‘Pemmi-what?’ I keep my hands in my pockets. ‘I don’t do drugs, Shine. No way.’
‘Oh, it’s not drugs, Pod.’ Shiny takes out a piece. ‘It’s Indian food. It’s made from pounded-up dried meat and fat all mixed together. The Sugar Bix Original Recipe Card did suggest adding five teaspoons of sugar, so I added fifteen just to be on the safe side. Go on. Have a bit. It’s good. Not too sweet, but just sweet enough.’
So, sitting next to the Wolverine, looking down over the Sockby Telephone Pole Exhibit to the Ornamental Lake, I eat some pemmican.
‘Hey, this stuff’s not too bad,’ I say. ‘How’d you flatten the meat out? With your mum’s rolling pin? And then dry it out in the oven?’
‘Nope,’ says Shine. ‘I did it the traditional way. I used me cricket bat on the footpath and then me sister’s hairdryer. I can’t quite remember if it was on Hot Style or Blow ‘n’ Go, but I’ll check it out if you want to make some yourself.’
Pass.
At the sight of Virginia and Jodie sitting by the lake, my heart gives a double whammy, because they are the best, friendliest girls we know, and Shiny’s just pushed the canoe hard into my chest.
‘Hey, girls!’ Shiny waves. ‘Howdy! Good to see ya!’
Then we are running towards them, the paddles rattling in the Wolverine like applause, and the girls are waving back.
Chapter 5
It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon. There are kids everywhere, and stacks of model yachts and ships busily cruising back and forth on Sockby Ornamental Lake.
‘You can’t use that kayak here,’ says a bloke wearing red slippers and holding a black remote control. ‘It’s against the law.’
‘It’s not a kayak,’ says Shine. ‘It’s a canoe. They’re not even spelt the same.’ And with that, all four of us hop into the Wolverine, and paddle away.
‘Keep an eye out for that dude.’ Shine looks over his shoulder. ‘He’s got a famous model German battleship called the Bismarck, and it could be lurking out behind Little Ducky Island. If it opens fire, hit it with your paddle. Oops!’
We’ve just run over a model sailing ship, and looking back, it seems to be sinking.
‘Oh, dear,’ says Virginia. She’s wearing sunglasses and sipping orange juice. ‘That was Captain Cook’s Endeavour.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Shine says. ‘They’ve got lifeboats. Just keep paddlin’, Pod.’
I do, and soon we are in the peace and quiet of the Lois Lowrey Gumboot Lagoon, where Lois Lowrey lost a lot of gumboots, or so the sign says.
‘This is lovely, Pod.’ Virginia smiles at me. ‘I’m so glad you rang us.’
‘So am I,’ says Shiny, taking a handful of chips from a huge packet in the bottom of the canoe.
‘Otherwise we wouldn’t hardly have any snacks at all.’ He holds up a freak triple-fold chip. ‘Thanks for bringin’ the junk food, girls. Cheers.’
‘That’s all right, Shiny.’ Jodie dreamily draws a circle in the water with a finger, her long red hair hanging down. ‘It’s so nice out here. It’s perfect.’
‘Apart from the smell of animal fat and dried blood from the sheepskins at the tannery,’ adds Shine. ‘Still. They gotta make ug boots and industrial grease somewhere, and Sockby’s just lucky enough to be it. Baaaah!’
We drift around talking about what we’ve been doing over the eight months since we’ve seen each other, which in Shiny’s case, and mine, is nothing.
‘We went on a school trip to France,’ Jodie says. ‘Didn’t we, Virgy? And a girls’ surfing camp.’
‘Our school doesn’t do camps anymore.’ Shine tries to bat a dragonfly out of the air with his paddle. ‘Too many kids ended up on the news.’
Virginia smiles, firstly at Shine, and then at me. ‘But we’ve never been in a canoe before, Pod. This is beautiful. That Mr Beanland must be very nice to simply give it to you guys.’
‘Oh, yeah, he’s cool all right,’ says Shine. ‘He’s also one hell of a Totem Tennis player. A double-handed twin-bat blind-folded freestyler. And they don’t come along every day.’
I look around. Willow trees dance a leafy Hula, ducks happily paddle and honk, and all you can hear is kids laughing, and techno music exploding as if someone’s speeding through a minefield in a tank.
‘Mr B actually made this canoe,’ says Shine. ‘And because he’s from Canada, and such an old pensioner legend, we’re going to paddle it down the Sockby Creek to the bay to commemorate the Australian-Canadian war.’ Shine digs into his pocket. ‘Hey? D’you girls want some pemmican?’
Wisely, they refuse.
‘This trip down the creek,’ Virginia says. ‘How are you going to get the canoe home? You won’t be able to paddle all the way back upstream, will you?’
Shine and I look at each other. We hadn’t thought about that.
‘Well,’ Virginia says, ‘what about me and Jode meet you at Williamstown jetty? It’s pretty close to where the Yarra runs into the bay. And we can help you get it home on the train.’
‘Excellent,’ says Shine promptly. ‘That’ll be a piece of cake. I bet stacks of people take boats around on public transport every day. D’you have a mobile for communication purposes?’
‘I do.’ Virginia takes out a fantastic-looking mobile phone. ‘I got it for my birthday.’
‘Boy,’ says Shine. ‘Is that an SB 500? You must’ve eaten a power of Sugar Bix to get the Frequent Muncha Points for that. But, hey, check this out.’ Shiny takes out his phone, which is shaped like a dog bone. ‘It’s a genuine Dog and Bone Phone from the good people at Brekky Cola, the wake-up cola suitable for adults, infants, and your canine companion. Man, you should hear the ring tone.’
‘It’s a blue heeler barking at a ute doing a burn-out,’ I add.
‘You are so right.’ Shine’s face glows with pride. ‘It’s worth a fortune.’
‘So we’ll see you at the sea.’ Jodie shoots out a hand, catches the dragonfly Shine was trying to stun, then releases it unharmed. ‘It’s a bit of a pity we can’t come paddling, but that’s okay. We’ll be the token chicks meeting you at the other end.’
‘Right on!’ says Shine.
‘You girls aren’t token chicks,’ I add quickly.
‘I bet if there was any trouble you’d help us out big time.’
‘Right on, again!’ Shine high-fives the back of my head. ‘You can always rely on us for trouble, can’t you, Pod? There’s never been a shortage of that when we’re around, no worries!’
Unfortunately, he’s right about that.
Chapter 6
Whenever Shiny tells me something is simple, I worry. And whenever he tells me he’s got everything organised, I get ready to hit the panic button.
‘Next Saturday going down the creek will run like clockwork, Pod,’ Shine says, ‘because I’ve already sorted out our parents.’ He wipes mud off the Wolverine’s side with a rag.
‘Really?’ I find it hard to believe Shiny has come up with anything that will give us all Saturday to paddle down to the bay without our folks interfering. ‘What’d you tell them?’
‘First,’ Shiny says, ‘I told ’em there’s a Canadian Canoe Safety Demonstration at the lake followed by a three-hour, fully supervised paper hat-making workshop, which is then topped off with the Moonlight Blue Light Paddling, Tadpoling, and Boogie Disco. I’ve already printed off the flyers. It should be great. There’s a police presence, compulsory fruit consumption, a courtesy canoe bus, and everyone home by ten. And only five dollars to get in.’
‘They’ll never believe it,’ I say.
‘They already do,’ Shine says. ‘And my folks are taking your folks to catch the Early Bird Gets The Worm dinner special at the Sockby Pokie Lounge, and then on to see the new Lawrence Lame movie at the Sockby BYO Cinema and Driving Range. It’s locked in. And so simple it might even work.’
Once again I am amazed at the way Shine’s mind works, his guts and determination. And just how dumb our parents actually are.
‘But we’ve got be home by ten,’ Shiny says. ‘Or my folks said they’ll remove every last one of the new beans they put in my beanbag. So. You know they mean business. They’ve done it before.’
‘You’re joking?’ I say. ‘They sorted out all the old beans from all the new beans in your beanbag and took them away?’
Shiny nods. ‘Yep. Hid ’em on top of the wardrobe, and only let me have ’em back six at a time. It was a tough couple of years, Poddy, a tough couple of years.’
I think it would be true to say that the Diamonds are an interesting family.
Chapter 7
The week goes by with me making many phone-calls to Shiny and Virginia so that everyone knows exactly what’s going on with Saturday’s Sockby to the Sea expedition.
‘I emailed you a map,’ Virginia tells me. ‘It’s got the whole route marked, and where we’re going to meet. It’s quite a long way, Pod. And there are some dangerous-looking spots. There are even some rapids. And, er, ships at the end. You’ll have to watch out.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘I mean, truly, I got a badge at Cubs for Carrying A Full Cup Of Tea Very Carefully, and Shiny has a Sugar Bix First Aid Kit loaded with chocolate-coated medical supplies. So, no worries.’
‘Yeah,’ says Virginia, doubtfully. ‘No worries at all.’
‘Anyway,’ I add. ‘See you on Saturday at Williamstown before the sun goes down. For the big celebration. There’ll probably be fireworks.’
‘There probably will be, Pod.’ Virginia laughs. ‘Of one sort or another.’
I’m not sure what she means by that, so I just say goodbye, and hang up. I then spend a minute thinking about tackling the Sockby Creek, the mighty Yarra River, and whatever lies beyond. I also notice that it’s started to rain, which will certainly make the paddling easier. Or that’s the theory, anyway.
As I print out the map, I think about what a great girl Virginia is. She’s lived in America, she now lives in a posh suburb that even has hills, and she goes to a flashy rich-chicks-only school, yet she’s always interested in what Shine and I set out to do. She’s also gorgeous, funny, smart and gutsy, and she keeps it real. She’s the perfect girl. And you don’t meet them every day.
Or I don’t.
The rain has stopped. It’s now hailing. The sound of it on the roof is like fifty tonnes of frozen peas dumped from a jumbo jet. This won’t please my dad, as it will damage his plants; but like many things that can’t be stopped by complaining – you just have to ride them out to the end.
Like the good old Sockby Creek!
And the mighty, murky, muddy Yarra River.
Chapter 8
I get to Shine’s place early on Saturday morning to escape any Podlewski gardening activities, such as today’s micro search of the lawn for Bindi-Eye, which are tiny, spiky weeds that my dad says were introduced to Australia by the Mafia to overthrow the government, and are responsible for puncturing many thousands of bicycle tyres.
Shiny answers the door carrying a Sugar Bix box and a bowl of cereal that glitters.
‘Check these Sugar Bix Stax of Wild West Facts, Poddy.’ He shows me the box. ‘It says that beavers wouldn’t be nearly as busy as they are if they didn’t build their dams in the water. And that those old wild west ’coonskin caps were actually made from the skin of a dead raccoon, and not a tame live one just sitting on your head.’
‘That’s amazing, Shine,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you skip that cereal for once and have an apple? Then we can get down to the creek straightaway.’
‘Good thinkin’.’ Shine takes out something on a stick from his pocket. ‘I just happen to have a Sugar Bix Healthy Teeth Toffee Apple right here.’
‘Where are your parents?’ I look down the Diamonds’ hallway, and see a black-and-white guinea pig run from one room to another. ‘Have they gone out?’
Shine nods. ‘Yeah, Grandpa heard about a ripper 1964 Holden that’s been under a tarp under a pine tree for thirty years. So it’ll be, like, in mint condition. They all took off early in case anyone beats them to it.’
‘But that’s older than his old car was,’ I say. ‘Why doesn’t he get a newer one?’
‘Oh, he never drives now.’ Shine cracks his toffee apple against the door frame. ‘So it hardly matters. Anyway, scary shirt, Poddy. Man, it’s, like, electric. Purple, white and yellow. Whoo. Nasty.’
My mum insisted I wear it for the Moonlight Blue Light Disco that’s never going to happen. Shine blinks rapidly.
‘We’ll have to cover it up, Poddy. I can’t be lookin’ at that all day. I’ll go blind.’
That makes two of us.
We load the Wolverine with food and water, a length of rope, Shiny’s disposable camera, Virginia’s map, and a spare paddle. In the morning sunlight the canoe shines. I look at it and hope Mr Beanland will be happy back in Canada.
‘I bet Mr B wishes he could come with us,’ I say. ‘He’s a brave guy. He flew bombers in the war. And once, his plane was shot down by a squadron of Messerschmitt fighters. He had to bail out over Germany and was taken prisoner.’
‘Yeah, well, accidents do happen,’ says Shine. He looks at me. ‘As you and I well know, Pod.’
Well, yes, Shiny and I have had a few bike, tandem bike, unicycle, mini-bike, kite, model aeroplane, scooter, roller blade, skateboard, wheelbarrow, billycart, and homemade submarine accidents.
Shine looks out the grimy shed windows.
‘I feel lucky, Poddy. We’ve had just the right amount of rain to get the old Sockby Creek flowing, but not absolutely raging, because canoeing in a flash flood won’t get you far.’ Shiny thinks about that. ‘Well, it will, but it might be upside-down.’
‘And we don’t want to do that, do we, Shine?’ I say.
‘Nope. Check these out. Grandpa Jack borrowed ’em.’
Shiny picks up two orange life jackets. ‘The bloke actually couldn’t quite remember Grandpa, so there’s no chance he’ll be comin’ around to take them back any time soon. And look, they’ve got Police Rescue printed on the back. Cool, eh? And here. Wear this over that freaked-out fright-night shirt.’
Shine takes Grandpa Jack’s old duck-hunting coat down from a hook. It has pictures of dead ducks all over it as camouflage. I put it on, take some shotgun shells out of the pocket, and hide them on a high shelf.
‘You shoulda seen the pants mum got for me,’ I tell Shine. ‘They had tartan patch pockets with matching squares on the knees. I could’ve got a job as a scarecrow.’
Shiny nods thoughtfully. ‘Well, you do have the build for it, Pod. Kind of like a bunch of sticks, and long. The Wizard of Oz style, they’re calling it. I mean, chicks are over the six-pack thing. Skinny is in. I deadset read that in the Sugar Bix Style File For Young Folks.’
‘Time to get to that creek,’ I say, for about a million reasons, most of them personal.
So we set off towards the Sockby Creek carrying the mighty Wolverine.
‘It’s a pity the Canoe Orientation Day and Moonlight Blue Light Disco got canned,’ Shiny says, as we carry the Wolverine between the closed-down dog soap factory and the closed-down cowboy hat factory. ‘Because there’s not much on these days to keep us Sockby kids off the streets, and away from the creeks and drains, where we might hurt ourselves.’
‘But Shine,’ I say, ‘it never really was on, was it?’ Man, this canoe is getting heavy. ‘It was all just a trick you made up to fool our parents.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Shiny puts a big piece of pemmican into his mouth. ‘But still. I went to a lot of effort to set it up just to see it knocked on the head at the last moment. It’s very disappointing.’
As much as I think Shine’s a super smart guy, I sometimes do wonder what sort of a job he’s going to get.
Chapter 9
The creek doesn’t flow very fast as Sockby is flat, plus the Sockby Flood Retarding Basin holds back most of the water, fence posts, wheelie bins, rubbish bags, and polystyrene that make the Sockby Creek the th
ing of beauty that it is today – or so the council brochure says. Still, it swirls and whirls, the colour of clay.
Shine hands me a paddle, eyes narrowed as he judges the power of the creek. ‘Just like the Amazon, Poddy. Except somewhat smaller.’ He tightens his life jacket. ‘Let’s rock!’ He holds up a fist. ‘Let’s do this for Mr Beanland, the unofficial world champion of Totem Tennis, the unofficial international head of the entire rubber band industry, and the unofficial patron saint of canoe exploration. Amen.’
‘Amen,’ I say, although I don’t know why. ‘I’ll hold it steady while you get in.’
Shiny clambers into the Wolverine from the rubbishy bank and gets settled in front. Then I hop in and we’re away, the Wolverine wobbling wildly but soon steadying as she meets the current like a long-lost friend.
‘Bon voyage to us!’ Shine’s voice arrows across the flat, thistle-spiked paddocks of the Sockby Industrial Estate. ‘Next stop, the open sea!’
Not quite. We’ve just rammed into a huge soggy cardboard box full of what looks like dumped hospital sheets and pillows.
‘Back up, Pod!’ Shine paddles madly in reverse. ‘There’s a bedpan here just like Grandpa Jack’s. And that’s not somethin’ you want to fool around with.’
I paddle backwards, we dodge the box, then we’re on our way again, the creek winding around a stooping gum tree that a jolly swagman might’ve camped under. It feels like we’re gliding through the world, the quietness of the old factories soothing and calm.
‘Make sure you use the J-stroke, Pod.’ Shiny demonstrates this in the caramel-coloured water. ‘Because that single stroke is the basis of all good canoeing, according to champion Sugar Bix Can-Do Canoeing Coach, Brian P. Toggle, who won gold at the 1948 Olympics. It was in the long jump. But still, he was one hell of a canoeist.’
Oh, boy. Sometimes there’s not a lot I can say to Shine.
In a way, we’re travelling through Sockby’s history. There are dumped vintage cars, old couches, fridges, and signs on silent factories for products that no longer exist. And there’s me and Shine, on the look-out for the ghosts of Sockby, who spend their years hoping for better times, which probably won’t ever arrive.
Really Nearly Deadly Canoe Ride Page 2