by R. A. Spratt
Joe could see two more athletes twenty metres ahead of him. He recognised them both. They weren’t as muddy as the other competitors because they were fit enough not to fall in the mud as often. It was Mr Popov, his PE teacher, and Brad Peddler. Joe didn’t understand how Brad could be competing in an event he organised himself, but from twenty metres behind he wasn’t in a position to argue. They might as well have been a kilometre in front of him. They still had spring in their step, or rather their swing, as they deftly clambered from one rope to the next, making their way across the gardens. Joe wanted to give up. He wanted to rest. Even just hanging on the rope was hard work.
Joe closed his eyes. He was exhausted. He wished he could just stop and go to sleep. It had been a hard day, a hard week, a hard month. Everything had been hard since Mum disappeared.
He hadn’t thought about Mum much for weeks. He tried not to, because when he did it made him sad. He was holding off the moment where he had to accept that his mother was really a totally different person to the one he had always known. But she was still his mum, and sometimes her favourite expressions or turn of phrase would come to mind. And that’s what happened now. He could almost hear her voice saying, ‘It’s dogged that does it, Joe.’
Joe had heard his mum say those words so many times. She used to sit with him as he practised his speech therapy exercises. She never got impatient or cross like his school teachers did. When he got down or frustrated Mum would always say, ‘It’s dogged that does it, Joe. You keep chipping away and you’ll get there.’
Joe opened his eyes. He could do this. Maybe he wouldn’t win the race, but he’d started it, so he would finish it. He just had to keep chipping away. Joe began to pump his legs back and forth to start a swinging action, then he leapt across to the next rope. He surprised himself when he caught it.
The other two athletes were almost across the gardens now. One was making his way down the southern fence, the other was swinging across on a diagonal path right through the middle. Joe swung across to the next rope. He knew he couldn’t catch up with them but he could do his best. He focused on the task in hand: swinging and pulling himself across the gardens.
When Joe looked up again, he noticed that the other two athletes were on a collision course. Joe opened his mouth to call out a warning, then a thought passed through his head. ‘What would Loretta do?’ She wouldn’t warn them. Joe hesitated for a moment. And a moment was all it took. The two athletes slammed into each other, falling off their ropes and into the thick bog of mud below.
This was Joe’s chance. He could take the lead. He surged forward, moving quickly now, passing between ropes by swinging one handed. He passed directly over the two fallen athletes sitting waist-deep in mud. Brad Peddler was clutching his head. Mr Popov was holding his elbow. They didn’t look like they would be resuming the race any time soon. That meant Joe was winning!
Joe dropped down onto the pavement on the far side of the gardens. There was a crowd of spectators gathered from there to the finish line. They started cheering. They were cheering for him.
There was only one obstacle left. A series of hurdles and mud ditches. Joe could see the banner over the finish line. This time the banner was hung up the right way round, clearly saying ‘FINISH’. He could do this.
Joe surged forward. The hurdles and ditches were just like the jumps at the equestrian centre. Joe’s training was going to come in useful after all. He vaulted over the first fence, landing in a shin-deep trench on the opposite side. Adrenaline was coursing through his body. Joe started to imagine what would happen if he won. Mr Chelsea would be happy, Mr Lang would be happy, and Loretta … Who knew how Loretta might feel. She might even kiss him on the cheek again. Joe flushed at the prospect.
He stumbled forward and scrambled out of the ditch. He could practically taste how sweet victory would be when all of sudden – WHOOSH! Something flew over the top of him and landed on the other side of the ditch. Joe looked up. It was another competitor! Joe leapt to his feet and chased after them. If he came second, there would be no lifetime supply of cake, no school glory and no possibility of a kiss from Loretta. He couldn’t be beaten now. Not when he was so close.
Joe pushed forward as fast as he could, leaping over the makeshift walls and wading through the ditches. But the athlete ahead of him was untiring. Joe couldn’t tell who it was, but they were light and fit. Then the athlete glanced back at Joe and flashed a smile. Joe had seen that smile before when he’d been knocked off his feet in the Daffodil Gardens. It was Maya Dharawal!
The finish line was only twenty metres ahead now. Joe’s lungs felt like they were on fire. The mud caked to his legs felt as heavy as lead. But he wanted to win so much. Joe gave it one more push. He summoned every last drop of energy in his body and surged forward. The crowd was screaming. He was right behind the leader.
Just then, Joe felt something in the ground. Heavy, rumbling vibrations. Like an earthquake. Like lots of earthquakes. It was growing closer and stronger. Joe glanced over his shoulder and he could not believe what he saw.
It was Loretta in all her glory. Her hair streaming behind her, immaculately turned out in her riding jodhpurs, jacket and tie, galloping at full speed, but not on a horse. She was riding a water buffalo! The massive, fat cow-like animal with huge curled horns was lumbering over and ploughing through one obstacle after another. Even from this distance Joe could see the huge grin on Loretta’s face. Joe’s mind boggled. She had done it again. Loretta had found a way to cheat. But she was still fifty metres behind him. He still had a chance.
Joe turned and focused all his energy on catching the leader, who was just a few feet ahead. Joe ran faster than he had ever run before. He lunged forward, moving alongside Maya. He could hear the water buffalo pounding closer and closer. He could even hear Loretta’s wild whoops of delight over the roar of the crowd. Joe threw his chest forward as he crossed the line, then collapsed on the ground, desperately trying to draw air into his lungs.
‘We have a winner!’ called Mr Boyle over the PA system. He normally only got this excited when the school choir inadvertently sang in tune. ‘Well, we have three winners! But we definitely have a winner. It will have to go down to the judges. That was too close to call.’
There was a scuffle, as if someone was banging the microphone. Muted angry voices could be heard, then Mr Boyle returned, now less ebullient. ‘I’ve just been informed that there are no judges, only the course master. Well, the presentation ceremony is in twenty minutes, so hopefully we’ll have figured out who won by then.’
‘Well done, Joe!’ said Loretta.
Joe opened his eyes. The enormous face of the water buffalo was right above him. A big dollop of drool dropped out of its mouth onto his forehead.
‘I was very proud of your performance,’ continued Loretta brightly. ‘All the training I gave you paid off.’
‘W-w-why did you bother when you were going to ch-cheat?’ asked Joe.
‘Riding a water buffalo is not cheating,’ said Loretta, smirking. ‘I read the rules very closely. They specifically banned horses this year, but by being so specific it tacitly implied that any other animal would be acceptable. And my lawyer agrees with me.’
Other finishers were struggling across the line now. They were so covered in mud and bedraggled that it was hard to tell who was who. One person in the crowd managed to recognise Constable Pike as he limped towards the line.
‘Look, there’s Constable Nitwit!’ called the Cat Lady from the stand. Being an animal expert, she was good at recognising beasts from their shape alone.
The crowd roared with approval. Constable Pike did have a tendency to be pompous and a little overenthusiastic about handing out parking infringement notices, so the Currawongians were delighted to see him so disheveled.
There was a cacophony of cheers and hoots of approval as he limped over the line. Constable Pike was quite pleased by all the attention. He’d lived his whole life in Currawong, so all the elderl
y residents still treated him the same way they did when he’d been a little boy. He was pretty sure some of them would still clip him around the ear if he weren’t so tall. It was nice to be getting some positive feedback for a change. At least his ears were still so full of mud that he couldn’t hear exactly what people were yelling, so he assumed it was positive feedback.
Among the throng of dripping contestants staggering towards the line, there was one person moving with animal-like fury and purpose. And this person was dragging another person behind them.
‘That’s g-g-got to be April,’ said Joe with a sigh. From the agitated way she was bearing down on the line there was no way April was going to finish then rest peacefully. She was bound to cause a furore about something. The question was – what?
‘She’s moving very fast,’ said Loretta. ‘She’s going to get a good time. Especially considering that she’s guiding someone who is vision-impaired.’
As they watched Tom stumbled, but April didn’t let him slow her for a second. In one fluid movement she reached back, grabbed Tom’s arm, looped it over her shoulder then practically dragged him towards the finish.
‘Our first disabled contestant is approaching the line now,’ called Mr Boyle. ‘It’s Tom Shepherd and his guide, April Peski. They are first in the blind category.’
April stumbled over the line, dropping Tom and detaching the lanyard as soon as she made it. He collapsed, gasping for breath at her feet.
‘Not blind, you nong,’ April yelled at Mr Boyle, who was seated on a raised platform just a few metres away. Mr Boyle baulked at the verbal assault. When he had agreed to call the endurance event, he had assumed the competitors would be too tired to abuse him. ‘He’s vision-impaired. Just like you’re not brain dead, you’re thinking-impaired. Show some sensitivity!’
‘Now I’m pretty sure verbally abusing race officials is against the –’ began Mr Boyle, nervously eyeing Pumpkin. He had been scared of the small dog ever since the sheet music incident. Pumpkin growled and bared his tiny but razor-sharp teeth.
‘Puh-lease,’ said April. ‘Verbal abuse is the most fun part of any sporting event. If you don’t like it, take up knitting. Give me that microphone.’ She grabbed the mic from Mr Boyle. He gasped and spluttered, but like most people he was too intimidated by April to try and get it back. ‘Where’s Constable Pike?’ April asked over the PA system.
‘Here,’ said the constable, panting between breaths. He held up his hand to distinguish himself from the other competitors.
‘You’ve got to get back into town,’ said April. ‘The bank has been robbed!’
Now there really was an uproar from the crowd.
April dropped the microphone and stalked over to talk to Constable Pike. Pumpkin was a safe distance away, so Mr Boyle picked it back up. Fin was standing next to him now.
‘A decision has been made. We have a winner. I’ll just hand over to the course master,’ said Mr Boyle, trying to regain some dignity by using his announcer voice again. ‘Here he is, Sharkfin Peski.’ He then handed the microphone to Fin.
There were groans from the crowd.
‘Not one of those pesky Peski kids,’ someone called.
April didn’t even turn around, she knew that voice. ‘Shut it, Matilda. I saw you take a shortcut through the alley by the Good Times Cafe. You can’t heckle other people when you’ve been cheating yourself.’
Matilda spluttered a bit. ‘Wha … well, I …’ but she didn’t finish because April was entirely right.
‘Ahem,’ Fin cleared his throat. ‘According to the rules, the winner is the person who crossed the line first.’ Fin held up the rule booklet if for no other reason than to prove that there was one.
‘Duh,’ called Kieran. ‘Everyone knows that.’
‘But it is not measured by their whole body crossing the line,’ continued Fin with his characteristic pedantry. ‘It is as soon as “any part of their body crosses”,’ he quoted from the book. ‘A motion-sensing camera was set up on the finish line and here is what it recorded.’ Fin had a small remote control in his hand. He pressed a button and all the big TV screens around the finish line flickered to a new picture, a freeze frame of Loretta, Joe and Maya crossing the line. The water buffalo was well ahead of Joe and Maya, by a metre or more.
‘As you can see,’ said Fin. ‘The water buffalo crossed first.’
There was booing from the crowd now.
‘But …’ continued Fin, ‘the water buffalo was not entered. The rider was, Loretta Viswanathan.’
Fin pointed to Loretta’s position on the water buffalo’s back. She was alongside Joe and just slightly, by only a fraction of a centimetre, behind him. ‘As such, Loretta came third.’
Loretta looked crestfallen for a moment, but then smiled. ‘I still get a ribbon, don’t I?’
‘Yes,’ said Fin, handing over a long white sash. ‘And $500 worth of cake from the Chelsea Bakery.’
Mrs Chelsea sobbed at this announcement.
‘But who won?’ called Animesh from the crowd.
Fin pressed a button on his remote control again and zoomed in on the freeze frame.
‘If you look closely, you will see that Joe Peski’s chest is slightly ahead of Maya Dharawal’s,’ said Fin.
‘Nepotism!’ cried a voice from the crowd. ‘He’s favouring his brother. He hates women!’
‘I told you to be quiet, Matilda,’ barked April.
‘But if you look at his face,’ continued Fin, ‘Joe is turning to look up at Loretta.’
‘Don’t blame him,’ called a jocular voice. ‘She’s a looker.’
Fin glared. ‘You!’ he yelled at the jocular man. ‘You’re banned for life! Objectifying women is unacceptable. No more mud run for you.’
The jocular man was too stunned to respond.
Fin resumed his explanation of who won the race. ‘Maya is leaning forward too, but looking ahead, so her nose was the first part of her body to cross the line, a millimetre before Joe’s chest. And as a result – the winner is Maya Dharawal!’
There was a roar from the crowd. Cheers from the women and also from the men who were glad that a person, not a water buffalo, would be taking home the prize.
Fin turned to Mr Chelsea. ‘Mr Chelsea, as event sponsor, I call on you to present the prize.’
Mr Chelsea stepped forward. He looked like he was in physical pain. ‘No,’ he stated simply.
‘What?’ said Fin.
‘I can’t give out the prize,’ said Mr Chelsea, ‘because it was stolen in the bank robbery. I was depositing the cash so I could write a cheque for the winner. The thief stole it all!’
There were gasps and gabbles of shock from the audience. But no one reacted more emotionally than Maya Dharawal. ‘What?!’ she yelled. ‘What sort of tin-pot town is this? You don’t want to give women equal prize money, then when I come here and bust my hump for four weeks helping everyone else – and winning the whole darn thing myself – you lose the prize money?!’
‘It’s not my fault,’ blubbered Mr Chelsea. ‘I never wanted to sponsor the event in the first place. I just want to be left alone to make cake!’
Joe awkwardly patted Mr Chelsea on the shoulder to comfort him. Joe wanted him to make cake too.
‘Yeah right,’ said Maya Dharawal sarcastically. ‘It’s very convenient that you lose the money the first year that a woman is the winner.’
Mr Chelsea burst into racking sobs. He turned to Joe and collapsed on his shoulder. ‘You promised me you would win,’ he wailed.
‘The sponsor is in collusion with this boy!’ accused Maya, pointing her finger at Joe like she was stabbing at him with a dagger. Luciano Costa’s camera shutter was going crazy. He was getting enough photos to be able to make his own stop-motion animation.
‘N-n-n-no,’ stammered Joe.
‘Joe isn’t in collusion with Mr Chelsea,’ said Mr Lang, stepping forward. ‘He’s in collusion with me. I made him promise he would win for the school.’
‘I tried to help Joe win as well!’ confessed Loretta, stepping forward. ‘But only because he looks dreamy in short shorts.’ She winked at Joe.
Joe turned bright red and wished he could sink into the ground. He would rather be incorrectly accused of cheating than told he looked dreamy in shorts.
‘I’m going straight back to the city and briefing my lawyers to sue this whole town!’ declared Maya.
The crowd started to mutter and jeer.
‘Everyone stop,’ ordered Constable Pike. The crowd fell silent. ‘Bank robbery is a serious crime. It needs to be investigated properly. No one is going anywhere or being awarded anything until I get to the bottom of this.
‘You can’t hold me here,’ said Maya, pulling a phone out of a pocket in her leggings. ‘Not unless you arrest me.’
‘I can ask you to remain to assist with my investigation,’ said Constable Pike.
‘Hah,’ said Maya, getting out her phone. ‘Like that’s going to stop me. I’m calling my pilot.’
‘You can do that, but I can call the civil aviation authority and get them to shut down the airspace over the entire Currawong-Bilgong catchment area,’ added Constable Pike. Even mud-covered, he could summon a sense of authority when he needed to.
Maya stopped dialling. ‘Fine. Investigate then. I’ll use the time to do Skype interviews with all the major news outlets, telling them what a backwater place this really is.’
A quarter of an hour later, all the witnesses had been assembled at the bank. April, Tom, Neil and Mr Chelsea were watching Constable Pike as he carried out his investigation. Joe and Loretta were there too, not for any particularly good reason except that it was hard to tell Loretta not to do something she’d set her mind on.
‘You’re getting mud everywhere!’ complained the bank manager.
Constable Pike was pacing out the distance of the crime scene. ‘I need to figure out where everyone was standing,’ he argued.