Page 14 of Power Moves
‘I think you should do it.’
‘No.’
‘Mill—’
‘No.’
Boss starts to smile. ‘Consider it payback,’ he says. ‘For taking a weekend off to go to the festival with your sister.’ He raises his eyebrows as if to say,What you got, Hatton?
I stare at him incredulously. He knows I don’t evenwantto go to the festival. I told him that! And he knows how guilty I’m feeling about going—even if the weekends are technically mine to spend as I please.Ugh!But that’s why he’s so good at his job; he corners people. It’s an incredible skill.
‘Fine.’ I bite my cheeks to avoid catching his contagious smile. ‘Meet you back here in ten. But don’t you dare tell anyone it’s me in there or Rahul will start a stacks-on.’
‘Who’s Rahul?’
I turn to the PE shed, smiling properly now. ‘Long story.’
CHAPTER 7
Oh em fricking gee. Boss was right. The coverage from this will beinsane. The whole party will be high-fiving me for creating such an awesome diversion from the opposition’s rally. Boss has been wise-cracking, the kids have been giggling, and the red dragon (who is definitely not Camilla Hatton) has been posing like a phantasmagorical creature who doesn’t get out of bed for less than ten grand a day.
The only negative has been Archie. He wasn’t interested in our $22 million announcement; he just asked a heap of annoying questions about Nancy Miller. All the other journos have left but Archie is still here, perched on a tiny bench near the bubblers. The sight reminds me of a gorilla on a miniature bike. He’s furiously tapping his laptop keyboard, obviously trying to file his story as quickly as possible.
‘When are we heading back?’ I whisper to Boss through my dragon head.
‘I thought I told you,’ he replies in a loud stage-whisper. ‘I’m heading to the country house now. Allegra wants me home to do something with the horses. And I can’t give you a lift to the station because while you were doing the recce I arranged all the briefing notes on the seats in a particular order. I’d rather not mess them up.’ He smiles apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. But you can get a bus, right?’
I see Archie’s gaze jerk towards us.
‘Yep, no worries,’ I reply, trying to keep my voice light despite the disappointment. ‘I’ll call you later.’
I wave Boss off with a dragon paw and make my way back to the PE shed that sits about ten metres from the benches where Archie is still on his laptop. The shed is cluttered and dark and smells like stale sweat. I imagine this is where badass Year Sixes come to vape. Shelves of balls and bats line the walls, while boxes of folded nets and stacks of colourful cones fill most of the floor space. My pencil skirt and blouse are folded neatly over a collapsible basketball ring.
I shake off the dragon paws, pull off the foam head then tug the zipper at the back of the costume. Nothing moves. I tug again more forcefully. Still, nothing moves. I chuckle to myself, imagining how tragically comic (or comically tragic) it would be if the costume was stuck. Still smiling, I tug the zipper again, mustering up all the dormant strength from my tennis-serving days. The tab is wrenched clean off the zipper. I hold it up to the shed’s window as though I’m inspecting a cursed diamond.
Ohhhh mother of pearl and Satan and all that is unholy.This is actually not funny at all.
Desperately, I try to shimmy the costume off my shoulders but the neck hole is too small. I tug at the neckline and when that achieves nothing, I spin around wildly, searching for some kind of tool to save the day (a dragon wrench?!)—but this serves no purpose other than to whack the giant dragon tail against a shelf, which sends a mass of basketballs careening to my feet.
I whimper. This is not worth a Triple-0 call. I could ring the assistant principal but I shouldn’t distract him from his work. (Someone’s got to think of the children!) All the journos have left. There’s no one here, apart from …
‘Archie!’ I hiss from the shed door. He’s still hunched on the tiny bench, typing on his laptop. ‘ARCHIE!’ I hiss more loudly.
He looks up from his laptop and blinks into the sunlight, searching for the source of the sound.
‘A bit of help?’ I call feebly. I wave a lone dragon paw out the shed door.
A slow wave of realisation passes across his features and his face creases into a smile. ‘I’ll be there in a second, Millsy.’
I KNEW he knew it was me!He punches a few keys on his laptop, closes it and packs it into his leather satchel.
‘What’s happened here?’ he asks, opening the door to let in a swathe of light.
‘I pulled off the zipper tab thingy.’ I hold it out for him to inspect as the door slams shut behind him.
He takes it from me and holds it up to the window like I did moments before. ‘You did pull it off,’ he agrees.
I bristle. ‘I’m not asking for confirmation. I’m asking for help.’
