by Bell Davina
You can probably guess that I’m getting the wishing feeling again when two kids our age come up to me. One is a girl, and she is tall with long hair like straw and eyes that remind me of hot chocolate that’s made from real melted chocolate – not the powdered kind. You can just tell by looking at her that she is kind. The other is a boy, and he only has one eye, the colour of the bluebells that grow by Merry Creek in spring. He’s sort of handsome in a neat and responsible way, like he would have been the head boy of his primary school.
‘You’re from Belle’s school!’ I say in wonder, feeling as if I’m meeting YouTube stars in real life. ‘Matilda. And Pete. I’ve heard a lot about you guys. Oh – sorry if that’s creepy.’
‘Totally creepy,’ says Pete, and we all laugh, and you know what? Belle was right about his eye – you only notice it for one second and then it’s totally normal.
‘I can’t believe what an amazing job you’ve done,’ Matilda says, but not in a fake, gushy way like the Cloud Town Cougars would. She reaches over and touches my arm. When she looks into my eyes, it’s like the Lola Effect but to the power of ten. ‘Well done. There must be, like, three hundred people here.’
‘Do you know them all?’ Pete asks. ‘Or are they just randoms?’
I look around and I realise that I DO know them all. I know every single person here. I point them all out to Matilda and Pete, and soon I’m really into giving everyone’s little backstory. ‘Introduce people with thoughtful details,’ my mum used to remind me and Gracie. ‘This is Sophia and she’s had nits seven times,’ Gracie would say back. (It was actually only six because the seventh time turned out to be chicken pox.)
Mr Morrison, the town building inspector, is here with his wife. Miss Claudine has come from Cloud Town. Coach Jack is deep in conversation with Mr and Mrs Zhang, but I can’t tell from here how that’s going. Judy is handing out free ice-creams, so the Eco Worriers are hanging out nearby, and Mr and Mrs Green from Sookie La La are giving away slices of peach pie. Mr Doozy from Buck’s and Ms Sadlier, our year four teacher, and the whole of my mum’s real-estate networking group are here.
Francine and Punk Sherman are walking round hand in hand.
‘I don’t know if I’m ready to meet my girlfriend’s mum,’ Pete says in a sort of panic, flattening down his hair, and he looks so scared that Matilda and I laugh again.
‘Soph!’ Maisie calls, and I turn around to see that the others are already on the verandah with Mikie. And – I kid you not! – Pony Soprano is there too. I need to get up there.
‘Good luck!’ say Matilda and Pete.
‘Catch you after,’ I reply as I climb the steps, and I really hope I do.
We’re standing on the verandah, right at the front. Belle Brodie and Lola Powell and Maisie Zhang and Pony Soprano and me. The band is squished in behind us, ready to play, but the crowd is still chattering expectantly, waiting to see if Mayor Magnus is going to show up.
‘This is awkward,’ says Lola, and we all kind of giggle.
I wish I’d had time to put on proper clothes and wasn’t standing in front of everyone in this unicorn onesie.
Pony Soprano harrumphs out his nostrils. The crowd laughs. And then they go completely quiet, like the whole of Sunnystream is holding its breath.
At half past ten, a bus pulls up. Out of it spill a whole heap of guys, maybe forty of them, wearing yellow hard hats and fluoro orange vests. They look like just the kind of gang you’d want to have around if you were ripping down a building. They stand to the side of the crowd, near the front. They’re kind of intimidating. Suddenly it all feels too real. My tummy goes all tight.
Rishi comes over and puts his arm around my shoulder. It’s warm and strong, and for a moment, I want to lean my cheek against his chest. ‘Shall we start playing?’ he asks.
I feel a lump in my throat. Lola has tears in her eyes. Maisie is standing so still. I swallow. I try to sound calm, like it’s no big deal. ‘Yes please, Rishi,’ I say. ‘That would be awesome.’
Rishi goes back and sits on his drum stool. He whacks his drumsticks together three times and the band begins to play. The song is so catchy that by the last chorus, even Moira is singing along.
‘Muscle Tower versus PEOPLE POWER!’
At the end people go crazy. They don’t stop cheering until something starts beeping super loud.
‘Has the generator malfunctioned?’ Belle asks.
But it’s not the speakers. It’s Mayor Magnus, riding across the oval in another giant bulldozer, waving. Even from here I can see that he’s wearing his purple sparkly cape. Next to him is Bart Strabonsky and he’s dressed as a cowboy. They’ve both got those headset microphones that pop stars wear when they’re singing live in concert. Oh brother.
As soon as the crowd works out what’s happening, they boo those bozos. But Mayor Magnus can’t get enough of the attention. He parks his bulldozer next to the other bulldozer, opens the door and waves again, blowing kisses, his honey-blond hair waving in the breeze. The booing gets even louder. He and Bart Strabonsky climb down and squeeze onto the verandah next to us. Jules doesn’t even have time to unplug his banjo; Mayor Magnus just kind of bumps RexRoy down the clubhouse stairs.
‘Show’s over, folks!’ The crowd boos again as Mayor Magnus yells, ‘KABOOM!’
That must have been a cue, because at that second the guys in hard hats break out of their bunch and form a line between the clubhouse and the front of the crowd, their backs to the verandah, their arms crossed over their chests.
‘Listen up, Sunnystream,’ yells Mayor Magnus. ‘Do not believe the lies that were published in the Sunnystream Gazette. The Shark Tank is a VERY safe building. It’s a very BIG building. And as we all know, bigger is better! Which is why this little bitty cubbyhouse has to go. It’s being knocked over to make way for … the Muscle Tower! An apartment block like you have never seen. Complete with an aquarium and its own … real life … fully functioning … SUBMARINE!’
People look at each other like, ‘Is this guy for real? Why the fudge would you put a real-life submarine in a fish tank?’
But then his voice gets more menacing. He glares at the crowd so hard that his eyebrows almost cross. ‘This terrific new project will bring in money and jobs and great new opportunities. SO! It’s very clear to me that anyone who’s against the Muscle Tower wants Sunnystream to suffer.’
What?! That actually makes zero sense. Who loves Sunnystream more than Belle and Maisie and Lola and me? But right then everyone goes quiet, as if they’re possibly half-convinced that Mayor Magnus might be right.
Two men in hard hats stride over to the bulldozers and jump up into the drivers’ seats. They start the engines. The rest of the men in hard hats link arms. And then slowly, slowly they start moving their line forward, pushing the crowd back, away from the clubhouse. I can see Matilda and Pete trying to hold their ground, but they’re swept up in the wave of people inching backwards. Everyone is. I think I’m going to spew.
Belle jumps up and down on the verandah, waving her arms to get people’s attention. ‘STOP! Hey! Listen here!’
But nobody notices – they’re just trying not to fall over as they’re all forced back. After everything we’ve done and all that we’ve fought for, we’re not going to get our say after all.
That’s when Rishi ducks under the arms of the hard-hat guys and jumps back up the stairs. He strums Jules’s electric banjo as loud as he can. The sound is DEAFENING, and the hard-hat men turn around to see what made it. A couple let go of each other to cover their ears. The crowd stops moving.
Belle grabs the microphone and holds it just the right distance away from her mouth so that her voice comes out clear and strong. (She practised this for her TED Talk – maybe even for ten thousand hours.) She’s holding her notebook open with her other hand, not that she needs it. She’s memorised the whole speech.
‘Good morning, Sunnystream! Let me cut to the chase. You can believe Mayor Magnus’s empty promises,’
she says smoothly. ‘You can trust someone who has lied to us and put our lives in danger. Or you can look around at this beautiful building. You can look into your past and your family history, and I guarantee, you’ll find this clubhouse there, front and centre.’ (Dramatic pause.) ‘It’s not just a building. It’s a time capsule for our whole town. It’s a place for us to come together. And we want to make it into a home again for us all. You’ll see that it’s been returned to its former glory, and it’s ready to host all of Sunnystream’s most cherished events once more. With our families, we can …’
She stops. And then the weirdest thing happens. She’s got pages and pages more of her speech to recite, but Belle starts to cry. We’re so shocked that we all just kind of freeze. But that’s nothing compared to what comes next.
She looks up at Mayor Magnus – like, really looks at him. ‘Dad,’ she says through her tears. ‘Please?’
DAD? What the fudge?! Me and Maisie and Lola turn to each other like, ‘WHAT?!’ I don’t think I have ever been so surprised.
But it all makes sense. I remember how Mayor Magnus’s face crumpled when we didn’t want to stay and look at his fish tank. I remember how his secretary let Belle into his office. What Belle said about wishing she didn’t know who her dad was when we were eating marshmallows that night at the clubhouse. How they glare the same, like their eyebrows almost cross. Their hair, the same kind of honey blonde. How much they both like to speak in public – how they’re each so good at it in their own way. It all makes so much sense that I feel stupid for not putting it together before. My mind is literally blown.
Now Mayor Magnus is looking at Belle, really looking at her. He’s looking at her like I caught my dad looking at Gracie once, when she was bundled on the sofa with Lemon Tart. Like he was longing for something. It must have been so hard for him, my dad. And for the first time, I start to understand why he had to move away. Then Mayor Magnus moves towards Belle, like he might be going to hug her.
But Belle turns her back. She drops the microphone and buries her head in her hands and starts crying again. Maisie and I look at each other. Mayor Magnus just stands there awkwardly. Jeepers. He looks sad. I put my arm around Belle, but she doesn’t lean into me, and I wonder if I’ve done the right thing.
Thankfully, Tally jumps up onto the verandah and picks up the microphone, which is sort of hard because she’s holding a giant stack of paper, thicker than a dictionary. She’s wearing a pleated hot-pink skirt that touches the floor and a silver sequined headscarf that glitters in the sun. Maisie edges over to her and takes the pile of paper so she doesn’t have to hold it while she talks.
‘Mayor Magnus, here’s a petition,’ she says. ‘Signatures from …’ She pauses dramatically. ‘A quarter of a million people all over the world who think that Corner Park Clubhouse should be saved.’
The crowd gasps.
Mayor Magnus swallows and scoffs. ‘That’s just loons on the internet. You think this means anything in the real world, girly?’
‘Well, most of them have donated to our crowdfunding campaign, too,’ Tally says coolly. ‘A dollar each. There’s enough money to keep this place running for a decade. Is that real enough for you?’
If there’s one thing Mayor Magnus responds to, it’s money. Now he’s starting to look uncomfortable. He looks across at Belle and his shoulders slump.
That’s when Bart Strabonsky steps forward, his chest puffed up, and lifts off his hat. He waves it at us – Belle and Lola and Maisie and me. ‘YOU. You broke into council property. You operated a business here without a proper licence. You defaced it with mindless, ugly graffiti. Terrible graffiti.’
Wait a minute – is he talking about kintsugi?!
‘You broke the LAW. You’re a gang of delinquent tweens. And you want to trust these criminals?’ he asks, turning to the crowd.
It’s awkward because technically he’s right. Well, apart from the delinquent teenagers part. What we’ve done probably isn’t legal. But does that mean it’s wrong? Are we criminals?
There’s a stunned kind of silence. Slowly, Bart Strabonsky starts to smirk. I want to barf into his stupid tall hat. But then he gets carried away. ‘You bunch of meddling little twits! You disgusting feral rats. You nut-job slimeballs! You –’
‘Um, excuse me?’ calls someone in the middle of the crowd. ‘Have some respect. You’re talking to children. You’re talking to some very clever, very compassionate, very responsible children.’
It’s Coach Jack! His hair is out of the man bun and it’s long and glinty-blond, like a lion’s mane. I bet Lola is digging this. And yes, what he’s saying is good too.
‘We could all learn a lot from this gang,’ he continues. ‘You could learn a lot from them.’
‘Who is this guy – some kind of hippy with pretty girl’s hair?’ says Bart Strabonsky viciously. I can feel Belle flinch because he’s using ‘girl’ as a derogatory term. NOT cool.
‘What a joke,’ Bart continues. ‘You, sir, are a joke. This whole dinky little clubhouse is a joke. It’s nothing. You’re nothing.’
‘He is NOT nothing,’ I say loudly, stepping forward. ‘And this isn’t just a clubhouse.’ Whoa – I am kind of trembling now with rage and nerves but also some weird kind of excitement, like something inside me is boiling. It’s like debating but on steroids. The whole town is looking at me. And this time, nobody can look away.
‘Until the Shark Tank came along, people made memories here,’ I say. ‘It’s where kids learned how to live good lives,’ I say, thinking of Girl Guides and storytime and how hard Gracie practised for the Sunny Stream of Talent.
I look out at all the people – so many people! – and I wonder if my mum is even here, or if she’s been called away for another house, another sale. ‘Mr Morrison got married in the clubhouse fifty years ago,’ I continue, ‘because he met his wife at the dances they used to hold here for young people. The first women to get the vote in Sunnystream cast their ballots here. It’s where the whole of Sunnystream came to watch man walk on the moon. On the walls inside are the names of everyone from our community who ever fought in a war.’
Belle gives me a huge thumbs-up for remembering this part of Sunnystream: A History.
I take a deep breath. ‘And when my twin, Gracie, died, after the funeral we came here. Everyone we knew came here. People told stories about her. And when I’m here, for a little while I don’t feel like she’s gone.’ I wiggle my toes inside my ugg boots and I make myself keep going. ‘We might not have used it much lately, but sometimes you just need reminding how … how precious something is. Sometimes you need to almost lose it to find your way back again.’
I can feel something pass through the crowd like wind in a wheat field. Like a gentle breeze of memories. Everyone in town knew Gracie, and they loved her. Maybe you think I’m just saying that because she’s not here anymore, but it’s true. She had these big mad black curls that sprang out from her head like they were jumping. She had cool glasses that made her look smart. Gracie was smart. Last year she only got one question wrong in the entire Maths Olympiad. She even beat Isaac J, an all-round genius who does Gifted and Talented oboe classes and has his own Sudoku website. She taught herself to play the trumpet – no lessons or anything. She played it every Anzac Day at the Sunnystream dawn service. When she was Head Girl of Sunnystream Primary, she wrote a poem about time to read at the year six graduation party, and literally zero people could believe it was made up by a kid. She read it from her wheelchair and it took her ages, but when she got to the end, the clapping went on forever. Nobody wanted to stop, and maybe secretly we were all thinking that if we just kept clapping, Gracie would keep on living.
And she was so kind. I bet you’re thinking I’m only saying that because of what happened, but it’s true. Gracie could always make people feel better – kids who’d wet their pants in assembly or come last in a swimming race. At Christmas time, she made jars of brownie mix for the teachers who nobody would get present
s for, so that all they had to do was add in the eggs and bake them. When Grandma Jean was in Sunny Heights, the nursing home, it was Gracie who got us all to go there and sing rounds and plant the tulip patch. And sometimes I think … I think she was going to have a really good life. Better than mine was ever going to be. But I’m here. And she’s not.
‘I bet everyone in Sunnystream has their own special memory of the clubhouse,’ I say. ‘And we can start making them again – right from today. Isn’t that worth more than money? Isn’t that better than an apartment building? Isn’t that worth saving?’
Bart Strabonsky is silent for a moment.
Mayor Magnus is too, which is probably a first. Eventually he says, ‘Girly, your sister died. I get it. But it takes people to run a public building and to organise all those silly little town events. You think Bart and I have time for that?’
I think back to them playing Snap in his office, and you know what? I think they probably do.
‘That’s why we’re here,’ says Lola. ‘We’ve totally got this.’
Bart Strabonsky sniggers. ‘You think we’re going to trust a public building to a bunch of ten-year-olds? Outrageous.’
‘We’re twelve,’ Maisie says flatly. ‘Almost thirteen. And we could do it with our eyes closed.’
‘There’s, ahh, there’s some safety rules that you won’t know about –’ Mayor Magnus begins.
‘Yeah, like the safety regulations you followed when you built the Shark Tank?’ calls Judy, jutting out her chin.
There’s a murmur in the crowd and I hear a few people saying things like, ‘Yes – exactly!’ and ‘I agree!
‘As the town’s building inspector, I’m happy to keep an eye on the place,’ calls Mr Morrison from the front row. ‘From a safety perspective.’
‘You could supervise the planned working bees,’ says Belle. ‘I’ve scheduled them in monthly. We’ve already built a website for the bookings – well, Maisie did. She’s a coding genius.’