Launched! (8 page)

It was a very glum group that sat around Mr Lark’s kitchen table that Tuesday after school. Once again, Tong had doubled with Darcy. Shame now danced with anger.

‘Why they take bike? I no understand.’

‘According to that policeman yesterday, bike theft tops the list for kids and crime. It’s up there with theft of personal property,’ Darcy explained to Mr Lark.

‘I see.’

Tong hung his head and whispered, ‘
Xin l
i!
[So sorry!]’

‘Nothing to be sorry about.’ Mr Lark placed a comforting hand on Tong’s shoulder. ‘It’s okay.
Don’t beat yourselves up about it. It’s just a bike. Lucky none of you were hurt.’

Mio interrupted, saying, ‘The police wanted the serial number yesterday, Mr Lark. Do you still have it?’

‘Should do. It’ll take me a while to hunt it up though. That bike’s thirty years old if it’s a day.’ A sudden thought occurred to Mr Lark. ‘What about the bike trials? How are you going to manage them? Tong won’t be able to compete.’

‘Yes, he will.’ Clem tossed her head so her hair shimmied, causing Bella to lose her balance and cuddle closer. ‘We’ll share, that’s how. Tong will still ride.’

‘He’ll borrow one of our bikes after we’ve had our turn.’

‘Borrow mine,’ said Bryce. ‘We’re much the same height. My bike is your bike.’

Tong was swamped by an emotion he hadn’t felt for a very long time. Mr Lark mistook it for sadness, but it was the opposite—an overwhelming sense of happiness and gratitude to his ancestors for their blessings.

‘I know what’ll cheer you up,’ said Mr Lark. ‘Chocolate muesli crackles.’

This time cooking was a joint effort. As Mr Lark melted three-quarters of a block of copha, Clem put some icing sugar in a bowl and Tong spooned
out two tablespoons of cocoa. Bella sniffed and wagged her tail in encouragement. Mio measured three cups of toasted muesli and added it to the mix, then stirred well. While Mr Lark poured the melted copha into the bowl, Darcy sprayed a baking tray with a light coating of oil. Once combined, Bryce scooped out the mixture and flattened it into the tray which was then popped in the fridge to cool and set. Bella was on crumb duty.

‘Look like tree bark,’ announced Tong, when the chocolate muesli crackles were set.

‘Doesn’t taste like tree bark,’ said Bryce. ‘It’ll be yum.’

At the look on Tong’s face Mr Lark added, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘You eat bark at home. Just think of it as the Cassius cinnamon tree bark Vietnam is famous for.’

Cinnamon. Tong closed his eyes and thought of his life as a young boy in Vietnam. He could see his grandmother cooking at home, her greying hair pulled back into a bun so tight it pinched her lips, her shrunken frame stooped over a pot. Steaming
Phó?
[soup] with cinnamon. Her specialty. His favourite. How long since he had tasted the clear beef broth with its
bánh phó
[ribbon noodles]? Tong’s nose twitched and his mouth watered at the memory. And he remembered his grandmother
asking anxiously, ‘
Ban thích nó chú?
[Do you like it?],’ and when he answered ‘yes’ she’d fasten her sinewy arms around him, saying, ‘
Tôi yêu ban
! [I love you,’ and Tong would bask in this truth. But now the truth was different and he could no longer hug his grandmother and he ached with the loss of it.
When eating a fruit, think of the person who planted the tree.
That’s what his grandmother had taught him. I’m thinking of the person who planted the tree, Grandmother, Tong said to himself. As he opened his eyes he wore the seed of a smile.

The chocolate muesli crackles had been cut into slices and were clustered on a plate.

‘This is so my favourite,’ said Bryce, licking his lips and rubbing his hands. Then he broke into song, ‘
Chocolate. Tastes so sweet. Chocolate. Good to eat.
’

‘Pig,’ said Clem when Bryce reached for the biggest slice.

Tong smiled as he helped himself to a crackle. And again when the crunchy sweet slice exploded in his mouth.

‘Thanks, Mr Lark, but it’s time we did some practice,’ said Darcy. ‘The trials are in eight days and we’re nowhere near good enough.’

‘Off you go, then.’ Mr Lark waved as the kids piled onto their bikes, Darcy dinking Tong and
Clem with Bella in her basket. On their way they dropped into the police station to tell them the serial number of Tong’s bike.

‘You have news?’ asked Tong.

‘’Fraid not.’

Tong nodded and headed outside. As he reached the doorway the policeman called out, ‘If it’s any consolation, two more people came in after you to report their bikes stolen.’ Tong nodded again and left.

The kids rode on, past The Van to check that everything was okay, past the railway station, where heads swivelled as they searched for both the stolen bike and the pickpockets, and on up to The Peak.

‘Your—
puff
—turn—
puff
—tomorrow,’ Darcy told Tong when they reached the top.

‘Let’s go over the circuit,’ said Mio. ‘Tong can walk it with us for the moment then have a turn when we’ve finished.’

‘Bella can walk with you.’ Clem lifted Bella out of the basket and handed Tong the lead, which he happily accepted. Bella’s mouth hung open so that her tongue peeked out. ‘She’s so cute she could do dog food commercials,’ said Clem. ‘Movies even.’

‘I can see you as a stage mother,’ said Darcy, and ducked as Clem threw a sod of dirt at him.

Mio checked her helmet, snug but not too tight, and started riding. ‘Follow me,’ she called. She
started out with a simple no-hander along the flat, but then bunnyhopped over a small rock and sped up a ramp. The others fell in behind her, first Darcy, then Clem, then Bryce. Tong and Bella scampered to keep up.

Tong watched and admired Mio’s cool confidence. She was now riding along a plank two metres off the ground. A spool standing tall acted as a table-top to balance on, and here she did a track stand before riding down a ramp on the other side. From there she mounted a truck tyre then rode across a log, upping and dropping off the end to come to a skid halt at the other side.

Tong started cheering and clapping, so Mio took a bow. Nothing could beat the adrenaline rush—pushing yourself and your bike to your absolute limit, knowing that the slightest mistake could cost you. Mio rode up to Tong. ‘I’ll take Bella now and you have a go.’

‘Thank you,’ said Tong, handing Bella over and mounting Mio’s bike.

Tong followed the others, pleased that his track stands had improved out of sight, and bursting to try something harder.

‘What about endos?’ suggested Clem. She turned to Tong to explain, ‘An endo is when the back wheel lifts off the ground and you wheel stand on the front wheel only.’

Tong looked puzzled so Clem demonstrated. First she travelled slowly, then she grabbed the front brakes hard so that her body lifted upward and forward. All her weight shifted onto her hands and handlebars, and with the back weightless, the rear tyre lifted off the ground.

‘Me next,’ said Tong. But despite the best intentions he couldn’t seem to get it.

‘Maybe he should try it on a curb,’ suggested Darcy.

‘Foot in the forks will work just as good,’ said Bryce. ‘Watch this, Tong.’ He travelled forward, then jammed his right foot into the space between the forks and the top of the front tyre and grabbed his front brakes, at the same time throwing his weight onto his right foot and the handlebars. The result was a perfect front-wheel wheelie. ‘Da da-h-h!’ said Bryce, returning to two wheels and pretending to hand round a hat. ‘All donations muchly appreciated.’

‘Silly!’ said Clem, pushing him away.

They continued to practise for another half-hour, unaware that in the distance, from the tower, they were being watched.

Mio called, ‘We’d better go. It’s getting late and I’ve still got to do violin practice and homework.’

‘I agree. Let’s call it a day,’ said Darcy.

‘Dad ‘n’ Cara are having a practice hospital run
tonight,’ said Bryce, a shudder rippling through his body. ‘And I have to be there.’

‘Are you going in when the baby’s being born?’ asked Clem, who’d seen Drew being born at home.

‘No way!’ Bryce felt a knot of dread in his stomach. ‘Not for that kid.’

‘That kid’s going to be your new brother or sister,’ admonished Clem.

‘Whatever.’

As if sensing Bryce’s distress Bella padded up to him and licked his fingers, then sat quietly at his feet.

‘I swear Bella’s got ESP,’ said Clem. ‘She knows when you’re upset, what you’re thinking.’

‘Duh, Clem.’ Darcy pulled a face. ‘Rattle a bowl and any dog will come running. Hold out your hand and they do the same thing. It’s got nothing to do with ESP.’

‘Dogs
can
have ESP,’ said Clem. ‘They can tell when someone’s in danger, or when their owner’s coming home.’

‘Coincidence. Or super-sensitive hearing.’

‘No, it’s not. There’s lots of cases where owners have moved great distances away and the dog has turned up on their doorstep. Cats, too.’

Bryce butted in. ‘What about when a dog takes an instant dislike to someone and then you find out they’re no good?’

‘Bad vibes,’ said Darcy with a shrug.

It was Tong’s turn to contribute. ‘Elephants save people from big wave. Elephants know wave coming many hour before.’

‘You mean in that tsunami?’ asked Clem. She turned to Darcy and stuck out her tongue. ‘See. Even elephants can have ESP.’

‘I know Bella’s getting fat, Clem, but she’s no elephant.’

‘She’s not fat.’

Mio rolled her eyes, thinking,
There they go again!
‘Actually, you’re both wrong,’ she said. ‘It’s not ESP. Animals have this thing called a seventh sense. They sense things in their body organs.’

‘Enough already. Let’s go,’ urged Bryce. ‘Tong? Want to dink with me? I’ll drop you home.’

Tong nodded and climbed onto the seat, gripping the saddle with both hands. ‘Look for bike on way home?’

Mio, Darcy and Clem with Bella in her basket picked their way down the hill towards the entrance gates of The Peak. ‘Meet you down there,’ Bryce called to Darcy, knowing he’d be going that much slower because he had Tong as well.

As they passed the tower Bryce stopped and stepped off the pedals.

‘What?’ asked Tong.

‘Something’s different,’ said Bryce.

Tong hopped off backwards, glancing around.

‘The flying-fox has been tied back up. Yesterday we left it, remember?’

‘Yes.’

Bryce’s gaze followed the line of rope. Before it had been carefully looped around two pegs, but now it was taut, as if it was caught on something. ‘Someone’s been up the tower,’ he said.

‘Me check,’ said Tong.

Bryce breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to climb the ladder. ‘I’ll look around here while you’re up there,’ he called.

‘Okay.’ Reaching for the ladder, Tong began to climb.

Bryce circled the mound of tyres, seeking the entrance tunnel. From ground level, it all looked just as before, but he wanted to make sure. Dropping onto his belly he wriggled forward, squinting into the darkness. The air smelt musty, earthy, tinged with something Bryce couldn’t put his finger on. It smelt like the dead rat his dad had found behind the water tank at home. Automatically, Bryce reverted to mouth breathing. He wondered if breathing in the smell of dead rat through your mouth was the same as tasting it…

Suddenly pain exploded behind his eyes—all Bryce could see was bursts of red and black with sparkly stars. Before he could cry out two hands
latched onto his chest and flipped him over. Someone, Bryce couldn’t see who, sat on top of him, pinning down his arms. A stinking rag was tied around his mouth. It tasted like stagnant water, causing him to dry retch.

Bryce’s eyes were streaming from the pain. Unable to see, unable to call out or move, he morphed into the old Bryce. The Bryce who had survived on the streets. Twisting his torso he managed to free one arm, then lunged for his assailant. As his attacker pulled out of range, Bryce’s other arm flicked free. He grabbed the attacker’s shirt and yanked him down, headbutting him in the chin. Teeth clacked together like a movie clapboard. Then Bryce shoved the person and tried to roll away, but they both lost their balance. The air was filled with oomphs and grunts and frantic panting as each fought for breath. But Bryce didn’t dare rip off the gag for fear of losing the upper hand. He leapt on top of the attacker’s body, his fist raised to strike when his opponent cried, ‘No!’

It was a girl!

Bryce blinked rapidly to clear his vision and squinted in the dim light. He was right—it was a girl. Holding her down with one hand he wrenched his gag out with the other and sucked in some air.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

The girl’s eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, defiant. She didn’t answer.

‘What’re you doing here?’

Still no answer.

‘Why’d you attack me like that?’ Bryce was bursting with frustration.

Seconds ticked past. Bryce wondered what Tong was doing. Why hadn’t he come to help?

‘What’s your name?’ Even as he was saying the words, Bryce smiled at his own stupidity. Kids like this never gave you a real name. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his thigh and suddenly he felt terrible. He knew what it felt like to be trapped, desperate.