Extraordinary Losers 2 (7 page)

“Clan, your soot is indeed helpful, no?” Mundi muttered, as he mixed the white powder and black soot.

“Okay, this is weird,” Janice commented. After 10 minutes of scraping and sprinkling, dusting and flicking, Mundi jumped up.

“Perfect fingerprint powder!” he announced, obviously very pleased with himself. “You see? This is called fingerprint powder!”

“COOOOOOL!!” we chorused. We were our very own detectives. Who needs CSI?

Mundi turned and looked at me through his thick magnifying glass-like spectacles. With euphoria in his eyes, he asked, “Darryl, do you have some clear scotch tape?”

“Yes,” I replied. I quickly got up and came back with the scotch tape, careful not to spoil the moment.

By this time, Mundi was dipping the make-up brush into the dish of fingerprint powder and dusting it on the can.

“My m-m-mother is definitely, m-m-most definitely going to k-k-kill me, no?” Mundi mumbled.

All of us couldn't do much but munch on our soggy donuts and wait.

Then all of a sudden, we could see the distinct mark of a fingerprint! Actually, there were a few but only one was clearer than the others.

“Darryl, scotch tape.” Mundi snapped his fingers like a surgeon demanding his tools. I reached for the scotch tape and tried with all my might to pull out some, but to no avail.

“Here, let me do it!” Clandestino grabbed the tape unceremoniously and in a second, pulled out a length of tape about 10 centimetres long.

“Here you go, Mundi.” He tore a section off.

Mundi took the tape and carefully pasted it over the fingerprint on the can, pressing down as hard as he could. He exerted so much force that his tongue came out and was licking his lips awkwardly.

“Eew!” I heard Janice whisper when she saw Mundi's tongue.

Mundi counted to 10 and then tore off the scotch tape.

“Ta da!” he exclaimed. There was a fingerprint on it! He quickly took a piece of white paper and pasted the fingerprinted tape on it.

“See! Now we can bring this anywhere we want,” Mundi concluded. He was smiling gleefully.

The three of us looked at the paper and couldn't believe what Mundi had just accomplished. It was amazing.

“Yes, that will come in handy,” Clandestino muttered. “So the teachers won't think I am the suspect.”

I pinched the white paper gingerly, folded it into half and sandwiched it in my book of poems (where all other secrets are kept).

“Good thinking, Clan!” Janice smiled. “But why didn't you show the teachers how fast you can run? If you just show them, maybe they'll believe you.”

“Yeah, Clan. After all, they can see how fast you are during PE and the basketball match,” I said.

Clandestino shook his head and said, “You think that's fast? I can be much faster if I want to.”

He looked up at all of us, sadness in his eyes. “You know why my name is Clandestino?”

“No,” Mundi replied. “It sounds cool?”

“I hate my name!” Clandestino replied. “My parents knew since I was young that I had special abilities. They knew someday that people would come after me – the army, the government, crazy scientists. No offence, Mundi.”

He sighed. “So… they named me Clandestino, which means secret, to remind myself never to tell or show anyone my secret ability. It is meant to protect me.”

We all looked down. All of us had special abilities too, but we weren't as sad as Clandestino. It was ironic. He was the most powerful among us, but he was the one that needed the most protection.

“Don't worry, Clan,” I said. “Our lips are sealed. Right, Janice?” I turned to her because she was the spiller of beans.

“Yup.” She zipped her mouth.

“Yes, your secret is safe,” Mundi promised.

Clandestino bowed his head low and looked up at us again. “You know what? I have a feeling the teachers and the police are going to investigate this on Monday. I am one of their prime suspects. We have to find more evidence to lead us to the real culprit before Sunday. If not, I might end up in Juvenile Prison.”

Here! Quick!” Clandestino urged. “Before anyone sees us!”

“This is not right… This is not right…” Mundi murmured nervously.

It was 8.10pm on a Saturday night. The school stood eerily on its premises. The air felt heavy in the aftermath of the fire and the ground was strangely warm. Clandestino was hauling each one of us over the school gate. He was the tallest and only his flexible hands could weave in and out of the metal grilles.

Of course, when it came to Janice, things got a little tricky. She was a girl, she was rather heavy, she was wearing a skirt and … (well you get the idea).

Mundi rushed to grab a stool from the canteen and threw it over. “Here! Step on this and try to climb over yourself.”

“I can't!” Janice whined.

“Go on. Try, Janice!” I said. “You can do it.”

Janice pulled up her skirt and balanced precariously on the weak plastic stool. She was tipping left, right, left, right, right, right, right, right… and just when the stool abandoned her pointed feet, two hands grabbed her from the top of the gate. It was Clandestino. He was standing on me. Mundi was grabbing onto his feet to make sure he wouldn't fall.

“Are we done yet?” I groaned. “My shoulders are burning!”

“Here you go, Janice,” Clandestino said. “See if you can do it.” Clandestino helped Janice crossover carefully. Then he leapt off my shoulder and landed perfectly like an athlete would.

“Gee, thanks, Clan!” A sheepish grin was plastered over Janice's face.

It was nearly 8.30pm. As we tiptoed towards class 3A where the fire had been, I thought I heard some footsteps. I stopped in my tracks and the others stopped too.

“You know what? I hear some footsteps,” I whispered. “And it's coming from the direction of the burnt 3A classroom.”

“Are you positively sure, Darryl?” Mundi checked.

“Yes!”

We looked at one another and held our breaths for a good 20 seconds.

“Wait… they are gone now,” I said.

“It must be your imagination. There's no one here. The gate is locked,” Janice added.

“Yeah, you're right. Let's walk slowly. In case I hear them again,” I said.

Everyone took my advice and we tiptoed so carefully no one would have known we were there. When we arrived at class 3A, we scanned the sight before us. The flames had been doused and a red tape cordoned off the classroom where the fire had raged. Clandestino used his iPhone as a flashlight, illuminating the scene.

Soot was everywhere – on the walls, ceilings, cupboards, desks and even in the air. Everything was blackened and the paint on the ceiling peeled in huge sheets. All was black. Ash was everywhere and we made ghastly shoeprints with our feet.

“The amount of ash, enough to bury someone,” said Janice.

“That's what happens when there are too many worksheets stacked up in class,” I added.

“Major fire hazard,” Clandestino chimed in. “Major.”

“Be careful, no?” Mundi warned. “Don't touch anything that might incriminate us.”

The fire had been put out but I could still hear the fire crackling. Little orange specks glowed from the ashes as if they were still alive, in my imagination at least.

“Tread carefully, guys,” I warned. “It's like a dormant volcano.”

It was an eerie sight. The teacher's wooden desk had been half-consumed by the inferno. All that was left on the notice boards were thumbtacks that were now black too.

“Terrible… terrible…” Janice moaned.

At that moment, Janice spotted something on the floor.

It was semi-buried in the ash. Arrowing in on the object, she walked towards it. The ash seemed to come up to her ankles.

“Hey, guys, look here,” she said, stooping low to examine the object. “I think there is something here.”

She flicked some ash off. It was greenish.

“Are those f-f-f-fing… fing… fingers?” Mundi asked. He began to shiver and it snowed powder.

Janice shielded her eyes. “Oh my goodness, are those really fingers? Please tell me someone isn't buried under there.”

“Well, there's only one way to find out,” Clandestino said.

He had always been the bravest among us. He got down and unearthed the greenish, finger-like thing with his bare hands. It was a green rubber glove.

“Oh no!” We gasped. I wanted to be brave too, so I poked the glove.

“No hand inside,” I confirmed. “But look here.” Part of the rubber glove had melted away, eaten away by the fire. There were only three “fingers” left.

Mundi rushed over and knelt down. Realising something else, he uttered, “Th-This must be the fire head. The ash here is the thickest and the char marks on the floor are all ra-ra-radiating from this point, no? Also… the fire seems to have been more in-in-intense he…”

“And that's about near where I had found the can of Coke,” Clandestino recalled.

“Ssshhh … everyone. I hear those footsteps again,” I said. “They are very near.”

Immediately, Janice scooped out the disturbing green glove, flicked off the ash and stuffed it into her pocket, together with her hoard of donuts.

“Where?” Clandestino stood up. He began to paw the ground with his feet again. Ready to take off.

“Wait, wait, wait! Can you not SPEED here, Clan?” Janice stopped him. “You'll just be churning up more ash and dust.”

“Okay,” he said disappointedly. Instead, he swung his arms back and forth, bent his knees a little and with one big leap, jumped out of the blackened classroom. All of us stopped breathing.

Five seconds later, he reappeared.

“I didn't see anyone, but I found this.” There was a piece of paper in his hand. “I think someone is trying to tell us something.”

The three of us rushed to see Clandestino's find. He positioned his iPhone over the paper so that we could see by its light.

“This is so strange,” Janice exclaimed.

“A photocopy of an identity card,” I said.

“With a clear thumbprint,” Clandestino added.

“And look whose name is on the card, no?” Mundi pointed out.

“Siti… Noraizah,” we read out in unison.