Digger Field (4 page)

Bike couriers.

We rode up to the supermarket and when people came out we offered to deliver their full shopping bags to their homes for fifty cents a bag, or to their cars for five cents.

We could just about safely carry four bags each. Two hooked over the handlebars and another two in our left hands. We needed to keep our right hands free to steer and brake. It was tricky to balance the bikes but we were making a fortune—fifteen dollars in the first two hours.

We wanted to make as much as we could, so we turned every delivery into a race. We wanted to make sure we got back to the supermarket quickly to find new customers.

On the ninth trip we were going to a house in Yarran Street, which would take us ten minutes each way.

We started racing and Wrigs took the early lead but I was hot on his tail. I had my chin to the handlebars to cut down wind resistance. I caught Wrigs on the last corner before the house and launched myself off the gutter to get in front of him. But I landed a bit too close. He hit his front brake hard. That’s when I remembered why his bike is called ‘Screamer’.

Wrigs and four bags of groceries flew past me, like they were in slow motion, and shattered on the ground.

Replacing the food cost us the fifteen dollars we had made as bike couriers
and
the ten dollars Ms Burke gave us for clearing her garden.

And just to top it off, when we got back to Wriggler’s house, we opened his bedroom door to see how our silkworm farm was going and about ten thousand moths flew out. Great big brown ones that flew all through his house, landing on the curtains, in the cupboards, on the beds, on the ceilings, everywhere. Wrigs’ mum wasn’t impressed.

How was I supposed to know the worms I’d found weren’t silkworms and were just normal dirty moths?

So after all our hard work we were still no closer to buying the tinnie. And I’m way behind in the world record schedule as well. I should be close to twenty skims by now.

CHAPTER 9

DAY 8: Saturday

My skims: 1

Wriggler’s skims: 1

Days to becoming world champion: 31 (If I’m still alive.)

Today was the scariest day in history. Ever. Without doubt. Bar none.

Money made for tinnie: $0 ($735 to go.)

Wriggler was still worried about going back to the river in case we ran into that weird guy in the black suit again.

If we had a tinnie we could have floated past our skimming spot to check out if anyone was there. But we didn’t. Not yet anyway.

I had to creep down the path first to make sure no one was there. It was pretty windy and the branches on the bushes kept brushing into me, which made me doubly jumpy.

There wasn’t anyone around but it wasn’t a great day for skimming anyway. Wind is the pits when it comes to skimming. When there are too many waves on the water it becomes impossible to get the rocks to bounce more than once.

We gave up trying to skim and went to have another look in the deserted house. I found an old broken mirror on the floor. It was really dirty, and you could hardly see anything in it.

Then I came up with the best plan ever. It hit me like an angry kayaker. We would make a ghost film. That would make us our fortune on YouTube, as long as Wriggler didn’t delete it again.

I made Wriggler stand in front of one of the broken windows in one of the rooms that came off the hallway. Then I balanced the mirror on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. I had to get the angle exactly right. I put some rocks behind the mirror so it tilted down and Wrigs could just see himself in the dirty glass. Then I put some bricks around the mirror so you wouldn’t notice it.

The plan was that Wriggler would stay there while I raced out the front of the house. Standing outside what would have once been the front doorway, I’d point the camera at myself and say, ‘Locals claim this place is haunted, but I, Digger Field, ghost hunter, am here to prove that it’s a myth.’

Then I would walk into the house, videoing the falling-down walls and broken windows.

I’d say, ‘People believe that the spirit of an eleven-year-old boy haunts the house.’ Then I’d walk into the room Wriggler was in, making sure I didn’t film him standing in front of the window, and add, ‘He was killed here many years ago. But, as you can see, there’s no evidence that his ghost is still here.’

As I said this, I would pan the camera past the mirror on the wall, which you could hardly see because I’d camouflaged it so well.

Then I’d shout, ‘What’s that?’ and whip the camera back to the mirror. I’d zoom into a close-up of the mirror and shout, ‘There, just above the fireplace.’

In the close-up you would just be able to see Wriggler in the mirror through all the dirt. He would look like a ghost. He had to look straight into the mirror and then walk away so you wouldn’t see him any more.

I would hold the shot for a moment, scream and start running out of the room. Then the camera would stop mysteriously.

Sounds simple? It wasn’t. We spent hours trying to make it work. Once I tripped over some bricks on the floor as I walked into the house. A couple of times I got the words wrong. When I finally got the words right, Wriggler giggled like a goober. He looked more like a freak than a ghost.

But we finally filmed the whole thing all the way through without stuffing it up. Hollywood here we come! An Oscar was in the bag.
Best Horror Movie by Someone Under Twelve Years Old
.

We ran to my house to watch the video. We pressed ‘play’ and I popped up on the screen looking like a real television reporter. The camera panned around the rooms, then you could just see something above the fireplace, exactly as I’d planned.

Then the camera quickly whipped back. ‘What’s that?’ you could hear me say.

The camera zoomed in and you could make out the ghostly-looking figure of Wriggler. He was staring at the camera at exactly the right time. Then you could hear me scream and the camera started shaking as I ran out of the house. After that, the video mysteriously stopped. It was the scariest ghost film ever.

‘High five!’ I said to Wrigs but he left me hanging.

‘What’s that?’ he said. He was pointing at the screen. This time he really looked like a ghost. ‘Behind me. Go back, go back.’

I skipped back on the video to just where the camera zoomed in towards the mirror. I pressed ‘play’ just at the bit where Wriggler looks up at the mirror and then starts to walk off. The mirror trick worked a treat. Then there was something else.

As Wriggler walked off another person appeared behind him in the mirror.

The weird guy with the black suit and the briefcase was standing outside the house, watching Wriggler through the window. He was looking straight into the mirror and at the camera.

Just watching it made the biggest chill ever run up my spine. I had no idea what the man was doing there. Or how long he had been watching us. Or why we hadn’t noticed him.

I’m not sure I’ll ever go to the river again.

CHAPTER 10

DAY 9: Sunday, Christmas Eve

My skims: 0

Wriggler’s skims: 0

World championship cancelled. Wrigs and I are no longer friends. Officially.

Money made for tinnie: $0 ($735 to go—it’s up to me on my own now.)

Wrigs nearly knocked the door down when he came over.

‘I reckon he’s a terrorist setting up a secret base.’

‘Who?’

‘Mr Black.’

‘That dude from the river? Why would he set up a secret base in Pensdale?’ I said. ‘I reckon he owns the deserted house and wants to sell it. He won’t want us around while he’s doing it. He’ll build a fence to keep us out, or worse still, call the police to arrest us for trespassing.’

‘If he’s a terrorist, he’ll just kill us,’ said Wrigs. ‘There’s no way I’m going back down there.’

So we went Christmas shopping with my mum instead. Most shopping centres have glass lifts and cool shops and cinema complexes. Our one in Pensdale doesn’t have any of those things. All it has is a wishing well that you throw coins into and it sings, ‘Thank you very much!’ in a really stupid voice.

While Mum was off buying stuff, Wrigs and I played Shadows. It’s a game we’ve played since we were little kids. We take it in turns to pick someone in the crowd, and then see how long we can follow them around without them noticing us. As soon as they notice you, you’re out.

What makes it really hard is that the closer you get to your target person, the more nervous you get. When you’re nervous it’s more likely you’ll do something really obvious, like run into them or kick the back of their shoes or something.

I always win, because Wrigs has got red hair and always gets spotted by the person he is following. Normally I’m jealous of his hair because rangas get a lot more attention than the rest of us. You never hear anyone saying, ‘Gee, look at that guy’s hair, it is
so
mousy brown.’ Or, ‘I want the kid with poo-coloured hair on my team.’ Rangas have got it made, except for when they play Shadows.

I was on a great Shadow. I had picked up the trail of a really fat bloke. He had no idea I was there. I was going for the highest level of Shadows—Mastershadow. You do this by getting really close to the person you are following. Then you time your steps with theirs. It looks fantastic. You look exactly like you’re their shadow.

I had just made it to Mastershadow when Tearley cruised up next to me and said, ‘Hey, Dribbler, are you trying to pickpocket this guy?’

The man-mountain stopped and swung around. I walked straight into him, bounced off his stomach and fell over. He looked down at me like I was the biggest freak in the history of freakdom. Then he walked off. Tearley was laughing her head off.

‘Why did you do that?’ I shouted at her.

‘It looked weird,’ she said.

‘It’s a game.’

‘More like an affliction.’

‘I thought you were grounded,’ I said.

‘No, I told Mum the beanbag thing was your idea,’ she said. ‘She’s really angry at you. She’s going to tell your mum all about it when we come to your place on Boxing Day.’

Great, that’s all I need.
I’ll
be the one grounded until I’m twenty-two.

‘Do you want to go skimming?’ she asked.

‘How do you know how to skim?’

‘Wriggler taught me. He said that you two were trying out for the world record. I reckon it’s a great idea. I’ve been practising and I’ve got up to sixteen.’

‘Sixteen,’ I said. ‘That’s hopeless.’

Sixteen. I hadn’t even got sixteen.

‘When did he teach you?’ I asked.

‘Last week. He came around to wash all this orange paint out of his hair so he wouldn’t get in trouble at home. We went down to that falling-down house by the river. It’s pretty cool.’

I turned around looking for Wriggler. He was standing next to the ‘Thank you very much’ wishing well, looking for someone to Shadow.

‘Hey, Wrigs,’ I called out. ‘Tearley said that you taught her how to skim.’

He came over. ‘Yeah, she’s really good at it. She got ten on her first day.’

‘And I’ve been practising,’ Tearley told him. ‘I’m up to sixteen now.’

‘Sixteen!’ said Wrigs. ‘That’s awesome. You haven’t got sixteen, have you, Digs?’

I couldn’t believe him. How could he? And to take her to our secret place. Skimming is what Wrigs and I do. And I’m the one that’s going to be world champion, not Tearley.

‘Yeah, let’s go,’ Tearley said. ‘Bet I can get twenty.’

‘No, I don’t want to,’ I said. ‘You might as well go with your boyfriend—Wrigs.’

So much for a merry Christmas.

CHAPTER 11

DAY 10: Monday, Christmas Day

No skimming, no money earnt for tinnie. You can never do anything interesting on Christmas Day.

This is how my Christmas morning goes every year:

Nothing ever happens on Christmas Day. You can’t have friends over because it’s a special day. You can’t go anywhere because it’s a special day. You can’t make any noise because it’s a special day. The worst thing about Christmas is Christmas Day.

Mum and Dad were arguing in the kitchen. Not so much arguing as having a ‘discussion’. It turns out when Mum said to Dad, ‘Don’t worry about getting me much for Christmas,’ it didn’t mean she wanted new wool car-seat covers for Dad’s Falcon.

I was hanging around on the front verandah, watching Squid play with his new remote control car.

He kept saying, ‘Digs, watch this, watch this.’

He’d try and make the car do a U-turn but it would just run into a wall or fall down the steps.