Extraordinary Losers 2 (3 page)

“Oh yeah, that's funny. She called the notice board reps from P4 and P5 for an ‘after-school assignment',” Clandestino said, laughing. “I remember you had to wipe them one by one.”

“Yes, that's right! You see, I will always get called upon to do stuff like this so we might as well volunteer anyway.”

“Okay, Darryl,” Clandestino said. “You can count on us!”

The four of us marched up to Mrs Priya's office to volunteer as cleaners. Janice was our spokesperson since she had the best reputation. She had never once forgotten her homework, unlike me. She had never broken any school rules like Clandestino, and she had never peed in her pants like Mundi did once.

We were expecting three responses from Mrs Priya:

1. “It's no big deal. The old cleaner can do it. The school pays him money to do stuff like that.”
   
2. “I will get the Art Club students to paint over it. It's about time they do something useful, other than draw apples and bananas.” “It's no big deal. The old cleaner can do it. The school pays him money to do stuff like that.”
   
3. “Please touch up the image! Make me prettier. Do I really look like that?”
   

But we received none of the above responses.

Instead, Mrs Priya replied, “Clean? Okay, go ahead! I will give you CCA points for that. The only thing is that you have to try and finish it by today. I don't want any children taking pictures of the wall and posting it on Facebook. Bad reputation! Really bad reputation.”

After the order from Mrs Priya, we were as nervous as long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. Clean up the graffiti in a SINGLE day? Moreover the basketball match was fast approaching and we had done nothing to prepare for it.

“Look what you have gotten us into, Darryl!” Clandestino grumbled.

“Yeah, Darryl!” Janice parroted.

“Darryl, is-is-is she serious … no?” Mundi panicked.

It was a daunting task, to clean up the graffiti in a day. We tried to think of the quickest way. It wasn't easy to clean spray paint off a wall. Scraping would take forever, wiping would take an eternity. Before we knew it, BBRRRIIIIIIIIINGG! Twenty minutes of our precious recess had come to an end. There wasn't enough time to think of a solution!

The four of us got back to class just in time to see Leonard, Justin, Adam and Damien stampede in with their scruffy shoes and untied shoelaces. They had been playing basketball during recess under the hot sun. They came back to class looking and smelling like they had just taken a shower with mud and sweat.

Because of kids like them, playing ball during recess had been officially banned for a few months. But that all changed when Leonard's dad, a rich businessman who had contributed $10,000 to the school, called to complain.

According to Leonard, he had told Mrs Priya, “I don't care if they come back sweating like pigs. Anyway, what's wrong with sweaty pigs? Pigs are supposed to sweat and boys are supposed to play. What else do you expect them to do during recess? Chit chat like little girls?”

Of course, he got his way and Leonard proclaimed his dad a hero. The rest of us felt his father didn't make any sense, but we were happy with the outcome nonetheless. (I wished Mom would call for stuff like that instead of calling to ask for more worksheets. Argh!)

“Remember, it's between us and you tomorrow!” Leonard said.

“Yeah, are you ready to lose?” Justin jeered, as he brushed past me with his sweaty arm.

The reality of tomorrow's match was beginning to set in.

After calling our parents and informing them about our special project in school, we all met at the vandalised wall at 1 pm.

“Here!” Janice threw an old rag on the floor.

“Here! I got this from the school toilet.” Clandestino took out a bottle of hand soap that was only a quarter full.

“Here, a bucket, no?” Mundi had a tiny bucket that was hanging on his elbow like a lady's handbag. How were we ever going to accomplish this enormous task?

When we reached the wall, we finally got the chance to have a good look at it. It was a masterpiece, in my opinion.

Janice brushed the painting with her fingers and said, “This looks so professionally done.”

“Yes, do we know of any student who is good in art?” Mundi wondered aloud. Mundi seemed to stammer a lot less these days, especially when no one else was around.

What was the vandal trying to say? Why did the vandal hate the school so much? Maybe he was a student who got punished and wanted to take revenge?

Clandestino was the tallest so he searched the top parts of the graffiti. Mundi, who was the shortest, was in charge of the lowest portions. Janice started from left, and me, from the right.

“This vandal actually left a fingerprint,” Janice mumbled.

“You see a fingerprint, no?” Mundi asked.

Excitedly, I whipped out my handphone and went over to Janice's side. “See, I told you we would find something!”

Click, Click! I went with my phone's camera. I was just about to take a few close-up shots when Madam Siti walked by.

“Children, what are the four of you doing here?” she barked. There was displeasure in her face. The layer of powder on her face was all cracked up.

“We have been tasked to clean the school wall!” we replied.

Madam Siti shook her head. Her dark purple eye shadow glittered menacingly. “You think some hand soap and an old rag can clean this wall? I don't want you anywhere near that wall, you hear!”

“But Mrs Priya told us to … ”

“I will talk to Mrs Priya. She has been too distressed to think straight. But for now, no one goes near that wall, clear?” Madam Siti thundered.

Why was she so insistent?
we wondered.

That night, I couldn't sleep a wink. My mind raced just thinking about the match the next day. We needed this win to prove ourselves. Janice, Mundi, Clandestino and I. We were the losers and no one had ever taken us seriously.

It wasn't an official match but that was precisely why Brightstar students loved it. The more unofficial, the better! They loved it when there were no teachers telling them what to do. They could stand anywhere they wanted, shout as loud as they wanted and eat as much potato chips and popcorn as they could. Everything was on their terms.

The next day after school, at least a quarter of Brightstar's students gathered around the basketball court. Some teachers, including Mr Grosse and Madam Siti, paced up and down. They had noticed the commotion even before the match had started and they wanted to make sure they were in the vicinity just in case a fight broke out.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…” Mundi counted, anxiety coursing through his veins.

Janice squalled, “Darryl De… you have to pay for this! If I sprain my ankle or fall because of this match I'll…”

Suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes followed the four boys as they came striding onto the basketball court. We stared at the opposing team, our legs suddenly becoming weak. The team consisted of PROS. Pros whose only meaning in life was to play basketball. Pros who ate, slept and talked basketball.

Leonard, Justin, Damien and Adam. They were the school team basketballers. The ones who could skip classes because of a match. The ones who were ferried to and from inter-school competitions in air-conditioned coaches. The ones who contributed shiny cheap metal trophies to Brightstar Primary School. The ones whom girls worshipped. The ones who determined the hairstyle trends in school. If they went bald, the Brightstar children would willingly go bald too.

“Okay, are you ready, everyone?” Miss Teo was surrounded by 300 Brightstars. We could hardly hear her. But she had something very important – a whistle.

Miss Teo had agreed to blow her whistle and start the game for us. She was the most obliging adult in school. Second to Miss Jacobs of course.

One minute to jump ball. The air was as still as death. The crowd that flanked both sides of the court were made up of all kinds of students from Primary 1 to 6. All of them crunched on their potato chips, ready to see us get thrashed by the Pros.