Kriss leaned forward and took Mrs Akani’s hand. ‘Do you think you can help me break down my barrier, so I can run faster?’
It was Mr Akani who answered that question. ‘Put it this way, Mr Okonjo. It can’t do you any harm. If it fails, you will still be running just as you are today. But if it succeeds you will be faster.’
‘And I would be honoured to treat you,’ Mrs Akani announced. ‘And there will be no charge for my services. If you win gold – that will be my reward!’
‘How long will it take for the hypnotism to work?’ asked Kriss. ‘There are only a few days left before I have to join the athletes at the official Training Camp and then it will be the International Games.’
Mrs Akani sat back and thought. ‘It might take a few days. It depends on how strong the wall in your mind is. But it is worth a try.’
Kriss flashed a huge smile at us. ‘I can tell this is going to work!’ he announced. ‘This is the best thing that could have happened. Thank you, Mrs Akani!’ Kriss held Streaker’s head and waggled it with his hands, making her ears flap about. ‘As for you, Streaker, I think Mrs Akani needs to hypnotize you and PUT a barrier in your doggy mind to stop you causing so much trouble!’
The three of them went off together so that Kriss could have his first hypnotism session. As for Tina and me, we had our own work to get on with – training Streaker for the frisbee competition.
Unfortunately, Streaker had more or less eaten my frisbee, but Tina had brought hers along. Streaker was bouncing up and down on her lead, almost yanking my arm off, so I set her free and WHOOOOOSH! She was off. Honestly, that dog is a rocket on legs. I didn’t bother to call her back because I knew she wouldn’t come. We would just have to wait until she had run off some of her amazing energy.
We sat down on the grass. Tina lay back and stared up at the clouds.
‘There’s a frog,’ she said, pointing at the sky.
‘It looks a bit squashed to me,’ I said, lying down as well.
‘No it isn’t. It’s crouching down.’
‘Looks like it’s been run over by a truck,’ I muttered. Tina dug her elbow into my side.
‘It’s a frog and it’s sitting up now.’
I was sitting up too, holding my side. ‘That hurt.’
‘There, there, poor Trevvy-wevvy. Shall I kiss it better?’
I was on my feet in an instant. ‘I wonder where Streaker’s got to,’ I said, hastily changing the subject. ‘Streaker! STREAKER!’
Amazingly, the dog came bounding back, two ears and a tongue all happily flapping away.
‘Time for some frisbee-catching, Streaker,’ I said. I showed her the frisbee and she sniffed it all over. She even licked it.
‘She’s going to love this,’ I told Tina. I drew back my arm. ‘Ready, Streaker? Get ready! One, two, three –!’
The frisbee went skimming off through the air and Streaker went – well, actually she didn’t ‘went’ at all. In fact she sat down and looked at me. She looked at my empty hand as if to say – ‘Where did that thing go?’
Tina smiled. ‘She enjoyed that, didn’t she?’
‘She just needs to get the hang of it, that’s all. She did it recently, you saw her.’
‘I know. But now she has to do it at the Animal Games or Charlie Smugg will be boasting about it for weeks.’
Tina was right. I stomped off through the grass, fetched the frisbee and shoved it under Streaker’s nose. ‘This time you have to run after it and catch it, OK?’
Streaker was looking at me with shiny eyes. She was the picture of – I would like to say the picture of intelligence, but in fact she looked about as intelligent as an ice cream.
I waved the frisbee at her once more. ‘Ready? One, two, three –’
Swoooosh!
‘She’s after it!’ cried Tina. ‘Go, Streaker, go!’
The frisbee was sailing through the air, slowly skimming down towards the ground. Streaker was galloping after it with great big strides.
‘That’s it, Streaker!’ I yelled after her. ‘Catch it!’
The frisbee was coming down … Streaker was almost on it … the frisbee was clipping the grass!
Streaker shot past, running and running, and behind her the frisbee bumped on to the ground while Streaker went tearing ahead, full of the joys of running. She didn’t stop until she reached the far end of the field, and went crashing into the hedge. She’d never been much good at braking.
By that time I had collected the frisbee and trudged back to Tina. I collapsed on the grass and we waited for the dog to come back.
‘Charlie Smugg is going to laugh his head off. He’ll never let us live this down.’
‘Trevor, this is the first practice. We’ve got a few more days before the big event. We’ll work something out. We always do.’
‘Yeah,’ I muttered darkly. ‘We could go and find a dog THAT ACTUALLY DOES WHAT YOU WANT IT TO DO!’ I suddenly yelled, getting back to my feet as I spotted Streaker returning. ‘Look, you manky mutt! This is a frisbee. Fetch the frisbee! FETCH!’
Tina calmly took the frisbee from me. ‘Let me do it. It never works if you shout. People don’t like being shouted at and neither do animals. Stay calm, OK? I’ll throw it. Here we go, Streaker. Ready?’
Tina launched the frisbee. It lifted into the air, soaring on the wind. Streaker went leaping through the grass, right beneath it, going ‘woof, woof, woof!’ as if to say ‘I’m coming to get you!’
‘She’s going to do it, she’s going to do it!’ Tina whispered excitedly, as the frisbee carried on sailing above the grass. Streaker followed, ears flapping wildly, glancing up from time to time, and then, and then –
Streaker suddenly halted, scratched behind her left ear, crouched down and had a long, long TIDDLE. In the distance the frisbee glided down and landed.
‘Well I certainly didn’t expect that,’ Tina sighed.
6. More Competition
We saw Kriss Okonjo again today. He was with Mr and Mrs Akani, up near the woods. Tina and I had gone back to the field for you-know-what. (Frisbee practice!) We asked them how the first hypnotism session had gone. Mrs Akani smiled.
‘It was fine. Kriss is a good student.’
The runner laughed. ‘It’s funny to think of myself as a student. It’s seven years since I was in school.’ He put a hand on Mrs Akani’s shoulder – Kriss must be at least half a metre taller than her! ‘I felt good after that session, you know, relaxed and well rested.’
Mrs Akani nodded. ‘That is how it should be. Now you can concentrate better on your running. Here, give me your watch and I shall time you.’
Kriss handed over his watch and I set mine to zero. He did a few exercises, stretching his muscles, and then he was off.
‘Just look at him,’ said Mr Akani, shaking his head. ‘That lad runs like a gazelle.’
It was true. Kriss made running look so easy.
‘It’s those long legs,’ murmured Tina. ‘I’d like legs like those.’
‘You’d look pretty silly with black legs and white arms,’ I sniggered.
‘And you’d look pretty silly with a black eye and white face,’ Tina snapped back.
Mr Akani grinned at me.
We waited by the woods for Kriss to complete his course. Tina told the Akanis about the Sports Day they had held at school and how she’d got gold for the high jump. They asked me if I’d got anything and I said, yes, a virus, and they all laughed. It wasn’t funny to me. I would rather have been at school taking part than lying in bed feeling sorry for myself.
‘Here he comes,’ said Mr Akani. ‘Get ready with the watch, Miriam.’
Mrs Akani pressed the stop button. ‘Eight minutes, five point nine one seconds,’ she read out, setting it back to zero.
A huge beam spread across Kriss’s face. I blinked several times and shook my watch. ‘That’s odd,’ I murmured. ‘Mine says eight minutes eight point three.’
Kriss’s face fell, but Mr Akani took my wrist
and looked at my watch. He smiled.
‘I don’t want to upset you, lad, but your watch is not really up to scratch. Look at Kriss’s here. This is a very expensive piece of machinery.’
Kriss nodded. ‘It has to be. I paid a lot of money for that. It’s super-accurate.’
I gave a grunt. ‘Yeah. I guess so. Wish I had one like yours! It’s got so many buttons. What’s that one for?’
‘Different time zones,’ Kriss answered.
‘And this one?’
‘Altimeter – tells you how high you are, anywhere in the world.’
‘And that one?’
‘Not sure. I think it does the washing up.’
We burst out laughing while Kriss looked a bit embarrassed. ‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t a clue what that one does, but I’ve got a booklet back home that tells you. It’s about a hundred pages long.’
Kriss gazed over our heads and back at his training ground. ‘Eight minutes five point nine. That’s faster than the record – and definitely faster than Azi Numa. Thanks, Mrs Akani.’
‘We’re not done yet, Kriss,’ she beamed. ‘We need to get you faster still and make sure you nail that gold right on the head.’
She turned to us. ‘We’ll leave you to your training session now. Good luck with that frisbee and maybe we’ll see you another day.’
The three of them went off together, and Tina and I moved higher into the field so the frisbee could get a good flight.
‘Trust Mum and Dad to buy me a cheap watch for my birthday,’ I complained.
‘Your watch is fine, Trevor. You’re ten. You can hardly expect your parents to buy you a watch like Kriss’s. It was pretty spectacular.’
Sometimes Tina talks quite a lot of sense. She was right, of course. Still, I can’t wait until I’m Kriss’s age. Then I’ll buy a watch that can do everything – including the washing up AND tidying my bedroom!
We were about to throw the frisbee for Streaker when three figures appeared on the path. I knew at once Charlie Smugg wasn’t one of them because they were all about my size. It didn’t take long for me to recognize them either. It was three kids from school – Sophie, Tim and Nicky, and they were all carrying frisbees. I like Sophie.
‘Hi!’ she called.
‘Why is she with them?’ Tina hissed at me. I looked at her, puzzled.
‘Why shouldn’t she be with them?’
Tina kicked at the grass. All of a sudden she seemed cross, heaven knows why.
‘Are you practising for the frisbee competition?’ asked Nicky.
‘Maybe,’ I answered.
‘Thought so. Charlie Smugg told us you were having a competition with him so we asked if we could join in, and he said no problem. It’s a great idea.’
Tina and I looked at the collection of dogs they had with them.
Sophie had a dachshund – you know, a sausage dog. Tim had a collie.
‘What kind of dog is that?’ asked Sophie, pointing at Streaker.
‘I knew she was trouble,’ Tina said to me, under her breath.
‘Streaker? Well, she’s kind of everything.’
‘Like a pizza,’ laughed Sophie. ‘You should call her Pizza!’
‘See,’ Tina hissed again. ‘Trouble.’
I reddened. ‘Actually, she’s called Streaker because she’s like a streak of lightning. She can run really fast.’
‘Looks like she’s got a bit of greyhound blood in her,’ Nicky observed, and I nodded.
‘Yep. She’s half greyhound.’
‘And the other half is ham and pineapple! Pizza!’ Tim declared.
‘She’ll beat your collie any day,’ I said quietly, and he shut up, because he knew it was true.
‘Are you up here to train?’ asked Sophie, and Tina nodded.
‘But we’ve just finished,’ I said quickly. There was no way I wanted them to see how useless Streaker was at catching a frisbee. ‘Do you mind if we watch you?’
Sophie shrugged and took her dog off the lead. ‘She’s called Trudi. Come on, Trudi. Are you ready?’
The dachshund fretted around the frisbee and then Sophie threw it. Off it went, and Trudi went charging after it, diving into the grass like a submarine on legs. All we could see was the grass waving here and there, with a lot of barking. The frisbee sailed across the field and landed. Trudi was still running round in circles about three metres away from us.
Tina and I howled with laughter. It was pretty funny, after all. Sophie stared at us with a face like concrete.
‘She couldn’t see it. The grass is too long.’
‘I know,’ Tina hiccuped, holding her sides. ‘It was very funny.’
Then Tim had a trial with his collie, Chips. First he prepared the dog.
‘Sit. Stay,’ Tim ordered quietly, and at each command the dog obeyed. My heart sank. This dog had been TRAINED! It was something I’d been trying to do with Streaker for YEARS – without success.
‘Go!’ Tim cried, as he launched the frisbee. Chips went leaping and bounding through the grass, following the path of the frisbee exactly, and as it neared the grass – LEAP! Chips rose in the air and – SNAP! He clamped his jaws round the frisbee and came trotting back with it safely in his mouth.
‘Sit,’ ordered Tim, and Chips sat down while Tim quietly took the frisbee from the dog’s mouth.
Sophie clapped. ‘Brilliant, Tim! Oh, Chips, you’re so clever. Clever, clever, clever dog!’
Tina leaned close to me. ‘I hate her.’
I tried to smile at them. ‘That was good. Oh well, got to go now. Maybe see you another time.’
We reached the road before either of us spoke. It was Tina who broke the silence.
‘Look on the bright side. Chips might be brilliant at catching the frisbee, but we know two things for sure. Firstly, he can’t run as fast as Streaker, so, if we can train Streaker to actually catch the frisbee, then we’ve got a winner.’
‘Sure. All we have to do is train Streaker,’ I agreed. Train Streaker. Why did those words always make my heart sink faster than the Titanic? ‘Plus, we now have not just Charlie to put up with but Sophie and Tim. Great.’
‘And secondly,’ Tina continued, ignoring my grumps, ‘Chips is pretty good, as we have just seen. He might well be fast enough to beat Charlie’s Alsatians, in which case he won’t win, which is what he wants to do, so he will be very disappointed.’
I thought about this. Once again Tina was right. It cheered me up a bit, but I do wish she’d stop being right so often.
7. Pizzas Are a Good Idea
I woke in the night with a brilliant idea. It was so good I sat right up in bed and told my teddy. OK, I know, I know; you’re thinking Trevor’s ten and he’s got a teddy! Ha ha ha ha!
Well, just so that you know – I HAVE NOT GOT A TEDDY, OK?!!
I used to have a teddy, like most children, when I was small, and that teddy still happens to be in my bedroom. He sits on my bookshelf, which happens to be on the wall at the end of my bed. So when I sit up in bed I just happen to see my teddy sometimes. OK?
Anyhow – my brilliant idea, in one word – pizzas. My brain was saying to me: Streaker likes food – a lot. In fact she’s a greedy guzzler. Pizzas are food. Pizzas are like frisbees. Throw pizzas instead of frisbees and Streaker will run after them.
Was that a brilliant idea, or not? It certainly was, so I put my head on the pillow and went back to sleep with a very big smile on my face, and the smile was still there when I woke up next morning. I went straight off to tell Tina. (Well actually I got dressed first, of course, ha ha!) Tina was impressed. (With my idea that is, not because I’d got dressed.)
‘That’s great,’ she said. ‘Just one problem. When you throw the pizza, won’t most of the food fall off?’
I shook my head. ‘Nah. Maybe a little, the odd bit of tomato or something.’
‘Hmmm. Just another problem,’ Tina went on, holding up a finger. ‘Won’t the pizza be all floppy and not fly very well?’
&
nbsp; ‘Nah. It’ll be fine,’ I muttered. I was getting a bit fed up with my friend.
‘Hmmm. And just another little problem,’ she went on relentlessly. ‘Won’t it fall to bits when you try to throw it?’
I fixed Tina with my deadly stare. ‘I thought you said it was a great idea,’ I reminded her.
‘It IS a great idea,’ she said. ‘It’s what happens when you actually put your ideas into practice that bothers me.’
OK, I’d had enough. ‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘I’ll try it out and let you know how it goes.’
Tina’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t want me to come and help?’
‘NO! I can do it on my own. See you later. Maybe.’
That showed her. I went stomping back to my house. We’ve nearly always got pizzas in our house – in the freezer, the fridge, the oven, on plates or in our mouths. My favourite is salami, mozzarella and tomato. I peered into the fridge and I was in luck. There was a whole cooked pizza, sitting on the middle shelf.
I eyed it thoughtfully. If I took it, Mum would certainly miss it. What if I replaced it with a frozen one? With a bit of luck it would defrost before Mum came to the fridge and she’d open the door and find a pizza. The only difference would be that it wasn’t cooked. So she’d probably think she must have forgotten to cook it, because there it was, waiting for her. Mum’s always forgetting things.
I listened out for problems. Dad was out playing golf and I could hear Mum on her rowing machine. (She hasn’t fallen off that one yet, but I expect she will. She’ll probably drown.) I zipped over to the freezer, grabbed a pizza, unwrapped it, took the cooked pizza off its plate, put the frozen one there instead and popped the cooked one carefully into a plastic bag.
The Hundred-Mile-an-Hour Dog Goes for Gold! Page 3