Extreme! (9 page)

Telling themselves they were only borrowing the key and not stealing it, Mio and Darcy snuck out the back door of the gym and raced back to the corridor of lockers. Most kids were still enjoying the sunshine outside so they passed very few stragglers on their way.

‘Give them to me,’ said Darcy, reaching for the key, but Mio knocked his hand away.

‘I found them. I get to do the search,’ she said.

With assured fingers she slipped the key in the keyhole and opened the lock, at the same time easing the hook out of the latch, and flicking open the door.

‘You been taking unauthorised entry lessons from Bryce?’ asked Darcy with a twinkle in his
eye. In a past life, when he was on the streets, Bryce had often committed trespass.

Ignoring the question Mio began to rummage through the contents of the locker. As her fingers plucked out books and old assignments, used tissues and folders of every colour, disappointment welled inside her. She’d been so positive that the dog tags were in the locker.

‘Not here,’ said Mio, in a heavy voice.

Darcy let out a low whistle. ‘Doesn’t seem like it.’

With jerky, random movements Mio shoved everything back the way she found it when suddenly she met some resistance. A piece of paper was wedged up the back. Mio reached in and pulled it out, ready to straighten and return it, when she glanced down.

‘Oh, my gosh,’ she whispered, then turned to Darcy and gave him the paper. It was a photocopy of a list of names. ‘It’s the names of the students who signed the petition.’

‘How’d he get this?’ Darcy wondered aloud. ‘And why?’

‘Don’t know. The thing is…’ Mio’s eyes lit with hope. ‘Don’t you see? This proves it.’

‘Proves what?’

‘That Leks, or someone he knows, has been in my locker. It’s where I kept the petition.’ Mio started bouncing up and down. ‘I was right. Leks
does know something!’ Then she stopped bouncing as she added, ‘He probably sent those emails, too.’

‘Could’ve.’

Mio tucked the photocopy in her pocket, replaced the lock and hurried back to return the keys before gym training finished.

By the time Leks emerged from the gym, showered and dressed, twenty minutes later, Mio and Darcy were back in the playground telling the others about their find.

Bryce listened then asked, ‘Why does he have it in for you? What did you do to him, Mio?’

Mio shrugged and shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

The kids watched Leks walk across the playground, stopping to exchange small talk with a group of students before continuing on his way.

Tong sprung to his feet and said, ‘Me ask Leks what going on,’ but Mio pulled him back down.

‘Not yet. If he knows that I know, he might ditch the dog tags. Better to watch and wait for our moment to get them back.’

‘I agree,’ said Clem. ‘As Oma says:
Eile mit weile
[Haste makes waste].’

‘What that mean?’ asked Tong.

‘It means if we hurry and jump in too quickly, we might lose our chance to get the dog tags back later.’

‘Ah. We say,
Duc toc bat dat.
Mean same thing.’

Suddenly, the air spat and crackled and Mrs Burridge’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

‘Mio Shinokazi to the office. Mio Shinokazi to the office, immediately.’

Mio and Darcy traded frantic glances. Had they been found out
already
?

Mio creaked from her seat like a three thousand year old mummy and walked to Mrs Burridge’s office as if she had three thousand year old legs.

‘Want me to come?’ called Darcy as she was halfway across the playground.

With a firm shake of the head, Mio kept walking.

When she arrived, Mrs Burridge was buzzing about like a wasp on the warpath. ‘Finally!’ she said as she saw Mio approach. ‘Come in, come in.’ She waved Mio into her office and pointed to her computer. ‘How can you explain this?’

There was an image on the screen as a screen saver. It was of a solid red circle on a white background with a slogan superimposed on top of The Met School logo:

BMX rules!

sk8ers fools

Mio turned to Mrs Burridge, her eyes blinking and mouth hanging open. Who did this? How did it
happen? ‘I have no idea how it got there,’ she managed to say. ‘It is the Japanese flag but I don’t know who put it there.’

‘Look, Mio, I understand that anyone could have hacked into the school computer system. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that our computer technicians have traced it to you. It was sent twenty minutes ago.’

Mio double blinked and swallowed. ‘I haven’t been near a computer. Not twenty minutes ago. Not today. My friends can vouch for me.’

‘Friends,’ said Mrs Burridge, staring down the bridge of her nose, ‘have a habit of being, shall we say, economical with the truth.’

‘My friends don’t lie.’

After twenty-three years on the job Mrs Burridge knew that the truth could be elastic, but she also knew she was feeling quite jaded and retirement was looking more and more appealing. She crossed her arms over her bosom and sank back in her chair. ‘Whether your friends do or do not tell lies is completely irrelevant. The issue in question is that you, or someone pretending to be you, have hacked into our school computer system. This,’ and she waved her hand at the screen, ‘this is on everyone’s computer.’

Mio crossed her own arms, her gaze averted as she said, ‘I didn’t do it!’

‘Maybe, but it was sent from your email address.’

‘It wasn’t sent by me.’

‘Just like those other abusive emails, I suppose?’

‘Which also weren’t sent by me!’ Mio chewed her lip as she thought this through. She and Darcy had just concluded that the abusive emails had come from Leks, but Leks had been in the gym for the last hour and couldn’t possibly have set her up this time. So who was it?

‘Sabotaging a school’s computer system is a criminal offence.’

Mio blanched. ‘I didn’t do it!’

Mrs Burridge uncrossed her arms and rose to her feet, saying, ‘Mio, I want to believe you, I really do, but I’m now in the position where the police must decide.’

At the mention of the police, Mio crumbled. This couldn’t be happening. It must be some sort of joke. She glanced around the room, expecting to see a camera and the crew from the television show ‘Practical Joke’, but there was no-one there.

‘Darcy Jacobs will vouch for me,’ said Mio, grasping at air.

‘So you mean to say that since the bell rang you’ve been with Darcy Jacobs every second?’

Mio was about to say, ‘Yes’ but then she remembered that there was a time when she was
in the gym alone. Darcy had come in later; maybe five or ten minutes later, she couldn’t tell. But that was five or ten minutes that she couldn’t account for. In a soft voice Mio whispered, ‘No. I have not been with Darcy every second.’

Mrs Burridge’s nose twitched. ‘Can anyone else vouch for you?’

Mio’s voice grew even more subdued. ‘No.’ She hung her head, feeling defeated. Someone had assumed her identity and that someone was causing her chaos. Frustration welled in her throat and lodged there. She tried to swallow but couldn’t. With a swollen voice she said, ‘Please don’t call the police. Can’t we just get rid of the screensaver and start again? Forget it was ever there?’

‘Not when it’s on every computer we have at the school!’ snapped Mrs Burridge. ‘And not if it means there’s a computer hacker in our midst—if it really wasn’t you.’ Mrs Burridge impaled Mio with her eyes.

Mio could barely breathe. What would her parents say? What would they do? Mio felt dizzy at the thought of bringing them even more shame. Just as she decided she’d like to keel over and die another thought popped into her head. It was grasping at straws, but straws were all she had. Gripping the edge of her chair she began…‘Please, Mrs Burridge. Give me some time. After
the last incident I wrote to this organisation called JEAAG; it’s based in Japan but it’s an Email Anti-Abuse Group. I’ve asked them to help me. Maybe tell me how I can track down this person pretending to be me. I may have an email back from them already. Please, don’t call the police.’

Mrs Burridge frowned, twitched her nose and pursed her lips reminding Mio of a Japanese mole fossicking for insects. Mio waited. Time stood still for her. Her gaze was lowered, but out of the corner of her eye she saw the headmistress stand up. Mio’s fingers had lost all feeling as she gripped her chair. Finally, Mrs Burridge cleared her throat and announced, ‘I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. You can have till four o’clock tomorrow—Friday. If you find out more well and good, but if you don’t…’ She cleared her throat again, ‘I’ll have no hesitation in taking this further.’

A reprieve!

Mrs Burridge had to strain to hear the words, ‘
Domo arigato
[Thank you very much]’.

That afternoon after school the kids decided to hang out at the Van. Mio doubled on the bike with Clem, who detoured via home to pick up some ingredients for their after-school snack.

Between the bike, the food and Mio, Clem was finding riding quite a challenge, but she hung in there, pedalling determinedly.

Soon everyone had arrived and four bikes were chained to the bumper bar.

‘Whatcha got?’ asked Bryce. ‘I’m starving.’

‘I’m making honey milk balls,’ said Clem. ‘Now, be patient.’

The boys sat glued to Clem’s every move, eager to eat, but Mio sat staring into space, mulling over her disaster of a day. She barely registered the cup
of oats and cup of powdered milk that went into the plastic bowl Clem had also brought. In fact, for the first time ever she didn’t want to be at the Van. She was itching to get home to see if the JEAAG people, or Sachi, had replied. When Mio saw Clem add some peanut butter and honey to the mixture her mind was made up. She’d abandon the Van and walk home. ‘I’ve got some things to do before the meeting tonight,’ she announced. ‘Homework and stuff. I’ll see you at the council meeting at six on the dot, promise.’

As Clem mixed the ingredients together she worried about her friend, hoping she wasn’t caving in under all the pressure. ‘Take it easy, Mio. Mum’s driving us tonight. Let me know if you need a lift.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Mio. ‘But thanks.’ And she ducked through the doorway and headed on foot for home.

Grabbing a plastic spoon from the storage suitcase in the Van Clem began rolling the mixture into generous-sized balls and offering them to the boys. The powdered milk and peanut butter stuck to the roof of their mouths, clumpy with oats.

Darcy spat his out onto a plate saying, ‘It’s like eating Plaster of Paris.’

Clem flared. ‘That’s the last time I’m cooking for you!’

‘
Cooking
. You call that cooking? I call it eating a bowl of cement.’

Bryce grinned and grabbed another ball saying, ‘Best cement I’ve ever had.’

‘I can cook!’ Clem yelled at her brother.

‘Can’t.’

‘Can.’

‘You cook like you ride—with a lead foot.’ Darcy had gone too far.

‘We’ll see who has a lead foot. I challenge you to a ride-off. Best trick wins.’

Darcy grinned. ‘You’re on. Where do you want to go?’

‘Pump to the Jump,’ came the instant reply.

Tong and Bryce had no choice but to say they’d go too.

Between the road with a steep descent and the sloping stone wall, the support fence with its ledge and sheer drop to the street below, Pump to the Jump was the perfect place for a ride-off.

‘Let’s do it,’ said Darcy.

‘Yeah, let’s.’

Clem stuffed the containers, bowl and jars in her backpack and followed her brother out the door.

As the kids rode down the street, it felt strange to them to be riding as a foursome, like a bike missing a tyre.

‘Nothing like riding freestyle,’ said Darcy, enjoying the sun on his face and the wind tickling his hair. ‘Freestyle means you…’

‘Ride like you want to ride,’ finished Clem.

‘Be who you want to be,’ agreed Bryce.

Tong raised his voice to the heavens. ‘Be free!’

The kids rode down the streets, zooming along the flats, jumping up curbs, holding the perfect wheelie—doing bunnyhops and can-cans and barspins, claiming the streets as their own.

‘This is keeping it real,’ said Darcy. ‘Riding for fun.’ He lifted his handlebars into a rolling wheelie and with rider and bike in perfect balance cried, ‘Freewheelers.’

Clem, Bryce and Tong joined him, four wheelies maintained at the same speed, not needing to accelerate to keep their balance. After coasting like this for five seconds, ten, even more, they dropped their front ends, each nailing the landing as smooth as butter.

Now, that was what riding was all about—balance and self-belief and the determination to pull off a trick. Just you and your bike, conquering the road or the wall or the stairs, with the feeling that that one moment in time was all that counted.

When they arrived at the jump, Clem opted to go first. Pedalling down the road she turned hard right and zoomed up the wall. At the top she lifted
into the air, taking both feet off for a no-footer before twisting and going back down the wall. From here she hopped to grind on the fence, jumping off and doing a superman impersonation before she landed.

Bryce and Tong broke into applause.

‘You’ve been practising,’ said Darcy, and Clem glowed with the compliment. ‘My turn.’

Like Clem he pushed his bike up the road to be in a position to build up speed. Like Clem he rode down the steep street, but unlike Clem Darcy rode no-handed.

Clem groaned. Already he was showing her up and he hadn’t even started. How she wished Mio was there. It felt so weird without her.

As he drew level with the wall Darcy jumped and turned in mid-air, his feet flying off the pedals as he twisted his body like a corkscrew before landing and whooshing up the wall. At the top he hopped and balanced on the rim before dropping off. Then he flew down the wall and jumped for the fence, taking his grind for as long as it would go before getting back on the fence, accelerating and doing a downside tailwhip, his body spinning 180 degrees one way and his bike spinning 180 degrees the other way, to nail his landing on the footpath below.

‘Hardcore!’ cried Bryce, bounding up to slap him on the back.

‘You ride like a butterfly,’ said Tong and to the tune of ‘Frère Jacques’ he broke into song:

Tong looked sheepish but held his head high. It was a long, long time since he’d sung ‘The Yellow Butterfly’ but it brought back a flood of memories. If he closed his eyes he could still see his grandfather singing and playing the
dan tranh
, a plucked zither with seventeen strings. He could hear the music swirling, the melody advancing and receding, with a flowing, wave-like motion.

Darcy laughed saying, ‘I’ve never been called a butterfly before but I’m taking that as a compliment.’

Clem turned to Tong and demanded, ‘What about me? Do I ride like a butterfly?’

Tong was searching for the right words when
Bryce butted in. ‘Clem, you’re more like one of those little hummingbirds.’

‘Meaning she’s got a big beak?’ asked Darcy.

‘No!’ Bryce gave him a gentle clip over the ear. ‘Meaning that she’s fast and agile, with good endurance and power.’

Clem swelled to full height, poking her brother and saying, ‘Thank you, Bryce.’

Bryce broke into a grin as he added, ‘And there’s always such a thing as hummingbird cake which I saw on a cooking show on TV.’

‘All roads lead to food for you, Bryce,’ said Clem.

‘Also known as The Cake That Doesn’t Last.’

‘Just like Clem,’ said Darcy. ‘No staying power.’

Bryce shook his head. ‘On the contrary, the cake which has nothing left-over at the end. Clem gives all she’s got and she has nothing left over at the end.’

Darcy groaned and said, ‘That’s stretching it,’ before clapping his hands. ‘Now that this mutual admiration society is over and it’s obvious I won the trick, we’d better get going. There’s things to do before that meeting tonight.’

The kids headed home, agreeing to meet in just over an hour in front of the council building.