Extreme! (7 page)

Mr Lark was in the kitchen when they arrived, surrounded by a range of ingredients. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked. ‘Thought you might like some nachos for afternoon tea.’

The Freewheelers looked at each other, the taste of apples still clinging to their mouths, then back at Mr Lark’s expectant face.

‘Sure we are,’ said Darcy.

‘Starving,’ agreed Bryce.

Clem picked up the packet of corn chips, her stomach still bloated with baby food. ‘Nachos would be lovely,’ she said.

Mio and Tong nodded, although Tong had no idea what nachos was.

‘Nachos it is,’ said a beaming Mr Lark. He leant
down and removed a large, flat-based dish from the cupboard, at the same time turning the oven on.

‘Can we help?’ asked Clem.

‘Absolutely.’

While Darcy mashed some three bean mix with a fork in a bowl, Mio spread the corn chips over the base of the dish, and Clem grated some mozzarella cheese. Tong was given the task of chopping avocado, which proved to be a challenge. At home he’d been used to drinking avocado; grinding the flesh and mixing it with milk. Here, he was expected to cut it. Not only was the fruit slippery, it was also overripe and squishy so that he ended up with more avocado smeared on his fingers than on the chopping board. He hoped no-one would notice.

‘Found out some interesting information about Wheels Park from the Department of Sport and Recreation,’ said Mr Lark.

‘Great,’ said Mio. ‘Tell us.’

As Darcy spooned the beans over the centre of the corn chips Mr Lark proceeded. ‘Seems that the recreation staff, risk managers and public safety reps were all involved in the decision to build the park.’ He poured some taco sauce over the beans, then gestured for Tong to add a layer of avocado on top as he continued, ‘The man I spoke to made it pretty clear that the local council wanted to offer
the community safe, legal and publicly-sanctioned opportunities for all…and here’s an interesting term…
extreme
action enthusiasts.’

‘Extreme,’ echoed Bryce. ‘I like it.’

‘Me too,’ said Clem. ‘BMXers are extreme action enthusiasts.’

‘In theory it sounds good,’ said Mio. ‘But what does it actually mean? How safe is safe? We all know we get injured from time to time. And what about people suing for damages? And it’s not as if the public are going to be happy about a group of kids congregating in their neighbourhood, is it?’

Mr Lark held up his hand. ‘Whoaahhh. Slow down. One issue at a time.’

Clem sprinkled the grated cheese over the top of the avocado as Mr Lark went on. ‘It’s true there’s many in the community none too happy with skateboarders and bike riders getting together en masse. Let’s face it, some of that lot deliberately cultivate the tough-guy image.’

‘And gang mentality,’ added Mio.

‘That’s right,’ said Mr Lark. ‘To many people, more kids means more potential for trouble. More crime. More vandalism.’

‘Bike riders aren’t trouble,’ announced Clem dusting a piece of cheese from her finger as she finished. ‘Are they?’

Mr Lark took the dish and opened the oven
door, laughing when his glasses fogged up, and joking, ‘Not as far as I can see.’

‘Let me,’ said Darcy, placing the dish on the rack and closing the door. ‘How long will I put the timer on for?’

‘Ten minutes.’ Mr Lark wiped his glasses with a tea towel and perched them back on his nose. The kids settled on stools to wait and listen. ‘Legally, they’re in the process of trying to have the legislation changed. The state’s Health and Safety Code has to be modified so that skateboarding and BMX riding are declared
hazardous recreational activities
. This means the park gets immunity from liability for injuries sustained by reckless behaviour. They can’t be sued. In fact, no-one over eighteen can file a lawsuit against the skate park.’

‘Can’t see how this affects us,’ said Bryce. ‘We won’t sue.’

‘But lots of people might,’ said Mio.

‘And do.’ Mr Lark continued. ‘They’ve got the State Insurance Company involved. The council’s collecting data from other skate parks on how many lawsuits have been filed each year. They want to gauge the size of the threat.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Mio and Darcy nodded.

‘They want support from the skate park owners and the local police—a no skating after sunset
clause, and on-the-spot fines for not wearing the correct safety gear.’

Bryce mumbled under his breath, ‘Why do all roads lead to the police?’

Mr Lark pounced. ‘’Cause lots of kids think they’re invincible, that’s why. Think that they can’t possibly have an accident.’ He leant closer to Bryce. ‘But we’re all flesh and bone, and flesh and bones break. Simple as that.’

‘Revenue raising,’ said Bryce. ‘That’s what my dad calls it. He says issuing fines isn’t about safety. It’s about raising money.’

Mr Lark rearranged his face to neutral. He wasn’t fond of Bryce’s dad. ‘Everyone’s entitled to his opinion.’

The timer rang. Darcy grabbed the oven mitt and placed the steaming dish on a board. With a final dollop of sour cream that skidded on impact, the nachos was ready.

Bryce grabbed a fully laden corn chip and stuffed it in his mouth, his eyes widening. ‘Ho…’ he managed to say, fanning his open mouth to prove the point. The others watched as he tossed the corn chip round his mouth, trying to cool it before he swallowed. ‘Nachos!’ he eventually announced. ‘My favourite!’

‘Dig in,’ said Mr Lark.

No-one needed a second invitation. The smell
of hot corn and melted cheese was too tantalising.

As always, Tong was tentative as he tried this latest concoction but one taste and he was hooked, ploughing into the food like the others.

When the kids were full-to-bursting and the dish completely empty Mio said, ‘Wheels Park opens this Saturday. Surely the council’s worked out the insurance and stuff?’

Mr Lark nodded. ‘For in-line skaters, skateboarders and scooters they have. But not for the bikes. Seems different states have different policies regarding bikes. They call it the
multiple-use dilemma
.’

‘What’s that mean?’ asked Darcy.

‘Apparently bikes cause more damage so that the parks require more maintenance. They also say that airborne bikes with their handlebars, kickstands, chains and gears, pose more potential hazards than simple old skates and boards.’

‘Urban myth,’ scoffed Clem.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Darcy.

‘Agreed,’ said Mio. ‘Those things also mean us bikers have more control than the others. We can get out of harm’s way very quickly. You know what’s really the hazard? Beginners. Beginning skaters, boarders, bikers whatever. They all create chaos. They’d be better off building a beginners’ area than banning BMX bikes.’

‘Hear, hear,’ said Darcy.

‘I agree,’ said Clem.

Darcy added, ‘Beginner kids shouldn’t even be at Wheels Park. They belong in front of their own houses.’

‘For those that have a house,’ said Bryce, reminding everyone of the street kids they’d helped a while back.

‘Point taken,’ said Darcy. ‘But we’re not exactly getting anywhere with this. Doesn’t sound like our petition’s going to do much good.’

‘It will show community support,’ said Mio. ‘
And
community demand.’ For the umpteenth time Bryce listened and marvelled at the way Mio’s mind worked. ‘But it’s not going to sway the insurers.’

‘’Fraid not,’ agreed Mr Lark.

‘The problem is,’ said Mio, ‘how to convince them that BMXers can ride alongside skaters, boarders and scooters without compromising safety?’

The kids sat round the table mulling over the situation.

Given the way cars and bikes and pedestrians mingled on the streets in Vietnam, Tong couldn’t understand what the fuss was about. Neither could Mio, who in Japan had seen how the train stations filled with kids, including stunt BMX riders, skateboarders, break-dancers, hip-hop dancers and
musicians—especially at night. And no-one got in anyone else’s way.

Suddenly, Clem had an idea. ‘As well as the petition we could also propose that Wheels Park offers sessions with a safety focus. How to ride together. If you haven’t done a session you can’t use the park.’

‘Good idea,’ said Mr Lark and reaching for some paper and a pen he continued, ‘Might jot that down.’

‘Maybe even get the safety sessions sponsored? You know, by some of the skateboard and bike manufacturers,’ said Mio.

‘Another good idea,’ said Mr Lark, still writing.

‘But we need something that will sway them for the opening
this
Saturday, not some time down the track,’ said Darcy.

Suddenly Mio leapt up. ‘I know! I know! What if we offer to do a stunt bike presentation at the opening? Show them by example how safe we are?’

‘Another example of Shinozaki brilliance,’ said Bryce, shaking his head in awe.

The others agreed it might just work. Mr Lark added it to their list of suggestions.

‘We’d be riding and lobbying to access the park at the same time,’ said Mio.

Mr Lark nodded. ‘It might just work. You don’t need to try anything fancy. A simple demonstration to challenge your mental, physical and intuitive
abilities, including advanced riding techniques and superb balance, should do it.’

‘Piece of cake,’ said Darcy.

‘A snap,’ agreed Clem.

‘We can do,’ said Tong.

‘Like shooting fish in a barrel,’ said Mr Lark, then he turned to Mio and said, ‘Speaking of shooting. Mio, how’d you get on with my dog tags…?’

Mio opened her mouth, then closed it again. Words formed in her brain then frizzled into incoherent nothings as she struggled with what to say. How do you tell someone you’ve lost the one thing that means the world to them?

Tong’s skin prickled and he looked away. Clem and Darcy busied themselves with clearing the dishes whilst Bryce grabbed the plug and began to fill the sink.

‘Well?’ said Mr Lark.

Mio felt like her mind had left her body and she was watching the scene from above. Her head swam and her eyes felt like she was peering through bubbles. She could hear Mr Lark’s voice and knew she should answer but her own voice had deserted her.

‘The presentation was fantastic,’ said Bryce. ‘Best one in the class.’

‘Everyone was very impressed with the dog tags,’ blurted Clem.

‘Very interesting,’ said Tong. ‘Me like very much.’

Mio chose to remain silent. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Mr Lark.

‘Have you got them with you?’ asked Mr Lark, holding out his hand.

Mio forced herself to focus. She could see how the pulse beat in Mr Lark’s neck and the way his lips went crooked when he smiled. She noticed a small tuft of white hairs under his chin which he had missed when shaving and felt a pang for this old man. Couldn’t he reach that spot? Couldn’t he see it? Or did he wear it like a badge of pride—a sign of age and wisdom?

‘Mio?’ asked Mr Lark.

Mio blinked. She did not look into his eyes as she answered, ‘I did not bring them with me.’

Mr Lark nodded, but his smile grew less crooked. ‘Next time, then.’

‘Yes.’

When Mio arrived home she was relieved to see that she was alone, and that for her parents at least, it was business as usual. She wondered how she would face the day when her parents retired and were home more often. Her mother would be fine, for she had other interests, but her father? She thought of the slang term that Japanese women sometimes used for their retired husbands.
Sodai gami
. She smiled inwardly at its translation. Giant cabbage. Is that what her father was to become? Somehow she could not see this strict, unyielding man as a cabbage!

Mio’s mind turned to the dog tags. Maybe if she folded 1000 paper cranes they would be returned?

Nyaa nyaa
[Meow meow].

She sighed as Yuki made it very clear she wanted her dinner. She opened a tin of cat food, specially formulated to enhance Yuki’s profuse coat. Mio read the list of ingredients—fish, white rice, yellow corn, beet pulp and soy—then tipped the food into Yuki’s bowl. Yuki brushed up against Mio’s legs and meowed. As Mio watched Yuki munching with relish she wished all problems were as easy to solve.

Speaking of which
, she told herself,
I need to change my password on the computer.

Before creating a new password, Mio did a quick email check, and was delighted to find there was one from Sachi. Not only was Mio dying to hear from her old friend, she also enjoyed the opportunity to prevent her Japanese from getting too rusty. But as she opened the email and began to read her heart fluttered in her chest. The more she read the more her heart beat quickly, lightly and irregularly, like a bird in flight:

I have reported you to JEAAG, an email anti-abuse group. Do not contact me again.

Mio’s vision blurred. What was going on? Why would Sachi report her? Quickly she googled in JEAAG and discovered it was set up ‘to examine and implement technological countermeasures against email abuse’.
Mio’s head started to reel. Email abuse? What had happened now? She felt an overwhelming urge to phone Sachi but a quick check of the time told her it would be night-time in Japan and her phone call would be far from welcome.

With shaking fingers she emailed instead:
I don’t understand. What has happened? Please answer. Your friend, Mio.

Mio sat back. Tears filled her eyes. What was happening? She was managing to hurt nearly every person she loved. Her parents, Sachi, Mr Lark, the students at school. And then, there were the added humiliations of that meeting with Mrs Burridge, and the detention, and the SK8TR H8TR scrawled across her locker. Mio gave a deep sigh, wondering when this would come to an end. All she wanted was to be a Freewheeler, ride her bike and be with her friends.

Before getting off the computer she re-read the information on JEAAG. It was formed because of the problems people were having with spam. Mio frowned. She didn’t send spam. None of this made sense. As Mio read, her eyes narrowed. JEAAG was developing sender authentification technology, a filtering device to detect emails of false origin. Mio’s hopes leapt. Maybe they could help her? Maybe they could identify who was sending false emails in her name?

With mounting excitement she began to type, explaining what was going on and asking for their assistance. Before pushing the send button Mio whispered, ‘Please. Please help me.’

Just then there was the sound of a key in the lock. Mio closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Anything to steady herself, to be able to face her parents after the morning’s meeting.

‘Good evening, daughter,’ said her father.

‘Hello,’ said her mother.

Mio kept her eyes down and nodded, taking small comfort from the fact her father had called her ‘daughter’ and her mother’s ‘hello’ was gentle. She waited, her breath a slight flicker in her throat.

‘You have shamed us,’ said her father. ‘We don’t want to talk about this now until it’s all clear who sent the emails.’

‘But Papa…’

‘Not now, Mio. I wish to speak to your mother in private. Go to your room.’

Mio hesitated. How she wished she could explain like any Western girl would. Instead, she darted past her parents like an apparition and flung herself on her bed. But she would not cry; she was too angry to waste good tears. She would give her parents as wide a berth as possible. She would go to school tomorrow and publicly apologise to all those kids at the school assembly.

And she would find those dog tags.

Yuki jumped on the bed and a pile of papers fell out of Mio’s school backpack. The petition. Mio bent to retrieve the pages then scanned the names on the list. She felt grateful that so many students had signed. Two hundred and thirty-seven in all. Then it occurred to her that this was almost the exact number of students who had supposedly received abusive emails from her. What did Mrs Burridge say? Two hundred and thirty-two. Mio frowned as she re-read the names on the petition. Many looked identical to those on another list she’d seen that day. She wondered how many of these had received hate emails? With impatient fingers she searched her bag for that other list—the list that Mrs Burridge had given her of all the people she was meant to apologise to. Her eyes scanned the names.

Except for the Freewheelers, the lists were exactly the same!

Thoughts flapped around in Mio’s head like a fish stranded on the shore. Who had sent the emails? And why did they target the people who’d signed the petition? How did they get their hands on the petition when it was with her at all times? And worse—what were they planning now?

Quickly she phoned Clem and Darcy and explained what she’d discovered. They agreed to
meet in the morning an hour before school. They had a lot to discuss. ‘Let’s not meet at the Van,’ suggested Clem. ‘Let’s meet at the skate park. It will be good to have one last look before the council meeting tomorrow night.’ After follow-up calls to Bryce and Tong, it was all arranged.