Are you ready for a fun-filled day of physical activity? A day of sports and competitions and exercise? Well, you better be…
‘Welcome to the Super Sports Spectacular!’?
The announcer’s cheery and enthusiastic voice blasts through the speakers of the newly constructed sports complex.
‘It’s almost time to start, so hurry up and choose your sport for the day,’ he continues. ‘Each sport will have a coach to help newbies learn the ropes. Or join up to your favourite sport and compete against students from different schools. Our generous sponsor, the WooHoo Money Corporation, will also be providing participants with a show bag later in the day. Finally, above all, remember to have FUN!’
You look around the registration area at the tables with signs above them, including Tennis, Table Tennis, Volleyball, Lacrosse, Swimming, Water Polo, Camel Wrestling. So much to choose from. How are you going to make a decision?
How about cricket? You’re pretty good at that. Go here.
But your best friend is in line for soccer. Maybe you should join him? Go here.
You’re not sure you’re tall enough for basketball, but you’ve always wanted to try it. Go here.
Then again, track and field has also caught your eye. To sign up for that, go here.
Then you notice Xpogo. You wonder if that involves pogo sticks. Perhaps it’s worth checking out? Go here.
But maybe sport isn’t your thing? If you’d rather sneak off to read a book, go here.
You sign up for cricket and head to the pitch along with the others. There’s quite a range of ages, from primary to high school kids.
The coach, a tall blond-haired man with a stick of celery pinned to the lapel of his old-fashioned cricket jacket, draws two names at random to be the captains.
And you’re one of them. You and the other person take turns choosing team members. The older, sportier kids get chosen first, then the middle graders … until there are only two kids left – a ten-year-old girl and an even younger boy.
It’s your turn to pick next, but you can’t decide. You ask them why they should be on your team.
‘’Cause I’m a superhero,’ says the girl, adjusting her glasses.
Everyone laughs.
‘Because, despite my age and appearance, I am a genius,’ says the boy, clutching a cricket bat protectively to his chest. ‘I can help you win the game.’
You stare doubtfully at both of them.
‘Statistically speaking,’ pipes up the boy, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, ‘the odds of me being a genius are far greater than the odds of anyone here having superpowers.’
You’re not sure you believe either of them. So who will you choose?
To pick the girl, go here.
To pick the boy, go here.
You join your best friend, Matty, in line for soccer.
‘Oh cool,’ says Matty. ‘I thought Aussie Rules footy might be more your thing, but it’s great to have you do soccer with me.’
Footy? You didn’t see a sign for footy. You look around and spot it. Meanwhile, Matty is still talking.
‘Although, it doesn’t really make much sense to call Aussie Rules football. I mean, players get to catch the ball and bounce it and stuff. Soccer is the real football. Most other countries see it that way too because it’s all about using your feet to move the ball. So you could even say soccer is much more a game of football than Aussie Rules…’
Matty drones on and you tune him out. He’s a bit obsessed with soccer. You’d much rather play footy, but Matty would be disappointed if you left now.
If you want to stick with your friend, go here.
If you want to ditch Matty and soccer in favour of footy, go here.
You sign up for basketball and go to the indoor courts in the gymnasium, right next to the pool. The place is decked out with signage for Wantmore Academy, the exclusive school running basketball for the day.
‘Listen up,’ announces the coach, a tall thin woman with gangly arms and legs, and a head that looks too big. ‘You will be divided up into teams. Rather than playing against each other, you will be playing against one of the Wantmore Academy teams.’ As she talks, droplets of spit fly from the corners of her mouth. Gross!
You find yourself on the team set to play first. The coach brings in the Wantmore teams. These kids look unbelievable. They are tall – unnaturally tall! The shortest guy on the team is at least six foot.
You’re not sure you want to play against this lot, but the other sports are probably full by now. Then you remember there was no one in line for Xpogo. You could still sign up for that.
If you want to try Xpogo, go here.
But if you want to stick with basketball, go here.
You sign up for track and field, and jog over to the track. Feeling enthusiastic, you decide to try out all the different events, from running to shot-put, from steeplechase to discus.
The first event is the 100-metre sprint. You line up with nine other kids in your age group. The starter yells, ‘On your marks. Get set. Go!’
You’re off, racing as hard as you can. But you don’t stand a chance. One kid dashes ahead of everyone.
You come fourth. You’re panting and sweating, and you have to rest your arms on your knees to catch your breath. But the kid who won seems completely unaffected.
He’s a bit odd-looking, in that he looks too perfect. Symmetrical face, smooth pimple-free skin, neat hair with no strands out of place – despite the fact that he has just run a race.
If this kid is going to be in the other events, is there even any point in competing?
If you want to drop out and sign up for basketball instead, go here.
To persist and enter the next event, go here.
You head over to the Xpogo registration table. There’s no one lining up, just you.
A short distance away you see a teenager on a pogo stick, bouncing around uncontrollably. He looks like he’s trying to hold onto a bucking bronco as he springs around all over the place. He bounces off towards the swimming pool and splashes into the water.
‘Welcome to Xpogo, the extreme pogo stick sport,’ says the lady behind the desk, sounding bored. She pushes a pen and form towards you. ‘You’ll need to sign a waiver agreeing that we’re not responsible for any injuries you may sustain.’
There’s a commotion over at the pool as a lifeguard pulls the teenager and his pogo stick out of the water.
You’re beginning to have second thoughts.
Perhaps you should sign up for cricket instead. Go here.
But if you want to stick with Xpogo, go here.
You casually walk away from the registration area and slip around the back of the sponsor’s tent, the big WooHoo Money Corporation logo splashed across its side – a grinning smiley-face with dollar signs in place of eyes. You glance around the massive sports complex. There are ovals, tracks, swimming pools and gymnasiums – even a makeshift pen for the camels and their wrestlers. Beyond is an area of trees and tracks where the cross-country runners will race. You figure that would be a good place to hide yourself away.
You’re about to head off in that direction when you hear raised voices from inside the WooHoo tent.
‘The show bags should’ve been here already,’ a man shouts. ‘This puts all our plans in jeopardy.’
Plans? What plans?
If you’re curious to find out, keep listening in. Go here.
But, really, how interesting could a sports day sponsor’s plans be? You might be better off heading for the trees to read your book. Go here.
You sign the form and the lady points you towards a square patch of asphalt near the rugby field.
When you arrive, the coach is talking to a bunch of people wearing lots of protective pads and holding pogo sticks. She’s a tough-looking middle-aged woman in a bright yellow tracksuit.
‘I’ll be with you in a sec,’ she calls, and continues her conversation.
You look around. There’s a row of coloured pogo sticks lined up along a bar at the edge of the asphalt. You wonder if you should try out one of the sticks … or wait for the coach.
The sensible thing to do would be to stay put. Go here.
But what’s the harm in having just a little trial jump for now? Go here.
You decide to stick with basketball. The game begins.
By the end of the first quarter, the Wantmore team has scored 23 goals to your team’s big fat zero. They’ve doubled this by half-time.
You’re dripping with sweat but determined to continue. Three teammates drop out and are replaced with fresh players for the second half. It doesn’t help. At the close of the match your team still hasn’t managed to score a single point.
It’s time for the second match, giving you a chance to take a rest … or so you think.
It seems that most of the kids who signed up for basketball have changed their minds and left during the first match. There are only six kids left, and you need five for a team. Despite being exhausted, it looks as if you’re going to have to play again. Or will you?
To play in the next match, go here.
But there would still be enough players without you, so you could pull out and cool down in the pool next door. Go here.
After signing up, you and Matty head down to the soccer pitch.
The coach divides everyone up into teams. Not only are you and Matty separated, but you find yourselves playing against each other… both as midfielders.
You know how to play soccer and you’re okay at it, but Matty lives and breathes this sport. He runs rings around you, and every time the ball comes near, Matty is there to intercept, dazzling you with his fancy dribbling and whisking the ball away.
By the second half, you’re feeling really down. But then the ball is kicked straight at you. You glance around – Matty is nowhere in sight. This is your chance. You race for it.
You’re almost there.
You’re about to kick the ball.
Out of nowhere, Matty appears and steals it from under your feet.
Anger shoots through you. You have a sudden urge to stop Matty at any cost. It would be so easy to stick out your leg and trip him. But could you do that to your best friend?
If you let your fury take control, go here.
But if you decide to subdue your feelings, go here.
You pick the genius boy. The girl walks over to the other team.
‘Don’t give me any of that superpowers trash,’ the captain tells her. ‘Just keep out of my way.’
You think he’s being unnecessarily mean.
The coach announces that it will be ten overs per side, unless all batters are bowled out.
Now it’s time to flip a coin to decide if your team will field or bat first.
Heads means that you’ll bat.
Tails means that you’ll field.
The next event is the pole vault. You head over to the bar, which is surrounded by large padded mats.
As you and the other competitors listen to the coach explaining the rules and procedures, you notice a boy hanging around the poles, which are laid out off to the side. The poles are all different colours, and he’s doing something to the red one as he furtively looks around. Then he dashes off. Has he sabotaged it?
The coach assigns each competitor a colour. Yours is blue. The strange boy who won the 100-metre sprint is given red. Should you warn him that someone has tampered with this pole?
If you decide to warn him, go here.
If you decide not to say anything, go here.
You wander into the trees and find yourself a spot under a large willow. You dig a copy of How to Avoid Sport and Influence People from your backpack, and settle down to read.
The branches of the old willow hang down almost to the ground, encircling you in a peaceful curtain of green.
You spend the day happily reading. When you return to the sports grounds, people are talking about a pogo stick battle, rainbow farts, superheroes, robots and exploding basketballs. Seems like you missed out on quite a lot.
But, then again, you did enjoy the book.
You need to know what these plans are, so you press your ear to the outside of the tent.
‘Would you calm down and relax,’ says a female voice coolly.
‘But we should be giving out the show bags NOW!’ The male voice is still panicky.
‘We’ll hand them out later,’ says the woman. ‘That’ll probably work better anyway. The kids will have been waiting longer for the show bags, and will be more excited to see what’s inside.’
‘Poison!’ gloats the man.
‘I wouldn’t quite call it that,’ says the woman. ‘Poison implies death or physical harm. My substance is not a poison. It will not hurt anyone. It will simply make their lives unbearable … with pungent, visible flatulence.’
‘Stinky, rainbow farts!’ interrupts the man.
‘Well, yes, if you must put it that way,’ says the woman, with obvious distaste. ‘And then we will make a fortune by selling people the antidote.’
‘Money, money, money,’ says the man. ‘Lots and lots and lots of it!’
‘Now,’ says the woman, ‘go to the main entrance and wait for the delivery truck.’
You step back. Poison! Stinky, rainbow farts! Something needs to be done about this evil scheme … but what?
You could go to the officials’ tent and report what you have discovered to the organisers of the Super Sports Spectacular. Go here.
Or do you handle this yourself? Go here.
It’s half an hour before the coach finally comes over. She tells you to put on a helmet and pads before you get on a stick. She explains how to get on and stay balanced, and then lets you have a go.
The pogo stick doesn’t bounce very high. You can’t seem to get any higher than a soft drink can.
‘I’ll up the bounce ratio on your stick once you get the hang of it,’ assures the coach.
You want to know when that will be.
‘I usually like to let newbies have an hour or so on low-bounce before I turn it up,’ she answers.
You ask when you get to learn tricks. After all, this is extreme pogo.
‘Tricks?’ The coach laughs. ‘First you need balance and harmony and inner peace.’
You’re disappointed. You were hoping for something a little more exciting. You think about signing up for something else, but it’s too late.
Maybe you could go to the trees beyond the sports complex and read a book till it’s all over. Go here.
Or you could just stick with it. Go here.
You can’t resist – you’ve got to try out one of the pogo sticks.
You grab the sporty-looking red model and jump on. Losing your balance, you fall off before you can even have one bounce.
A couple of younger kids skipping by point and laugh at you.
You try again.
This time you manage to stay on. You bounce around and gain balance. You almost fall, but manage to grip on tighter. That’s when you feel a little knob on the underside of the right handle. You press it with your finger.
With a whirring noise, a small control panel pops up from the middle of the handlebar. You’re so surprised you almost fall off again. As you grasp at the handles, your fingers brush along the controls.
With a burst of flames, the pogo stick and you are propelled high into the air.
You hold on for dear life and stab at some more of the controls.
You knock into a passing seagull and then your pogo-jet cuts out.
Now you’re falling! And screaming!
Luckily, you’re heading for the pool. You take a deep breath as you plunge into the water. Hitting the bottom, your stick bounces you back up.
Now you descend into the middle of a rugby match, the players scattering. Then it’s up again. And down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
You’re heading for the food pavilion.
The canvas rips as you crash through the tent and into the meat pie stand. As you boing back up you’re covered in sloppy mince and sauce. Could this get any worse?
Down you go, towards the camel-wrestling pen – straight into an enormous pile of camel poo. And up again.
You continue to spring through the different sporting areas, clinging on to the pogo stick, and then out into the trees beyond.
As you crash through a particularly large and dense tree, you get caught in the upper branches. The pogo stick continues on its journey without you.
Half an hour later as you are rescued – battered, bruised and stinking of camel poo – by the fire department, you think to yourself that perhaps you shouldn’t have tried out Xpogo after all.
You wave goodbye to your teammates and hightail it out of there.
You’re hot and desperate to get into the pool. In your careless rush, you trip over a stack of kickboards and fall head-first into the lost property basket.
You are trapped in a sea of bathers, underwear, swimming caps and goggles. Struggling to get out you become entangled, until you can’t move your arms and legs.
The only way to free yourself is to rock back and forth until the basket topples over. You spill out, still tangled in lost property, roll across the ground and plunge into the water.
You are weighed down by your water-logged clothes. You can’t see because someone’s old undies are covering your face. You can’t swim because your hands and feet are bound by goggle straps.
You sink.
Your lungs feel as if they’re about to burst. You can’t hold on any longer. You gasp for air but end up with a lungful of water.
You begin to lose consciousness.
Suddenly, hands are grasping your shoulders and pulling you up.
The next thing you know, you are lying by the side of the pool coughing up water. You end up being carted off to hospital.
Your school never lets you near a pool again. And your friends will forever remember you as the fool who almost drowned with someone else’s undies over your face.
Despite being tired, you decide to play again.
The coach brings out a fresh Wantmore team. They are just as freakishly tall as the previous lot … except for one of them. Player Number 13 is tall, but not unnaturally so. She looks about 16 and is less than six foot.
By quarter time, Wantmore are way off in the lead.
But something amazing happens in the second quarter. The ball is passed to Number 13. She fumbles it, giving you the chance to steal it, bounce it and shoot.
It looks like you’re about to score, but at the last second another Wantmore player casually raises an arm, catching the ball before it can fall through the hoop.
During half-time, you watch the coach yell at Number 13, spit flying from her mouth with the angry words. Number 13 is sent to the bench and replaced with a fresh player.
Your team is still on zero. You and your teammates huddle together to discuss the situation. Most of them want to give up and walk out.
You glance at the Wantmore team, who are back out on the court, ready to play. Your gaze moves to the coach, who is standing to the side looking pleased with herself. And then you look at Number 13, who is sitting alone on the bench. You reckon she seems downright scared.
If you want to quit, go here.
Or maybe you should persuade your teammates to continue the game so you can talk to Number 13? Go here.
Matty is supposed to be your friend, but he’s not even giving you a chance in this game. That’s how you justify it to yourself as you kick out at his legs.
The two of you go down together in a tangle of limbs. You land on top of Matty. There’s a horrible snapping sound. And then Matty is howling in pain.
You struggle to your feet as the coach and other players gather round.
Matty is lying on the ground screaming and clutching his right arm, which is bent at an awkward angle.
The first-aid people rush onto the oval and check him out.
‘It’s broken,’ one of them says. ‘We need to get him to hospital.’
This is all your fault.
As Matty is carried off the oval on a stretcher, he looks over at you. His eyes are filled with tears.
You can’t imagine feeling any worse than you do right now.
Matty is your best friend. You can’t trip him up on purpose. So as you watch, he goes on to score a goal – the first of the match.
The game continues.
Just when you think there’s no chance of you getting near the ball, a teammate kicks it to you. It’s a high kick, sailing over the heads of the opposition. Out of the corner of your eye you see Matty sprinting in your direction. If you let the ball hit the ground, you know he’ll get to it before you.
You remember Matty showing you some spectacular volleys on YouTube, where a player jumps into the air and kicks a ball before it lands. But can you do that? It’s a difficult kick – and a risky move.
If you want to try a volley, go here.
If you’ d rather let the ball bounce, go here.
It’s heads and your team is batting.
Now it’s time to find out what this genius boy has to offer.
‘This!’ The kid holds out his bat. ‘It’s an electronically enhanced batting device, which I can control with my watch.’ He holds up his arm to show you the gadget on his wrist.
It looks like an ordinary bat to you. And there doesn’t appear to be anything special about the watch, either.
‘Allow me to bat first and I shall demonstrate the validity of my claims,’ insists the boy. ‘By the way, my name is Wesley. Thanks for asking.’
You silently ask yourself if this would constitute cheating … but quickly push these doubts aside.
You decide that you and the boy will be the openers. But do you trust Wesley enough to let him face the bowler first?
To let Wesley bat first, go here.
If you’ d rather be the first batter, go here.
You watch the boy pick up the pole … but you don’t say anything.
The boy goes to the start of the runway. He stares at the bar. He shifts the pole in his hands until his grip is just right. Then he takes off.
He sprints down the runway. As he approaches the bar, he plants the pole into the box. The pole bends. The boy leaps into the air. The pole bends further taking his weight until…
Snap!
The pole breaks. The boy falls. Missing the mats, he crashes onto the runway surface. His arm is lying at an impossible angle.
You notice there is a bit of smoke around him. And there’s something poking out of his chest. Is that a wire?
The other competitors gasp in horror. The coach runs to the boy, picks him up and rushes him off to a nearby tent.
You see the boy who sabotaged the pole standing to the side, watching intently.
Something weird is going on. And you are determined to find out what.
If you want to follow the coach, go here.
If you decide to confront the saboteur, go here.
You race to the main entrance and hide behind a rubbish bin. And wait.
It’s not the best place to hide. It’s a bit stinky. And people keep throwing more smelly things into it as they pass by – rotten fruit, mouldy sandwiches, putrid old socks.
Your eyes begin to water.
A guy walking his pet poodle dumps a massive bag of dog poo into the bin. You can’t help but wonder how one small dog could produce that much poo.
Not everyone’s aim is that good, though. You end up with sandwich bits in your hair, and fruit juice and tomato sauce dribbling down your shirt.
You notice a man in a suit hanging around, checking his watch and nervously looking up and down the street. He must be the guy from the WooHoo Money Corporation.
Finally you see the truck. It backs up into the driveway.
It’s only now that you start wondering what it is that you can actually do. Before you can think of a plan, a bunch of people on pogo sticks come bouncing along the driveway towards the truck.
‘In the name of truth, justice and the sporting way,’ you hear one of them shout.
The doors on the back of the truck spring open and five guys wearing balaclavas and WooHoo tee-shirts jump out, charging at the pogo sticks.
You watch with wide-eyed amazement as the two groups attack each other. What should you do?
If you want to join the battle to stop the WooHoo Money Corporation, go here.
If you think it would be safer to stay behind the smelly bin and watch, go here.
You continue practising. The coach finally ups your bounce ratio. You can now jump as high as two soft drink cans. Exciting … not.
You lose track of time. You’re not sure if it’s been two hours or two days.
The coach is about to increase your bounce ratio again when she gets a call on her mobile.
‘Emergency!’ the coach hollers at her team after finishing the call. ‘We’re needed at the main entrance.’
The players mount up. You watch with curiosity as they each click something under their right handles. Little control panels appear at the top of their handlebars.
‘In the name of truth, justice and the sporting way,’ the coach shouts out.
They press some buttons and they’re off, springing higher and faster than you thought possible.
‘You stay here and practise,’ says the coach, as she grabs her own pogo stick and bounds off.
You’ve been left behind.
Do you follow the Xpogo coach and her players? Go here.
Or do you follow her instructions and stay put? Go here.
You convince the others to continue the game, then sub yourself out to the bench.
As the game begins, and the coach’s attention is focused on refereeing, you edge your way across the bench to Number 13.
You ask her what the deal is with the coach and the Wantmore teams.
‘Get out of here,’ she whispers, ‘while you still can.’
But you need to know what’s going on.
‘They’re not just basketball teams,’ Number 13 finally reveals, ‘they’re assault squads. The coach has been recruiting the tallest kids around the country, giving them scholarships to Wantmore, and then training them for basketball and combat. She’s nuts and she’s trying to take over the world.’
Basketball teams taking over the world? That sounds a bit bonkers.
‘Yes, it is bonkers,’ agrees Number 13. ‘And that’s exactly why it’s going to work. No one would ever suspect it. The coach is planning to enter teams in competitions all across the globe. Once the teams are in key strategic positions, she’ll give them the signal to attack and take over the governments.’
Something splashes onto your nose, startling you.
‘My, my, aren’t we rather chatty today.’
You and Number 13 look up to see the coach glaring down at you, a drop of saliva balanced at the corner of her mouth. You barely have time to gasp before Number 13 is up and running out the gymnasium.
‘Squad number one,’ calls the coach, spit flying. ‘Attention!’
The Wantmore team suddenly stops playing, standing up straight and tall, hands by their sides. Your teammates, taking advantage of the situation, finally retrieve the ball, dribbling and passing it down the court to score a goal.
‘Fetch Number 13,’ calls the coach.
The Wantmore players each grab a basketball from the crate by the door and sprint out of the gym.
‘Now,’ says the coach, turning to face your way, ‘what shall we do with you?’
Is your first instinct to run away? Go here.
Or do you stand your ground? Go here.
You decide there’s no point in continuing. You and the rest of the team walk off.
‘Losers!’ shouts the coach. ‘Loooooooseeeeeerrrrrs!’
The Wantmore team laughs.
You stop at the door as the others walk out.
You’re angry!
Are you furious enough to turn back and confront the coach? Go here.
Or do you simply walk out with the others? Go here.
A volley is too risky. You decide you have a better chance if you let the ball bounce.
But the moment the ball hits the ground, Matty’s there. Seconds later he and the ball are gone, down the pitch and towards the goal.
He scores! You groan.
The match continues. No one bothers kicking the ball in your direction any more. Matty scores once again, just before full-time, and your team loses three–nil.
You should have known better than to play soccer with Matty.
You decide it’s worth the risk. After all, how much worse could things get?
You charge towards the ball, launch into the air and kick.
But your foot misses the ball. Instead, you somersault through the air and crash to the ground. With a mouth full of grass, you look up to see Matty sprinting towards the goal with the ball.
He scores!
‘Unco!’ calls the guy who kicked the ball to you. ‘Why don’t you play properly instead of trying to show off?’
You put your face down onto the grass and close your eyes. You’re not sure you want to play any more.
‘Good try!’
You look up to see Matty jogging back to you.
‘You’ve just got to keep your eye on the ball when you kick out.’
Matty’s enthusiasm makes you feel a little better. You get up and continue with the game.
In the final seconds of the match, you find yourself in the same situation with the same decision to make. What are the odds of that? The ball, high in the air, is heading in your direction. Do you try for a volley again?
If you want to take another shot, go here.
If you think you’re better off playing it safe, go here.
The opposing captain is bowling, so you decide that you’ll bat first – making it captain versus captain.
You grab the electronic bat from the genius boy and take your position.
The bowler takes a long run-up, running very quickly. A fast bowler! You would have preferred a spinner.
The ball shoots down the pitch like a missile. It’s a yorker, going straight for the crease. You’re not good with yorkers, but you manage to hit it.
Unfortunately, you hit it straight down the pitch. Wesley tries to jump out of the way, but the ball glances off his watch. Luckily his wrist is unharmed … but the watch is toast!
You shout at Wesley to move and you manage to get one run before the fielders retrieve the ball.
You toss the bat to Wesley. It’s his turn to face the bowler. He desperately fiddles with his smashed watch, pushing the springs and wires back into the casing. Finally the coach, who’s umpiring the match, tells him he has to bat now or leave the field.
Wesley positions himself.
The bowler delivers another yorker.
Wesley swings the bat … and misses by a mile.
The ball smashes into the stumps.
‘Out!’ the coach shouts.
And so begins a string of poor batting performances. It’s as if your whole team’s confidence has been shattered.
You are soundly thrashed by the opposing team.
You let Wesley bat first.
Watching from the other end of the pitch, you see the boy genius fiddle with his watch, then position himself in front of the wicket.
The opposing captain is bowling. He takes a long run-up, running very quickly. A fast bowler! You hope that Wesley is up to the challenge.
The ball shoots down the pitch like a missile. It’s a yorker, going straight for the crease.
Wesley swings the bat with ease, hitting the ball low. It bounces between the fielders and over the boundary – four!
Wesley watches the ball, nods to himself, then fiddles with his watch again.
With a determined look on his face, the captain bowls again, this time bouncing the ball on the pitch.
Wesley hits the ball high over the boundary – six!
The bowler’s jaw hangs open in disbelief. But he composes himself and tries again, with a full toss. This time he means business.
But Wesley knocks it for six.
And so it continues. No matter how many different bowlers the other side sends in, Wesley keeps knocking them for six.
The opposing team gives in just short of Wesley’s century.
‘At least this way he doesn’t get to a hundred,’ grumbles the captain as he leads his team off the field.
Your team wins! And it’s all thanks to Wesley and his electronically enhanced batting device.
Mind you, he’s the only one on your team who actually got to play … which makes the victory kind of unsatisfying.
You march straight over to the saboteur and demand to know what’s going on.
‘Shhhhh,’ the boy shushes you. ‘Not so loud. You never know who’s listening.’ He looks left, right and then over his shoulder. Satisfied, he leans in close to you. ‘This place is crawling with robots,’ the boy whispers. ‘They’re everywhere. I reckon they’re planning on taking over. Replacing the human race with machines. Did you get a look at that boy who fell? There were wires sticking out of him.’ He nods knowingly at you. ‘Robot.’
But why sabotage the sports equipment?
‘Proof,’ answers the boy. ‘I need to show the world that the robots are among us.’ He grabs you by the shirt and brings your face up close to his so that you’re nose to nose. ‘The question is, are you gonna help me?’
Well, are you?
If you agree to help the boy, go here.
If you decide not to, go here.
You head straight for the tent into which the coach carried the injured boy.
Inside the boy is lying on a table. The coach is standing beside him, holding the boy’s dismembered arm. The boy’s chest is open. And there are wires everywhere – poking out from his chest, spilling from his shoulder joint; even his eyeballs are dangling from wires. At this point, it’s pretty obvious that…
The boy is a ROBOT!
You rush forward for a better look.
The robot suddenly sits up and grabs your arm.
The crates around the edges of the tent slowly creak open. Boys and girls with blank faces step out. Not blank as in lacking emotion, but blank as in without features.
‘I am afraid that we cannot allow you to reveal our secret,’ says the coach. ‘One of my children will have to replace you.’
One of the kid-bots steps up to you. As it touches your hand, its face distorts and reforms with a copy of your face. It’s like looking into a mirror. It smiles and heads out of the tent to rejoin the track and field competitions.
The other robots take a step towards you and raise their hands. Their index fingers start glowing.
‘We shall begin by wiping your mind,’ says the coach, his own index finger glowing.
They reach out towards you. The luminous light of their robotic fingers fills your vision.
And then all is white nothingness!
Your temper gets the better of you. You turn and march across the court to the coach. You see Number 13 still sitting on the bench. She’s shaking her head frantically and mouthing the word ‘no’, but you ignore her.
‘Losers!’ The coach is still crowing, spit spraying in all directions.
You stride up to the coach. You try to tell her what you think of her coaching methods, but she keeps shouting over the top of you, repeating the word ‘losers’ over and over again. What is wrong with this person?
You threaten to report her to the officials.
This shuts her up. She’s not looking so happy anymore.
‘Oh dear,’ says the coach. ‘I can’t let you do that.’ She nods to her team.
The five players each take a basketball from the crate by the door and stalk over.
You back away, but find yourself surrounded by their towering forms. They’re glaring down at you with murderous intent, holding their basketballs in a threatening manner.
‘Squad,’ calls the coach, ‘lock and load!’
The players draw back their arms, basketballs held high.
‘Fire!’
They throw the balls at you … hard!
You jump out from behind the bin, tomato sauce still oozing down your shirt.
The men in balaclavas are trying to knock the pogo people off their bouncy sticks. But the pogo people are pretty good at springing out of the way.
You see the man in the suit fish his mobile phone from his pocket. You realise that he’s probably calling for backup from the WooHoo Money Corporation.
You dash across the footpath, knocking the phone from his hand. It smashes onto the concrete. He shakes his fist at you.
You continue running towards the main battle. One of the bouncing people presses a button on the weird control panel on top of her stick. A net flings out. You dodge it just in time and the net wraps itself around one of the balaclava men. He falls to the ground, trapped.
You head for the truck. Jumping up into the back of it, you grab one of the show bags. You’re about to check out the contents, when you notice two of the pogo people bouncing towards you. Are those laser beams shooting out of their sticks?
You jump from the truck just as a stack of show bags burst into flames. You land heavily on the footpath, a wave of dizziness overcoming you. You manage to crawl along, getting clear of all the fighting pogo people and balaclava men. Then you black out.
When you wake up, you discover that you’re lying behind the stinky bin, a greasy burger wrapper stuck to your cheek. You peel it off and sit up. The show bag, a little crumpled, is underneath you.
You look around. The battle is over. The truck is gone. Everything, except you and the bin, has been cleaned up.
Has the evil plot been foiled?
You check out the contents of the bag – some brochures about the WooHoo Money Corporation, a sticker with the WooHoo logo, a temporary tattoo of the WooHoo logo, and a bottle of WooHoo Sport Water. So that’s how they were going to poison people … through the water.
You carefully pour the liquid into the bin. As you pick up the other contents to throw away, the tattoo imprints onto your still greasy hand.
Your skin tingles.
You drop everything.
The sensation travels up your arm, spreads through your body and into your tummy. It rumbles. You feel a build-up of tingling pressure and before you know it … you let one rip!
A rainbow cloud of stench explodes from your shorts.
The poison was in the tattoos, not the water bottles!
As you gasp for air, you wonder how much the WooHoo Money Corporation is going to charge you for the antidote.
You stay behind the stinky bin, peeking around the edge.
The men in balaclavas are trying to knock the pogo people off their bouncy sticks. But the pogo people are pretty good at springing out of the way. You see a girl press a button on the weird control panel on top of her stick. A net flings out and wraps itself around one of the balaclava men. He falls to the ground, trapped.
You notice that the guy in the suit is frantically talking into his mobile phone. And a crowd of onlookers has begun to form.
Two pogo people charge at the truck. Something is shooting from their pogo sticks. Are those laser beams? A beam hits the stacks of show bags in the back of the truck. The bags burst into flames.
A couple of the balaclava men intercept the pogo people heading for the truck, knocking them off their sticks. Another jumps out of the front of the truck with a fire extinguisher.
Then a helicopter descends from the sky. A grappling hook lowers from the chopper and attaches to the top of the truck. As the helicopter lifts higher, the truck rises into the air. Dropping show bags as it goes, the helicopter flies over the sports complex.
One of the pogo people launches into the air, jets propelling her and the stick up. She hits into the underside of the flying truck and crashes back to the ground, making even more show bags fall from the sky, ready to be scooped up by eager kids.
Looking back to the battle, you see that the pogo people have finally overcome the balaclava men.
But it’s too late.
People are picking up the show bags and checking out the contents. They are drinking from the bottles of WooHoo Sports Water. They are applying the WooHoo temporary tattoos to their arms. They are sticking WooHoo stickers onto their backpacks.
Within minutes, people are clutching their tummies as multi-coloured puffs of stink explode from their posteriors.
A thick rainbow cloud has started to form across the grounds, accompanied by the sound of mass farting. As the stench reaches your nostrils, you realise that the WooHoo Money Corporation’s evil plot has succeeded.
You choose to ignore the coach and her taunts, following your teammates out of the gymnasium.
Outside the other kids decide to ditch the rest of the sports day. You’re not sure you want to do that.
As you consider your options, you notice Number 13 sneaking out the side door of the gymnasium. You confront her, demanding to know what’s up with the spitty coach and the freaky Wantmore teams.
‘Stay away from them,’ she hisses.
But you need to know what’s going on.
‘They’re not just basketball teams,’ Number 13 finally reveals. ‘They’re assault squads. The coach has been recruiting the tallest kids around the country, giving them scholarships to Wantmore, and then training them for basketball and combat. She’s nuts and she’s trying to take over the world!’
Basketball teams taking over the world? That sounds a bit bonkers.
‘Yes, it is bonkers,’ agrees Number 13. ‘And that’s exactly why it’s going to work. No one would ever suspect it. She’s planning to enter teams in competitions all across the globe. Once the teams are in key strategic positions, she’ll give them the signal to attack and take over the governments.’
With that, Number 13 scurries away.
But do you believe her?
If you think Number 13 is telling the truth, you should tell the officials immediately. Go here.
If you’re not so sure yet and want to do a bit more investigating yourself, return to the gymnasium and see what else you can find out. Go here.
You slowly get to your feet, cross your arms and stare up (way up – remember how tall she is?) defiantly into the coach’s eyes.
The coach leans down until her nose is almost touching yours.
And then she bursts out laughing. It’s like being caught in an April shower – little dribbles of spit rain down on you. You wipe your face on your sleeve. What’s so funny, you wonder?
‘Poor Abigail,’ says the coach, regaining control. ‘She has such an imagination. Fancy that – taking over the world with basketball teams, one dribble at a time.’ She laughs again. You hold up an arm to stop your face from getting wet. ‘When the others bring her back,’ she continues, ‘we’ll give her a nice cup of tea to calm her down.’
Taking over the world with basketball teams does sound completely and utterly ridiculous. What were you thinking, believing such a crazy story?
You return to the game and are well and truly beaten by the Wantmore team. Then you head over to the pool for a swim. You forget all about Number 13 and what she told you.
Oh boy, are you surprised when six months later, the world is under the control of Wantmore Academy and you have to bow down, damp with spit, to the Supreme Coach of the World!
Jumping to your feet, you dodge past the coach and dash out of the gymnasium. You chase after the Wantmore team as they pursue player Number 13.
She’s weaving between kids and teachers, coaches and teams, cutting a path through the middle of the sports complex. You realise she must be heading to the trees beyond.
Over to your right, you see the officials’ tent. Perhaps you should go and tell them about the plan to take over the world?
If you think it’s best to let the officials know, go here.
But if you’ d rather chase the basketball players, go here.
You chicken out. You let the ball hit the ground.
As expected, Matty dashes ahead of you and makes off with the ball. He kicks it through the goal just as the match ends. His team wins, three–nil.
Your teammates shun you as they walk off the pitch. The other team run off, singing ‘We Are the Champions’, their arms in the air … all except for Matty.
‘You should have tried for another volley,’ he says. ‘I reckon you might have done it.’
You’re not convinced.
‘Come on,’ he says, getting the ball. ‘Let’s practise. I’ll teach you how to volley so that next time you’ll be the star player.’
He kicks the ball to you.
You smile and kick it back. You’re lucky to have a best friend like Matty.
There are only seconds left in the match. The other team are two goals ahead. What have you got to lose?
You charge at the ball and, keeping your eyes glued to the black and white sphere, you launch into the air. It’s all over in a couple of seconds, but in your mind it happens in slow motion.
You kick out with your right leg. You watch as your foot connects with the ball. You feel the impact run all the way up your leg. You stare as the ball shoots through the air, heading towards the goal.
Your heart thumps. Your mouth goes dry.
You twist around, trying to keep it in sight as you crash to the ground.
GOAL!
A cheer goes up from your teammates.
As you struggle to your feet, Matty is patting you on the back, shouting ‘AWESOME KICK!’
Sometimes, it pays to take a chance.
Even though your team loses two to one, you’re still hero of the match, carried off the pitch on your teammates’ shoulders.
It’s tails and your team is fielding.
Now it’s time to find out what this genius boy has to offer.
‘This!’ The kid holds out his bat. ‘It’s an electronically enhanced batting device, which I can control with my watch.’ He holds up his arm to show you the gadget on his wrist.
But you want to know what he can offer in terms of fielding.
‘Oh.’ He hangs his head. ‘Not much, really.’
Well, it’s not like you were counting on the boy genius anyway. You position your fielders and decide to open the bowling yourself. You’re a middle pacer and your accuracy is pretty good.
The first few overs go well. Although the opposing team has scored 46 runs, you have managed to bowl out six of them.
Then, to your surprise, the girl claiming to have superpowers comes in to bat. You’re certain you’ll bowl her out, but she hits it for six.
You decide to send in a fast bowler.
But she hits it for six, again … over the boundary, the whole sports complex and even the road! The coach has to get a new ball.
The girl continues to score six after six.
At the end of the next over, you call your players together.
‘Looks like she really does have superpowers,’ says the boy genius. ‘Who would have thought?’
But what are you going to do about it?
‘If we can get her to use my bat,’ says the boy, ‘I can make sure she misses.’
‘Isn’t that cheating?’ asks one of the other players.
‘What, and having superpowers isn’t?’ says the boy genius. ‘By the way, in case anyone is wondering, my name is Wesley.’
‘All you’ve got to do is distract her with a superhero task,’ suggests another player. ‘Something like a natural disaster. Then she’ll go save the world instead of playing.’
But how would you do that?
If you decide to swap her bat, go here.
If you want to try for a natural disaster, go here.
You nod your agreement.
‘Great,’ says the boy, letting go of your shirt. ‘My name’s Tod. Follow me.’
You follow him towards a group of competitors. He points. You shrug.
‘Look at that guy sitting on the bench by himself,’ he says.
You shrug again.
Tod sighs. ‘He’s a robot.’
He looks like an ordinary kid to you.
‘Everyone else is hanging out together,’ insists Tod. ‘He’s the only one on his own. And look at his perfect blond hair. He’s gotta be a robot.’ He pushes you forward. ‘Go distract him. I’m gonna crawl under the bench and tie his shoelaces together. When he gets up, he’ll fall over. And hopefully his face will crack open and reveal his robotic innards.’
It sounds like a pretty harebrained plan. And you still think the boy looks like an ordinary kid. But what harm could tying someone’s shoelaces together do?
You go over to the kid and sit down next to him. You introduce yourself and ask him which events he plans to enter. He seems really nice … and very ordinary.
It’s not long before the coach emerges from his tent and announces that pole vaulting has been cancelled and that you’ll move on to the next event – long jump.
The kid leaps up, trips and falls flat on his face. He yelps and rolls over, blood spilling from his nose.
He’s certainly no robot.
You help him up as the coach fetches an icepack.
‘Psst!’ It’s Tod again, whispering in your ear. ‘Just a slight miscalculation. We’ll get the next one.’
You’ve had enough. You grab Tod and haul him over to the coach, explaining what happened. The coach thanks you and takes Tod to his tent. You think it’s a bit strange that Tod never comes out again … but you’re just glad to be rid of him and his crazy ideas.
You enjoy the rest of the day in the various track and field events, winning a couple of them.
You decide that this guy’s too weird. You’re not going to help him.
‘Fine,’ he says, releasing you. ‘But when the robots take over, it’ll be all your fault.’
You go to join the rest of the competitors, but watch him out of the corner of your eye. He makes his way to the bench, ducks down and crawls under, towards the ankles of a boy sitting at the far end. He tries to tie the boy’s shoelaces together, but the boy notices and jumps up, losing a shoe and yelling for the coach.
The coach comes running up. ‘What’s going on?’ he demands.
‘This weirdo was doing something to my shoes,’ complains the boy, pointing to the saboteur still lying underneath the bench, clutching a shoe.
You decide it’s time to step in and tell the coach about what happened with the pole.
‘That’s it,’ says the coach, grabbing the saboteur’s arms as he gets to his feet. ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘Oh no, I’m not,’ yells the saboteur. He swings the shoe in a wide arc and hits the coach in the head.
Your mouth drops open as the coach’s face falls off … revealing wires and circuits.
He’s a robot!
‘Blast!’ says the robot. ‘Our presence has been revealed. Time for Plan B. Rise up, my children!’
About one in four kids suddenly turns to face the coach. In unison they reach up and remove their faces.
And the robot revolution begins!
You race to the officials’ tent and burst through the canvas flap, blurting out what you’ve discovered.
Ten men gathered around a large table look up at you. All are dressed identically in sports shorts and T-shirts with the words SUPER SPORTS SPECTACULAR emblazoned across them. They are all tall. They are all bald. And they all look annoyed at being interrupted. On the table is a map of the sports complex and piles of papers and notes.
The men step away from the table and stare at you.
You’re worried that they don’t believe you.
‘Oh, we believe you,’ says one of them, his voice flat and unemotional.
‘It’s part of the experiment,’ says the man next to him, his voice also flat.
‘Our Super Sports Spectacular experiment,’ says the next one along.
They take turns talking, one after the other.
‘Many plans.’
‘Many organisations.’
‘Robots, superheroes and geniuses.’
‘Corporate-induced flatulence and world domination with basketball.’
‘And so much more.’
‘All here together.’
‘All here today.’
‘Independent projects.’
‘But commissioned by us.’
‘Part of our experiment.’
They all take a step towards you.
‘And we can’t let you tell anyone about it,’ they say together.
This is getting too weird! You turn to leave.
But the exit is blocked by yet another tall bald man in sports gear.
You back away as the men advance, each of them pulling a cricket ball from his pocket.
You wish you had a bat.
‘Think quick!’ they all shout, fast bowling the balls … right at your head!
You continue chasing after the basketball team.
Up ahead you see Number 13 disappear into the trees, everyone else hot on her heels. You follow them.
As you race through the undergrowth, you see one of the players throw his basketball.
The ball streaks through the air and hits a tree near Number 13. There’s an explosion of flames and the tree topples.
Explosive basketballs! Well, that must help when planning world domination.
The chase continues.
More basketballs are hurled at Number 13. Thankfully they all miss (some only narrowly), destroying the surrounding vegetation instead.
You keep running. You lose sight of Number 13, and so does the team because they suddenly stop. You only just manage to hide behind a tree before they turn.
‘Over there!’ one of them calls, and they all gather around a tree, gazing up.
You follow their line of sight. Number 13 is cowering in the branches above.
One of the players removes the sweatband from around his head and aims it up as if about to flick a rubber band – a gross, sweat-soaked rubber band.
The sweatband flings up at Number 13. She pulls back, pressing herself up against the trunk. The band hits the branch above her. There’s a crackling sound and sparks.
It’s an electrified sweatband!
A second player flicks his band. A stunned squirrel falls out of the tree.
Another sweatband. A stunned bird.
A fourth band. A possum crashes to the ground.
A fifth band. A flying fox.
Just how much bizarre wildlife is in this tree?
You breathe a sigh of relief. That was the last sweatband. Number 13 is safe.
Actually, no, she isn’t. You forgot about the smaller bands around the players’ wrists. Three birds, two sloths and one ocelot later, Number 13 finally tumbles to the ground.
Now what do you do?
If you want to stay hidden, go here.
If you think it might be better to sneak away, go here.
You follow the coach. But your pogo stick isn’t as fast or as bouncy, so it takes you a while to catch up. By the time you reach the main entrance, there is a full-scale battle taking place.
The coach and her team are fighting a bunch of guys in balaclavas. The pogo sticks are doing incredible things – high bounces, somersaults, net-flinging, laser shooting. Laser shooting?
Yep, that’s right. Two of the team are shooting lasers into the back of a truck filled with show bags.
This is utterly crazy.
You watch as the coach is knocked off her stick by one of the balaclava guys.
You may not know what’s going on, but that’s your coach under attack and you’re determined to help.
You remember what the team members did earlier. You grab your right handlebar and feel underneath, until you find a little knob. You press your finger into it.
With a whirring noise, a small control panel pops up above the handlebar. You stab at a random button.
With a burst of flames, the pogo stick and you are propelled high into the air.
You hold on for dear life and fumble with the controls.
You knock into a passing seagull on your way up. Next comes a flock of sparrows. You burst through the centre of them. Spitting feathers, you continue your climb – past a glider, a light aircraft and then a passenger jet.
The controls don’t seem to be responding.
It’s getting darker and you’re finding it increasingly hard to breathe.
You guess you’ll never find out who won in the battle between the Xpogo players and the balaclava guys.
You’re not sure you believe Number 13’s story of world domination, but you do think the coach and her teams are up to something. So you go back to the gymnasium, sneaking up to the side door. You open it a crack and peer in.
The coach is in the centre of the court, players gathered around her. You’re thinking about slipping in when someone taps you on the shoulder.
You slam the door shut and whirl around.
There’s a guy standing there holding a pogo stick. His enormous nose is pierced, and dangling from it is a silver pogo stick charm.
‘Need a hand?’ he asks.
You stare at him.
‘The Xpogo team is at your service, should you require assistance,’ he says.
What help could a guy with a pogo stick offer? You’re not even sure you need any.
‘Well, if you do need assistance,’ he adds, swinging his pogo stick charm with the tap of a finger, ‘just yell.’ And with a smile and a wave, the guy mounts his pogo stick and hops off.
You shake your head and turn your attention back to the door. Cautiously, you open it and peek in. The coach and her players are standing just inside, glaring down at you.
They reach out and grab you, pulling you into the gymnasium. You scream for help. As the door slams shut you think you catch a glimpse of a shiny pogo stick.
‘A spy,’ dribbles the coach. ‘How quaint. Of course, you realise we can’t let you go.’
You are surrounded by freakishly tall kids. Each of them is holding a basketball in a threatening manner.
CRASH!
The side door flings open and people on pogo sticks come bouncing in. They take up positions around the outer edges of the court. A tough-looking middle-aged woman in a bright yellow tracksuit hops forward on her stick.
‘Coach Sylvester,’ she says. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I’m afraid I can’t let you go around kidnapping children. Bad sportsmanship, coach … BAD!’
‘Coach Cutlip,’ spits the basketball coach. ‘I should have known you and your goody-goody jumping jacks would be standing by to spoil things. But I think you may be outmatched.’
‘We’ll see,’ says Cutlip, bouncing.
‘We will indeed,’ says Sylvester, dribbling.
And then all hell breaks loose.
There are laser beams being fired from pogo sticks!
And basketballs explode when they land!
And sweatbands electrify on impact! You watch one zoom across the court and hit a pogo person on the arm. With a crackling sound and a flash of sparks, he’s thrown from his stick.
Cutlip presses a button on a control panel atop her stick. A net is released, snaring two of the Wantmore players.
This is totally nuts! What are you going to do?
If you think it’s best to take cover, go here.
If you decide to help the pogo people, go here.
Grumbling to yourself you bounce around the asphalt square, practising just like the coach told you to.
It’s not long before the coach and her team come walking back.
What happened to them? They look like they’ve been in some kind of brawl. A couple are carrying broken pogo sticks, some are limping, and most are sporting cuts, bruises and ripped clothing.
‘We kicked their proverbial posteriors,’ the coach announces.
What?
‘We defeated the WooHoo Money Corporation,’ says the coach, ‘and saved the Super Sports Spectacular from a very smelly fate.’
You have no idea what they’re on about, and they refuse to explain. But one thing’s for sure – you missed out on something big!
But now it’s back to practising. The coach ups your bounce ratio and you make it to the height of three soft drink cans. Yay!
You go up to the coach and demand a bat swap, claiming that the girl is cheating by using a non-regulation bat.
The coach shrugs, takes a nibble of his celery stick, and allows the swap.
As the superhero girl swings at the next ball, Wesley fiddles with his watch. The girl misses and the ball hits the wicket.
Out!
But now you’re faced with a dilemma. Do you let Wesley keep controlling the bat so that the rest of the opposing team miss? Wouldn’t that really be cheating?
If you want to continue using the bat, go here.
If you think your team should now rely on their cricketing skills, go here.
You race up to the strange boy as he picks up his pole, and tell him what you saw. He examines the pole and finds that it is, indeed, damaged.
The coach comes over to see what the matter is.
‘Right,’ says the coach. ‘Time to deal with this.’ He stalks off towards the saboteur.
‘Thank you,’ the strange boy says to you. ‘When the robots take over, I will keep you safe.’ And then he rushes off after the coach.
You watch them take the saboteur, one arm each, and march him off to the coach’s tent. Sports saboteurs? Robots taking over? This is all getting pretty weird.
If you want to drop out of this strange sports day, you could escape to the trees and read a book. Go here.
But if you’ d rather find out what’s going on, you should check the coach’s tent. Go here.
That superhero girl scored a lot of runs for the other team and now you need to catch up. That’s how you justify the continued use of the bat.
Wesley fiddles with his watch and the opposing team are bowled out one by one.
As the last player is declared out, the opposing captain grabs Wesley and brings him over to the coach.
‘This guy is cheating,’ he declares. ‘Look at his watch. He’s controlling the bat.’
The coach picks up the bat to examine it. The captain grabs Wesley’s wrists and twists the buttons on the watch. The bat jumps up in the coach’s hands, knocking him backwards into the tray of drinks that were for the end of the innings.
‘Cheats!’ yells the captain, pushing Wesley over.
‘You cheated first,’ shouts Wesley, hand on watch.
The bat springs out of the coach’s hands and flies through the air at the opposing captain. But the captain ducks and the bat soars over his head … smashing into a trolley full of cakes headed for the food pavilion.
‘You crazy kids,’ shouts the guy pushing the trolley. ‘I’ll teach you to throw bats at defenceless cakes!’ He grabs a mini pavlova and hurls it, smacking you in the face.
You lick pavlova bits off your lips. Yum!
‘Food fight!’ shouts Wesley.
Everyone forgets about the cheating, as cakes fly through the air.
You choose the superhero girl. The boy walks over to the other team.
‘Don’t give me any of the genius trash,’ the captain tells him. ‘Just keep out of my way.’
You think he’s being unnecessarily mean.
The coach announces that it will be ten overs per side, unless all batters are bowled out.
Now it’s time to flip a coin to decide if your team will field or bat first.
Heads means that you’ll bat.
Tails means that you’ll field.
As Matty continues to babble on about soccer, you sneak off to the Aussie Rules line-up.
You wait in the queue and look at the other kids. They are all older. They are all taller. And they are all BIGGER! You are in a queue of bulging biceps and tree-trunk legs.
You begin having second thoughts.
The people in line for soccer were more your size. Perhaps you should go back there? Go here.
You look across the registration desks. There’s no one over at Xpogo. Maybe you should check that out instead? Go here.
Or you could overcome your fear and stick with the footy. Go here.
You edge carefully away from the tree, keeping your eyes on the players as they lift Number 13.
You turn and start tiptoeing away from them. Carefully. Quietly.
CRACK.
You step on a twig.
It’s a small twig. Maybe they didn’t hear?
Ever so slowly, just like they do in bad horror films, you turn your head to look over your shoulder.
The entire team is standing right behind you, electric sweatbands drawn and aimed.
You’re tempted to smile and wave hello. But instead, you run.
You weave through the trees, stumble through the bushes and finally throw yourself into an overgrowth of lantana, hoping for concealment.
Unfortunately it’s not lantana – it’s poison ivy. Even worse than that, it’s perched at the edge of a cliff!
You tumble through the ivy, getting scratched as you go, and fall out the other side. You manage to grab hold of a branch and are now dangling over the cliff. You look down to see a school of sharks circling in the waters below.
On the bright side, the Wantmore team follows you. You watch them stumble through the leaves, scratching madly, and plummet past you.
But your hand is itchy and swollen. You’re not sure you can hold on for much longer…
Heart thumping, sweat dripping from your brow, you stay hidden behind the tree and wait. Eventually the Wantmore team moves off, carrying Number 13 with them.
You take a deep breath and let out a long sigh. You sink down to the ground, your back against the trunk and close your eyes. You’re too scared to return in case the coach has other players out looking for you. So you stay put. You stay until the Super Sports Spectacular is over. You stay until it’s dark, at which point the ocelots emerge and chase you from the trees. Of course, the buses have stopped running for the day and you now have to walk.
It’s midnight before you finally get home.
Your parents are furious! They don’t believe your story about basketball assault squads, explosive balls, electrified sweatbands and ocelots.
You’re grounded for the rest of your life.
All privileges (television, video games, marbles) are revoked.
You are given extra chores. You’re even made to do tasks for your elderly neighbour, which includes cleaning up dog vomit.
And you are banned from attending any future sports days.
It’s tails and your team is fielding.
You ask the girl whether she really is a superhero. She adjusts her glasses and nods.
What have you got to lose? You make her the opening bowler.
She bowls out the first six batters, then takes to the field and catches out the rest of the batters with her super speed and ability to jump really high.
You make her an opening batter when the teams swap. She hits a six on her first go – and continues to do so until she retires after 54 runs so that the rest of the team can have a turn.
Go here.
It’s heads and your team is batting.
You ask the girl whether she really is a superhero. She adjusts her glasses and nods.
What have you got to lose? You make her an opener.
She hits a six on her first go – and continues to do so until she retires after 54 runs so that the rest of the team can have a turn.
And when it comes time to field, she bowls out the first six batters in her over.
Go here.
You cautiously approach the tent and peer in through the canvas flap.
There are crates positioned around the edge and a table in the centre. The saboteur kid is backed up to the table, the coach holding him by the throat.
He may have tampered with a pole but this saboteur is still just a kid, no older than you. Surely the coach shouldn’t be allowed to treat him this way.
‘Time to make sure you never interfere again,’ you hear the coach say.
What are you going to do?
You could run to the officials’ tent and report the coach. Go here.
But the coach might have hurt the kid by then. Maybe you should burst into the tent and try to stop him? Go here.
You take a deep breath and tell yourself that agility and speed are just as important as size and brawn when it comes to Aussie Rules. You decide to stick with it.
You sign up and head over to the football oval.
The coach, a really short guy with a squashed face and deep voice, runs you and the others through a practice session. You dodge around the bigger players and kick the ball really well.
So when it comes time to play a match, you end up as full-forward. Not all the other players are happy about that and give you murderous looks. The captain of the opposing side, an enormous girl called Crusher, who claims to be 17 but looks about 37, whispers ‘You’re dead meat’ as she passes.
Once play starts, you find yourself jostled about by the other players, including your own team. Whenever the coach, who is refereeing the match, looks in a different direction, someone ‘accidentally’ bumps into you or knocks you over.
When the ball finally comes your way, you find yourself sandwiched between two players twice your size.
It’s a bit scary and you’re not sure you want to play anymore. It might be best to keep a low profile until it’s all over.
If you want to avoid the ball and stay out of the way of other players, go here.
But if you decide you’re not going to be intimidated and to play your best, go here.
You figure that even though you’re scared, you’ll still give it your hardest. So when the ball comes towards you, you make a dash for it.
You dodge past two opponents, weave between a few of your own teammates and grab the ball. You turn towards the goalposts, ready to kick, but…
A furious, snorting vision of horror is charging right at you. It’s Crusher! You don’t even have time to yelp before she tackles you. You’re knocked off your feet and smashed to the ground, Crusher’s substantial weight on top of you. You lose your grip on the ball as your face is pressed into the muddy grass.
Crusher jumps up, treading on your hand. She scoops up the ball and runs off, bouncing it as she goes.
You struggle to your hands and knees, a wave of dizziness almost overwhelming you. You’re not capable of continuing the game. You slowly crawl off the oval and ask the coach to take you to the first-aid tent.
‘Sure thing, kid,’ he says. ‘As soon as the game is over.’
With no one to help you, you crawl all the way to the first-aid tent, adding grazed knees and hands to your other injuries.
You spend the rest of the day in bed, feeling very sorry for yourself.
You head back to the soccer line-up, thinking of excuses if Matty asks you where you’ve been.
But Matty hasn’t even noticed you were gone. He’s still talking about soccer as if you’d never left.
‘… and soccer has a proper ball. It’s round, like the way a ball should be. But you can’t really call an Aussie Rules football a ball. For starters, it’s the wrong shape. I mean, really, how can anyone…’
You smile to yourself and nod at your friend as if you’ve been listening all along.
Go here.
You decide it’s best to avoid the ball and the other players. If the ball goes one way, you go the other. It’s a great plan … but it doesn’t quite work out.
Someone kicks the ball towards you. It’s a high kick that goes way over your head. You run in the opposite direction, but there are two players chasing the ball who are charging right for you.
You turn back towards the ball. Suddenly Crusher appears, ready to take a mark. You throw yourself out of the way, trip, roll forward and somehow manage to jump back on your feet … right in front of an oncoming throng of players.
You turn again and are carried along, propelled towards Crusher. You’re shoved in the small of your back and stumble forward. You smash straight into Crusher’s back and, like a panicking monkey, scramble up to escape the players behind you.
To your surprise, you find yourself kneeling on Crusher’s shoulders, the ball heading right at you. You have no option but to catch it…
‘Cor, what specky!’ shouts one of the players.
You jump to the ground, the ball in your hands, looking rather confused.
Crusher rounds on you, murder in her eyes. She snorts. You’re surprised that steam isn’t coming out of her nostrils. She’s about to pound you into the ground, when the coach steps between the two of you.
‘Strewth,’ says the coach, putting up a hand to stop Crusher. ‘That was flamin’ awesome!’
The next thing you know, the coach is pushing Crusher to the side, putting an arm around your shoulders and talking to you about joining the football team.
Your team wins hands down, and it’s all thanks to the superhero girl. You suddenly realise that you don’t even know her name.
‘Brianna,’ she replies shyly.
As team captain, you feel you should reward her in some way. Maybe you could buy her some lunch? Or get her some public recognition by announcing her victory over the PA system?
If you decide to take Brianna out to lunch, go here.
If you’ d rather go to the announcer’s tent, go here.
The pogo stick people are here because of you, so the least you could do is help them.
You race to the nearest pogo person to ask what you can do. But your question distracts him and he gets zapped by an electric sweatband. Whoops!
As he falls from the pogo stick, you grab it and jump on. You bounce around the court, dodging basketballs, weaving around players and avoiding flung sweatbands. It’s more luck than skill, because you’re having trouble controlling the stick. It’s the weirdest pogo stick you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen all that many) – there’s a little control panel in the middle of the handlebar.
Looking up, you see a basketball headed straight for you. You slam your hand down on the controls.
Your pogo stick rises up into the air on jets, bashes you into the ceiling then veers off to the right. Bouncing off the wall, you go shooting down the centre of the court, people scattering out of your way.
You crash into the bin by the side of the main door, sending basketballs flying around the room. Two of them head straight for the Wantmore coach. She jumps out of the way and they hit the floor.
KABOOM!
The explosion propels her into the air. Arms flailing, she sails across the court with a spray of spit in her wake, and lands head-first into the hoop. Slam dunk!
With the coach trapped and suspended upside down, a pool of saliva collecting on the floor under her, the pogo people round up the basketball teams.
The woman in the yellow tracksuit jumps off her stick. ‘Well done,’ she says, helping you up. ‘Want to join the Xpogo team and help us fight for truth, justice and the sporting way?’
You shake your head. You’ve had enough sport to last you a lifetime!
You run to the edge of the court and fling yourself under the bench. Peering out, you watch the battle unfold.
Laser beams hit basketballs. Explosions rock the gymnasium. Nets ensnare players. Electrified sweatbands knock people off pogo sticks. It is utter chaos!
A stray basketball lands on the edge of the bench, the blast sending it across the court and forcing you out of your shelter. You look for another place to hide.
You make a dive for the lost property bin and land in a heap of sweaty, old gym clothes. The smell is eye-watering – but it’s better than being out in the battle.
Eventually the sounds die down. You lift your head, risking a quick look.
Unconscious forms litter the floor. Only the two coaches remain standing. They are facing off in the centre of the court. Cutlip is no longer on her pogo stick. Each is holding two basketballs. They are circling each other, stalking each other, like rival tigers.
‘Prepare to meet your doom,’ yells Sylvester, a spray of spittle escaping her lips.
‘See you in hell!’ answers Cutlip, with a battle cry.
The two of them throw their balls.
You duck back under the smelly clothes but it’s not enough to save you. As the balls collide in mid-air, the resulting explosion blasts the coaches, you and the entire gymnasium into oblivion!
Time to organise a natural disaster!
As the next over begins, you leave one of the other players in charge and dash off. You race through the sports grounds to the announcer’s tent, peeking in through the flap.
The announcer is taking a break, preening his wavy bouffant hair in the mirror, adjusting strand after strand. This could take ages, and you need him out of there now.
You stick your head through the flap and shout: ‘Oh my goodness, they’re giving away free hair products by the pool!’
Shoving past you, he is out of there in seconds.
You slip into the tent, switch on the microphone and make an announcement about an earthquake on the other side of the country. You say that the place has been hit really bad and that they’re in desperate need of a superhero to help out.
By the time you return to the game, the girl is gone and the match has returned to normal. The rest of the opposition is quickly bowled out and your team comes up to bat.
It’s a close fight, but your team sneaks in by one run.
Just as the coach declares your victory, ready to pin a stick of celery to your shirt, two policewomen show up with the announcer. He’s soaking wet and very angry.
‘That’s the kid,’ he declares, pointing at you. ‘The one who made the announcement about the earthquake AND who lied about the hair products.’
The police arrest you and take you down to the local station. Apparently your earthquake announcement caused a bit of a panic. And there was a poolside riot due to the lack of free hair products. Your parents are called to come and collect you.
You are in a heap of trouble.
But, hey, at least you won the cricket match!
You don’t like the idea of cheating, so you tell Wesley to stop controlling the bat now that the superhero girl has been bowled out.
It’s a long match and a really close one. And it ends in a draw.
You may not have won, but you and your team had the best time playing the game.
You’ve got to do something – now!
You burst into the tent, demanding that the coach let the kid go.
‘You shouldn’t have come in here.’
You whirl around. It’s the strange boy you warned about the pole. He’s standing by the tent flap, blocking the way out.
‘We are not ready to reveal ourselves to the world yet,’ says the coach.
The crates along the edge of the tent creak open. There are kids inside them. Boys and girls with blank faces. Not blank as in lacking emotion, but blank as in without features.
In unison, they all step out towards you.
‘No!’ says the strange boy, stepping forward. ‘He saved me. I must protect him.’
‘Stand down, Robot 323,’ says the coach.
‘I am unable to comply,’ says the boy.
The kid-bots advance on your robot friend. He jumps into the air, hands and feet a blur of martial arts moves.
‘I will protect you,’ says the boy as he karate chops and kicks at the kid-bots, knocking off their faces to reveal circuits, snapping off their arms and legs to leave dangling wires. Within seconds they are nothing more than a pile of scrap metal.
‘You will not find me so easy to defeat,’ says the coach.
The coach’s skin turns metallic grey. Bits of him retract. Other bits pop out. It’s like his mechanical body is turning inside out. Before your eyes he transforms into a death-machine with claws, flamethrower and rotating sharp things.
‘Run!’ says your robot friend, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the tent.
As you are dragged through the Super Sports Spectacular by your robot protector and chased by a coaching death-machine, people screaming and panicking all around, you can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake choosing track and field.
You take Brianna to the announcer’s tent and recount the cricket match and how she won it singlehandedly.
The announcer immediately jumps onto the microphone and tells everyone about it. He then does a live interview with Brianna.
The announcer has barely asked the first question when a strange guy in a purple cloak and helmet marches in.
‘I’ve been searching this stupid sports spectacular all day trying to find you,’ says the stranger. ‘And now, at last, I have you in my power.’
‘Not so fast, Dr No T Boi,’ says Brianna. ‘You forget that I have superpowers and you don’t!’
‘But,’ says Dr No, ‘I have this.’ He pulls a lump of rock out from under his cloak.
Brianna cowers.
‘That’s right,’ says the evil doctor. ‘A piece of your long-ago destroyed home planet, which, in Earth’s atmosphere, is able to sap all your superpowers, leaving you helpless. At last, I’ve beaten you!’ He cackles maniacally. ‘And to think, I might never have found you if not for the announcement.’
This is all your fault. It’s a bit weird. But it’s still your fault.
Brianna tears a hole in the back of the tent and staggers out. Dr No gives chase.
You wonder if there’s anything you can do to help. You dash outside, but they have both disappeared. You never see either of them again.
You spend the rest of your life wondering if you caused the death of the only superhero you have ever met.
You offer to take Brianna to lunch. She nods enthusiastically.
On the way to the food marquee, you comment that she doesn’t talk much.
‘I’m a little shy,’ she says. ‘But once I get to know people, I open up.’
And open up, she does. It’s like you’ve released a floodgate.
‘As it happens, I really like talking to people. So once there’s someone I’m comfortable with, I can get very chatty. And I find that people really like hearing about all the superhero stuff I do. And I do a lot of it…’
On and on she goes as you walk. Along the way you see a bunch of people on pogo sticks bouncing towards the sports complex entrance – where they attack a truck full of guys in balaclavas.
Eyes wide, your mouth hanging open, you try to point this out to Brianna, thinking she might be able to help … but she doesn’t notice. She just keeps on talking.
When you finally reach the food marquee, you see a bunch of freakishly tall basket ballers chasing someone into the trees beyond the sports complex. You hear distant explosions. Again, Brianna is too busy chatting to see it.
As you’re eating lunch, Brianna continues to speak through mouthfuls of food. You keep having to dodge bits of stray souvlaki that come flying from her mouth. Then you see a boy running amok, people sprinting after him. When they catch up to the boy and try to grab him, his head falls off … revealing wires. It’s a robot!
But again Brianna doesn’t notice and can’t be interrupted.
Finally, she finishes her meal and gets up, wiping garlic sauce off her glasses.
‘Thanks for the food,’ she says. ‘You have no idea how hungry being a superhero makes you. It takes a lot of energy having to be alert all the time – keeping your eyes and ears open for things that go wrong, for those in need of your help. People forget that observance is one of my most important superpowers. Anyway, see you round.’
You stare at her, wide-eyed, as she walks off.
Well, that was … interesting.