a viable alternative energy. Check out the farm at www.mobilelightningfarm.com.
– Tad Cunningham, Little Rock, Arkansas, USA
How hot does cat look in her vlog?
– RockRollHarlen, Tromso, Norway.
This is crackpot science from the lunatic fringe.
– TasminDarko, Pretoria, South Africa
i go 2 mac slaters skool n someone told me tha crazy lightning guy is his dad and hes done time. anyone know what for?
– Chingy736, Kings Bay, Australia
Who cares about all that? Was it a cool video? Yes. So shut up and enjoy. I'm lovin this kid's brand of geek chic.
– ZenSimple, Bristol, UK
Cat interrupted with: 'Did I tell you? I'm having a party Friday night. A little bon voyage before I head off to NYC. Filthy Lemonade are playing. You guys can watch it on the web.' She smiled and walked off.
'Cow,' said Paul.
'But did you see her teeth? They're, like, perfect,' I said.
'Stop,' Paul snapped at me. 'She hates us. If she wasn't crushing us in this competition she'd have Egghead kill us. She is not a nice person.'
I watched her walk away. 'Yeah, but "nice" isn't everything,' I said.
Paul slapped me on the back of the head.
'I'm kidding. Sorry.'
'And Filthy Lemonade?' Paul said. 'Who the hell are they?'
'I dunno, aren't they on Triple J and stuff?' I asked.
'Great. I'm depressed. We gotta get to school,' Paul said.
We took the beach route and Paul moaned the whole way about how it was all over for us. I pretended that it wasn't, even though we'd scoured the whole town and it was a cool-free zone.
About halfway, I saw a rainbow-coloured kite in the sky up ahead. Next minute we saw Jewels running towards us – purple headband, school uniform, purple Doc Martens – breathless.
'I've been looking for you everywhere. There's something you've got to see.'
I was kind of surprised she was so sparky after she'd walked off from me at lunch the day before.
'What is it?' Paul asked, flicking his hair back, trying to look fresh for Jewels.
'Come see. You'll love it.'
She grabbed my hand and dragged me. Paul looked a little jealous and followed close behind.
'I hope he's still there. This is so you guys. You have to film it for your thing.'
As we closed in, I saw what was going down. The kite, almost the size of our bike wing, was attached to a guy with a harness. He had a handle out front to control the wing then he had a skateboard strapped to his feet, carving up the beach. And it wasn't just any old skateboard. This thing had super-chunky wheels and, judging by the amount of air he was getting, it was ultra-light.
He'd skate along the hard sand, work up some speed, then kick the board in the air and fly for three or four metres before landing it again. He even pulled off a somersault.
'This is hectic,' Paul said.
'It's lychees,' I said.
'It's elephants and zing.'
That meant it was good.
Me and Paul sat there in the dune and watched for ten minutes, jaws open. Paul shot a bunch of it. I wanted to ride that thing so bad. Jewels tried to talk to us and I shooshed her a couple of times. After a while I turned around to her and she was gone.
I stood and waved my hands, trying to flag the skate guy down. A minute later he saw me and skated over, ripping massive air and sliding to a stop in front of us, spitting a light coat of sand over our bare feet. The guy was about our age, maybe a year older. He had thick, jet-black hair sprouting from his helmet, long shorts, odd socks. I hadn't seen him 'round before.
'Hey,' he said.
'What is that thing?' I asked him.
'Kitesk8 board,' he said. 'With an "8".' He carefully steered the kite wing down to the ground.
'I need to ride that,' I said, moving in to touch the wheels.
'It's harder than it looks,' he said.
'I'll work it out,' I said.
'You ever handled a kite?' he asked.
'Yeah, we're working on a flying bike,' I said.
'You're those guys? I saw what happened on Sunday.'
'Yeah, well, that was an accident. Bit of bad luck. Can I have a ride?'
'No way,' he said. 'I built this thing myself. I can't afford anything to happen to it.'
'I'll pay for it if I bust it,' I said, not knowing how I'd do that, but knowing that I needed to ride that board.
He looked at me for a long time, then at Paul.
'I don't think so, mate.'
He unstrapped his feet from the board, grabbed it and started moving off towards the wing which was blowing around on the sand. I followed him.
'We're hoping to get our bike up again in the next couple of days and it'd really help if I could have a ride,' I said.
'I saw how badly you stacked. Sorry, man.'
'Well, can we at least shoot some more footage of you? I'm a coolhunter.' That was the first time I'd said it and it felt good. I guess I was a coolhunter now. I finally felt like I was on a proper coolhunt. Kids were gonna eat kitesk8boarding up.
'What's a coolhunter?' he asked.
I went on about coolhunting for a bit and, by the end, he was totally in to being filmed.
'So, does that mean I can have a ride this afternoon?' I asked.
He grinned and shook his head.
'You don't give up, do you?'
'Never,' I said.