‘Why are we going here?’ I ask.
‘I thought it’d be nice to meet another PP,’ Mum says. ‘Randa’s dad works at the butchers here, right?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’ We hop out of the car. Gina starts to fan herself. ‘Where’s the air con?’
It’s easy to spot Bashir’s Butchers, there’s a giant blue-and-white striped roof, right in the middle of the strip with a stand out the front.
Mum reads the sign. ‘Halal, is it meat you’re looking for?’ She cracks up. ‘I love this place already.’
We walk in and Mr Bashir opens his arms wide, like he’s sending a bear hug over the counter. He’s got Randa’s button nose and beady eyes. ‘Welcome to Bashir’s Butchers!’
‘Hi, Mr Bashir, I’m Raymond’s mum.’ Mum points to me. ‘He’s a prefect at Barryjong Primary with your daughter, Randa.’
‘Ahhh! Hey, Raymond,’ Mr Bashir says, thumping the silver counter enthusiastically, then looks down at Gina. ‘And this is …?’
‘I’m Gina. Halal, Mr Bashir,’ Gina says. ‘Did I say it right?’
Mr Bashir roars with laughter. ‘Ah, Gina sweetie, halal is the special way we prepare the meat here, so Muslim people like me can eat it.’
‘Can I eat it too?’ Gina says.
‘Yes, of course, it’s for everyone!’ Mr Bashir strokes his beard.
Just then, Randa walks in. ‘Hi, Da … Raymond?’
Mum gushes. ‘Ahh, you must be Randa! Hi, I’m Raymond’s mum.’
Randa and I have a contest to see who can go red the fastest. Randa beats me by a few seconds.
Mr Bashir doesn’t help. ‘I tell ya, Mrs Raymond’s Mum, Randa and your son are going to make Barryjong Primary great,’ he says. ‘Nobody’s ever going to trash that school again.’
‘Do please call me Susan,’ Mum says, and she and Mr Bashir launch into an excited conversation about their prefect children.
Randa pulls me away from the counter. ‘Ugh, let’s get out of here!’ She takes out her notebook. ‘I’ve been thinking about the Footy Fan Day …’
‘Do you ever stop being a prefect?’
‘The prime minister never stops, so why should I?’ Randa says. ‘Don’t worry, my dad’s trapped your mum in a venus fly chat. He might actually sell some more meat if he could stop talking so much to his customers.’
‘I think he might have some competition there from my mum,’ I say. ‘They could be awhile.’
We sit outside on a park bench. ‘Okay, what have you got?’ I say.
‘You said you wanted something to raise more money. Why not try to get the community to support us?’ Randa says. ‘We could ask the shops if they could donate prizes for a giant raffle.’
‘Oh yeah! Ally could make some more posters and we could paste them everywhere.’ I glance at her notebook. It’s another brand new one. ‘You weren’t joking around, you really are a prefect, 24–7.’
‘You think you’re the only one who gets teased for going to Barryjong?’ Randa looks at the Barryjong school logo on her shirt. ‘All my cousins make fun of me too. They think it’s a breeding ground for feral kids.’
I nod. ‘I’m sick of hearing that too.’
‘Everyone ignores all the good kids in Barryjong, like you and me.’ Randa flips through her notebook. ‘I was shocked when Mr Humble first picked you as a prefect, no offence.’
I smile. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not the first.’
‘But I know why now,’ Randa says.
I sit up straight. ‘Yeah? Why?’
‘Kids at school like you because you’re ordinary.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘No, it’s a good thing. They feel comfortable with you. There’s no point being a super organised prime minister if people think you’re a bossy, grouchy panda who woke up on the wrong side of the bamboo grove,’ Randa says.
‘But you’re more of a share bear now.’
Her face softens, but then her shoulders droop. ‘Actually, I’m more of a scaredy cat.’
I look straight at her. ‘Really? What are you scared of?’
‘What people might think when they look at me,’ Randa says. ‘Whether it’s my school uniform or my hijab. I’m scared of getting teased, so I act all tough.’
‘Has anyone ever made fun of your hijab?’ I ask.
‘Only a few times, but I often get looks and see people talking behind their hands,’ Randa says. ‘I’m not a mind-reader, but I know what they’re saying.’
‘I don’t know how that feels,’ I say. ‘But if anyone ever teases you, we’ve got your back.’
Mum comes out with a few bags. ‘Time to go,’ she says cheerfully. ‘Need to get this meat in the fridge.’
‘Thanks, Raymond,’ Randa says. ‘You really have helped the prefects stay together.’
‘That’s another one of my secret powers,’ I say. ‘I’m a walking talking glue-stick.’
Randa laughs and waves as she steps back into her dad’s shop.
Gina and I help carry the bags and we all walk back to the car.
‘Randa’s dad is a great guy,’ Mum says. ‘We PPs have to stick together.’
‘Stop saying PPs,’ I say. ‘You’re making me want to go to the toilet.’
‘Okay, okay.’ Mum pops the boot of the car and I drop the bags and close it again. Hopefully it won’t all be pre-roasted by the time we get home.
‘Maybe,’ says Mum, ‘when Mr Humble sees how much all the P … I mean, Prefect Parents have helped you get to your target, he might give us a badge too.’
‘Seriously, Mum.’
‘Hey, you’re just living my dream,’ Mum says. ‘I would have loved to represent my school. That’s why I helped form the P and C.’
Randa and Mum are both right, we do need more than just the kids on our side, we need parents and our neighbourhood to join the team. And maybe in the process, we can change what they think about Barryjong Primary.
Zain is drumming his hands on the library desk. We’ve been working on the email to the Western Wizards community team at recess, but so far it’s not much more than a wish list of players that we want: Wizards’ captain Michael Kola, Joe Milford and Jeremy Huang – the three most popular players in the team.
‘Man, this reads like a little kid’s letter to Santa,’ Zain says. ‘My words don’t sound proper and stuff. I think we need Randa’s brains.’
He leaps out of his chair to go find Randa. She’s sitting down with her nose buried in a novel.
‘Hey, Randa, could you help us …’
‘Already done.’ She pulls out a page from her notebook.
Zain reads the letter and flicks at the words. ‘A soccer clinic?’
‘Yeah, get the players to teach us something while they’re here,’ Randa says. ‘How else are you going to build up a good soccer team at Barryjong?’
Zain goes to give Randa a high five, which ends up as an awkward handshake. ‘You are a pro with words, Randa Panda.’
‘But will it be enough?’ Randa puts her novel down. ‘We need to show them that Barryjong really loves the Western Wizards.’
‘How about a video?’ I say. ‘Zain can do his soccer tricks.’
‘Oh yeah!’ Zain takes out his hacky sack and keeps it in the air with his knees. ‘Let’s film all the other kids too, and show them we need that soccer clinic.’
Randa stands up. ‘We can use some of Ally’s dance moves too.’
We all run out of the library to get Ally. I tell her about the video.
‘Count me in,’ Ally says.
If only Kayla, and all those kids from the leadership course could see us now.
Mr Sanders lets us borrow his camera to shoot our video message. We film each other in front of our fundraising meter, taking turns reading out different parts of Randa’s letter. We have a tiny message from Mr Humble. Then Randa and Ally shoot some sweeping shots of our school. The recess bell rings and Zain takes over. He films the little kids kicking the ball around. ‘Ge
t in there, Raymond. You’re a soccer nut too.’
I chase the ball in front of the camera. It’s cool to think Zain thinks I’m a soccer nut too. I quickly film Zain scoring a killer goal, before going to Ally and her friends who are being cheerleaders on the sidelines, doing some back-bending dance moves and waving purple and white pom poms.
We spend the afternoon with Mr Humble, editing the video down to two minutes, which is what Mr Humble reckons is the most we might get the Wizards people to watch.
Randa turns to Zain. ‘Want to use your email?’
Zain nods. ‘But we’ll put all our names on it.’
We attach the video to the email with Randa’s letter and send it to the Western Wizards.
‘I hope they’ll get back to us soon,’ Zain says. ‘If we can get a few stars like Michael Kola, then Barryjong’s school spirit will go over 9000.’
We keep coming up with other ideas to fill up the Footy Fan Day. Randa looks at her list. ‘So far we have a sausage sizzle, giant raffle, what else?’
I think about Megan and their book busking.
‘Why don’t we get the kids to suggest some fundraisers of their own for the day?’
We announce the competition at the prefects’ spotlight. It’s the only time at assembly where the kids are quiet. I can feel everyone’s eyes on us when we walk on stage.
‘Have you got an idea for what we should do on Footy Fan Day?’ Zain says.
Ally shakes the box and says, ‘Then pop your idea on some paper and put it in here. We’ll put this in the office.’
‘We’ll choose the best ones for Footy Fan Day,’ I say.
After the assembly, I hear kids chattering about some more crazy ideas.
Randa claps her hands. ‘Okay, it’s time to have another meeting, I mean ‘hangout’ on the weekend.’
‘Huh? Why?’ Zain says.
‘So we can go around and ask shops to donate prizes for the raffle,’ Randa says.
‘Good idea. How about Saturday morning?’ I say.
It’s funny how Zain and I have been friends for ages, but we hardly ever hang together outside of school. And Randa and Ally aren’t bad company either. It’s a bonus prefect perk for me.
Dad drops me off in front of Bashir’s Butchers on Saturday morning for our first weekend hangout. ‘Did you bring your prefect badge?’ Dad says.
‘Nobody’s going to wear it, Dad, it’s the weekend,’ I say. ‘But I’ve kept it in my pocket, just in case.’
‘Just give Mum a call afterwards,’ Dad says.
‘Thanks, Dad.’
I get out and everyone’s waiting for me. Randa’s wearing a sky blue hijab, matching her long-sleeve shirt. Zain is in his purple-and-white striped Wizards jersey. He gives me a high five. ‘Glad you could make it, RayBee!’
Ally’s sitting next to him. She totally looks like a different person in her flowery skirt and sunflower yellow top. She slides down her pink sunglases a little, so I can see her eyes.
‘Hello, Raymond.’
I look down, shielding my eyes from her bright top and smile.
‘Oh, hey, Ally.’ I’m melting quicker than an iceblock out in the sun.
Randa claps her hands. ‘Right, let’s get some raffle prizes!’
‘Good idea!’ If I stood there any longer, I would have been a puddle.
‘Let’s spilt into pairs,’ Randa says.
‘Okay, the boys will do the shops on the left,’ Zain says.
‘How about we have boy and girl instead?’ Ally says. ‘It might look nicer when we approach the shops.’
Randa nods. ‘Good idea. So who goes with who?’ We stand there for what feels like forever. I’m standing in front of Ally, with my mouth open. Come on, Raymond, step up and say something.
‘I’ll go with Ally.’
Cool. Hang on, that wasn’t my voice. It was Zain’s. I watch Ally and Zain walk across the car park to the other side.
‘Earth to Raymond, can you hear me?’ Randa snaps her fingers.
Randa and I step into one that sells kitchen appliances and utensils. We approach a lady behind the counter. Randa flashes her prefect badge.
‘Hi. Raymond and I are prefects from Barryjong Primary. We’re looking for prizes for our giant fundraising raffle.’
‘Barryjong Primary?’ The lady steps back. ‘That brings back memories.’
‘Did you used to go there?’ I say.
The lady smiles. ‘Ah yes, a long time ago.’
‘Whoa,’ I say. ‘Do you know Miss Saxena?’
‘She used to be my teacher,’ she says. ‘Is she still teaching there?’
Randa’s mouth hangs open. ‘She’s never left.’
‘Does she still drink tea when it’s forty degrees outside?’ the lady says.
‘Yes,’ Randa and I both say.
The lady writes her name down on a piece of paper. Charlotte Parker. ‘I know Miss Saxena has an excellent memory, she’ll remember me.’
I take the paper. ‘Thanks, Charlotte. We’re trying to raise money for air con in some classrooms.’
‘Well, then, I’d love to help out. I can make up a picnic hamper with some goodies inside.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ Randa says.
We leave the store and I stare at Charlotte’s handwriting. ‘I wonder how long Barryjong Primary has been around for?’ I say.
‘Probably since the stone age,’ Randa says.
We both burst into giggles. We try the other shops down the shopping strip. A few knock us back, but they wish us good luck anyway. We meet with Ally and Zain at the kebab shop. ‘Let’s get a giant halal snack pack to share,’ Zain says. ‘I’ll pay.’
‘What’s that?’ Ally says.
‘It’s a box of hot chips with cheese and beef kebab meat,’ Randa says.
‘It should be called a heart attack pack instead.’ Ally gags. ‘Can we have a salad to go with that too? Don’t worry, I’ll eat most of it.’
Zain nods. ‘Okay.’
The halal snack pack comes with a zillion streaks of different sauces. We grab a fork and dig into the saggy box. ‘So, did you get any cool prizes?’
‘We got a voucher for a massage,’ Ally says.
‘Plus the newsagency is going to throw in a giant box of colour pencils,’ Zain says. ‘But that’s about it.’
‘We’ve got a picnic hamper, a cookbook and a voucher from the hairdressers,’ Randa says. ‘So we have five prizes so far.’
‘Yeah, everyone was really friendly. Half of them went to Barryjong too,’ Ally says. ‘I like these sorts of hangouts better than our library ones.’
Randa swirls her fork around. ‘Ah, but it’s important for prefects to organise and plan and …’
‘Hang out,’ Zain says. ‘We’re more than just prefects, we’re friends, right?’
Randa gives us a saucy grin. ‘You keep buying these snack packs and you’ve got a deal.’
Mum picks me up after lunch. I’m using my tongue to pick out all the kebab bits stuck between my teeth.
‘I met another person who went to Barryjong Primary,’ I say. ‘Miss Saxena even taught her.’
‘Really?’ Mum smiles. ‘Wow, I’d love to share a few stories with her.’
‘You should start a Miss Saxena fan club.’
We stop at the traffic lights and Mum rests her chin on the steering wheel. ‘I could go online and make a call out for old Barryjong Primary students.’
‘We could have a reunion during the Footy Fan Day,’ I say. ‘All of the old students could come.’
The Western Wizards are always celebrating their legends, having them parade around the stadium before football games.
‘Great idea.’ Mum beeps the horn. ‘The oldies can help bring back some more of that Barryjong school spirit.’
I laugh. ‘As long as they’re not ghosts, Mum.’ I roll down the windows to feel the breeze on my arm. Barryjong United might have just got another army of supporters. This really could be the biggest event
at the school. Ever.
At school on Monday morning, Zain’s not on the soccer field. Felix and Lucas are playing with Bilal’s soccer ball instead. ‘Where’s Zain?’ Felix asks.
I shrug. ‘Maybe he’s sick.’
But when I wander over to the playground, Zain is chatting to Ally and Randa. He runs to me and jumps on my back. ‘The Wizards are coming to Barryjong!’
‘Wow! What a goal!’ I wave my hands in the air and give him a double high five. ‘Go, Barryjong United!’
Zain and I chant ‘Barryjong United’ until we both go red in the face.
‘Save your voice for the Footy Fan Day.’ Randa fans her notebook at us. ‘They’ll be sending three players to run two training clinics in the morning.’
‘Did they say which players are coming?’ I say.
‘Does it even matter?’ Randa says. ‘The whole school is going to flip when they hear this news.’
‘Plus the club is sending us a signed jersey for our raffle,’ Ally says.
‘Whoo hoo!’ I pump my fist in the air. My Christmas could come early this year if I win that jersey.
Zain swirls around in a circle, creating a mini-tornado. ‘Just wait until I get Michael Kola’s autograph. My jersey will be worth a thousand bucks!’
‘How are we going to choose who gets to be in the soccer clinics?’ Ally says.
‘It should be every soccer nut here,’ Zain says. ‘That’s half the school,’ Randa says. ‘I reckon four kids from each class, to be fair.’
I rub my hands. ‘Good thing we’re prefects, we get special preference.’
‘Why?’ Randa says.
‘Well, who else is going to show the Wizards stars around the school?’ I say. ‘It’s a leaders’ responsibility.’ Randa can’t seem to argue with that. Finally, something Kayla has said to me is useful.
At morning assembly, we announce the Wizards news to the school and the hall rumbles. It’s the most noise I’ve ever heard them make in an assembly. Even the coolest group of the Year Sixers are whooping and hollering. The hype for Footy Fan Day was sky high before, now it’s in orbit.
My head is a beehive and I’m still buzzing with excitement as we walk to our classroom. When I spot Miss Saxena at the door, I suddenly remember the note I have from her old pupil.
Natural Born Loser Page 10