So Gross! (6 page)

His great grandfather had chuckled. ‘You really want to know?’ he’d asked.

‘Sure.’

And with that Marley was taken on the adventure of a lifetime. Across harsh continents and stormy seas, through steamy jungles and into the deepest, most darkest parts of Africa. ‘So that’s what’s inside it,’ he’d ended, handing the box to Marley.

‘Gee, thanks, Great Grandpa Wal. I promise to guard it with my life.’

‘Your dad knows the secret of the box, Marley. So if you’ve got any questions, you be sure to ask him.’

Great Grandpa Wal died not long after that and Marley had carried the box with him ever since. He took the box from his pocket, his fingers tracing the familiar patterns in the wood.

She wants something cultural, thought Marley, getting back to his immediate problem and looking at the box. I’ll give her something cultural.

Marley decided to go to the library to do some research. He was determined to give such a good
presentation that Miss Riley would get off his back. Maybe even score him a Two-By-Four.

After getting some help with the catalogue he searched the shelves for as much information as he could find on Africa. There were hundreds of books to choose from.

‘How am I ever going to be able to read all that?’ he wailed out loud.

‘Shh,’ said the librarian. ‘You must keep your voice down. Now tell me what it is you’re trying to find.’ Luckily, Great Grandpa Wal had been very specific and Marley knew the exact name of the tribe he was looking for. ‘Well, that narrows things down considerably.’ The librarian smiled and typed ‘MBUTI’ into the computer. ‘Ah, yes.’ She walked to a shelf and took down one slim volume.

Pygmy Tribes of Africa
.

Marley felt hugely relieved. He thanked the librarian, twice, promising to let her know how his presentation went.

It wasn’t until after midnight that Marley finished reading
Pygmy Tribes of Africa
. The next morning he slept in. ‘Marley!’

In his dream he was being chased by pygmy hunters, tiny men with spears. He moaned with fear as he tried to get away.

‘Marley, wake up. Are you sick, or something?’ A hand grabbed his shoulder.

He screamed.

‘It’s me, Marley. Mum.’

Marley opened his eyes with a start.

Mum?

He looked around frantically for the hunters.

Lleyton Hewitt smiled down at him from a poster beside his bed.

‘Oh, Mum,’ he said. ‘I was having the worst dream.’

‘It’s five to eight, Marley. Aren’t you meant to be at tennis?’

Five to eight! He’d have to go through a time warp to make it there in five minutes.

And everyone knew what Miss Riley did to latecomers.

‘Maybe I don’t feel too well,’ he said to his mother. ‘Maybe I should stay home today.’

Marley’s mother felt his forehead. ‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘Nothing that a freshen up and some breakfast won’t fix. I’ve got an important meeting at work, Marley. Today, of all days, I can’t stay home.’

‘But Miss Riley will give me a hard time,’ he wailed, diving back under the covers.

Strong hands wrenched them off. ‘Come on. Quick sticks,’ said his mother. ‘Just this once I’ll pack your lunch and drive you to school.’ She gave him a hug. ‘That gives you exactly two minutes to brush your teeth and get dressed. You can eat a banana in the car.’

Marley flung his arms around his mother, returning her hug. ‘Gee, thanks, Mum.’ Even though he put his jumper on inside out he still managed to shove the box into his pocket before racing downstairs.

Despite their best efforts he was ten minutes late. Marley’s little sister, Alyssa, had taken the car keys and it was a good while before she told him they were in the flower pot. Marley hadn’t yelled at her, though. He was the one who’d started that silly baby game of hide-the-car-keys. That would teach him to play stupid games.

‘Sorry I’m late, Miss Riley,’ he said. ‘Mum couldn’t find her car keys.’

Eagle eyes bored into him, making him squirm.

‘Don’t you usually walk?’ Miss Riley never missed a trick.

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘So, why were you waiting for a lift from your mother?’ She reminded him of a bloodhound on a scent. ‘Why didn’t you just walk?’

Marley felt his face burn but he wasn’t going to say those three little words,
I slept in
. That would get him into an awful lot of trouble. He shrugged, scuffing his toe in the dirt.

‘Just didn’t, Miss.’

‘Well, Mr Morgan. The rest of the team are running ten times around the tennis courts as a warm-up. As punishment for being lazy you can do twenty.’

Marley knew better than to argue. With gritted teeth he raced to catch up with the others. He could see Alex at the back with the stragglers.

‘Hiya, Al,’ he said, matching his stride.

‘You’re late,’ huffed Alex. ‘What happened?’

‘Stayed up till midnight and slept in.’

‘Midnight? What were you doing till midnight?’

‘Research. For my presentation on Friday. It’s going to be about the box I was given,’ answered Marley.

Alex didn’t believe him.

‘Suuure
. What is it with you and that box anyway? Bet you were watching TV.’

Marley was getting fed up. ‘No, Al. I was actually out on a hot date.’

Unfortunately for Marley they were running past Miss Riley when he said that. She gave him the Boulder but it didn’t stop him in his tracks. He just kept on running.

By the time he finished his twenty laps of the courts, the others had paired up for a practice hit. Normally Marley would have partnered Alex, but Candace Tan was away and Alex had to go with
her
partner, Gina Thesopholous.

Alex wasn’t impressed. If Marley had been on time then Alex wouldn’t have had to play with some dumb girl.

Marley looked around. He wasn’t too impressed, either. The only one left with a racquet was Miss Riley.

‘Grab your balls, Mr Morgan, and go down the other end.’ Miss Riley did a practice serve. The ball whizzed past Marley’s head as he walked to the service line. It landed perfectly in the corner. Marley touched his box for good luck and gripped his racquet. If he wanted to be a champion at tennis he couldn’t let one fat old teacher get the better of him.

To Marley’s credit he slammed and lobbed and blocked and rallied with the best of them, making Miss Riley lunge all around the court. He got several Poison Darts for his efforts but a huge amount of satisfaction. By the end of it Miss Riley was red in the face and breathless.

‘Nice one, Marley,’ whispered Alex, who couldn’t stay angry for long. ‘You showed her.’

Miss Riley was not happy. While the others were getting changed for class, she made Marley lug the plastic bin of balls into the shed. Celeste Whittaker was given the responsible job of unlocking and re-locking the door. She tapped her foot and jingled the keys, but never once offered to help as Marley heaved and huffed his way towards the shed.

When the bell rang for class, Celeste was fully dressed. Marley wasn’t. He filed into the classroom, his tennis shoes still on his feet.

‘Since when has Fullerton North Primary worn white school shoes on their feet, Mr Morgan?’

When are you going to let up? thought Marley.

‘You are a disgrace. If Celeste Whittaker can be ready on time, surely you can be, too. Go outside and dress for class properly.’

Miss Riley turned to the children. She was wearing a big Two-By-Four, which was a bit of a worry as she was very cross. ‘Class, our standards are falling. It’s time we had a uniform inspection.’

Twenty-seven Poison Darts flew in Marley’s direction. If it weren’t for him this wouldn’t be happening. Alex refused to look at him.

Marley slunk out of the classroom.

Give me an angry tribe of pygmy hunters any day, he thought.

Five children were given a lunchtime detention for not wearing the proper school uniform. Marley was one of them. In the rush to get out of the house that morning he’d forgotten to pack grey socks.

Five children lined up with plastic bags in the playground, their punishment to collect a hundred papers each. Not that Miss Riley would count, of course, but you never could tell. Their shoulders drooped in the midday sun. It was
another one of those days when you could fry an egg on a slippery dip.

‘Thanks, Marley,’ said Katie Solomon, wiping the sweat from her forehead. ‘It’s all your fault we have to do this.’

‘Yeah, Morgan,’ said Sam, who was no longer His Man. ‘If we get sunstroke you’re gonna pay.’

Marley didn’t know what to say. They were right. Their only crime was that they were in the same class as he was. And that class happened to be run by an assassin. His heart sank. It was only week six of first term. How was he ever going to survive four terms of Miss Riley?

‘I’m sorry,’ said Marley, grabbing Katie and Sam’s plastic bags. ‘Go and sit in the shade behind the toilet block and I’ll be right back.’ Twenty minutes later he returned, their plastic bags brimming with lunch wrappers and papers.

‘You’re all right, Marley,’ said Sam, once more His Man.

‘Yeah, thanks, Marley,’ said Katie. ‘It’s not your fault that Miss Riley’s got it in for you.’

Marley smiled back then looked around. Where were those others? He found them sweltering in the lower playground.

‘Hey, guys,’ he called. ‘Come over here.’ The children dragged themselves towards him. ‘Open up your bags.’ Marley grabbed his own bag, topping up each of the others till they were overflowing with papers.

‘Gee, thanks,’ they cried.

‘You’re ace, Marley Morgan,’ said Alice Langer, giving him a smile. Her green eyes sparkled, making his temperature gauge rise.

For the rest of the day Marley kept his head down and went quietly about his work. The afternoon passed. By three o’clock he’d managed to stay out of trouble.

Friday tomorrow. Thank goodness.

This was one week that he couldn’t wait to be over.

‘You haven’t forgotten that presentation tomorrow, have you, Marley?’ reminded Miss Riley as he filed out of class.

‘No, Miss,’ he said, looking her straight in the eye. ‘I think you’re going to find it very interesting.’

That evening Marley pored over his library book again, the little wooden box beside him on the desk. He carefully wrote out his information on palm cards, then practised his speech in front of a mirror.

When his dad came home, Marley told him about Miss Riley and the presentation. He explained that it had to be on something cultural and that he’d decided to do it on the box Great Grandpa Wal had given him.

‘From Grandpa Wal’s deep dark past, eh?’ laughed Dad. ‘I suppose you
could
call that cultural.’ He leant forward, suddenly serious. ‘Are you going to tell them what’s inside?’

‘No. I promised Great Grandpa Wal,’ cried Marley.

‘From where he is now,’ said Marley’s father looking heavenwards, ‘he might have a bit of a chuckle when the truth comes out.’ Marley gave him a look that said,
I don’t believe you
. ‘Suit yourself then. Won’t matter either way.’

Marley’s dad wished his son good luck and went to have his dinner.

The next morning when Miss Riley called him up for his cultural presentation, Marley was ready. He stood up confidently and walked to the front of the class.

Marley explained about his Great Grandpa Wal and told the children he’d take them on one of his adventures. Gingerly he held up the little wooden box and announced,
‘This
once belonged to an African pygmy.’

There was a sharp intake of breath around the room.

‘It was given to my great grandpa over seventy years ago, in thanks for saving a man’s life.’

Oohs and ahs meant that he was having the desired effect.

‘This pygmy came from the Mbuti group.’ Marley said this very slowly so that it sounded like
mmm-boot-eee
. ‘The Mbuti still live in the Ituri Forest of Zaire. In Africa. They are the smallest pygmies in the world.’

From the corner of his eye Marley could see Miss Riley nodding. He took courage that he was on the right track.

‘Mbuti men only grow to 137 centimetres and the women a little less. That’s up to here for all of you who are mathematically challenged.’ Marley
held his hand to his forehead. ‘About the same height as me.’ He turned to Miss Riley, holding her gaze. ‘I could be a man amongst the Mbuti.’

Their eyes locked.

Miss Riley was the first to break.

‘It takes more than height to be a man,’ she said. ‘Now continue.’

‘The Mbuti are hunters and gatherers. They live in a tropical rainforest. It provides all their basic needs — food, water, shelter and firewood.’

Miss Riley leaned forward in her chair to hear better. She seemed extremely interested in the presentation.

Marley told the class that the Mbuti people didn’t really have a religion. They prayed to a Kind Forest God and that was about it.

‘They don’t believe in any sort of afterlife either. You know, having a soul or a spirit. Once you’re dead, you’re dead,’ announced Marley.

By now the class were getting a bit restless. It was time to hit them with the juicy stuff.

Marley told them how his great grandfather had stumbled on a pygmy hunting party. By accident. One of the hunters had been gouged by a wild boar. It was so deep you could see the bone. Great Grandpa Wal had cleaned the wound and sprinkled antiseptic on it. The pygmies thought it was magic. He’d stayed for a few weeks looking after the man. The man survived. Marley told the fascinated class that the pygmies were so grateful they gave his
great grandfather the carved box. He held the box high for all the class to see.

‘And Great Grandpa Wal gave it to me.’

Miss Riley came forward. ‘Could I have a closer look?’ she asked.

Oh, no, thought Marley. He didn’t want Miss Riley holding his precious box. The last person to touch it, besides him, was Great Grandpa Wal. Somehow that made him seem closer.

‘I — I don’t think so, Miss Riley.’ He searched for a reason why. ‘Only the owner can hold it. You see — er — it’s got special powers for them.’