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IN FACT, RANDY HAD had several good ideas, almost all at the same time, and all to do with the problem of the prize.
IDEA 1: If he and Tammy could win the prize, and if he didn't use his share and maybe Tammy didn't either (he had never seen her playing in the Zap-Zone) then he wouldn't have to do some stinking deal with Barry Boyd after all!
EXTRA BONUS: Suzy's little setup would backfire on everyone. Ha-ha!
IDEA 2: Tammy was so damn nice that he could send her in to deal with Barry Boyd. Hah! Try to be rotten her, Boyd!
IDEA 3: Since the TV people wanted him so much, perhaps he could get them to get the prize out of Boyd. After all, he still had the little card Mrs Young had given him and had not yet called the producer to say he was going to do actually act in this movie thing.
IDEA 4: If Plan #3 failed then he could still fall back on Plan #2 and if that failed it still left Plan #1.
Hmmmm. . .
He was silent as they biked back to Kainui, thinking about everything while Tammy chattered away beside him. She was still being really nice and (he had to secretly admit) the afternoon had been a lot of fun.
But as they got closer to town he felt his anxiety levels going up again. What if someone had seen them having fun? What if someone, especially one of the boys in the team, found out that he actually liked her?
Then he had another thought - one that really put the smile back on his face. What if it all worked out? What if he managed to line up the prize with Boyd at no cost, and then he and Tammy actually won it? Wow!
After dinner he sat down in front of the telephone, laid the Image Inc. business card in front of him, took a couple of deep breaths and dialled. There was no reply at the office number on the card so he tried the other number - must be a cellphone, Randy figured.
"Hello?" said a male voice. There was a lot of noise in the background and the sound of people laughing.
"Hi, ah, is that Lewis P. Fourward?" Randy asked, reading the producer's name off the card. This was the guy who had yelled, "I want you boys!"
"Yes," said the voice. "Who's this?"
Randy hated these trick questions but he thought he had better play along. "Er, Lewis P. Fourward?"
The man laughed. "No, I mean who are you? Is that one of my boys down there in Kainui?"
Relief. Randy was beginning to get through to the guy.
"Yes, I'm Randalf Cathro - but everyone just calls me Randy."
"Okay, Randy. So you're on then?"
"Eh?"
"You on? You in the game? You gonna make movies with me?"
"Oh. yes, I mean maybe," added Randy quickly. "See, I've got this little problem ..." He explained as best he could.
"All right, all right," the producer interrupted before Randy had finished. "I see where you're coming from, Randy. Yeah, I think I can probably do something about that for you, but I need to play your game too. See, what I want is to make sure I've definitely got both of you boys signed up and I need know it by this time tomorrow, otherwise I'll have to go with someone else. Now your mate Piho hasn't called me yet and it's been two days, so I want you to get onto him, and you’re going to get him on the phone to me, ASAP, saying 'Yes sir, I'm in this too!' Alright? This is mission-critical for you, buddy, not so much for me, so get cracking, alright? Thanks Randy. I know you can do it. Don’t let me down."
And bang: that was it! Call over!
"Damn," said Randy. He was going to have to apologise to Piho.
No. Even worse than that. It meant he would have to somehow rid the world of mauve. Or, failing that, he was going to have to persuade Piho that mauve was cool. Yeah, and why not flap his arms and fly to Mars at the same time? No, there had to be another way.
"Think, Randalf, think!" he muttered to himself as his brow furrowed and his fingers fiddled with Lewis P. Fourward's business card. "Brain, don't fail me now!"
But perhaps there was another reason Piho hadn't called the TV guy. Randy thought really hard. What was bugging Piho?
The answer dawned in his brain like a smoky orange sun - it was him, Randy Cathro - he was the problem.
Yes, he realised, what it boiled down to, without mincing words or beating about the bush, was that Piho was actually really, really pissed off with a certain Randalf Cathro. So what could he do? What could he do as a gesture of reconciliation? Some little gift, perhaps?
Some little - well, big actually - some big thing, the thing that Piho would like more than anything else in the world.
The answer dawned in Randy's brain like another smoky orange sun - Piho would absolutely love a free day at the Zap-Zone. Yes! He could give Piho the prize.
But the smile quickly melted off Randy’s face. Problem: what if he didn't win? What if he promised Piho a free day at the Zap-Zone and then someone else won it?
Then again, Bennithorpe had more or less promised a sizeable donation, and with Tammy’s special charm on the customers, and considering how slack the other guys were being ...
But could he guarantee it?
Then he had an idea. He hit the redial button on the phone. Buuurp, buuurp, it went, buuurp buuurp, then "Hello!" came the voice of Lewis p. Fclurward.
"Mr Fourward," said Randy as politely as he could, "l was just wondering, like, how much are you going to be paying me - I mean so I can tell Piho?
Fourward rattled off a very confusing answer: "Well, let's see, it's gonna be a no-liner sixty-second full-cover TVC, ah ... I can't recall the juvenile rate exactly ... say about thirteen or fourteen hundred before tax. All-righty? Bye!"
The line went dead. Randy slowly closed the call. Fourteen hundred dollars?
Fourteen hundred dollars!?
"Ye-es!"
He phoned Piho right away. "Hi, it’s me," he announced brightly.
"Whaddaya want?" growled piho.
"I want to ... ah, to ..." stammered Randy, suddenly forgetting everything he had planned to say, "I just want to say that I think you're absolutely right, man."
'What about?" asked Piho suspiciously.
"About the new design, man. It stinks, it really stinks. No one in their right mind would wear it. I think you're right to quit playing league over this, I really do."
"You do?" asked Piho.
"Yeah, I do," insisted Randy.
Then Piho came back with a very tricky question asked in a very hopeful way; the kind of way that really got a hook into Randy's heart. "So you're gonna quit too?"
"Ahh . . . yeah!" answered Randy almost immediately, while his brain raced frantically to catch up with his mouth. "But I . . : ah . . . I want to wait for the right moment, you know, so it'll be more like a protest," (Yes, good idea. Keep working on it!) "yeah, a protest. If everyone does it, like everyone, then they just won't be able to make us wear them, eh? But of course we'll have to wait until the uniform comes out, you know - once the TV thing is happening, then everyone sees it and we all protest and – pow!"
"Yeah . . .?" said Piho doubtfully.
Randy pressed on. "See we'll do it like this – we've promised to keep shut about the TV thing and so, okay we do, and then they come and they do the filming and - oh, by the way, do you know how much they're gonna pay us?"
"No, I, uh . . ."
"The guy said about fifteen hundred dollars. Fifteen hundred dollars each!"
"Did you ring him?" asked Piho. He sounded impressed.
"Yeah, of course," said Randy casually. "So anyway, after we've done this acting thing and made our dough, then we – " he paused cunningly, "You mean you haven’t rung?"
"Er... "
"Oh, man, you've gotta ring, man! The guy said if he doesn't get it all tied up tonight he'll have to get two other guys to do it!"
"Yeah, well, at least then we won't be getting those poxy uniforms," muttered Piho.
"No way, man! They'll still be using our school. They’ll still be dumping those pansy-assed colours on us! We can’t stop that!"
Piho said a very rude word.
"You can't stop it, man! So you might as well be in for all you can get, eh?"
"Yeahhh..."
"One thousand – five hundred – dollars," Randy reminded him carefully.
"Yeee-ah," said Piho more brightly.
"You gotta ring him, bro," urged Randy, going for the kill, "before we lose it!"
"Really? He’s gonna do that?"
"Yeah, really! He told me on the phone , just like five minutes ago!"
"Okay," said Piho, sounding worried. "I'll call you back," and he hung up.
"Ye-es!" said Randy, punching his fist into the air and pulling the telephone to the floor at the same time.
Now all he had to do was fund-raise like crazy with Tammy, organise a protest, get better uniforms with all the extra money they were going to raise, be popular with the team, be friends with Piho again, win that prize, and walk away with fifteen hundred bucks!
Easy peasy!