have too many mosquitos.’ He took the sunnies off, shot a look across at his Director, then put them on again. ‘And not enough ...’ he hesitated for only a second. ‘... not enough skateboard ramps.’
‘The script!’ screamed Xanthe through the megaphone.
‘Thirty-six-inch concave deck board with seven-inch V-shocker springer trucks and lift kits with XT 122mm off-road wheels,’ he rattled off in one breath.
Xanthe stomped across the clearing and snatched the skateboard from him. She held up her clipboard with the script pinned to it and waved it in Zoran’s face, then looked over to Jack and signaled ‘cut’ by running a finger left to right across her neck. She shook her head to indicate they weren’t going on with this presenter till he agreed to behave. Standing with her hands on her hips, she stared him down, hoping he would soon get her message. Satisfied, she cued Jack to roll cameras again.
‘But it’s a fabulous place to live,’ Zoran continued as he cast his eyes over the surroundings. ‘And we wouldn’t change a thing about our island. Ever!’ His brows were knotted into a menacing frown. He made a fist with his right hand and jabbed his pinkie at the camera lens. ‘Anyone who tries to change anything around here is asking for trouble. Got that? Big trouble! Hello. My name is Zoran Milos Radlic, reporting to you from Glencairn Island.’
‘What is this? Sixty Minutes or something?’ His Director beat him over the head with her cardboard megaphone. ‘Freak!’
‘Y’liked it?’
His grin could light up Salvation Bay on a moonless night, thought Xanthe, shaking her head and rolling her eyes before turning them on her next presenter.
‘C’mon, it’s your turn, Summers Number Two,’ she shouted through the megaphone at the subject who had been sitting on the ground nursing little Lucien and reading to him from a big picture book. It was Lucien’s favourite––the one about Stripy the Tiger. She jumped to her feet, sending Lucien flying backwards. ‘Ready, boss!’ said Angel, saluting the Director.
‘Let’s go, then,’ said Jack. The frustrated cameraman could see they were losing daylight. By two o’clock the sun would sink behind the escarpment and put this side of Glencairn Island in shadows. Any moment now the cast and crew would be complaining that they had been given no lunch break.
One last glance at the piece of paper in her hand and the other half of the Summers twins strode across the set.
‘Hello. I’m Angel Summers,’ she said to camera.
Angel came with attitude. She liked to be the centre of attention. She paused for effect. Like her twin, Angel was fond of letting her imagination run riot and nowhere more so than with her wardrobe. Even for school, she hardly ever looked ‘normal’. The Summers twins haunted flea markets and charity shops with their mother, looking for way-out gear.
They call it ‘flair’. I call it tragic, thought Xanthe as she despaired at what her friend had chosen for today’s performance. The colourful dress with its swirly skirt and all those fringes and tiny mirrors on it was something else! Still, I like Angel, she reasoned. I like them both. The Identicals are good value. You get two for the price of one. And she had to admit, Angel had put a big effort into getting dressed this morning, even though the result was pretty weird.
Angel brushed the leaves off the front of her dress. ‘My friends and I,’ said Angel, ‘... well, like we really love Glencairn Island?’
'Ouch!’ said Xanthe. 'That rising inflexion has to go!'
‘Glencairn Island is our inheritance,’ Angel continued as she looked around the bushland foreshore. ‘And it’s our intention to fight for it! And to do so we’re making this video to show everyone how beautiful it is and what everyone can do to help us keep it beautiful. For always.’ Angel smiled sweetly, catching the eye of Zoran and Honey who each gave her a thumbs up.
‘There are many exciting things on our island which you will see in our proper full-length movie when we make it. It’ll be called, A Gecko Needs Friends.For instance, we have deserted coves and beaches and secret tracks through the bush and shipwrecks and ... even a haunted house and a ghost!’
The last bit came tumbling out so fast. ‘It belongs to a witch––or a ghost––no one knows for sure.’ Angel paused and counted to five under her breath, waiting for her Director to explode. When there was no shout from Xanthe, Angel knew she had won. Jack looked over to the Director.
Xanthe shrugged. 'Let it go. My Dad and I will edit it out, anyway.'
Angel was off again, ‘You’ve met Xanthe O’Rourke. She’ll be our Director. And you’ve met some of the kids who’ll star in Gecko– like Zoran Radlic. The Radz!’
She waved to Zoran. Jack panned his camera around and caught Zoran’s wink.
‘And Honey Summers,’ Angel continued, pointing across to her sister who was looking after little Lucien.
Honey smiled for the camera and took a bow.
Angel continued. ‘And there’s me.’ She put her hands to her chest and bowed from the waist. ‘No, you’re not seeing double. We really are identical twins.’
The camera swung around again to emphasize the phenomenon.
‘And then there’s Jack Nolan who’s behind the camera. Jacko’s a sailor. He sails his tiny boat Birdsong most afternoons, don’t you, Jacko?’
‘Angel!’ Jack wailed and stopped filming.
‘What? What’s wrong with adding that bit?’ cried Angel. ‘That’s what kids want to know about. Stuff like that. It sounded natural.’ She was casting around for her Director’s approval. 'Well, didn’t it?’
‘Stick to the script, Angel. You’re the one who helped write it, remember?’
‘You should talk!’
‘Okay, camera rolling.’
‘And you see Zoran’s little brother over there?’ Angel pointed to little Lucien who was chasing a frog out of the bushes.
Jack swung the camera around, zooming in on a small boy with a mop of shiny brown hair, talking to a tiny critter.
‘That’s little Lucien,’ said Angel. ‘He’s too little to be one of the Fabs. He just hangs around while we’re doing things ... kind of like our mascot.’ She paused. Sighed. ‘Kind of like a real pain, actually!’
‘Cut!’
Angel jumped up and down then spun around. ‘I was terrible, wasn’t I?’ she squealed, eating two handful of fingernails. ‘Can I do it again, Jacko? Zanth? Can I? Please?’
‘Nope,’ said Xanthe. ‘It’s a wrap.’ Her Dad taught her that. He directed TV commercials.
‘You were okay, Angel. Except that bit about my ‘tiny boat’ stuff,’ said Jack.
‘Well, it is tiny.’
‘It’s a Vee-Jay. What do you expect? Duh.’
‘Quit
