Extraordinary Losers 3 (3 page)

We stood there, our lips pursed in sadness, looking at Clan. Mundi scratched his head, and at that moment, he really did not know what to say except, “Err… Clan. I think you-you-your socks are a little black and a li-li-li-little smelly.”

“Mundi?!” I elbowed him.

Janice walked up to Mundi and whispered something in his ear. “Get Milo,” was all I heard.

“Oh yes, yes… of course,” Mundi mumbled and ran off immediately, his skinny legs dancing through the air.

Clandestino looked at us with a tear in his left eye. “Sorry, guys, I didn't mean to disappoint you.” He stifled a sob.

“It's okay, Clan,” I said. “But could someone have been responsible for it?”

Clandestino looked up, hope in his eyes. “Yeah, I am not sure. I was running, and as I ran around the bend, everything was going smoothly. Then after about 80 metres, I felt my feet getting heavier and in my struggle, I twisted my ankle. I am not sure what caused my feet to feel heavier. It must have been those stupid shoes!” He pointed to them, a pair of luminous green Nike shoes with orange ticks emblazoned on them.

“Woah… Cool!” I said, my first reaction that of envy. I looked at my white muddy shoes, the kind that gave you corns and blisters and could be bought from any provision shop in the heartlands. It had no logo, no striking shoelaces and only an embarrassing velcro strap that announced to the whole world that my shoes cost just $10.

“Not so cool! Those shoes are the cause of my downfall! They failed me!” Clandestino ranted.

Janice finished up her donut, dusted her fingers and ran to retrieve the condemned shoes.

“Looks perfectly normal to me,” she said, analysing them. “No holes or tears and your soles are all intact.”

“Wait, let me see!” I grabbed the shoes from Janice.

“It's no use. I have lost the race! Because of ME, Red House has lost! That's all that matters! Nothing we do can change things.” Clandestino sunk deeper into his seat.

I wasn't about to give up. Something must have caused his loss. Clandestino, the fastest boy in the whole of Brightstar and possibly the whole of Singapore, stumbled because of a pair of super cool Nike shoes? It couldn't be so simple…

CHAPTER 3: SNIFF MY SHOES?

While Clandestino was wallowing in sadness, I was determined to get to the bottom of this.

I brought the shoes close to my eye level and examined them closely. They didn't feel heavy. On the contrary, they were light, sleek and there was a certain aerodynamic feel about them. They felt almost like a paper plane that would soar through the skies if aimed correctly.

As I held them close to my face to examine every feature, I caught a whiff of something strange. I couldn't be sure. It was a faint whiff. Was it dog poo? I waved the shoe in front of me again. That same smell wafted to my nose again! It was more like a fume. Nail polish? My sister and mum were nail polish fans and some bottles had really really odd names like I Lilac You, Scarlet Fever, Thanks A Latte, and No Place Like Chrome.

I brought the shoes close to my nose one last time. This time, in a brave attempt, I decided to sniff the soles. It was then I realised why Clandestino had stumbled, why his legs had felt heavy and why Adam and Leonard had congratulated each other with a high-five.

“Hey, Clan! Hey, Janice!” I yelled. “Smell this!”

I offered the shoes to Janice, dangling them by their orange laces.

“I can't smell anything!” Janice whined.

“Closer!”

She came closer, took a deep breath and then looked at me incredulously.

“Yeah so?”

“What do you mean, yeah so?” I said.

Janice brought the shoes closer and inhaled deeply. “Eeeww! Glue!”

Clandestino's eyes widened. “Did you say glue?”

“YES!” Janice and I chorused. “SUPER TOXIC SUPER GLUE.”

“Let me see!” He rose and seized the shoes brusquely. In my opinion, the shoes deserved more tender loving care than that! If I were the owner of those $200 shoes, I would probably polish them, frame them up, tweet about them, post photos of them on Facebook a few times and use them as my WhatsApp profile picture.

Clandestino sniffed the soles of the shoes. “Ah choo!” The smell had released his mucus floodgates. “Ah choo! Yeah, it is really glue!” He wiped his wet nose with his sleeve. Eeeww.

By then, all the pupils had gathered on the field to watch the winning house receive their trophy. Madam Siti, our Science teacher, was making sure no one was left out. “Children, come down to assemble here!”

It was almost 12 noon, way past her classroom time, and she had no patience for lingering children. Like me, Madam Siti was not into Sports Day. In fact, she was clinging to a stack of worksheets bound with a rubber band like she would a handbag. They were definitely Science worksheets, full of open-ended “Why” and “How” questions.

I have always wondered why teachers love to give out worksheets to children who always sustain paper cuts from them. I once caught Madam Siti standing next to the photocopy machine. She was collecting her “freshly baked” worksheets from the machine and smelling them, like a bouquet of roses, with her eyes closed. Then she took another whiff of the papers and pressed the stack towards her cheeks. She must be addicted to the smell of new worksheets. Now, she was getting impatient since her worksheets were growing stale under the morning sun.

“Yes, Madam Siti,” Janice shouted. “But we have something to prove that someone sabotaged Clandestino during the 200-metre race.”

“How can that be? It is too late anyway,” she said. “The winning house has already been announced. Come here right now!” She gestured at us to come down immediately.

“Glue?” Clandestino sniffed again. “How can that be? I was running fast during the first half of the race.”

“Yeah, he was doing well, I remember,” Janice chimed in.

At that moment, I got a flashback to just a few moments before the race began. Leonard had walked slowly up to Clandestino on the track to give him his number. “What if glue was not placed on the shoes but somewhere his shoes would land on?”

Janice and Clandestino stopped when they heard me thinking out loud.

“What if the glue was dribbled on the track?” I said again.

“On the fourth lane where Clandestino, and only Clandestino, would be running?” Janice continued.

“Are you saying that someone poured glue on the track?” Clandestino thought for a moment. “Wouldn't it have dried up by the time the race started?”

“Someone could have dribbled it on your lane just before the race,” Janice said thoughtfully.

“If that is true, then it must have been Leonard,” I said. In fact, I was certain. “He was the one that walked up to you just before the race, right?”

“Yup! That is true!” Clandestino recalled. “And I remember he was walking as if he was distracted by something. How dare he?”

Janice had a light-bulb moment. “Let's ask Mundi to calculate the distance and the speed and see if he remembers exactly how many steps you were into the race when you began to slow down.”

We all turned around hoping to see a mop of curly hair, but didn't.

“Wait, where in the world is Mundi?” I asked.

Clandestino suddenly perked up. “Yes, where is he?”

“He was here a moment ago when he spoke of your smelly… Never mind,” I said.

“Maybe he went to the toilet?” Janice suggested. “But it has been half an hour already.”

Clandestino ripped out his socks. “Excuse me, guys.” He pawed the ground with one foot. And with that, he suddenly vanished. Poof!

“Oh no, now two out of four are gone!” I realised. “Don't go anywhere, Janice.”

“Yes, sure, but poor Clandestino. I hope he doesn't injure himself running barefoot.” Janice seemed a little too anxious, if you asked me. She retrieved his Nike shoes and arranged them neatly next to his socks, ready for his return.

One minute later, Clandestino appeared out of nowhere, panting. I almost lost my balance as he whizzed up to me.

“Really. Nowhere. I checked…” He huffed. “All the toilets and all the classrooms.” He puffed. “Mundi is GONE!” He looked down at the ground, surprised to see his shoes and socks neatly arranged.

“Oh, I remember now! We sent him to the Milo van so we could cheer you up with a cold cup of Milo. Did you check the car park where the Milo van is parked?” I asked.

“Yes, it is empty too! There's no van and definitely no Mundi.”

“The Milo van is GONE?” Janice was alarmed. We all looked at one another with panic on our faces.

CHAPTER 4: COUNT FOR YOUR LIFE

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Traffic light,” Mundi said under his breath. The van halted. Mundi was blindfolded and his hands were tied behind his back. All he could hear was the sound of loose screws that rattled during the bumpy ride.

He could smell chocolate and milk swishing in a barrel next to him. It was comforting to know he was in a van full of ice-cold Milo.
The people who took him couldn't have been that bad, could they? Milo Uncles must be nice, no?
he thought.
Wh-wh-why was I chosen? Out… out… of a thousand students, why me?

But there was no time for such “why” thoughts. He had to focus. He needed to document every single second from now till… not the end of his life, he hoped. He was shaking violently, his hands felt clammy, and he had the urge to pee, as he always did whenever he was in fear. But he knew he had to count for his dear life. Thankfully, no one could take his special mathematical powers away from him.

The truck began to move again.

“Straight. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Right turn. Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen… travelling at the speed of about 60km/h, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…” He counted steadily even though fear overwhelmed him.

Finally after about 10 minutes, the engine rumbled abruptly and became silent. The door that Mundi was leaning on swung open violently and he almost fell out of the truck like a diver about to plummet into the depths of the sea. A firm hand grabbed his curly mop of hair. Mundi didn't dare to squeal.