| |
HE WAS SITTING ON A damp bag of manure, staring forlornly at his dirty shoes, when he heard the sound of a vehicle coming towards him from town. He looked up quickly. It was a Range Rover, the same one he had seen last Friday evening when he'h had that damn-fool idea - that very first, very stupid idea that had set this whole stupid thing going - and it was swinging over onto the wrong side of the road to stop right beside him.
"Hi!" said the driver. It was Chief-Horsey-Dude Mr Bennithorpe himself; a tall thin guy with a lot of grey hair who still managed to look fit, happy, and filthy rich. "How's the fundraising going?" he asked.
"Oh, ah, yeah, great, just great!" Randy replied as brightly as he could, jumping to his feet and trying to look busy. He hadn't even put out the signs or displayed the poster, so he picked them up now as if he had only just got around to it.
Bennithorpe noticed the poster. "That the new jersey is it? Looks good." It was one of those adult-type remarks that could have been what the guy really thought or else he was just being polite. "So, ah ... when'll you be up to do some more bagging?"
More than a hint; it was.
"Oh . . . ah. . . soon, real soon, I promised."
"Good, good. If you can be regular about it then I'll see about giving you a decent donation at the end of it."
"Oh gee, uh, thanks, thanks a heap!"
Mr Bennithorpe put his vehicle into gear. "No worries. I'm always glad to help anyone who's not afraid of a bit of hard work. See ya!" He drove on, swinging the big, shiny four-wheel-drive into his own driveway a few seconds later. Randy sat down again, feeling gloomier than ever.
Afraid of hard work? He was terrified!
And it was looking more and more like he was going to be doing it all himself. Thanks for nothing, Piho.
#
NEXT MORNING RANDY put the word around to the fundraisers to meet in the hall at lunchtime. In ones and twos they drifted in, chatting amongst themselves and pretty much ignoring him. Piho was the only one missing. Randy stood at the door waiting as long as he could, but Piho did not turn up. Neither did Mr Tully. (Then again, he hadn't exactly asked Tully to attend.) Time was running out. Fidgeting nervously he went and stood at the front of the gathering.
"Well?" said Robbo Martin impatiently: "What now?"
"Er, nothing much," Randy began, realising at once that it did not sound particularly leader-like. He began again. "I'm just checking out, like, how's it going and, if you're all happy with your partners and that sort of stuff?"
There were some nods and some shrugs and some faces pulled this way and that, which Randy took to mean that they were at least not about to kill each other.
But some of them were looking at him peculiar-like, so he thought he had better explain a bit more.
"Yeah, see, I was just wondering, like, if anyone wants to change partners at this stage, that would be okay."
Once again there were nods and shrugs and faces pulled this way and that. It didn't look hopeful. Then Suzy spoke up. "Tammy wants to be in."
Randy swivelled about to look at her, astonished.
"Tammy?" he asked in a way that made it sound like he had just tasted a raw slug. "Tammy Turinger?"
"Yeah," said Suzy, "that Tammy."
"She wants to play league?" spluttered Randy, "She'd snap in half at the first tackle!"
"She doesn't want to play," said Suzy, "she just wants to be involved in the fundraising, that’s all." she turned and raised her voice, "Tammy!"
Tammy must have been waiting just outside the door. She came straight in.
"Tammy," said Suzy kindly, "I think Randy here needs a new sales partner. Do you want to fit in with him?"
Tammy looked at Randy, smiled, and said, "Super!"
Randy was speechless. He looked remarkably like a fish sucking water.
Was this really happening!?
All the boys were now producing a muffled snuffling noise, remarkably like laughter squeezing itself out through noses and closed mouths. It was exactly that.
There was nothing actually wrong with Tammy. In fact she was really nice. That was it really, she was just so terribly nice. And pretty too, Randy had to secretly admit, even with her funny-looking teeth. And she wasn't actually that tall, she just kind of looked tall. Right, okay, he had glanced at her a couple of times during sports day when she had on those tight Lycra bike pants, but that didn't mean anything! Hell no!
Then he remembered something that really made his stomach sink. About November last year he had come across the words 'Tammy T loves Randy C' chalked up on the bike sheds. Of course he'd rubbed it out instantly, but someone must have written it.
Yeah – but jerks were doing that all the time. Meant nothing.
What was going on? What was he going to say?
"Hey, well, that's great!" said Randy at last. "Ahhh yes, really good that you want to help. But, gee! Seems like everyone's okay with their partners and Mr Tully said he doesn't want anyone going out without their partner, you know, for safety reasons. So... sorry."
There, that fixed it.
"What about you then?" interrupted Suzy pointedly. "You went out yesterday without your partner."
"Oh well, yeah, but you see Piho couldn't make it ... 'coz, 'coz ..."
"'Coz he's quit," said Johnny unexpectedly.
Randy was taken by surprise. "Huh?"
"I talked to him yesterday," said Johnny. "Says he's quit the team, says he's just going to play nothing this winter." There was a lot of nodding going on amongst the other boys as if they all knew this as well, then Suzy spoke up again.
"Well, isn't this perfect! Now you and Tammy can team up!"
Randy stood gasping in silence while they all waited for his answer. To Randy they seemed like vultures around a dying dog, or like rats around a sick baby, or maybe like sharks around a sinking boat, or perhaps. . .
"Isn't it perfect?" repeated Suzy, interrupting his thoughts.
He had to say no. After all, he was in charge. So 'No' it was going to be. Bang! Done! Just like that. So he looked Tammy square in the eyes and said, "Ahhh ... Okay."
He was dead.
This was the end.
First mauve, now Tammy.
Piho had done the smartest thing: quitting before the embarrassment began. But that was no longer possible for Randy. His private hell was upon him.
Maybe, if he took this one on the chin for now, just smiled and said, 'Yeah, okay guys, good joke, you got me!', then maybe later, when they found out about the mauve. . .
No, he was dead.
"Well," said Tammy, once they had left school as fast as Randy could engineer it. "What do we do?" She was walking home to collect her bike, and he was wheeling his.
"We head out to the Bennithorpe farm and start shovelling Shi-" he nearly said the 'S' word, but changed it at the last moment to "shovelling stuff, you know, the, the stuff ..."
"Manure!" she said enthusiastically. "Ha-ha, isn't it funny? Everyone's being so polite about it, but really it's just horseshit, isn't it?"
Did she just say that? Did she really say that!?
"Yeah, ha-ha, yeah!" he replied. "Hey, hope you don't mind biking?"
"No problem. I've got a twelve-speed."
"Good, good," he said absentmindedly, beginning to sound like a teacher or something. He glanced up. Chas and Tweety were biking past, gawking and grinning. He gave them a cheerful smile (yeah, okay guys, good joke!) and quickly looked away.
He was already dead.
#
BUT TAMMY WAS GREAT! She shovelled with enthusiasm, she got on really well with Mr Bennithorpe who turned up in the middle of the bagging and talked with her about horses, and once they were down on the roadside she seemed to work magic on the customers. Every car stopped, every car, and the first batch of bags sold within twenty minutes.
"We’d better get more!" said Tammy enthusiastically as the last customer drove away.
"It's getting pretty late," mumbled Randy. "Shouldn't you be getting home?"
"Nah, Dad's not expecting me until six."
"Oh." (Darn!) "Well, let's do some more, then!"
They bagged another five and sold three by 5.30, then the traffic seemed to fizzle out.
"Let's call it a day," said Randy at 5.45.
'A day!" she said, laughing. Tammy really seemed to be enjoying herself. Little jokes like that had been popping out of her all afternoon, and she had said the 'S' word about fifty times. Randy laughed politely again.
"But what about these last bags?" she asked. "Shouldn't we take them back up to the stables or something?"
"Nah, they'll be fine here," said Randy casually. "There's an honesty box here and it's amazing how honest people are around here."
"Okay," she said, and began getting down the signs. Randy stood back while she hid them behind the stall. Then she said, "I'll take the money in if you like."
"Suits me," agreed Randy. It meant he could have an extra five minutes in bed next morning. "How much did we make?"
She counted the money. "Eighteen dollars."
"Wow! "
"Is that good then?"
"It's great. It's amazing. It's fantastic!"
"So, if we keep it up, do you think we might win?"
"Ye-es," said Randy slowly, suddenly having a whole new idea, "Ye-es."