Mindspaces (2 page)

Chapter 2

Mars Bar was a dog expert, or so he said. His grandfather raced greyhounds. But Mario couldn't handle India's dog Tiny. Tiny was a bitser. He had lots of dog relatives. Some of them must have been BIG.

Hanging onto the dog's collar, Mars Bar was dragged by Tiny into the General Purpose Room. He tried to use his sneakers as brakes. They didn't work against the dog's weight. The dog leash dragged on the ground behind him.

Mario yelled at India.

Hey! Dogs aren't allowed in the schoolyard. I found yours drinking at the taps. What's wrong with him?'

‘Hot dog,' muttered India. ‘Sit down, Tiny. ‘

Tiny's tongue lolled out of his mouth in a dog smile.

‘He just likes people.'

“To play with or to eat?'

Just then, Mrs. Tasker swept into the General Purpose Room, her arms full of notes, boxes and cardboard sheets.

‘Is this animals yours, India?'

‘Unfortunately.'

India's dog wasn't tiny at all. He was a giant.

‘He should be a horse in the presentation, 'panted Mario.' Someone could ride him. Go on, Art.'

Art shook his head.

‘You're too scared. Look. Like this.'

Mario tried to scramble onto Tiny's back. But Tiny objected and ran round and around Mario, wrapping him up with the leash. Everybody laughed.

‘Someone, take him outside,' ordered Mrs. Tasker.

For a moment, Art wasn't sure whether she meant the dog or Mario. ‘Okay, I'll take him,' he offered.

He unwound Tiny. But Tiny went the other way. The leash was tangled. So was one of India's crutches. Then Mario stepped forward, tripped on the crutch and fell flat on his nose.

‘AWWWW!'

‘Are you all right Mario? ‘

Then Mrs. Tasker checked his nose. ‘You'll live, ‘she said.

‘It hurts,' complained Mario, but everybody was untangling the dog.

‘As coach, I must warn you. No real animals, firearms or naked flames allowed in TOM presentations,' stated Mrs.Tasker firmly. Mars Bar always made a fuss.

Who is TOM? Art wondered.

‘Tiny won't be coming on the day. I'll take him outside now.' India hobbled on her crutches. ‘Come, Tiny.'

But Tiny ran away. ‘Tiny!' warned India. But Tiny liked playing .he jumped on Mario.

‘Get off!' sneezed Mario. ‘I've got a cold too. I'm sick. My gran says there's a virus going around.'

‘Computer virus?' India was quick. 'My aunty was talking about that. She's worried a hacker might mess up her experiments on the computer.'

‘No.' said Mrs. Tasker.' I think Mario just has a cold.'

Art took a tennis ball out of his pocket. He bounced it so Tiny could see. ‘Come on Tiny. Let's have a throw. Fetch?'

This time, the dog followed. So Art threw the ball a few times. Tiny fetched it. Then Art tied the dog to the strong part of the fence. ‘Don't wreck the fence, Tiny,' he warned. ‘We need it for cricket practice tomorrow.'

Then Art hurried inside to hear Coach Tasker. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to join this competition she was talking about. The teams had six weeks to get ready.

‘On Tournament Day, each team has ten minutes. They must set up, perform and take down their props,' said Mrs. Tasker. ‘The coach isn't allowed to interfere. They must be your ideas.'

‘What do we have to do?'

‘Act out a problem. Each term will have seven people, but only five on stage at any one time. ‘

‘Will I still be in the team?'

Everybody looked at India, with her crutches leaning against the chair.

‘That's up to the team to decide,' said Mrs. Tasker.'Work things out. I have to get something from the office.' She left.

The children talked loudly.

‘Could India's broken leg be part of the act?' asked Art.

‘But would we have to cost it?' worried India. ‘We're only allowed $50 for props.'

‘How much is a cast worth?' asked Mike. ‘When I broke my nose playing footy,my dad said it would have to stay crooked.'

‘Can't see the difference.' Mario inspected Mike's face. ‘Still ugly. And you missed the goal that time too,' he remembered. Then he sneezed again.

‘At least I wasn't born ugly! And you weren't even playing.' Mike said crossly.

Mario insulted most people. He always got in first, just in case they wanted to say something bad about him.

Insult swapping didn't interest Art.

‘See you later. I'll drop Tiny off at home for you, India,' he called and vanished before Mario insulted him, or India yelled at him.

‘Excuse me.'

The chemist looked over his counter piled with jars, tubes and packets of pills. He wore a white jacket and his bald head shone under the light as he bent forwards. Art wondered if he polished it with Mr Sheen.

‘Yes?'

‘How much does a cast cost?'

‘What kind?'

‘A plaster cast.'

The chemist laughed. ‘I've never been asked that before. Well, I suppose it depends whether it's new or used.'

Art thought for a moment. ‘Second-hand.'

The cast was on India's foot, but it was old. Sort of. India had worn it for several days now. Since she fell off the camel.

‘Is it on a person, or loose?' asked the chemist.

‘On the person.'

‘How much of the person? Full body? Arm? Leg?'

‘Leg.'

The chemist laughed. ‘Is it the fibula? That's the little bone inside the leg.Is that the one?'

‘Probably,' said Art. There couldn't be that many bones to break in a leg. Later, India looked it up for him. Only two large bones in the bottom of the leg. Seven in the neck. And 208 in the whole body. You never knew when a detective might need to know that!

‘Cost of materials, about fifteen dollars.'

‘Great,' said Art.' That was less than fifty.

But then the chemist added,' Of course, there's the doctor's fee- about $130.Most doctors would include the cost of the plaster in their fee. All up, it's worth about $130,I suppose.'

‘Oh,' said Art. That might be a problem.

Art wasn't keen on joining the competition. There might be a lot of reading. If India's leg could still be in the team because the cast cost more than the fifty-dollar limit, India mightn't need him. He'd have to find a way of making the cast cost less./

‘Ah!' Art had an idea.

Chapter 3

‘Last night, Mrs.Tasker said we did need one more for our team on Tournament Day.'

‘When's that?' Art imagined a tournament. Two knights on horseback racing to fight each other. ‘D'you have to be able to ride a horse?'

India laughed. ‘No way. Animals are out! Tournament is about solving problems.'

‘What is?'

‘Tournament of Minds.'

Art didn't say the tournament word aloud. He knew he'd never be able to spell it. How could you go in for a competition if you couldn't even spell the name? But India could spell anything.

‘What sort of problems?'

“Interesting ones. Maths. Engineering. Humanities.'

Art wasn't sure what the H- word meant either. But he liked maths.

‘Humanities means things about people, history and that,' explained India.

‘Yeah. What about Mario? Why don't you get him in the team?'

‘He's in another one already.'

Art groaned. No use.

Bumping her crutches on each step, India hobbled through the question-mark door of the Art-Craft room.

‘We need some ‘dress-ups' from in here. Mrs.Tasker said we could borrow some from the art-Craft room. Borrowing props doesn't count as a cost, so that's okay.'

Art wasn't sure what she was talking about, but he followed her inside. The Art-Craft room was stuffed with left-overs.Paint. Glitter. Rolls of material. Scraps of coloured paper. Empty plastic bottles.

Outside, children shouted ‘Shark's Day. Run!'

Girls and boys ran away from the steps, chased by the ‘shark'. Through the window, India watched them play her favourite game.'It's not fair. This plaster's going to be on for ages.'

Like a colourful island, the Art-Craft portable waited in the grey yard. Students used the six steps to play Shark's Day. Each step was a day. When the caller said ‘Monday' you jumped to the first step. India loved jumping. And she loved running when the caller yelled ‘Shark's Day' .But now she couldn't.

Inside, purple and pink dragons hung down from the roof. The big question mark painted on the door was Mrs.Tasker's work. It was Art's favourite room. He liked to think it was named after him.It wasn't. But he liked to think so anyway. His real name was Arthur, but that was his parents' fault.

India said,' We're allowed six weeks to get ready. And this is week one. We need you.'

‘No way,' said Art firmly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mario running towards him. But what happened next changed his mind.

India had left open the door of the Art Room. As Mario ran up the steps, a bird flew in, brushing his head.

‘Get away!' Mario's voice startled the bird and it flew up near the roof. The bird was frightened and its wings fluttered.

‘Catch it!' India waved her arms, then her crutches. But the bird took off, landing on the picture rail. By now, Mario was standing on the table waving his arms. That didn't work either.

‘Chase it towards the open door!' Mario's voice was loud enough to frighten anyone. To the bird he must have sounded like a monster. Trying to escape ,the bird headed for the window. But the window was shut. The bird hit against the glass then flapped away.

Something dropped onto India's TOM folder. A white patch with black bits in it. ‘Like an exclamation mark!' said India crossly as she tried to wipe it off. The mark just smeared.

The Bird Problem needed to be solved! And Art was determined to solve it. What could he use? In the lost property box was a brown hand towel.

Carefully, Art crawled along the bench, holding the towel. He threw it. And missed!

‘Leave it alone!' Mario was looking upwards. The bird dropped again. On Mar Bar's nose this time.

‘Yuk!' He wiped his nose and said something rude. And changed his mind about leaving the bird alone. ‘Open the windows! Leave the door open. Then it will fly out by itself.'

But the bird didn't know what it was expected to do. Mario was good at telling people what to do. And so was India. But Art just got on with solving the problem. He crept along, holding the towel. A row of white spots like bird measles dropped on grade 4's artwork drying on the bench.

Art moved quietly towards the bird. He threw the towel again. This time, the towel began to fly.

‘A brown ghost,' laughed India. ‘Or the flying towel.'

‘Dumb bird!' said Mario.

Slowly the towel fell to the ground. Art was ready. With both arms, he gently closed around the towel. ‘Got it!'

‘Get out of the way Mario,' ordered India.

Gently Art unwrapped the towel and the bird flew for the trees. Then Art groped for his puffer. His chest felt tight from all the bird business running around. But he had solved the problem. Sometimes his asthma was a nuisance. He breathed deeply. Then he put away his puffer just as India called ‘Mars!'

Mario turned and looked back at her.

‘Did you sit on something?'

On the back of Mario's jeans were white marks. Art looked closely. Then whacked Mario's bottom so the dust flew out. ‘Chalk dust! You sat on the duster. Nothing worse.'

‘Get lost Art,' Mario pushed his hands into his jeans pockets.

‘Art's a good problem solver.' India stuck her nose in the air. ‘He's going to find a way for me to take part even if I'm still on crutches for Tournament Day.'

You won't be in it,' said Mario. ‘We've got the best team. Art couldn't even read the instructions.'

‘I bet you Art is the best problem solver around. ‘ As India protested, Art felt awful inside. India had stuck up for him. How could he opt out now?