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HE WAS STILL THINKING about it at three o’clock that afternoon, and was no closer to an answer. Yes, the idea had been a stroke of unparalleled genius ... except for one thing: the guy who owned the Zap-Zone, Barry Boyd, was a complete and utter bathplug and Randy didn't have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the prize lined up. It had happened like this:
About a month ago Randy had gone to the Zap-Zone one Friday night to play a few games with his friends. He'd had some money left over from his Christmas loot, exactly $8.50 in fact, most of it in small change, so he played a few games first with the fifty-cent coins, then went to the booth to change the rest. He and his friends were in good spirits and he decided to show off a bit.
"Gimme some change, my good man!" he said to Barry Boyd and tossed the money onto the counter. Half the coins went rolling, some falling into the man's lap and the rest clattering to the floor beyond.
"Oi!" said Boyd. "Watch it!" Scowling and growling he picked up the fallen money and made the change. He pushed back five fifties, plus twenty cents left over.
"Hey, ah, there was three dollars there," said Randy.
"No, there wasn't," said Boyd. "Next!"
Randy didn't move. "Was too," he said. "I counted it!"
"Nice try kid," growled Boyd, "but I wasn't born yesterday y'know. Next! "
"But there were three dollars!" insisted Randy again "It must still be on the floor!"
Boyd called to 'Big Bobby' Hohepa, the security guy. "Bobby, this kid's making trouble."
Hohepa came over. He was two metres tall. "Well I think you'd better leave nice and quiet like," he said with a pleasant smile, looming over Randy like a thunder cloud.
So Randy was seen out of the Zap-Zone, still feeling furious inside. His friends all went "ooo-ooo-oo" and stayed there. Huh; some friends! So since then Randy was in permanent 'Boyd-Avoid' mode.
Damn! How on earth was he ever going to get this prize organised?
"Hey, Randalf, where're you going?" called a voice behind him. It was Mr Tully with the identification badges.
"Du-uh, yeah!" Randy stopped and slapped himself on the forehead in an exaggerated way. If caught being dumb – act dumb. (Well, at least it looked cute.)
Mr Tully handed him a fat envelope. "And don't forget, everyone must wear their badge while on the job."
"Yes, sir." Randy stuffed the envelope into his school bag and moved off. This time he managed to get out the gate before the next voice hailed him.
"Randy-rand!" It was Beau, and did he hate being called that or what?
"What?" he snapped as she hurried up, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Have you heard?" she asked breathlessly.
"Heard what?"
"There's this television company in town and they're looking for kids to act in a movie!" she said.
"Uh-huh, yeah, so?"
"So we all might get to be in it!"
"Not me," he said quickly. "Look, ah, I've gotta get home. See you there."
Movies? Schmovies! He had enough on his mind already.
#
THE MEETING WENT WELL, in as much as Randy survived it without serious mutilation. Most of last year's team were there: Robbo Martin, Johnny Tualoma, PJ Jackson, Tama Bexley, Nathan Mooney, Jefferson Ho, Tweety Birdwater, Chas Killock ('the Pillock'), Toi Latuselu, Lloyd Ngatai, and Piho who still seemed to be in a big snot about something.
Then, much to everyone's surprise, in came Bridget Ngatai and Suzy Ripia.
"What're you doing here?" Lloyd asked his cousin.
"We're gonna play league this year," Bridget said matter-of-factly. "So we're joining the team now."
"No way!" squawked PJ Jackson and several others.
"Oh yeah, and why not?" said Suzy Ripia, folding her big arms across her big chest and leaning menacingly over PJ.
PJ jutted out his chin proudly, "'Coz this is a boy's team, that's why!"
"Who says?" she said with a juttier chin than his.
"Errr ..." P.J. seemed suddenly lost for an answer.
"It's our team too!" said Bridget, adding herself to Suzy's blockade. 'We've just talked to Mr Tully and he says we can play if we want 'coz this is an Equal Opportunities School! "
"So there!" concluded Suzy.
Johnny stepped in. "Okay, fine," he said diplomatically, "We'll see you at the trials in April then."
"Uh-uh," said Suzy. "We're starting with the team now."
"Says who?" said PJ.
"Says me!" and she picked PJ. right up off the floor.
"Hey, hey, hey!" interrupted Randy quickly. "It's really totally okay by me if you join in the fundraising programme, really, I mean it's really great to have your, ah ... That you're so keen to ..." (Randy wished Piho was with him on this. He really did wish. It was all Mr Tully's fault.) "...Yeah, right, cool!"
There was some muttering and shuffling amongst the boys but it looked like they had accepted the girls for now, so Randy raised his voice and plunged on. "Right, okay everybody, ah, here's the new signs. Take a couple each, put them up and ah, go sell, sell, sell!"
"Where?" asked Nathan.
"Where what?"
"Where do we put them up?"
"Well, wherever you're selling, like ...”
"In the ladies' toilets," said Tweety Birdwater quickly. All the other boys fell about laughing. Beau,Suzy and Bridget tried to murder Tweety with a collective stare.
"Yes, Tweety," Randy said without a smile, "wherever you want to sell it."
Mr Tully could not have done it better. The boys fell about laughing again. This was going well. Randy seized the moment and went on.
"So this is the game-plan, guys ... and girls," he added quickly. "Suss your supplier, make a deal, bag it up, find a spot, put out your signs, push the fundraising angle – people really fall for that – and show them the poster. Yeah, the, ah, poster. Beau, over to you!"
Beau stepped up to the front, allowing Randy to circle behind her for a few moments and have a quick quiet nervous breakdown. She was carrying a big square of hardboard covered by a cloth. She propped it up on the workbench, turned, and paused dramatically.
Piho caught Randy's eye. "Mauve," he mouthed.
"This," began Beau grandly, "is the Official Promotional Design." She grasped a corner of the cover. "And," she added with barely restrained pride, "it is also my entry in the design competition."
Flick went the cover. There was a gasp from the crowd.
Randy wasn't too good on gasps - was it a horror gasp or a delight gasp? Perhaps he had better open his eyes and look for himself.
First thing he saw was Piho, mouthing "Told you, told you!" Then Randy looked at the poster. Okay, there was some mauve but overall it was... well, predominantly mauve, but besides that, not that he knew much about art, but it wasn't that bad. (Besides, he still had to live in the same house as his big sister.) So he said, "Terrific! Great! Thanks, Beau. That's really eye-catching, really – uh – colourful. Just what we needed to raise public awareness and, ah ... Presentation, guys, that's the key! Now take a poster and get out there and sell!"
"What about our ID badges?"
"Got them right here."
"What about the money?"
"Take it into the school office before school tomorrow."
"What about. . .?" and so it went, until he had answered all the questions. Then, near disaster! Two by two the boys had teamed up and taken a few signs each. Manure Ahead was popular. Nathan and Chas even wanted to take two. Then, as the Support Our Team pile went down Robbo Martin suddenly pulled out a sign and said, "Hey, what's this: Support Team Manure?"
"Huh?" said Randy in surprise. He knew he had not painted one of those. Too late, everyone was looking at it now. No one could miss it! Robbo was waving it around!
"Hay, whaddya mean 'Team Manure'?" growled Johnny, "Are you saying we’re crap?"
'No, no, no, no, no, no, no," said Randy quickly, "That was just done to, you know, like a bit of a joke, just between us like, a sort of a group identity thing." (Where am I getting all this stuff? he wondered to himself.) "Like, you know, us – the fundraisers – we are 'Team Manure'!"
Silence.
"It's a joke – 'Team Manure'."
More silence, then Tweety Birdwater suddenly said, "Yeah, I like it."
"Yeah, it fits," said Robbo sarcastically. A few of the other boys nodded in agreement.
Tweety began giggling. "Team Manure," he kept repeating, giggling more and more, "Team Manure!"
Randy worked up a half-convincing giggle too. "Yeah. It's heaps of fun, eh, Piho?"
"Oh yeah," said Piho sourly, "heaps."
"So, guys!" Randy said loudly, cheerfully, desperately, "just a couple of weeks, that's all it's going to take. Let's all give it our best shot, alright!?"
Finally he got rid of them all. They went off in pairs, lugging their odd-sized signs and pieces of corkboard and rolled-up posters, some grinning and some muttering darkly. Beau buzzed around, sending them off with final instructions about poster care and presentation.
Then Randy turned to Piho. "You did it, didn't you? You did that sign!"
Piho was shaking with laughter. He slapped his thigh. He slapped the garage door. He slapped Randy on the back.
"Quit it!" moaned Randy.
"Oh that was rich!" spluttered Piho. "You should've seen the look on your face!"
"Hah-bloody-hah," said Randy, then he suddenly remembered that he had a little bit of a problem that Piho might be able to sort out for him. "Yeah, yeah, okay - it was a good one, you really had me going there." He laughed as best he could.
Then he asked cautiously, "So, ah, does this mean we're mates again?"
Piho shrugged. "Suppose."
"Cool!" said Randy, feeling very uncomfortable about this kind of talk.
"Yeah," said Piho, with equal discomfort.
They stood grinning stupidly at each other just outside the garage, then had a quick wrestle, dumped each other on the ground, rubbed some good grass-stains into their school T:shirts and got up again.
"So, let's go sell some poop, eh!" said Piho.
"Yeah, right," said Randy cheerfully, 'just as soon as we're done at the Zap-Zone. Y’know? Sorting out that prize thing?"
"Yeah...” Piho suddenly stopped smiling, "Hey, I thought you hated that guy?"
"Who, Barry Boyd? Nah.” Randy waved it off. "So, are you with me? Gonna be my Can-do Kiwi? "
Piho shrugged, "Sure."
"Cool."
(Phew!)