Lula Does the Hula (26 page)

‘Me?’ I squeaked, genuinely astonished. ‘
Me?
’

‘J-J-Jase has exploded!’ cried Skinny, shaking my shoulder. ‘All over the out-h-h-ouse!’

Mr VDM was busy with his engine, checking the oil, and didn’t hear.

Boris came lumbering down the slope. ‘Skinny! Get back! Don’t touch her!’

Everyone was staring at me with big eyes. There was absolutely no doubt in anyone’s heads that whatever had gone on with Jason Ferman’s insides was totally down to me and the dark arts.

‘Oh for frik’s sake!’ I yelled, unlacing myself from the footboard. ‘That’s it! I’ve had it!’

‘Uh-oh,’ said Hilary.

Pen’s voice came over the speakers. ‘Bow, calm down and get in the boat.’

‘In a minute!’ I yelled. And charged up the slope.

I stomped all the way up to the corrugated-iron outhouse and hammered on the door. ‘You stupid boy, Jason Ferman!’ I yelled. ‘Daisy Nantley-Brown has been going on about you and her all week! You thought Jess wouldn’t find out? I hope you’ve learned your frikking lesson.’ And turned to stomp back to the jetty.

‘What does that mean?’ asked Boris, open-mouthed.

‘Dude,’ said Arns, leaning up against the boathouse watching me with a lazy smile. ‘Take a look at Billy Diggle.’

I shot a look across the dirt road at Billy Diggle hunkered
down by the side of the bus. With Jason hogging the only toilet on the premises he’d been forced to squirt his insides out with minimum privacy.

‘Ohhh,’ breathed Boris. ‘The Horlicks.’

‘Right,’ said Arns. ‘I think you guys’ – he gestured with his eyes – ‘owe the witch girl an apology. And it looks like we’re going out in a coxed four.’

Going out at all was madness, to my mind, and it seemed the rest of the crew shared my opinion. The mist was thick on the water now despite the wind picking up, but it was barely two days to race day, and this was going to be our last training session. So Mr VDM was determined.

The clouds were boiling blackly overhead and we were about to push off from the jetty when the boys came down carrying a four boat – just Boris Weinstührer, Arnold, Fat Angus and Skinny Jenks, with Thor T. Birtley coxing.

Thor was moaning like crazy. ‘Mr VDM,’ he bleated. ‘It’s going to be storming any minute! This is a bad idea! If lightning strikes, it’s gonna hit us out on the water.’

‘When I hear thunder, then we turn back,’ growled Mr VDM. ‘And not before. Why are you boys not in the eight?’

They explained about Billy and Jason, while Mr VDM went purple with fury, and we were off. With the wind whipping the water, and limited visibility, these were perfect training conditions, bellowed Mr VDM through
the loudhailer. He set us four pieces to work through, told us to take pulses after each and went off to find the boys.

‘Get us to a straight, flat stretch!’ I heard Kelly Sheridan yell to Pen.

‘Round the west corner!’ agreed Matilda.

We struggled on, battling to balance the boat in the easterly wind. I was concentrating on everything at once, and praying Pen wouldn’t pull me up on any bad technique. So far today Mr VDM had only given us general comments, and I liked the fact that I wasn’t being picked on for a change. Especially in front of my sister.

Once we got round the west corner, the vicious wind dulled to an occasional gusting, though it was darker here in the shadows.

‘Here okay?’ asked Pen. A murmur from Matilda. ‘Right. We’re going to do these pieces with racing starts like we practised yesterday. Everyone ready? Come up!’

We slid to the front of our slides, arms angled left or right, depending on whether we were bowside or strokeside. Pen dropped her voice to a whisper, and I sensed she’d moved her mouth closer to the mike. It sounded like she was in our ears, and then she was calling the start strokes and we were away. I kept my body straight and true, focusing on Hilary in front of me: moving when she moved, turning when she turned, keeping my eyes on the bowside blade ahead of me to make sure mine went in at exactly the same moment.
Our rhythm was perfect, and even in the gusting, choppy water, I felt the pull and surge of the boat beneath me, the hiss of water skating fast beneath that. When Pen called an end to the piece, we were all heaving for breath, but grinning with exhilaration as she counted the pulse time.

By the end of the fourth piece we were exhausted, and I could feel the protective Micropore tape Dad had given me coming away from my hands. I grimaced, wishing I’d brought some in the boat.

We rested, breathing hard and staring into the mist that was starting to drift up from the water. The thunderclouds above were so black and heavy it felt like night.

‘Right,’ said Pen. ‘I can’t see much now, so I need you all to be eyes and ears for me.’

I smiled. Pen sounded so grown up. How could she be so confident around girls two to four years older than her? I felt another surge of pride.

‘Anyone know where the boys’ boat went?’

We all muttered that we hadn’t seen or heard anything for a while.

‘I’m sure they wouldn’t follow us down here, though,’ said Sinead O’Connelly. ‘Not when it’s so dark. And Mr VDM has a light on his boat so we’d be able to see them.’

‘Let’s go back in,’ said Pen.

‘Get ready for the wind,’ shouted Matilda, turning the boat.

Ten strokes later we were back in the full force of it,
struggling through sloppy waves that smacked in and over the boat, greasing the grips of our blades and unbalancing every one of us.

‘Keep it together,’ yelled Pen into her mike. ‘Keep it slow! Short strokes in the bad weather, people!’ I was concentrating hard on Hilary in front of me, guessing when she went for the catch because I couldn’t see Siobhan’s blade in the water up ahead any more, when I felt something in that buffeting air, heard a discordant splash, a shout maybe.

‘PEN!’ I yelled. ‘PEN!’

And then the boys’ boat hit us.

When a boat of eight are all rowing together, strokes perfectly timed, water smooth and still, a crew can get up to 24kph. When an eight is struggling through stormy water, struggling to keep a rhythm, it’s not so fast. But when two boats collide, one of them a crew of four strapping lads with the wind in their favour and the mighty Boris in stroke position, it’s going to be ugly, whichever way you look at it.

At the first shattering of wood, I heard Thor yell, ‘Pull up! Pull up!’ and heard blades whir through the riggings. In that instant Matilda cried out, then Dionysia, as the impact rattled right down the boat. There was chaos and shouting and surges of wave and wind and wake. Mr van der Merwe pulled up alongside, yelling at everyone to stay where they were. He played his torchlight quickly over all of us.

I was holding on to my blade for dear life as the wind buffeted us every which way, but trying to sit up straight and tall for a glimpse of Pen. I could only think that if Matilda had been the first to shout, then my sister had to have been hit before her. Then Pen’s voice crackled over the mike, and she sounded okay. From what I could see in the dancing torchlight and swirling mist, the boats were fine,
just one or two riggers smashed, but then Mr VD’s torch halted and he called out, his voice blown away in the gale and the fast slapping of waves.

I leaned out of the boat as much as I dared, scarcely able to believe what I could see. Someone in the boys’ boat was slumped back over his crewman’s footboard, white, unmoving and covered in blood.

‘
Arnold!
’ I screamed. ‘
Arns!
Are you okay?’

Boris was in the seat in front of Arns. He was twisted round, desperately trying to untie the laces of the shoes on Arnold’s footboard to get my friend free. His fingers fumbled, his eyes squinted closed against the rain and wind and spraying waves. Mr VDM had pulled alongside now and was hauling out a first-aid kit. As he stood up to get closer, his boat tipped and the first-aid kit landed in the water next to me with a splash.

Before I could think I’d pulled my feet from my shoes, shucked my blade right across the boat and jumped into the water. I struck out for the first-aid kit and got it as it began to sink below the surface. It was heavy, but not too heavy to throw. I tossed it to Boris, who heaved it across to Mr van der Merwe. Then I kicked hard to get to the boys’ boat. I was there in an instant, yanking at the laces holding Arnold’s feet in.

‘Brace!’ I yelled at Thor and he signalled for the girls’ boat to come alongside the boys’ to provide balance. Before
they got too close, I pulled myself up into the boys’ boat, legs astride Arnold’s and looked over his broken head at Fat Angus.

‘You out of your shoes?’ I cried.

He nodded yes and I looked over at our coach. He was standing at the edge of the motor boat and nodded that he was ready. ‘Come!’ he yelled.

What am I doing?
I thought suddenly.
I’m the puny bow! How did I get here?

But there was no time to make way for Boris to help now. On the count of three, echoing across the waves from Pen’s mike, I got my left foot up on Mr VDM’s boat, linked my hands under Arnold’s hips and Fat Angus and I heaved Arnold into the motor boat.

‘
Take the extra blades
,’ yelled Skinny Jenks and he passed across my blade and Arnold’s. I found myself in the boat with our coach, Arnold’s head in my lap, scrabbling in the first-aid kit for swabs, bandages, anything. Mr VDM swept both boats again with his torchlight to make sure they’d get to shore okay, and we took off for the jetty.

In the bright beam, even through the mist and spray, I saw that Arnold had a deep slice through the left side of his head, from front to back, but it was clean and the blood was already starting to thicken and slow. I pressed the edges together and found a thick gauze pad in the first-aid kit, which I held in place.

By the time we got to the jetty we found Zac and Llewellyn, five and two from the boys’ eight, waiting there, ready to rant about how long we’d been out on the water. They were silenced immediately by the amount of blood that met them.

‘Help Tallulah!’ commanded VD as he tied up his boat and began shining his torch for the other boats to get in.

Zac and Llewellyn struggled up the slope towards the bus with Arns, me cradling his head, explaining quickly what had happened. When we got to the bus, Zac threw the door open and stepped up and in.

‘Back seat, so we can lie him down,’ gasped Llewellyn.

I had the first-aid kit still clasped in my left hand. I flung it on the floor and pulled out reams of gauze bandage. ‘Call Dr McCabe,’ I ordered, and Zac pulled out his mobile. I rattled off the number and Zac held it to my ear when it connected.

No silly comments from Dr McCabe this time. He said he’d meet us at the hospital and told me how to apply pressure, and asked questions about whether there was any clear fluid coming from the wound.

‘I can’t see any clear fluid,’ I gasped, ‘because there’s so much
red
fluid!’

‘You’re doing well, Tallulah,’ said Dr McCabe. ‘Don’t panic. Just tell your coach to get to the hospital stat. I’ll have X-ray and MRI facilities ready. Is the blood stopping?’

‘I think so,’ I said, too afraid to relieve pressure on the wound.

‘Well done, Tallulah,’ said Dr McCabe again. I passed the phone back to Zac, and then I began to cry, bent over my friend, his blood smeared all over me.

The two crews got to the bus so fast that I figured they must have abandoned their boats on the shore. They threw themselves in and we took off with a rattle of gravel. Mr VDM drove like a man possessed, but at the top of the last rise near the game gate he came to a screeching halt. ‘What the –?’

There in front of us was the rear end of the biggest black rhino I’ve ever seen in my life, and that includes viewing of the Discovery Channel. It was lumbering slowly down the road. At the sound of us screeching to a halt it turned slowly and blinked a small and malevolent eye at us. Then it lowered its horn.

‘Oh, sh–’ said Mr VDM.

Pen, next to him in the driver’s seat, leaned over and honked the horn. It came out all wheezy and soft.

Parp
.

‘Oh, puhlease!’ yelled Jessica Hartley. ‘I can tell without even seeing its sorry-assed goolies that this thing is a male!’

She reached over and pulled on the door handle hard, and before Mr VDM could open his mouth to tell her to
get her suspended butt back on the bus, she was rocketing down the road, yelling, her arms spread wide.

‘
Oh my God!
’ squealed the twins at exactly the same time as Thor T. Birtley leaned out of the window yelling at the top of his lungs and pausing only to vent piercing whistles at the scary beast.

The black rhino ran. Mr VDM gunned the engine and drew up alongside Jessica, who was still sprinting down the road.

‘Get in!’ yelled Hilary, stretching her arm out.

Jessica grabbed hold of Hilary and jumped, landing back in her seat. Thor slammed the door shut again and we were off.

‘Hey!’ cried Thor. Everyone on the bus turned to look at him. ‘Where are Jase and Billy?’ he asked.

Mr VDM nearly slammed on the brakes again, but Jessica was already leaning over the seats to bellow in his ear. ‘Tell the game guard to get them!’ she yelled. ‘And I’ll send my dad up to bring them back to town!’