Just Tricking! (9 page)

I tip all the ingredients into the bucket and start mixing them up with a wooden spoon. It's hard work because the mixture is so heavy and gluggy.

I add heaps of water and spoon the sludge around and around. That's better. And now I have a whole bucketful of the stuff.

I can't wait to see Danny's face when, just as he's about to knock, I whip open the door and throw all this in his face. That ought to cure him of nick-knocking, once and for all.

After about ten minutes of mixing there's still a lot of lumps, so I get out the electric blender and pour a litre or so into the jug. I turn it on high.

Suddenly, there's reddish-black stink-sauce everywhere. All over me, and all over the kitchen.

I forgot to put the lid on the blender. I hate that.

Once it's all pretty-well mixed, I carry the bucket up the hall to the front door. The bucket's so full and the mixture's so runny that, no matter how slowly I walk, it slops over the sides, all the way up the hall. Never mind – plenty of time to clean that up after I've dealt with Danny.

I set the bucket down on the carpet and crouch down to wait.

Danny will be back any minute now. I know Danny. He thinks that if something is funny once, then it will be a thousand times funnier if you do it a thousand more times.

I know how he thinks. He'll figure I've left the door by now. But he's wrong – I'm here, waiting.

I'll hear him step onto the porch. I'll hear him open the wire door. And just before he knocks, I'll open the door and give him a bath.

The house is very quiet, except for the sound of the gum trees brushing against the roof.

I've got my ear pressed up against the crack of the front door so I can hear even the tiniest movement on the verandah.

I hope he comes soon. The sludge is making my eyes water. I need to get a peg to put over my nose, but I don't dare leave the front door. Timing is crucial.

A mosquito whines around my head. I grab at it, but I miss and it flies up towards the hall light. I start to get up to have another go at it when I hear a footstep on the verandah. I crouch back down.

More footsteps. He's coming all right.

I move my hand up to the doorknob. I'm so wound up, I'm shaking. I've got to get this exactly right.

I strain to hear him. Another footstep. He must be at the wire door now. It creaks as he opens it.

I can see him in my mind's eye – in slow motion – pulling the door open. Curling the fingers of his left hand into the knocking position. Drawing his hand back. Stifling a giggle with his other hand as he raises his arm, ready to strike.

That's it. Now!

I open the front door and heave the contents of the bucket onto Danny. It's a perfect throw. I've caught him red-handed. He's covered in the stinking gooey brew. I can't even see his face. Revenge!

He gasps and wipes some of the chunky
stew out of his eyes.

I realise I've made a terrible mistake.

It's not Danny.

‘Mum?' I say.

She gasps again.

This is not good. And to make things worse, Dad appears behind her.

‘What's going on?' he says, looking at Mum and then at me.

‘Um, er . . .' I say. That's all I can think of. Pretty pathetic really.

The mixture is everywhere. All over the entrance hall, all over the wire door and all over Mum. She's standing there looking like the creature from the black lagoon. The goo slimes off her clothes and collects in a puddle at her feet.

She is just gasping and shaking her head. Nothing in all her years of putting up with my jokes has prepared her for this.

‘I think we need to have a little talk,' says Dad softly. He appears calm, but his ears are very red, and they're trembling – that's not a good sign.

Not that I'm worried.

Any moment now they're going to notice the inside of the house and see how clean it is. Except for the kitchen, of course. And the sludge on the hall carpet and around the entrance. But that's easily fixed. Once they notice the light-globes they'll calm down.

Any moment now I'll have them eating out of the palm of my hand. Any moment now. It's just a matter of time.

'm standing right on the edge of this huge boulder, looking over Sealers Cove on one side – where we camped last night – and Refuge Cove on the other. There's a cool breeze. I close my eyes and imagine I'm the last person on earth. It's so peaceful. A three-night bushwalk in Wilsons Promontory can be hard work, but it beats school any day.

Suddenly I feel a large hand clamp down on each of my shoulders. I'm shoved forward. My stomach drops. My life starts to flash before my eyes. Then, just as suddenly, the hands pull me back.

‘Tell ya mum I saved ya!'

I turn around. Roseanne O'Reilly is grinning widely.

‘You idiot!' I shout. ‘What a dumb trick! I could have been killed!'

‘It's lucky I was here to save you then,' she says. ‘You should be thanking me.'

‘Thanks for nothing,' I say.

It's a typical Roseanne joke. Dumb and dangerous. She's been pulling this trick on everybody since we left Tidal River yesterday morning. It's her first time bushwalking. I think she's a bit over-excited. She's new to the school. I don't know why she decided to join the bushwalking club. Probably because no other club would have her.

O'Reilly swaggers back to the trail where the rest of the group are resting against their packs.

‘You should have seen Andy's face,' she announces to the party. ‘I really had him packing!' Not that anybody cares. They're as sick of Roseanne as I am.

Danny comes over.

‘Scroggin?' he says.

He hands me a plastic bag full of chocolate buds, sultanas, oats, peanuts and sunflower seeds. I take a big handful and pass the bag back. My hands are still shaking from the fright.

‘Don't feel bad,' he says. ‘Roseanne punched me in the nose this morning.'

‘Really?' I say. ‘Why?'

‘She asked me if I wanted to smell some cheese. Before I could answer, her fist was right in front of my face, and then POW!'

‘She didn't wait for your answer? That's not a practical joke – it's just a punch in the face!'

‘Tell me about it,' says Danny. ‘She made my nose bleed too.'

‘What did you do?'

‘Nothing. She's bigger than me.'

‘Fair point. But we can't let her walk all over us like this. We've got to get her back. Got to teach her a lesson.'

‘Sure,' says Danny through a mouthful of scroggin. ‘But how?'

I sit on the boulder and use a twig to prise a pebble out of the tread on my boots. Suddenly the answer is clear.

‘I know,' I say. ‘Rocks!'

‘Rocks?' says Danny.

‘We'll put rocks in her pack! That'll give her something to laugh about.'

‘Great idea,' says Danny, ‘but how are you going to get the rocks into her pack without her seeing?'

‘I'm not going to put the rocks in her pack,' I say. ‘You are.'

‘Me?' says Danny. ‘What if she catches me?'

‘She won't,' I say, ‘because I'll divert her.'

There are three rocks – each roughly the size of a small coconut – a few metres down the track. I point them out to Danny.

‘Those will do.'

‘All of them?' says Danny.

‘All of them. And hide them down the bottom of her pack so she doesn't find them until tonight.'

‘Hang on,' says Danny. ‘Which one is Roseanne's pack?'

‘It's a blue MacPac,' I say.

I look around for Roseanne. She's over ear-bashing Derek Watson, the leader of the trip. She has her compass out and is pointing towards the ocean. Derek is shaking his head. Her first bushwalk and already she thinks she knows better than the leader! She is really something else.

Roseanne has this brand-new compass, which she hasn't stopped showing everybody for the whole trip. She's got no idea how to use it, but that doesn't stop her telling everybody else how to use theirs. It gives me an idea.

‘Hey, Roseanne,' I say. ‘Can you give me some help checking my compass? I'm not sure if it's pointing true north or not.'

She's already on her way over. We go back to the boulder and start comparing compasses, taking sightings onto one of the small, rocky islands out from the coast.

I stall her for about ten minutes and then return to the group. Danny nods and winks.

People are getting ready to move. I sit down and slip my arms through the straps of my pack. It weighs a million tonnes. I packed food for four days, but it feels like I've got enough to last for the next four months. Maybe I shouldn't have brought so much canned food.