The Adventures of Stunt Boy and His Amazing Wonder Dog Blindfold (2 page)

2

I wish I could speak dog

T
he next morning, I woke up to Benny trying to suffocate me with my pillow. Blindfold was joining in. He didn't mind Benny suffocating me because he knows Benny is friend not foe. Best friend, actually.

He'd wrestle me all day if he could. Benny loves freestyle wrestling. Not the wrestling with guys in dumb costumes, with made-up names like the Human Hurricane Tornado, who pretend to beat each other up. Benny likes the proper wrestling where you can win medals at the Olympics. That's Benny's dream. Right now, he's in training for the State championships. If he wins, he'll go to the Nationals. He really wants to go to the Nationals because then he'll get the fanciest tracksuit ever! Benny loves wearing tracksuits. He wears them all the time. The only time you don't see Benny wearing a tracksuit is when he is in his wrestling trunks, his school uniform or in his pyjamas.

‘Get off me, Benny,' I said, pushing the pillow away and trying to break free. But Benny's track-suited bulk was pinning me down. He's much bigger than me. It's like he's sixteen in the body, but twelve in the brain. Whereas I'm sixteen in the brain and maybe eleven in the body, even though I'm twelve. So I breathed stinky morning breath right in his face.

I don't know if ‘Death Breath' is an official wrestling manoeuvre, but it got Benny off me quick smart. As he jumped up off the bed I saw the words
Stunt Boy! Stay fearless! Caleb Calloway.
It was
how I woke up every morning – to the sight of my personally autographed poster of my hero Caleb Calloway, the seventeen-year-old freestyle motocross rider. He signed it when I met him last year.

‘Eugh! Stunt!' said Benny, waving the smell away. ‘That's disgusting! Did you eat Blindfold's dog food for breakfast?'

I suddenly realised I was starving, which was hardly surprising because it was nearly eleven o'clock. It was Sunday, so I could sleep in, but I was surprised that I'd slept so long. However, I hadn't been sleeping well since my dad's accident. My mind had been waking me up in the night, worrying me about stuff. I'd tell it to go back to sleep but it always wanted to talk to me, especially at two in the morning.

Despite having already had scrambled tofu on toast plus four Weet-Bix, Benny said he was starving too. He's always hungry because he trains so much, but he'll only eat food that is healthy because he wants to be a professional athlete and he's also a vegan. It's no big deal – he just doesn't eat meat or any animal products. Kids tease him at school and call him stuff like ‘Veganosaurus Rex' because he's so big and eats vegetables. Benny says it's the most stupid nickname ever because the T-Rex was a carnivore. I've never seen him break, not even at Easter when kids like me are stuffing their faces with chocolate eggs. He loves animals so much that he doesn't eat Easter eggs unless they're carob, which is like a vegan chocolate.

We helped ourselves to some muesli, strawberries and blueberries and stepped out into the sunshine and onto the wooden deck that surrounds our caravan. Did I already mention that I live in a caravan? Not caravans like nans and granddads have parked in their driveways for holidays; more like a huge trailer with three bedrooms, a lounge room and a kitchen.

I've never lived anywhere that doesn't have wheels. Why don't all houses have wheels? That way you can drive off and go wherever you like and not have to worry about packing up all your stuff. I take my bedroom with me wherever I go, instead of having to fit everything into one suitcase.

Benny and I stood with our bowls in our hands, eating our breakfast and looking out over Stoked Stunt Circus. We live on a small hill right at the back of the circus. The view is amazing. You can see the red, orange and gold flags flapping in the wind near the entrance; the double-domed, red-and-yellow-striped big-top tent, the words
Stoked Stunt Circus
swaying in the breeze between the domes; the hot-dog stand with the giant hot-dog man in a cape on the roof, sideshow alley, the practice jumps, the outdoor trapeze, and the performers' campground with its caravans, teepees and wagons nestled within the trees.

This morning the place was eerily quiet, as if the life force had been sucked out of it. And not because it was a Sunday. Stoked has been dead the whole month since Dad's accident. It had been in all the newspapers and on TV. Instead of feeling sorry for Dad, some people had got really angry, saying it was a ‘health and safety issue' and that kids like Jem and me shouldn't be risking our lives doing mad stunts.

Other people had said Stoked was a bad influence and children should not be exposed to humans with tattoos and piercings, ladies with beards, people swallowing knives or hanging from hooks in their backs or eating fire. They said kids should be focusing on their schoolwork and other wholesome activities, not the weirdoes at Stoked. We're not weirdoes. We're circus folk. There is a difference.

Last week I'd overheard our front-of-house manager, Ginger Styles, saying to Leonie, (who is in charge of our aerials team, which is stuff like silks, rope, static trapeze and flying trapeze) that ‘the bad press was killing us', it was just another thing to worry about. You can see why my mind was freaking out in the middle of the night.

‘How's your dad?' asked Benny, like he was reading my mind. Having Benny is like having a brother – we always know what is going on in each other's brains.

‘I don't want to talk about it, okay?' I said, because I would only get even sadder than I already was, so I put a lid on it and walked over to the other side of the deck and placed my bowl down on a shiny blue table.

‘Don't!' said an annoyed voice. ‘Get that off me now, Stunt Boy!'

No, it wasn't a talking table but my sister Jem hanging out in a backbend. She is super flexible. It's as if she was born without bones. She's a contortionist, which means she can bend her body into the weirdest shapes. Sometimes I feel sick watching her. I wish her name was Wendy, then we could call her Bendy Wendy, but it's not, it's Jemima,
so we call her Jem. Although sometimes Dad calls her Jemima when she's in trouble, which isn't very often.

Jem also does trapeze and silks. She can twirl up to a hundred and twelve hoops at the same time. The world record is a hundred and thirty-two, which she says she'll break one day. The media got all fired up about Jem's ‘Hula Hoops of Fire' act, where she wears fire-retardant clothing and is set alight while hula-hooping. The headline in the newspaper read,
A very hot teen
and then they said it was scandalous that kids were allowed to set themselves on fire and it might encourage other kids to set themselves on fire, too. You'd have to be an idiot because you'd burn your skin off! Why do people think kids are idiots?

Everyone says my sister is pretty. She has long white-blonde hair, green eyes and a smile that looks like her mouth is two sizes too big for her face. Maybe her face will grow into her mouth one day? I hope so, for her sake. Dad says she looks like our mum but I don't remember Mum well enough to tell. They do look alike in photos. Those are the only memories that I have of Mum.

People think Dad and I look really alike because we're both quite skinny, with light brown hair and blue eyes. They say things like, ‘chip off the old block' and other weird stuff.

‘Whoa, freaky! Look, Benny, a talking table!' I said, picking the bowl that was resting between my sister's ribs. Benny laughed too. He has the best laugh. It sounds like he has an echo chamber in his throat, then it stops, as if he's choking, then it starts again. Everyone laughs when Benny laughs, even Jem, but she wasn't laughing today.

‘Idiot,' said Jem, so I tickled her under the armpits to cheer both of us up. That didn't make her laugh either; instead she unfurled herself in a huff.

‘You're lucky Blindfold didn't think your leg was a table leg and pee on it!' I said, bending over and patting Blindfold, who responded with a big wet kiss on my face. Some people are weird about dog spit, but I don't mind Blindfold's kisses; actually, I love them but not when he puts his tongue on my tongue. Tongue kissing your dog is disgusting!

Dad says Blindfold is a bitza, bits of this and bits of that. I got him when he was just a little puppy. He turned up at the circus as a stray and we couldn't find anyone who had lost him. It was me who named him Blindfold, because he is a tan colour with a big black mask across his face as if he's wearing a blindfold. How amazing is it that Blindfold turned out to be brilliant at stunts, too? Dad and I did train him, but he did most of it himself.

Blindfold loves being on my motorbike. He sits on the back and puts his right paw over my right shoulder and his left paw over my left shoulder to grip on. Sometimes he scratches me with his claws because he's gripping on so tight.

He can ride a skateboard, plus he's a good dancer and nods his head in time to music – but only if it's rock, the heavier the better; like me, he hates pop music and always leaves the room when it comes on the radio. You know how I said Benny was my best friend? Well, Blindfold is my best, best friend, but don't tell Benny, who is my best friend.

‘Blindfold isn't as stupid as you, Stunt Boy,' said Jem.

She was probably right. Blindfold is smarter than me because he understands human but I can't understand dog. When I call Blindfold's name he understands and comes over, but when Blindfold barks my name I can't understand him. I wish I could speak dog. I don't think there's one human who can, so dogs must be smarter.

I'm not sure he's cleverer than Benny, though, because Benny knows heaps about science. When we were getting our breakfast he told me the sun is really green! He said it just looks yellow because its light is dispersed when it hits the atmosphere and that's what makes the sky blue.

Jem cupped her forehead in her palm as if her head was too heavy for her neck.

‘What's up, Jem?' asked Benny, who's always soft and sensitive around my sister.

‘Yeah Jem, what's up?' I asked, a little concerned. As much as my sister was annoying and bossy, it made me feel really down when she was upset. I got a weird feeling inside, like chopsticks were being poked through my ribs into my heart.

‘Well, the thing is –' said Jem, then stopped. ‘Never mind, Stunt. It's not something for you to worry about.'

‘Jem!' I demanded, sticking my lip out and getting a bit angry. ‘What's going on?'

‘Okay, okay,' she replied, letting out a little sigh of sadness. ‘There have been rumours floating around that Barry Chesterley has been offering our people jobs.'

‘But Chesterley hates our circus! He thinks we're freaks. Why would he want our people?'

‘Before Dad's accident we were playing to packed houses. Chesterley's not stupid. He knows kids would rather see humans perform in a circus than wild animals, so he's trying to take advantage of the situation and steal our acts because Dad isn't here to stop him.'

‘But no one at Stoked would work for Chesterley!' I said, getting angrier. ‘They're our family!'

‘Stoked is going broke, Stunt Boy. We can't go out on the road and leave Dad here alone and we would need a really big headliner to get audiences back. Ginger has called a meeting at midday,' Jem said, the weight of the world making her lose her usually perfect posture and hunch forward. ‘Everyone is going to be there.'

Could things really have gotten any worse? First, there was my dad's so-called accident and now Barry Chesterley was coming after our people. But I couldn't just sit there and let Stoked Stunt Circus disappear forever without doing anything.

‘Well, I'm coming to the meeting. I can't believe everyone was invited apart from me and Blindfold,' I said before Benny looked at me kind of dejected, his mouth turning downwards, so I added. ‘And Benny.'

P.S. My injury list:

* Broken wrist

* Cut above the eyebrow (I still have the scar)

* Two cracked ribs

3

Someone tried to kill my dad!

A
t midday, Jem, Benny, Blindfold and I walked through the deserted circus to the big top, where everyone was already seated and waiting. There was a strange hushed atmosphere when we walked in, as if you could sense the despair in the air.

The big top was never quiet like this, even on a Sunday. Normally, there would be loud music blaring as girls did tricks on their solo trapezes or were wrapped up in silks ten metres in the air, whilst our catcher, Muscly Mikey Devlin, hung from his knees on the swing, waiting to catch the next trapeze artist flying through the air. There would be people climbing poles, kneeling on one another's backs, forming sky-high human pyramids, hooping hula hoops, juggling knives and chainsaws, nestling swords in their gullets, chilling out on beds of nails, all as the sound of motorbikes roared around the Wheel of Death and our riders performed their aerial gymnastic stunts off the bike ramps.

Everyone would be joking and laughing and chatting away, but not today. The twenty-two cast and crew from Stoked Stunt Circus were sitting in the front section of the dress circle in silence. The aerial artists, Leonie Carter, Blueberry, Mellie Bellie, Muscly Mikey D and Zoe were there, as was Fat Fred, the sword swallower, Master of Ceremonies Pikelet, Dad's motocross stunt team – Biker Pete Jones, Hayley Letters and Dirk Flannery – our head mechanic Lefty Blue Eye, the rigging guys, the sound and lighting team, the kitchen crew, and Ginger Styles, who was standing in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand, chatting with Sue the Bearded Lady.

Everyone said sad little ‘Heys' and ‘Hellos' when we walked in and we said ‘Hey' back, but not in a happy way.

‘Hey, guys,' said Ginger, the spotlight making her red hair look as if there was a small camp fire on top of her head. She turned and whispered to Sue, ‘I don't know if it's appropriate for the kids to be here for this,' but the microphone picked up her words and broadcast them to the entire circus troupe.

I hate it when adults talk about kids like we aren't there, as if we're ghosts or they're talking in French and we can't understand them.

‘Of course they should be here,' said Fat Fred, who was actually really skinny, but he could fit twenty-five swords in his body. He'd been in the Guinness Book of World Records for sword swallowing back in the 1980s. I once asked him why he was called Fat Fred when he was so skinny. He replied that the name was ironic, which means that even though he is skinny he gets called Fat.

‘To be fair, it's their dad and their circus we're talking about,' boomed Pikelet, a fully grown man who was just over four foot three tall.

‘And by the way, Ginger,' said Jem, using the voice she uses to tell me off. ‘I'm not a kid, I'm sixteen years old.'

Technically, I was still a kid so I didn't say anything, but there was no way they were going to get rid of me. After all, it was my family's circus. Benny just looked down because he wasn't officially a part of the Stoked Stunt Circus and he was a kid, so he wasn't supposed to be here at all. Except he was my best friend, and there was no way they were going to get rid of him either.

‘Okay, but we still have to talk honestly and openly,' said Ginger, who was even bossier than Jem. She liked to boss my dad about, even though he was her boss. Sometimes they argued like a married couple. Jem reckoned Ginger would like to be married to my dad, which gave me the horrors because she was always going on about money and how much everything costs.

‘As you all know, we've had a terrible time at the box office since Evan's accident and all the bad publicity,' Ginger said. ‘I appreciate that you weren't paid for last week and I just want to thank everybody for hanging in there with us. Now, for further bad news, I had a meeting with the bank manager today and if we continue to default on the loan Evan took out last year, then we will be in real trouble. The bank is threatening to repossess our equipment to pay the debt. That means everything .
. .
caravans, generators, tents, motorbikes. They've even threatened to sell the land.'

I felt as though I had been punched in the gut, like the time Benny accidentally elbowed me in the solar plexus when we were wrestling. It took me a full fifteen minutes to breathe properly again. What do they mean take our land? It was our land! And how could they sell our caravans? Where would we live? And as far as taking our motorbikes, that was non-negotiable.

‘My dad will be better soon,' I said, jumping up from my seat. ‘If we don't have our motorbikes, we won't have a stunt circus.'

‘This is why you kids shouldn't be here, Stunt,' said Ginger. ‘It's too much for you to handle on top of your dad's accident.'

‘It was no accident! My dad is too much of an awesome rider for it to have been an accident!' I said, all worked up. ‘Someone tried to kill him and now they're trying to kill Stoked Stunt Circus!'

‘Come on, kids,' said Lefty Blue Eye, ‘let your Uncle Lefty take you for an ice cream. Leave this to the adults.'

‘You can't bribe us with ice creams like we're five years old,' said Jem.

Although I really liked the thought of an ice cream, she was right.

‘You're not my uncle and you're the one who was supposed to check his bike was working before he jumped. It's your fault he crashed! If you'd done your job properly we wouldn't be in this situation and my dad wouldn't be in hospital!' I said, the accusation just popping right out of my mouth. Then I turned to everyone else. ‘And you are all supposed to be our family and some of you are thinking of leaving and working for Barry Chesterley. Traitors! You're all traitors.'

Everyone looked shocked and upset at my outburst, but I didn't care, I was so steamed up. Then I looked up and under the bright lights of the circus top, I could see their tears, all shiny and wet in their eyes.