Through the Tiger's Eye (21 page)
Lucy took a step forward to see better – and something snaky whipped against her face. She reared back, choking with fear. Carlos grabbed the torch and and swung it around to reveal a lifeless rope hanging from the ceiling beams. As if to prove she wasn’t afraid, Lucy reached out and yanked on it, just as the three others hissed, ‘Don’t!’
There was an unrecognisable noise and Lucy fell beneath a rain of missiles. Some kind of huge blindfold wrapped itself around her face, as blows landed on her head and body. She fought back, arms flailing wildly. She scrambled to sit up, clawing fabric off her head . . .
and found her favourite soccer ball in her lap!
Scattered at her feet and rolling out of the range of Carlos’ torchlight, were about three hundred more.
If any guard had ventured out he would have heard sounds previously unknown in that workshop. Four kids trying desperately to stifle their laughter, mirth bouncing off the tin walls.
They collected themselves, and the balls. Each bore the same stamp as Lucy’s one at home – a blue elephant in a circle of ten stars – and the brand Ten Star Jumbo. No doubt about it. They were the same as her bestest, bestest soccer ball, not the daggy old one they had been kicking around the clearing, but the one Dad had given her the last time she saw him.
The fabric that had blindfolded Lucy was like a big hammock. They piled the balls back in and Carlos winched it back up to the rafters.
On a bench nearby Lucy saw thick needles and heavy black thread, plus sheets of leather: white, blue and gold. She went closer. Some of the blue and gold sheets had been cut into six-sided shapes, with holes punched around the edges. There was another heap of white leather shapes, five-sided ones: white pentagons, stamped with a blue elephant in a circle of ten stars.
As Lucy picked one up, she felt someone behind her.
‘See the toys we make for people like you?’
The acid in Carlos’ voice burned away all laughter. It was as though he blamed
her!
She turned on him hotly.
‘You don’t make them for peop—’ Her words petered out as she looked down at the blue elephant pentagon in her hand.
Carlos turned sharply away.
Clutching the pentagon, Lucy watched in furious frustration, as Carlos left the workshop. Last night they had felt like a team, but that feeling had vanished like a drop of water on a fire. How unfair was that? He was just blaming her because she wasn’t Telarian and she didn’t have to make her own soccer balls. Zombie! Except she did own one of these balls. But that wasn’t her fault either. The argument went around and around in her head.
‘Come, Lucy, it’s time to go,’ said Rahel. Was that sympathy in her quiet voice?
As hot tears threatened, Lucy lingered only long enough to pocket a handful of blue elephant pentagons.
Lucy woke up staring at Ricardo’s bed. Empty. She swung her feet out of bed and half-heartedly kicked some more undies over the tiger. She felt the pile of the rug between her toes, plush, luxurious.
Grandma bustled in before she could check it out.
‘Any washing, Lucy, love? Where are those pants you wore yesterday? Good heavens! I can’t even walk in here. You’ll have to tidy this room.’
‘Ricardo messed it up,’ Lucy grumped back, even though she knew that was really unfair.
‘Never mind, you can both help. There they are . . .’ Grandma headed for Lucy’s pants, lying crumpled on the floor.
‘
No!
’ The elephant pentagons in her leg pocket! ‘I mean yes! I mean I’ll bring them out with the rest of my stuff.’ She dived out of bed to get there before Grandma could pick a path through the chaos.
‘All right! Keep your pants on!’
When Grandma had gone, Lucy ran her hand gently over the tiger’s stripes. It was definitely softer and more luxurious than before, but it didn’t cheer her up. She felt the pentagons and thought about last night. It didn’t help, so she hid them under her mattress and wandered into the kitchen to eat a desultory breakfast. For once, Cocoa Puffs were tasteless. She plodded disconsolately outside. Ricardo wasn’t around and neither was T-Tongue. Even he had deserted her.
Last night they’d locked up the workshop and crept back to the tunnel, parting without a word at the stairs. The others had gone their way and she had gone hers.
That was fine by Lucy. She was never going to the clearing again. She would organise food, but Ricardo would have to be delivery boy. She looked over her shoulder and saw the tunnel closed, walled up with red and brown clay. Good.
Lucy gazed bleakly down the path. It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t bought the stupid ball. Dad had, and he wouldn’t have if he’d known about the kids. Carlos was a zombie. He didn’t even
know
she had a Ten Star Jumbo.
Yet.
He was going to love that.
No, he wasn’t. He was never going to find out, because she was never going anywhere near him again.
It wasn’t her fault his life was bad. Her life wasn’t great either. She hardly ever saw Dad any more. She knew that wasn’t like Dad being murdered, but that didn’t make it feel any better. She missed playing soccer with him and watching the World Cup replays on TV. Lots of things. Coke for breakfast. And it wasn’t her fault the stupid Bulls took over Telares. Carlos could go on missions on his own from now on. With any luck he might get caught. Maybe a tiger would eat him.
A velvet head pushed insistently on her kneecap. The Tiger-cat. At least it hadn’t deserted her. It purred and rubbed against her calves as Lucy traced the markings on its head. Then it did something very un-cat like. It jumped lightly onto her lap and put both paws on her shoulders. Lucy knew what was coming and closed her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood.
Ow! A padded paw whopped her on her cheek. She opened her eyes . . . and was caught in the spotlight of the Tiger-cat’s golden gaze. After a suspended, shuddering moment, the stripy feline face melted into the lined and wrinkled one of the old lady the Tiger-cat had beamed at her that very first morning on the steps. But she wasn’t crying in this video clip. She was saying the same words over and over again, looking directly from those tawny eyes, deep into Lucy’s: ‘Little flower, little flower, little flower’.
The words were still ringing in Lucy’s head when she shuddered back inside her skin. They echoed as she watched the Tiger-cat stroll down the path, tail flicking, and disappear into the bush. Great. What did that mean? She was still wondering when Ricardo jumped on her and almost toppled them both into the pit. He saw the look in her eye and hurtled down the path, bursting into the kitchen with Lucy, murderous, behind. Grandma and Mum were both there.
‘Stop it, you two.’
Adult personal jinx.
‘What’s up, Lucy? You don’t look very happy.’
Double adult personal jinx.
Mum and Grandma didn’t agree on politics but they seemed to share the same brain about everything else. Especially Lucy.
‘Nothing. I’m fine.’
‘Well, get dressed, then, I’m taking you to the movies.’
‘Well, get dressed, then, Grandma’s taking you to the movies.’
See?
An hour to kill before the movie and Kurrawong Mall was packed. Ricardo was bounding about cheerfully, like a monkey. Lucy wasn’t in the mood. She tried to walk right past Star Sports. Usually Mum couldn’t keep her out of there. Even if she didn’t have pocket money, she still loved it. She would look at everything: balls, shoes, boots, even things for sports she didn’t play, like hockey, tennis, spear-fishing, abseiling. She knew all the prices. She knew when they went up or down, when new lines came in. She had spent hours in there with Janella fantasising about getting the most expensive boots and balls and trainers and tracksuits. And she really wanted a skateboard.
Today, she didn’t want to know; but Ricardo was already inside, sucked into a crowd of happy shoppers. Grandma dragged her in and they followed Ricardo’s blond head to the punching bags. He was telling Grandma she should buy a huge one. For herself.
Lucy left them to it and drifted up and down the aisles. She saw a crowd gathered around a crate of soccer balls. Just what she needed. The sign hanging from the ceiling read: ‘
The revolutionary Ten Star Jumbo. Science meets soccer. Tough as ten elephants. $40
.’
Lucy stepped around the crowd, but there was no escape. On the counter were another sign and a pile of leaflets.
TEN STAR JUMBO
Your new Ten Star Jumbo features revolutionary technology
1 The best leather, scientifically treated to make it as tough as elephant hide
2 Lovingly hand-stitched by trained technicians in our state-of-the-art workshops
They say elephants never forget
Ten Star Jumbo:
you’ll
never forget.
Yeah, right! That was enough for Lucy. She crumpled the leaflet and threw it at the crate.
‘Pick that up, young lady,’ said a curt voice.
Lucy blushed, put the leaflet in her pocket and hunched off up the aisle. Luckily the crowd was so busy fighting to get hold of a Ten Star Jumbo, they didn’t notice her minus-ten-star exit.
At the end of the aisle, she looked back. The assistant stared pointedly. Lucy turned and kept walking past tennis rackets (stupid game for dorks who couldn’t play soccer), fishing rods (who’d want to do that?), abseiling ropes (needed by rocks-for-brains losers), cricket (for kids too dorky to play anything else), punching bags (maybe Ricardo had a point).
Lucy wandered to the back of the shop, near the layby counter. There was a long queue. A couple of kids had Ten Star Jumbos. Near Lucy was a door marked MANAGER. It opened, revealing a familiar profile.
Lucy ducked behind a rack of surfie gear and slid closer, parting wet suits to get a better look. Yep, Nigel Scar-Skull, talking to a man in a suit. She could only hear a few words.
‘No problem . . . one thousand . . . Wednesday . . . won’t be sorry . . . I’m telling you . . . ten-star quality.’
Then he smiled that stretchy smile, shook the man’s hand and began to walk towards the wetsuit rack. Lucy felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the assistant again, wanting to know if she was interested in buying a wetsuit or just wanted to wipe her nose on one? Because that’s what it looked like, and if she wasn’t buying a wetsuit, perhaps she would like to leave the shop unless there was something else she
was
interested in buying. Sarcasm plus. Lucy pointed hopefully at the abseiling ropes and ducked out of the aisle.
Over the heads of the crowd, Lucy tracked Nigel Scar-Skull as he left the shop. Near the checkout, she saw him shaking hands enthusiastically with the coach of the team Lucy’s side had beaten in the Grand Final. He had a shopping trolley full of Ten Star Jumbos.
Lucy’s head was still spinning when she reached the movie theatre. When she was sitting in the dark watching the credits roll up, she suddenly remembered the old lady. She had forgotten to ask Grandma if she had found out anything! On the stairs, the other morning, it had seemed so urgent that they find the old lady, but then they had discovered Telares. Rescuing the kids had overtaken everything.
‘Yes, I did find out,’ whispered Grandma, ‘but shh . . . I’ll tell you later.’
Lucy had to sit through the whole movie wishing she had let Ricardo watch his dumb cartoon. Grandma had got sick of them fighting and picked something neither of them really wanted to see. It was the longest movie in history, and the most boring. And Debbie Lucas and Annette Palmer were down the front and she really didn’t want to run into them. They’d start asking why hadn’t they seen her around lately, even though they didn’t even like her and she
really
didn’t like them. And Grandma would probably answer them. And that would be bad. Very bad.
Lucy and Ricardo didn’t agree on much but they had a deal about this: they weren’t going to tell anyone at school about moving house. Not about living in West Kurrawong instead of East Kurrawong. Not about Mum and Dad breaking up. Nothing. Especially not about living in the worst house in Kurrawong.
Lucy felt ashamed about everything. About Mum and Dad. About their daggy house. Ashamed about owning that stupid soccer ball. Ashamed about being ashamed. She sat with hot, lemon-juice tears squeezing out, trying not to sniffle – if she did, Grandma would fuss and everyone in the theatre would know she was crying at a stupid cartoon that wasn’t even sad. Especially when Retardo was laughing his head off next to her.