he was going to have to swim that swimathon even if it meant swimming heroically – or perhaps weeping like a coward – towards certain death.
After school, just as Clancy was leaving for home, Ruby caught up with him.
‘Hey Clance, do you want me to come over?’
Clancy shook his head. ‘Nah, that’s all right Rube, I gotta get my sleep; it’s my only chance.’
‘You know you’re not gonna die Clance; you’re being awful pessimistic.’
‘Can you guarantee that?’ asked Clancy, searching her face for assurance. He wanted to believe her, he really did.
‘I gave you my anti-sting; there’s no way you can die of a jellyfish attack,’ said Ruby.
‘I know,’ said Clancy. ‘But there’s worse than jellyfish out there.’
As she looked into his desperate eyes, she thought of that old saying – a drowning man will clutch at straws. Clancy needed a straw right now, one that he could put all his faith in: RULE 20: NINETY PER CENT OF SURVIVAL IS ABOUT BELIEVING YOU WILL SURVIVE.
Ruby reached into her inside jacket pocket and unclipped something from the lining.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘why don’t you take this? It’s the luckiest thing I got.’ She handed him a tiny tin badge. It seemed to be totally plain, just an ordinary white pin-badge, until you held it in your hand and felt something embossed on its surface. Ruby had found it when she was just a little kid, next to the sidewalk on Cedarwood Drive. She had kept it all these years – she wasn’t exactly sure why. She usually had it pinned to the inside of her jacket, a habit started when she was a toddler aware that her mother would consider a pin-badge a hazard and so take it away. Now she was grown there was of course no need to hide it, but it had become a ‘thing’ – something she did – and so the badge remained out of sight. ‘Just don’t lose it and give it right back, OK?’
Clancy looked at this small object lying in his hand. He believed her about the luck, Ruby could see that in his eyes. This tiny object might just save my life. That’s what he was thinking. ‘Really?’ he said and his face looked brighter. ‘I can borrow it?’
‘Yeah, take my good luck why don’t you.’
He smiled. ‘Thanks Rube.’
She walked off, then stopped and called out, ‘So remember, if anyone’s gonna get chomped tomorrow, it’s me!’
Ruby was slowly cycling her way home when she noticed the stranger standing on the corner of Bamboo and Rose. She had seen him a few times now without really taking notice, but this time she was taking notice: Twinford was a big place, but this guy seemed to be frequenting a lot of the same places Ruby did.
Is he tailing me?
She had first seen him soon after the dolphins took up residence in Twinford harbour. This weathered-looking guy. Last week she had spotted him on the corner of Amster, drinking small cups of rich black coffee. He wore a hat and sunglasses (even though the sun had already sunk low in the sky). He was tanned and lithe, but the hair that stuck out from under his cap was grey and he looked like he had seen many a scorching summer’s day, his skin leathery and worn. She had spotted him in the middle of town too, outside the library and then again down near the harbour.
Nothing to be suspicious about, you could say, but Ruby had picked him up on her internal radar and once she had seen him a couple of times, she realised she was seeing him over and over. She had never observed him with anyone nor had she heard him speak, not even to the waiter at the coffee shop. When he ordered, he pointed; when he thanked, he nodded; when he paid the check, he paid silently, and left with a wave of the hand.
OK, so there was no law against drinking small cups of coffee in the Full-O-Beans coffee shop, but though Ruby had never caught him looking in her direction, she had this weird feeling that this man was watching her, like he knew who she was. If she was right about that, then what was he doing? And was she in danger?
Why would he be tailing me? she thought.
For now, she couldn’t do anything more than add him to her list.
Once back in Cedarwood Drive, she scooted up the stairs to her room. She retrieved her yellow notebook and leafed through, finding the ‘stranger’ sightings and marking them on her city map. Having stared at the map for some time, Ruby put down her pen, folded the paper and returned it to her hiding place. She went down to the kitchen to find Mrs Digby and food.
She found Mrs Digby boiling pasta and scolding the radio.
The radio presenter was saying:
‘WE AT CHIME MELODY APOLOGISE FOR THE INTERFERENCE TO OUR BROADCASTS DURING THIS PAST WEEK. WE ARE TRYING TO CORRECT THE PROBLEM. MEANWHILE, DON’T GO TWISTING THAT DIAL, WE’LL MISS YOU.’
‘They shoulda sorted the issue before now,’ said Mrs Digby. ‘It’s more than an old person can stand, this squawking coming at you every time you step into your kitchen – no wonder my noodles are overcooked.’ She twisted the tuner to Twinford Talk Radio.
‘SO BETTY, I HEAR YKK 672 IS ABOUT TO PASS PRETTY CLOSE TO EARTH?’ ‘THAT’S RIGHT KEN.’ ‘BETTY, IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THE ASTEROID COULD BE INTERFERING WITH CHIME MELODY 204 FM?’ ‘INTERESTING THEORY KEN, BUT I DON’T THINK THE SCIENTISTS WOULD AGREE THAT THE TWO THINGS ARE RELATED.’
‘Asteroid, my foot.’ Mrs Digby clunked the off switch with her ladle and went back to salvaging her noodles.
But Ruby’s mind was no longer on food; it was far too busy trying to decide if Ken might just be right. Maybe the asteroid did have a part to play in this whole mystery.
Or maybe it was just a cold bit of rock floating through space, and Ruby was no closer to working out what in tarnation was going on.
Ambassador Crew
did not consider himself the
type of man to be commandeered
by pirates – it just wasn’t in his
game plan...
The captain of the Golden Albatross – a cowardly little man – might have surrendered immediately, but Ambassador Crew was no coward and he would not give in so readily.
He had had enough of dancing to their tune. He stood up from where the Twinfordites were huddled and strode out to confront the head pirate. He drew himself up as tall as he could. He towered above these scoundrels and it made him feel confident. He would get what he wanted – he always did.
‘This will not stand – do you hear me? I insist that you release me and drop me back on terra firma – I have a job and it’s an important one. Oh, and these people need to get home too.’ He waved his hand, indicating the cowering cruise passengers. ‘Some of them have jobs and most of them have commitments of sorts.’
The pirates merely laughed.
‘Who is this bozo with the snapped arm?’ jeered the pirate with the poor dental work. He was pointing at Ambassador Crew’s plaster cast – an injury sustained in a squash match.
‘Now,
