Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel Read online

  Razz nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, I get it, miss. I guess they were all hoping to score me in their English class, hey? Even if it meant putting up with the rest of these losers.’

  Miss Tarango smiled sweetly. ‘No comment, Orazio.’

  ‘I understand, miss – don’t want to hurt these guys’ feelings, right?’

  Scobie gave an exaggerated clearing of his throat then twisted his mouth to one side and back again. ‘Congratulations on the year level coordinator appointment, miss.’

  ‘Thank you, James. I think they thought I was the only one mad enough to take it on. It’s a big responsibility, especially following a St Daniel’s legend like Mr Carver. And I’ve taken over his old position of Charlton House Patron as well.’

  ‘Charlton House Patron? You’ll be awesome, miss, but you’d better practise up on your There’s no shame in coming last speeches.’

  ‘Well, I’m hoping to turn that around, Orazio, so I’ll be really relying on you guys to help me out, OK?’

  We all nodded eagerly. Hell, we’d coat ourselves in honey and dance in front of a pack of bears if Miss Tarango asked us to.

  ‘Great. Thanks, boys. I knew I could count on the Fab Five to watch my back.’

  Then Miss Tarango flashed some bright orange fingernails at us in a quick wave before twirling round and walking briskly back up the path.

  We were watching her back already.

  Well, sort of.

  5.

  UNCLE WHAT’S-HIS-FACE AND AUNTIE THINGO’S DAUGHTER

  There was no way you could mistake our new Homeroom. It had Mr Guthrie written all over it. Not literally, of course. Teachers weren’t allowed to write all over classrooms. That’s the students’ job.

  Just joking. All I’m saying is, you could tell Mr Guthrie lived there because every centimetre of wall and noticeboard space was plastered with posters and articles covering every issue, concern and injustice known to humankind. There was stuff on climate change, recycling, homelessness, refugees, anti-whaling, political prisoners, deforestation, binge drinking, pollution, poverty, nuclear waste, third world debt, child labour, endangered species, carbon footprints, renewable energy, land rights, women’s rights, gay rights, workers’ rights and animal rights. Then on the next wall there was … Well, you get the picture.

  Our sports master, Mr Hardcastle, liked to call Mr Guthrie ‘St Daniel’s resident tree-hugging hippy’. That’s when he wasn’t calling him ‘Mr Cheesecloth’ or ‘Mr Tie-dye’. Brother Jerome’s description was better. He said Mr Guthrie was ‘St Daniel’s Patron Saint of Lost Causes’. It seemed just about everyone had their own name for Mr Guthrie. In Year Nine Razz and I nicknamed him ‘Pele’ after he scored a truly freaky winning goal for the Charlton Chiefs in the big inter-house soccer competition. Then we found out later that most of the other teachers called him ‘Woody’. I thought it was because he wore a bracelet with wooden beads on it. But one day I heard Dad talking about some famous old singer called Woody Guthrie, so I figured that’s where the name came from.

  Mr Guthrie did actually have a proper name. It was Emerson. Emerson Guthrie. Not exactly catchy. But I guess it was different; a bit like Mr Guthrie himself. With his mop of short, springy dreadlocks and his wispy beard he looked like a tall, thin, elf. And then there were his clothes. Mr Guthrie wasn’t really into designer labels unless they turned up in op shops or they were marked Fair Trade.

  It was in Mr Guthrie’s Homeroom that I finally got to find out what Razz’s solution to my ‘chick-drooling’ prayers actually was. It began with him sliding into the seat beside me and grinning madly.

  ‘Ishmael, my man. Awesome news! It’s all done and dusted, dude.’

  ‘What’s all done and dusted?’

  ‘The thing we talked about at your house.’

  ‘Oh right, that would be the “answer to all my chick-drooling prayers”.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Razz said, thumping the desk and causing Mr Guthrie look up from the roll book and frown.

  ‘Well, what is it, Razz? What is the answer to all my chick-drooling prayers?’

  A crazy look took over Razza’s eyes. It was the same crazy look that usually appeared just before even crazier words began exploding out of his crazy mouth. I prepared myself for the worst. He leant closer and spread his hands like he was making a rabbit appear from a hat.

  ‘Cindy Sexton!’ he said with a grin that would have frightened off a pack of hungry sharks.

  I stared a while at the maniacal face with the beaming eyes hovering in front of me.

  ‘Razz, I don’t think my parents would approve of me hooking up with a porn star.’

  Razz jerked back and pointed an accusing finger at me.

  ‘Hey, that’s my cousin you’re talking about!’

  ‘Your cousin?

  ‘Yeah, and you better not let Uncle Henry and Auntie Carla hear you say stuff like that about their daughter.’

  ‘So you want me to hook up with one of your cousins? Is that what you’re saying?’

  Razz nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘One of your relatives?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Someone related by birth … to you?’

  He stopped nodding.

  ‘Dude, is your brain still in holiday hibernation mode or something? Yes, she’s my cousin, OK? Her family’s moving up here from down south in a few weeks. I didn’t want to tell you until it was definite, but now they’ve got a house and everything is sweet. Don’t you see the beauty of it, man? Kelly moves out, Cindy moves in. It’s the Circle of Luuuuuuurve! It’s fate, dude, fate!’

  ‘Razz, I don’t really think me hooking up with your cousin is such a terrific idea.’

  Now that was definitely going to be my official entry in the Understatement of the Year Competition. As far as I was concerned, me hooking up with a cousin of Razza’s was the idea equivalent of a rotting corpse. Not only did it stink, it frightened the life out of me.

  ‘What are you talking about, man? It’s perfecto. It’s all the planets lining up. Look, don’t you get it? Cindy’s worried about moving and being new in town and not knowing anyone; my uncle and auntie are worried about her being unhappy; my mum’s worried for them; I’m worried because I’ll have to hang out with Cindy and show her around when I’d rather be hanging out with Sally; and you’re Mr Misery anyway because you’ve turned into a Kelly-Faulkner-free zone. But … if you and Cindy hook up, everybody’s happy!’

  This was all starting to sound disturbingly familiar.

  ‘Waaaaait a minute. This isn’t another one of your famous “win, win, win, win situations”, is it? You know, like the one last year when you talked me into reading Kelly’s private diary to find out if she liked me or not? Didn’t you reckon that was going to make everyone happy too? Remember how that one turned out, Razz? Remember how Kelly ended up hating my guts because she walked in while I was reading her private stuff after someone – i.e. you – decided it was a good time to go for a leak even though someone – i.e. you – promised me they would be guarding the door? Remember that?’

  Razz hunched up his shoulders. ‘Yeah, well, there might have been some slight technical hitches along the way, but it turned out all right in the end, didn’t it? I mean, as I recall, someone – i.e. you – did end up engaging in some serious saliva-swapping action with someone – i.e. Kelly Faulkner. I bet you remember that, man. Anyway,’ Razz said, ‘you can’t compare the two things. This is way different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, if you go out with Cindy it’ll make six people happy – Uncle Henry, Auntie Carla, Cindy, Mum, me and you. We’ll all be stoked. So technically it’s not a win, win, win, win situation. It’s a win, win, win, win, win, win situation, which makes it even better.’

  I squeezed my eyes closed. Maybe if I couldn’t see him he’d just disappear.

  ‘And another thing, dude …’

  Unfortunately not.

  ‘… just wait till you get a look at her
, man. She might be a Sexton but she’s got Zorzotto blood in her from her mum’s side, so naturally she’s smokin’. I’m not kidding. If I didn’t have Sal I might try to win on to her myself.’

  I opened one eye.

  ‘You? But she’s your cousin.’

  ‘Third cousin. I’m not that sick.’

  ‘But … didn’t you just say Cindy was your Uncle What’s-his-face and Auntie Thingo’s daughter?’

  ‘Uncle Henry and Auntie Carla. Yeah, that’s right. But they’ve got two other daughters, haven’t they – older ones – so that makes Cindy my third cousin – duh!’

  I opened both eyes and locked them hard on Razz. I waited for him to crack so I’d know that he was just joking. He held my stare.

  ‘O-kaaaaaaaaaaay, then,’ I said. ‘Moving right along. What makes you think she’d be interested in me anyway? If she’s as hot as you reckon, she’ll probably say no.’

  Razz scrunched up his forehead and squinted off into the distance. ‘Cindy say No?’ Then he squinted even harder like he was trying to see a speck of dust on the surface of the sun. ‘Well, I guess it’s … possible’.

  Something about Razz’s response worried me but I let it go. I was hoping if we stopped talking about it, the whole ‘Cindy and me’ thing might just blow over. All I told Razz as the bell rang for first lesson was that I’d ‘think about it’.

  That night an email arrived from [email protected]. It said, ‘Check out the piccie, dude!’

  I groaned. Why couldn’t Razz just leave me alone so I could be miserable and depressed and slowly waste away to nothing in peace? Was that too much to ask of your best friend? Why couldn’t he get it through his thick skull that I didn’t want Cindy or anyone else for that matter? I just wanted Kelly. I wanted Kelly, with her ice-blue eyes and her heart-attack smile. I wanted Kelly, with her killer laugh and her electric-shock lips. I wanted Kelly … who was hundreds of kilometres away … in another country … and who wasn’t coming back … ever.

  A big stale lump of emptiness invaded my body and started growing and mutating there. I groaned again but scrolled down the page to the photo. I recognised the Zorzotto kitchen straightaway. Razz and his mum were sitting at the table. A large woman was sitting between them. I figured it was Auntie Carla. I guess Uncle Henry had taken the shot. Sitting at the end of the table, closest to the camera, was a girl with curly black hair. She was wearing a blue and white striped top and white shorts. Short white shorts. Everyone in the photo was smiling. The black-haired girl was smiling the most. Under the photo Razz had written,

  ‘Time to vote, dude: HOT or NOT?’

  I zoomed in on the black-haired girl until just her face and the top half of her body filled the screen and studied her closely. I clicked on Reply, typed a three-letter word and hit Send. There are some things that are so obvious you don’t even need to be a near-genius like my little sister Prue to figure them out. One of those things was this:

  Cindy Sexton was definitely not a ‘NOT’.

  6.

  THE LIFESAVER Of LOVE

  In Homeroom the next morning, Razz was a one-man Cindy Sexton publicity campaign in full swing. While Mr Guthrie was busy marking the roll and doing admin stuff, Razz was buzzing in my ear.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you, man? Didn’t I? Is she smokin’ or what? I told you. Was I right or was I right? Just wait till she gets up here, man. You’ll see. You and Cindy. It’ll be awesome!’

  Luckily I was saved from permanent hearing loss by Miss Tarango making an appearance at our Homeroom door.

  ‘Sorry for interrupting, Mr Guthrie, but may I just have a moment to speak to the boys?’

  Mr Guthrie jumped from his seat and knocked some papers on to the floor. ‘Yes. Yes, of course. All right, listen up, everyone,’ he added as he gathered up the sheets and then almost tripped backwards over his chair. There was no doubt in my mind that if Mr Guthrie really had a poster stuck up in our Homeroom for everything he cared about, then the biggest one would have Miss Tarango’s face plastered all over it.

  ‘OK, boys, I have important information for you about the rapidly approaching Arts Fair,’ Miss said as she passed around some handouts.

  The rapidly approaching Arts Fair was a big celebration the school had planned for the official opening of what everyone at St Daniel’s very creatively referred to as ‘the extensions’ or ‘our extensions’. These consisted of the brand new Creative Arts Centre plus some extra classrooms. Their official opening was going to be combined with the annual school fair in the last weekend of the first term. According to Miss Tarango, Year Elevens were being asked to act as guides on the day and a volunteers’ roster was going up later on in the week.

  After Miss finished talking to us she stayed to help Mr Guthrie sort out the boys who had timetable problems. With Miss Tarango standing so close, Mr G looked like a drowning man who was too afraid to ask for a life jacket. I knew exactly how he felt. I’d drowned plenty of times within reach of Kelly Faulkner.

  ‘You know, I reckon Woody could do with some of my expert help. Maybe it’s time I started to weave some of my magic.’

  I shuffled around in my seat to get a good look at Razz.

  ‘Your magic? And exactly what magic would that be?’

  ‘My matchmaking magic obviously, dude. You know, like the way I got you and the Kelmeister together.’

  ‘Razz, I don’t want to appear critical or ungrateful here, but you didn’t actu – ‘

  ‘And now how I’m fixing you up with Cindy. Man, I’m like … I’m like … the Lifesaver of Love. Yeah, that’s it. That’s exactly what I am, man,’ Razz said, gazing dreamily into the distance. ‘The Lifesaver of Luuuuuuurve … always on duty … to rescue the broken-hearted … from the Undertow of Rejection.’

  My stomach churned a little and it wasn’t just because of that ‘rescuing the broken-hearted from the Undertow of Rejection’ line. It was also because of the mention of Cindy. As ‘hot’ as she was, I’d been kind of hoping that Razz had forgotten about trying to hook me up with his cousin.

  ‘So yeah, I’m thinking maybe I could work my awesome magic and get Woody and Miss T together, ’cause I’m telling you, that dude needs all the help he can get.’

  Even though I knew that Razz messing in Miss Tarango’s and Mr Guthrie’s personal lives was a bad idea, I didn’t say anything. I figured that if Razz got distracted thinking about that project, then maybe he wouldn’t have any time left to come up with some crazy scheme involving me and Cindy. That way I might avoid the near-certainty of becoming the star act in another humiliating disaster. But hey, guess what? I was totally and completely wrong.

  And I was about to find out exactly how totally and completely wrong at the rapidly approaching Arts Fair.

  7.

  LET’S GET READY TO RUUUUUUMMMBLE!

  A few weeks later Scobie called an early planning meeting for the upcoming debating season. All of us were sitting around a table in one of the library discussion rooms. Well, when I say ‘all of us’, I mean all of us except Razz. When he finally did roll up, he ignored the others completely and bounded in beside me.

  ‘Hey, Ishmael! Wait’ll I tell you the awesome news, dude. It’s awesome!’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Cindy’s arrived and she’s coming to the Arts Fair!’

  I didn’t have time to reply before Prindabel jumped in.

  ‘Cindy? Cindy who?’

  ‘Cindy Sexton,’ Razz shot back at him as if it was obvious. Scobie, Bill and Ignatius exchanged confused looks.

  ‘So … is this Cindy person something to do with the entertainment Miss Tarango said the school was organising for the fair?’ Scobie asked.

  ‘Hope so,’ Prindabel said. ‘She sounds like a stripper.’

  Ignatius was so pleased with himself over this comment he did that thing of his that was supposed to be laughing but was more like bobbing his head up and down and making jerky hissing noises through his teeth. Bill snorted. Scobie str
etched his mouth into a perfect horizontal line.

  Razz looked at them all in disgust.

  ‘What is the matter with you people? Get your behinds out of the gutter. Cindy Sexton just happens to be my cousin. And I’m hooking her up with Ishmael here. Cindy is the new Kelly!’ he announced proudly.

  Three necks twisted my way like they were compass needles and I was the North Pole. Thanks to Razz they already knew all about me and Kelly and about her staying in New Zealand. But so far I’d managed to keep the whole Cindy thing off the radar. Up until now, that is.

  Ignatius leant across the table at me and held up a long, bony index finger.

  ‘Ah, point of clarification, Ishmael,’ he said. ‘Did I just hear our learned colleague Mr Zorzotto say that you are going to be … “hooking up” … with his … cousin?’

  ‘No, well, maybe. I’m not sure. Look, this is all …’

  ‘But you’re considering it? You’re actually contemplating the possibility of going out with Orazio’s cousin?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I might be. I don’t know. I haven’t really …’

  But Prindabel was on a mission. He usually only got this excited over advanced quadratic equations and toad dissections. He hunched even closer and tapped his finger on the tabletop as he spoke.

  ‘Just to be absolutely sure I understand the situation, let me rephrase it for you. You’re seriously entertaining the possibility of going out with … a female offspring … of a brother or sister … of one of Orazio’s parents?’

  This was waaaaay too much for Razz.

  ‘Yes! Yes! Yes! Enough already! He gets it! We all get it! She’s my cousin! What’s the matter with you, Prindabel? Were you sick the day they did Happy Families at kindy? Did you contract some kind of computer virus from using your jump drive as a dummy? Or didn’t they teach you about “human stuff” like family trees at the cyborg factory where they put you together?’