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SOON AFTER THE STORM had passed a little old lady stopped and bought one bag, and after that, nothing. The rain had not only washed the road clean of old manure but also, it seemed, of old manure customers. They waited a long time, shivering in the cooler air, until finally Tammy spoke.
"Let's pack it in."
Randy was glad to. Hastily he put away the signs and set out the honesty box on top of a bag as he always did, then shook the water from his bike and jumped on. The sun was out again and the road was steaming.
"Awesome!" yelled Randy as they swooped through the steam clouds.
"Yeah!" agreed Tammy. Then the silence returned. Since the storm neither of them had spoken. Randy certainly didn't want to mention the kissing and the weird feelings he had about it, and Tammy had been quiet too. It was scary stuff, kissing.
They were back in Kainui at about six o'clock. At their usual turnoff Randy called, "See ya tomorrow!" as he always did, and she replied, "Yeah, see ya!" as she always did, and that was that. He glanced back once but she wasn't looking back at him. He felt sort of sad that she hadn't.
What with the lemonade, the rain and the wet road he was a wet sticky mess by the time he got home. He quickly changed and hurried to join his family for dinner.
"How's it going?" asked his father as Randy sat down. "You were out late tonight."
"Oh, really busy," he said, facing his plate, and quickly changed the subject.
#
RANDY WOKE WITH A START. It was Thursday: the last day of the fundraising! He rolled over, looked at the clock, and began to panic some more. It was nearly eight o'clock! He was going to have to eat-and-run if he wanted to get to school before Tammy ...
His stomach lurched. Oh heck! Tammy! Now he had one more thing to panic about. What if someone found out about the k– (his mind could hardly say the word) –kissing?
No, no way, he said to himself. I'm going to keep a straight face, I'm not going to give away one little clue!
"Morning!" he said cheerfully to everyone at breakfast.
His father was hastily packing his lunchbox at the bench. He said, "Yuh," then, "I'm off!" and went out the door. Randy's mother did not even look up from the newspaper. But Beau looked up, most curious.
Her stupid little brother was normally never cheerful in the morning.
But she didn't ponder this abnormality for long because she had other things on her mind. "I hear the judge has made her final decision," she said to no one in particular.
"Eh?" grunted Randy as he shovelled down his Weet-Bix. "I thought this competition didn't end until tomorrow."
"Oh, didn't you know?" said Beau. "We all got a hurry-up last week. Monday was the last day for entries. "
"Oh."
"I did another two designs," she proudly told him.
He stopped his piggery and looked up. "So that makes five altogether?" he asked incredulously.
Beau was beaming like she'd already won. "Yep."
"Oh." He shrugged. Mauve might have won the battle but the war had barely begun.
"What're you shrugging about?" she wanted to know.
"Nothing," he mumbled with his mouth full.
"No, it's never nothing," said Beau, now more curious than ever. "You always shrug about something. What is it?"
"Oh, I was just thinking," said Randy vaguely.
"What? What were you thinking?"
He had to say something to put her off the track. "Oh, just like, you know, how good your first design was."
She leaned back. "What do you know about good design?"
"Well, I just heard someone say it, that's all."
She leaned further, like a snake preparing to strike. "Who?"
He didn't look up. "Oh, just someone."
Beau's eyes narrowed. Her head began to move from side to side. These were the danger signs, but Randy was too busy looking at his plate. Bad move. The snake struck.
"You tell me who," she said quietly and calmly, "or else I'll tell everyone about you and Tammy yesterday."
Randy's head shot up from his plate. Beau was grinning like she knew everything. "Tell everyone . . . what?" he asked, trying to sound totally mystified. "What're you talking about?"
Her eyes sparkled as she began wagging a finger back and forth in time to her little song. "Tammy and Randy sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"
"We weren't in a tree!" he squeaked.
'Ah-hah!"
"We didn't!" he cried, but his face was bright red.
Beau was bouncing up and down in her seat, crowing "You did! You did! Oh wow, hee-hee-hee! Now - who talked about my design?"
"Promise you won't tell?" he begged miserably.
"Promise. Now tell!"
"The TV lady said so."
"You mean the one who was here the other week? The one with the fabulous clothes?"
And so, little by little, like a dentist drilling out a tooth, Beau extracted the whole story: how they had met in the Zap-Zone, how the TV lady had seen the poster, what she had said.
"What did she say, exactly?" Beau demanded.
"I can't remember," mumbled Randy, wishing she would just shut up and leave him alone.
"K-i-s-s-i-n-g!"
"Oh, I remember now!" Randy went on hastily. "She said 'Whoever did this must have real talent'."
"What else?" demanded Beau.
"Ah ... that you could really go far in advertising – " Beau scowled at that so he hastily added, "– or Art School!"
Beau looked joyous for two seconds, then the scowl returned. "What was that about advertising though?"
"Oh, just that your design had given her a bit of an idea and ... oh!" He had just remembered a good bit (the truth this time). "She showed it to another guy, the producer guy, and he thought it was good too."
Beau nearly exploded with delight. "Well, what did he say?"
"He said something like 'Wow, yeah, this is really a cool concept and it has, has – oh something about a theme and that they would probably use it ..."
Beau's eyes grew bigger. Randy quickly tried to change the story but it didn't fool her, and before long she had it out of him. (Except the bit about him and Piho starring in the commercial. That much at least he managed to keep secret.)
Finally, feeling like the dog that had been run over by a truck then the truck backed up and did it all again, he staggered off to school.
#
BY LUNCHTIME THERE were about eight dozen different versions going around the school: how Beau was going to be on TV as a clothing designer; how everyone in the school was getting free clothes; how the Auckland Warriors were coming to the school to play league; amazing stuff like that. So it came as no surprise when, at five past lunchtime, Randy and Piho were called to the principal's office.
"Okay," said Mrs Young with a mixture of anger and tired resignation. "Which of you let the cat out of the bag?"
Piho looked back at her with wounded dignity. "Not me."
Mrs Young's gaze fell upon Randy.
"She held me down and tortured me!" he wailed. "It was horrible! She hit me with a truck, a whole truck, then she jumped up and down on my chest! No one could have stood up to her, no one! Anyway, she's my sister. I had to tell her or else - or else -just or else!"
'Ahhh," said Mrs Young with a wise nod as if she actually believed him, then she sighed and shrugged, saying, "Ah well, it doesn't really matter now with only one day to go. I suppose you boys have done quite well, all things considered."
"Thanks Mrs Young," they murmured together in surprise.
"Right, so about tomorrow. The director will be at assembly describing what they want to do, but I'm not going to say anything about you boys because I expect there'll be a fair bit of .jealousy. You haven't told anyone except your parents, have you?"
"No," said Randy. (He hadn't even told his parents.)
Piho just shook his head.
"Good," said the principal. "So what say we just let it seem to happen, okay?"
"Yes, Mrs Young," they murmured together.
"That's all. Now off you go, and good luck. Have fun!"
Astonished to be getting off without any consequences, they sprang for the door.
"Oh, and Randy..." Mrs Young called after them.
He stopped, turned, worried. "What?"
She smiled hugely, "Well done with the fundraising! The results are fantastic!"
#
THEY WERE DAWDLING silently back to class, side by side, when Piho cleared his throat.
"Uh, Randy?" he began hesitantly, without turning his head.
Randy didn't look back at him either. "Yeah?"
"Er, about ducking out on the fundraising and all that? "
"Yeah?"
"Well, ah ... I guess I'm sorry that, ah.., what I’m trying to say is.., I guess I sort of dropped you in the poo there. Just a bit. Didn't I?"
Randy kept looking straight ahead but his voice turned a little angry as he answered, "Yeah, well you did, a bit."
"So I guess I'm sort of saying sorry," said Piho, his voice tortured with embarrassment.
"Thanks," replied Randy, his voice echoing Piho's.
Still without turning his head he reached out an arm, found Piho's shoulders and gave him a clumsy sideways hug. Piho hugged him back the same way.
"I reckon this filming's gonna be heaps of fun, eh!" said Randy brightly, desperate to change the subject.
“Yeah!”