Spurt (18 page)

Hallie threw a look at Jack. ‘Yeah, and Nats won’t stop going on about
Bigwigs
being in town. Yaz and Stace are getting super bitchy about it and blaming
me
.’

‘I get it,’ Jack said, rolling his eyes at his sister. ‘I’m the worst. Anyway, it sounds like this whole
Bigwigs
reunion thing’s going to be cancelled anyway. That’s probably my fault too, for not being a big exciting celebrity like all the other contestants. So that’s good news for you.’

‘We don’t
know
that it’s going to be cancelled,’ said Adele. ‘Let’s wait and see what Delilah says before we go overreacting.’

Marlene leant over to Jack and touched his arm. ‘I don’t mean to be such a grouch, Jack. I’m just having a little trouble controlling my temper at the moment. And you know, I have been evicted from my own bungalow and so forth.’

Jack felt Marlene’s grip on his arm get tighter and tighter. It was alarmingly strong, as though he were being pawed at by an angry gorilla and not a seventy-year-old woman. She didn’t seem to realise she was doing it; she just kept smiling sweetly at him as she applied more and more pressure. ‘Anyway, hopefully everything will be back to normal soon,’ she continued. ‘That’ll be nice, won’t it Jack?’

As she spoke, her voice suddenly pitched downwards, as though it had been treated with some kind of demonic auto-tune. At first Jack thought she was making fun of him, deepening her voice to sound like the man that Jack definitely wasn’t. But then he saw the look of shock and embarrassment on her face.

Hallie had heard it too. She shot Jack a ‘What the hell was that?’ glance.

The only person who hadn’t heard it was Adele, who was busy dousing the greasy frying pan in soapy dishwater.

Jack felt the blood rushing back to his arm as Marlene released her grip and retreated into awkward silence.

Adele carried the sausages to the table. ‘Everyone’s gone very quiet,’ she observed.

‘Just … in awe of tonight’s tower of sausage,’ said Hallie, eyes still wide with alarm.

‘Y-yeah,’ said Jack. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head. ‘We give you thanks, Almighty Lord, for these almighty snags …’

As he made the pretend prayer, he wondered if he should mention something about his gran apparently being possessed by Satan.

Jack was halfway through the first of his four sausages when the doorbell rang.

‘I’m really sorry to interrupt your dinner,’ said Delilah, as Adele welcomed her in. She nodded towards the table. ‘Still getting through those sausages, I see.’

‘Only half a kilo to go,’ said Adele. ‘How’s the filming going? Jack’s being very tight-lipped about it all.’

Hallie and Marlene took the opportunity to make their exit.

Delilah looked distracted. ‘The filming? It’s going great. Jack’s segment’s certainly going to be … different.’

Jack was relieved. Unless he was imagining things, it didn’t sound like the show was being cancelled after all. ‘Different, but still “as good as”, right?’

‘You’re talking about it as though it’s still a competition …’ said his mum, warily.

‘Actually, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,’ Delilah cut in excitedly. ‘There’s an idea I’ve been pitching to the execs. It’s been on my mind ever since we started talking about this reunion special. A fresh angle. Something that takes the episode to a whole new level.’

Something about the way Delilah was speaking took Jack back to when he was twelve again, during the first week of the
Bigwigs
finals. He and Hope Chanders had been pitted against each other in a challenge to produce a ringtone that viewers could download. He remembered sitting there, just before the recording of the results show, listening to the producers explaining exactly how the
Bigwigs
finals were going to pan out. A cold, constricted feeling grew in his stomach.

‘What I want to do – what the whole
team
wants to do – is make this reunion more of a
contest
. Sure, everyone’s going to tune in to see the new batch of Bigwigs, and they’ll be curious to see the original contestants come back on the show for a lap of honour. That’s all great. But what if we could give them something more? These packages we’re doing: what if they’re not just little “Where are they now?” segments? What if they were more like
auditions
?’

‘Auditions for what?’ said Adele.

Delilah looked like a proud parent. ‘For a permanent spot on the Bigwigs Board.’ She caught Jack’s eye. ‘A regular, paying gig as a full-time cast member.’

Jack’s apprehension turned to nervous excitement. The Bigwigs Board was the judging panel that decided each week who would stay and who would go. It was a massive responsibility. Jack would basically decide the fate of the next batch of contestants. It wouldn’t be just a one-off reunion appearance. There was a chance that
Bigwigs
might want him back
for good.

Sampson would absolutely
spew
if he had to watch Jack on the show every single week.

Plus, Jack liked how it sounded.
Bigwigs Boardmember
. It had a certain manly gravitas to it.

‘I don’t know,’ said Adele. ‘That’s a much bigger deal than just going back for a reunion …’

‘You’re right,’ said Delilah. ‘It
is
a much bigger deal. What do you think, Jack? The segments we’re filming, they’ll have to show everyone why you’d be a good choice for the Bigwigs Board. They’ll need to show you can be a leader, that you can make the tough decisions like sending contestants home. That you’re comfortable with that kind of power.’

Jack stared down at his plate of sausages. So far all he’d proved was that he could hit a target (not really) and catch a fish (not really). But Delilah seemed to be on his side. She’d master-minded the firing range and the fishing boat. She’d given him a masculinity makeover for the cameras. She’d done her best to turn him into the man he kept telling everyone he was.

Now he needed to prove he had what it took to be a Bigwigs Boardmember. And it had just occurred to Jack that there was a perfect opportunity to demonstrate his leadership skills right there for the taking. The more he thought about it, the more perfect it seemed. The
Bigwigs
producers wouldn’t be able to refuse him the position. Not after Delilah turned him into the biggest man in town.

For a week.

The junior mayoral robes had obviously been designed for someone bigger. Jack felt like an impostor in fancy dress as the mayor, Councillor Neville Perry-Moore, helped Jack slip the ceremonial gold chain and medallion over his head.

Mayor Perry-Moore seemed smaller and greyer than Jack remembered him being when they’d stood side by side at the opening of the Upland South Childcare Centre. Even so, it was obvious why people had voted him in as mayor five times in a row. It wasn’t just his experience and his silver-fox good looks. It wasn’t even that he was so devoted to Upland that he’d never married. No, the real reason that Mayor Perry-Moore was so popular was that he somehow managed to make you in awe of his power while at the same time making you feel like he was your best friend.

Jack tried to remember the last time he felt like anyone’s best friend. After what he’d just done, it wasn’t a feeling he was likely to recapture anytime soon.

Mayor Perry-Moore stepped to one side and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. ‘I hereby invest you, Jack Sprigley, with this chain of office, and pronounce you the City of Upland’s newest Mayor for a Week.’

There was a smattering of applause from the gathered witnesses in the council office. Jack’s mum sat in the front row with Reese, Darylyn and Philo. Reese huddled towards Darylyn, away from Philo’s over-enthusiastic clapping. Delilah and her crew were up the back of the room, camera rolling. The three Year 7 girls were at the back too, jumping up and down on the spot and waving ‘Jack is back’ signs. A reporter from the
Upland Daily
stood to the side, taking notes, while a photographer knelt in the aisle and took shots of Jack shaking Mayor Perry-Moore’s hand. The rest of the audience was made up of Mr Jacobs and Ms Liaw, and a handful of the other candidates who’d applied to be Mayor for a Week.

Not that Jack had actually
applied
, as such. Not technically.

Mayor Perry-Moore waited patiently for the Year 7 girls to shift gears down from wild, hysterical excitement to merely hysterical excitement.

‘Now, before we hear a few words from our new Mayor for a Week, I want to mention the special circumstances of this year’s Mayor for a Week program. This year, Jack will be serving in office for the launch of the 14th Annual Upland Hot-Air Balloon Festival. I’m entrusting our new Mayor for a Week with the responsibility of representing me in the traditional Mayor’s Balloon Race.’ Mayor Perry-Moore placed a hand lightly on Jack’s back. ‘I hope you’re not afraid of heights, Jack.’ He chuckled.

‘Heights?’ Jack glanced at the
Bigwigs
camera. The red light was on. He hoped he looked bigger than he felt, buried under the swathes of royal blue cotton. This was it. His audition for the Bigwigs Board had begun.

‘Heights are not a problem. Definitely no problem with heights. Reaching them, or … being at them. In fact, I look forward to reaching new
heights
of excellence –’ (he resisted the urge to wink at the camera) ‘– in the field of being a mayor.’

Jack could sense the groan about to escape from Vivi before it actually came. He guessed she’d been holding on to it for a while, having been standing next to Jack for so long, waiting her turn.

The mayor beckoned for Vivi to come closer. ‘There’s another reason why this is such a special year. Owing to the outstanding quality of entries, we’ve decided, for the first time ever, to appoint a
Deputy
Mayor for a Week. And the bearer of this inaugural office, I’m
very
pleased to announce, is Miss Vivi Dink-Dawson.’

There was a much healthier round of applause – and a noticeable lack of sign-waving from the Year 7 girls. Vivi stepped forward.

Mayor Perry-Moore looked apologetic as he shook Vivi’s hand. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t got any deputy mayoral robes to give you. This is a rather … unique situation.’

Vivi shook her head. ‘It’s okay. Obviously, I would have been honoured to wear the robes and chain. After all,’ she added, glancing at Jack, ‘I do love me some civic regalia. But it’s not the clothes that maketh the councillor. It’s ideas. Passion. Integrity.’

‘Well, I think everyone on council would agree that your application spoke volumes about your passion and integrity,’ said Mayor Perry-Moore.

Standing off to the side of the presentation area was the woman from the council who’d spoken at the Mayor for a Week information session at school. Jack saw her smile warmly at Vivi. Then she noticed Jack looking at her, and the smile faded.

‘Well,’ said Vivi, ‘as I put forth in my essay – because I actually
did
write an essay – I’m especially passionate about finding a balance between building Upland’s economy and preserving the environment. For instance, how many more riverside resorts does the Distagio family really need to build?’ She turned to Jack. ‘Hopefully the Mayor for a Week and I share some common policy ground there.’