Bella's Backyard Bullies Page 4

  Chloe, Emily and I form a little circle and pretend we’re having our own conversation to make it less awkward for Grace and her dad. He seems tense.

  Mr Bennett beckons Grace closer and tries to speak quietly. ‘Grace, I had a call from someone wanting soccer coaching today.’

  Grace shrugs. ‘So?’

  Her dad slaps himself in the forehead. ‘It was the mother of a girl,’ he says. ‘I thought she was calling because they wanted coaching from me, but she was calling because they wanted coaching from you.’

  This time it’s Grace who slaps herself in the forehead. It must be hereditary. ‘Dad,’ she whispers. ‘I’m sorry. I was going to tell you. I’m coaching an Anti-Princess Club team. It’s not a big deal.’

  ‘I’m trying to be more understanding, Grace,’ says her dad. ‘I let you quit ballet, I let you take up athletics.’

  ‘I know,’ Grace says. ‘And I’m so grateful.’

  ‘But I’ve told you how I was brought up,’ he says. ‘I’m trying not to be so old-fashioned. I’m just not used to girls. Especially girls like you, and Emily, and Chloe, and Bella.’

  Grace’s lip starts to quiver and I decide to speak up. ‘Grace is very good at soccer, Mr Bennett,’ I say. ‘She’s inherited your skills.’

  Grace’s dad opens the bonnet again and directs his words towards the engine. ‘Anyway, it’s not so much that you’re playing soccer, Grace,’ he says. ‘It’s that you kept it a secret.’

  Grace starts to cry. I think she knows she should have given her dad more credit. All these years Grace has felt misunderstood by her dad, but now she’s the one who has made the wrong assumption about him.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d let me play,’ she sobs.

  ‘Of course I would’ve let you play, Grace,’ he says. ‘Soccer is my life. I could’ve taught you a thing or two.’

  Grace wipes her eyes and perks up. ‘Well, now that you mention it, those Vernon boys told me you’re organising a tournament soon. Can we enter?’

  Mr Bennett checks the dipstick again. ‘I think you should go to your room, Grace. I’m disappointed in you for lying to me.’

  Chloe, Emily and I follow Grace towards her door.

  ‘Not you three,’ her dad says. ‘Home for you girls.’

  It’s probably best I make a move anyway. The sky is turning pink and I should be home by now.

  Red and blue lights twirl in the distance.

  The sun has disappeared, but I’m almost home. I’m pushing my luck with Louis, but he’ll be cool. I hope.

  As I get closer I realise the blue and red beams are coming from somewhere near my house. Is it an ambulance? I start to run. Maybe Max is hurt.

  I round the corner and see a police car.

  Oh no. Louis must have called the police when I didn’t arrive home on time. Maybe he thought I’d been kidnapped. Are my parents on their way back from the hospital?

  ‘It’s okay!’ I call out. ‘I’m here, I’m here!’

  Someone points a torchlight directly into my eyes.

  Oouuuuccch.

  I’m dazzled by the light and tumble onto the gravel. My palms sting.

  A police officer is hovering over me. ‘You must be Bella. Isn’t it a bit late for a ten-year-old to be coming home?’

  She grabs my forearm to help me up. I want to say I don’t need rescuing, but something tells me not to argue with the police.

  Louis and Max appear by the officer’s side.

  ‘Bella, you’d better come inside.’ Louis’s frowning. It’s a worried frown, not an angry one.

  I feel terribly guilty. ‘I’m sorry, Louis, I didn’t mean to get home so late.’

  The officer pulls a notepad and pen from her jacket pocket. ‘I’m Constable Murphy,’ she says. ‘Your babysitter is right. Let’s go inside. I need to take some statements from all of you.’

  She can’t be serious. Shouldn’t she be leaving now that I’m home? It’s a simple case of a kid coming home late. Case closed. Nothing more to see here.

  Louis and Max head inside.

  ‘Follow me, please,’ Constable Murphy orders.

  I bite my tongue. I’ve heard you can be charged for arguing with the police, so I allow myself to be led into the house.

  Max’s breathing is short, sharp and shallow. I ruffle his hair and whisper in his ear. ‘Don’t worry, buddy,’ I say. ‘This is all a big fuss about nothing.’

  ‘Mum and Dad are on their way home,’ he says. ‘This is really bad, Bella.’

  Talk about overreacting. ‘This is not really bad, Max,’ I say. ‘I’ll tell you what it is – it’s ridiculous, with a capital R.’

  Louis places his hands on my shoulders. ‘Bella, we need you to cooperate.’

  I wriggle out of his grip. ‘Louis, this is crazy! I’m just a bit late. There was no need to call the police and get Mum and Dad home early from work.’

  Constable Murphy smiles a little. ‘Bella, that’s not why I’m here,’ she says. ‘I’ve got more important things to worry about than your curfew.’

  Louis and Max point towards the back deck. A breeze blows through the open door and the hairs on my arms stand on end.

  I slowly walk to the doorway and look across the yard.

  I run down the steps. I trip a couple of times but get straight back up, ignoring the grazes on my shins and the prickles in my palms.

  ‘Be careful, Bella!’ Louis calls.

  I barely hear him. I just need to get to the treehouse.

  I slow down near the trunk and run my finger over the ladder. It’s covered in slime. Everything is covered in stinky, sticky slime.

  Constable Murphy shines her torch on my hand. ‘It’s egg,’ she says. ‘They’ve thrown eggs everywhere, even inside – you’ve got quite a clean-up ahead.’

  I start wiping the ladder with my sleeve.

  ‘Not just yet,’ she says. ‘I’d like to take some photos as evidence.’

  I slump down on the grass, crunching an eggshell under my bum. Louis and Max squat next to me, hugging me from both sides.

  ‘Did you see what happened?’ I ask.

  They shake their heads.

  ‘No, but we heard it,’ Louis says. ‘By the time we got out here they were gone.’

  Max squeezes me tightly. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t see them, Bella.’

  Constable Murphy makes a few notes in her pad. ‘Whoever did this acted quickly,’ she says. ‘And there must have been more than one person to create so much mess in such a short time.’

  Try four people.

  ‘Do you have any idea who would’ve done this to your treehouse?’

  I don’t need to think about that answer for long.

  ‘The Vernons,’ I say. ‘They’ve been here before. They stole a sign from above the door, spray-painted one of the inside walls, and took my friend’s USB stick.’

  They’re not just pests. They’re criminals.

  Emily circles the tree. She’s up to her eighth lap when she stops and stomps her feet in anger.

  ‘Aaaaahhh!’ she yells. ‘I know I declared war on the vermin Vernons, but I didn’t mean for your backyard to become a real-life battleground, Bella.’

  I’m sitting on the frosty grass next to Chloe, shivering in my dressing gown. I’m numb. Not just from the cold, but on the inside too.

  Emily and Chloe arrived at dawn. Grace is due any moment.

  Mum and Dad forgot I was supposed to be grounded when they saw the egged treehouse. They called each of the anti-princesses’ parents to ask if they could visit me first thing this morning.

  ‘Cleaning eggs off a surface isn’t as simple as you’d think,’ Chloe says. ‘Chemistry comes into play here. We’ll need to use water that’s hot, but not too hot – eggs are protein-based and we don’t want to cook them, or they’ll just stick to the walls even more.’

  I can’t help but smile at Chloe’s scientific approach to everything.

  Emily, on the other hand, isn’t amused. ‘This is unbelie
vable,’ she says. ‘Those boys aren’t just vermin, they’re…they’re monsters. They’ve got to be the cyberbully too, don’t they?’

  She counts on her fingers for a moment. ‘It took us about fifteen minutes to get from the Vernons’ house to Grace’s,’ she says. ‘And we were only at Grace’s place for about fifteen minutes, because her dad wouldn’t let us in.’

  ‘Then it took me about fifteen minutes to get home from Grace’s,’ I say. ‘I ran.’

  ‘And during that time Max and Louis heard the noise and called the police, who took about ten minutes to get here. So that means the Vernons had a window of less than thirty-five minutes to get to the treehouse and do their damage,’ Emily says. ‘They sure know how to cause a fair amount of carnage in a short time.’

  Grace arrives with her dad.

  ‘Hi, Mr Bennett,’ I say. ‘Excuse the mess.’

  He takes in the damage to the treehouse. ‘You really think the Vernon boys did this?’ he asks. ‘That’s a serious allegation. You’ll need to prove it.’

  ‘I told you, Dad,’ Grace says. ‘They’ve got it in for us. We think they might even be bullying us online. You should kick them out of your soccer club.’

  Emily shrieks. ‘Bella, Chloe!’ she yells. ‘Look at what Mr Bennett is wearing!’

  Grace looks her dad up and down. ‘It’s just his soccer jersey,’ she says. ‘He wears it almost every day.’

  The jersey is yellow and maroon with a cat emblazoned on the chest.

  ‘The vermin Vernons play on your dad’s team, right?’ Emily asks.

  Grace nods.

  ‘And his team is called the Newcastle Cats?’

  I can almost hear the pennies drop as we realise what Emily’s getting at.

  ‘Wait there!’ Emily yells.

  She scrambles up the treehouse ladder and emerges with a soccer ball. It’s the one the vermin Vernons kicked through our window. They mustn’t have noticed the flap leading to the secret roof space.

  ‘Mr Bennett, do you recognise this ball?’ she asks.

  He takes it from Emily and runs his fingers over some letters in black marker. ‘MV,’ he says. ‘Yeah, I guess it belongs to one of the Vernons. All their names begin with M, so I can’t be sure which one.’

  Emily nods, pretending she actually cares about the ball’s rightful owner. ‘Mr Bennett, do you have your mobile phone?’

  Grace’s dad unclips his phone from the back of his belt and holds it out to Emily.

  ‘Oh, it’s not for me,’ she says. ‘Do you have the Vernons’ contact details in there? We’d love to let them know we still have their ball here.’

  Mr Bennett starts scrolling through his phone’s contacts list. ‘I’ve got Mrs Vernon’s number here,’ he says.

  Grace nudges closer to her dad so she can peek at the screen. ‘What about an email address, Dad?’

  Mr Bennett pushes a button to bring up extra contact details for Mrs Vernon. ‘Catsmum at plutomail dot com,’ he reads.

  Emily, Grace, Chloe and I let out a simultaneous squeal as Mr Bennett covers his ears.

  ‘Do you think Hungry is Angry, or the boys used her email address to fool us?’ I ask.

  Grace takes the phone from her dad. ‘There’s one way to find out.’

  Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

  ‘Hello?’ says a tired-sounding voice.

  Grace panics and passes the phone back to her dad. He puts it on speaker so we can hear.

  ‘Uh, good morning, Mrs Vernon,’ Mr Bennett stutters. ‘It’s Coach Bennett.’

  ‘What can I help you with at this hour? The boys are still in bed.’

  I mime some typing.

  Mr Bennett nods. ‘Um, I just wanted to double-check your email address.’

  ‘Oh, I never really use it. Mark set it up for me – something about a cats’ mother – you know, because they play for the Cats and I’m their mum.’

  Mr Bennett fakes a little laugh.

  ‘I’ll wake one of the boys to check what it is exactly. Hang on…’

  ‘Oh, that won’t be necessary.’

  ‘I thought you needed it now – calling so early and all?’

  ‘I’ve been up training for hours, I didn’t think about the time, I’m sorry. Anyway, all I really needed to know was if you used the account, because I’m updating my email database. Thank you, Mrs Vernon. Have a good morning.’

  Mr Bennett turns off the phone.

  ‘There’s our answer,’ Grace says. ‘Hungry is Catsmum and the vermin set up her account.’

  ‘Well, we’ve identified the cyberbullies as the vermin Vernons,’ Emily says. ‘No great surprise, really. Mission Sea Monster: complete.’

  ‘But what now?’ Chloe asks. ‘The mission was to identify them, but now we need to make them pay.’

  Mum appears on the back deck with a cup of coffee for Mr Bennett. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing that these vicious boys are also responsible for the threatening emails you girls have been receiving,’ she says. ‘I’m going to call the police and have them add that to their report.’

  Mr Bennett thanks Mum for the coffee and takes a sip. ‘And I’ll look at suspending them from the soccer club,’ he says. ‘They’re proving to be quite the delinquents.’

  Grace wrinkles her forehead. ‘No, don’t do that, Dad. I’ve got a better idea.’

  We all look at her expectantly.

  ‘Just sign the Anti-Princess Club team up to your tournament,’ she says. ‘And we’ll make the vermin Vernons pay on the field.’

  Mr Bennett smirks behind his coffee cup, but doesn’t commit.

  We’ve still got time to work on him.

  A strange contraption is sitting in the middle of Ms Bayliss’s desk. It’s surrounded by a stack of black paper, a bowl of sand, a packet of rice and a tube of glitter.

  It’s the time of the week when our class does a science experiment. Chloe’s favourite day.

  ‘Who knows what this is?’ Ms Bayliss asks.

  Chloe’s hand darts up. ‘It’s a record player. It’s what people used to play music before computers and MP3 players – even before CDs and those cassette tapes. My yiayia has one.’

  ‘Very good, Chloe.’ Ms Bayliss slides a large black disc out of a cardboard case and sits it on the record player. ‘And this is a record.’

  Scratchy music begins to play, and the class laughs. It sounds like something from an old movie.

  ‘We’re going to be using this today,’ Ms Bayliss says. ‘But not just to play music.’ She points to someone in the back row. ‘Yes, Michael?’

  Michael? There’s no Michael in our class. I turn around and see the ponytailed vermin – Michael.

  ‘I think I did this at my old school,’ he says. ‘Is it an astronomy experiment? The one where we cut the black paper into circles with a hole in the middle, like a record? Then we stick the sand, rice and glitter to the paper? Then we put the pieces onto the record player so they can spin?’

  Ms Bayliss is clearly impressed. ‘That’s right, Michael,’ she says. ‘And does anyone know the purpose of this experiment?’

  Chloe’s hand pops up again. As expected.

  ‘Why is he here, Ms Bayliss?’ she asks.

  Ms Bayliss looks taken aback. ‘Michael, even though he is in the grade below you, is an advanced science student, Chloe. He’ll be joining our class for our weekly experiment. He’s a gifted scientist, just like you.’

  I expect Chloe to be fuming over this revelation. A vermin Vernon does not deserve special treatment from Ms Bayliss. And it’s absurd to compare anyone’s science skills to Chloe’s. Except for maybe Marie Curie’s.

  Michael puts up his hand again. ‘The purpose of this experiment is to demonstrate how different types of particles become unique rings of the planet Saturn,’ he says.

  Urgh, what a show-off. ‘Are you going to let him get away with this?’ I whisper to Chloe.

  Chloe’s eyes are fixed on Michael. ‘I can’t help it if he loves science as much as I
do.’

  Ms Bayliss starts dividing the materials into piles on her desk. ‘You need to get into pairs,’ she says. ‘And I’d like you all to pair up with someone you’ve never worked with before.’

  I groan under my breath. ‘Who are you going to pair up with, then?’ I ask Chloe.

  ‘You know that saying, “keep your friends close but your enemies closer”?’ she asks. ‘I’m going to see exactly how much the vermin knows about science.’

  Michael hears her and squirms a little, but shuffles across to make space.

  ‘Well, you’re a bigger person than me, Chloe Karalis,’ I say. ‘I don’t think I could stand working with an egg-throwing vermin even if we did like the same school subjects.’

  Ms Bayliss grins at Chloe and Michael.

  ‘Jolly good,’ she says. ‘I knew you two would get along.’

  Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. Right. Left. Right. Left.

  Grace always says the best way to forget your troubles is to sweat them away.

  Emily, Chloe and I are taking her advice and joining in today’s Anti-Princess Club soccer team training session. We want to be a part of the team that exterminates the vermin Vernons.

  We’re running around the oval with the other dozen players. None of us are speaking. We’re all focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Right, left, right, left.

  Phweeeeeeeeeet. ‘Back this way, team,’ Grace says, beckoning with her whistle. ‘I’ve got a special surprise for you.’

  The younger girls sprint to Grace, eager to find out what she’s got in store.

  Phweeeeeeeeeet. ‘Anti-princesses, we have a special guest joining us today. Let’s hear a round of applause for Coach Bennett!’

  Grace’s dad waves from the teachers’ car park. He’s wearing his yellow and maroon soccer jersey and clutching a clipboard.

  The anti-princesses clap as he jogs over and kicks a ball straight into the goal on the other side of the field. He keeps jogging to the nets and everyone follows.

  ‘Let’s see if you’re as good as my daughter tells me you are,’ he says. ‘I’ll be goalkeeper while each of you takes turns shooting.’