Devils in Danger, page 12
I frowned. ‘What video?’
Noah tapped his passcode into his iPad. ‘You know, the video you made for your tourism expo last year,’ he said, scrolling through his files. ‘We could upload it to YouTube and add a “donate now” button to help you raise the money.’
I hesitated. Showing a video of me talking about devils to my school friends was one thing, but uploading it on to the net? ‘Wait!’ I said as Noah’s fingers hovered over the screen. ‘I … um … I need to check with Mum.’
Leaving Noah in his lounge room, I dashed next door to the salon. Mum was in between customers, sweeping up a pile of hair. ‘It’s a great video,’ she said after I’d explained. ‘I don’t think you should be shy. You did a wonderful job.’
‘So, it’s okay for Noah to upload it?’ I asked.
‘I think so. Just don’t put any personal information on the site,’ she warned as I turned to race back next door.
I waited nervously behind Noah as he dragged and tapped at his iPad screen. Would anybody watch our video? The devils looked cute, but what about me? Did I sound like I knew what I was talking about? What if people gave me bad reviews?
‘Okay, done!’ Noah declared. ‘The video’s all uploaded.’
‘So … where, I mean, how …?’ I peered over his shoulder. He’d titled our clip ‘Dodgy Devils’ and tagged the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program. It did look pretty professional up there with all the other clips people had loaded to YouTube. ‘So what now?’ I asked.
After a quick check that it would play, Noah closed the tab and lay his iPad down. ‘Hopefully a couple of people who already follow me will watch it and share it, and then we’ll be off and running. I’ll tell my friends. You tell yours. Don’t look at me like that. It might take a few weeks before you start raising money.’
Only, it didn’t take a few weeks.
‘We’ve had some views already,’ Noah told me when I dropped in to check the next day. ‘See, there?’
The view tally showed ten views, with three thumbs up. Cool vid! wrote someone in the comments.
I grinned.
‘Told you,’ said Noah. ‘It is a cool vid.’
By the weekend, we’d had twenty-seven views, with one new comment, Dodges devils rock, and a donation of twenty dollars.
‘What? Let me see,’ I cried, pulling Noah’s iPad from his hands. ‘We’ve already had a donation?’
I could hardly believe it. Not only had we received our first online donation, but there were more thumbs up and several shares of the video too.
That’s when things really took off.
Tassie devils, the cutest animals on the planet, said another new comment a few days later, with a fifteen-dollar donation.
LOL – a cross between a grizzly and a feral cat, said the next comment, but with no donation.
You realise these guys can literally break bones? Fifty-dollar donation.
‘It’s working!’ I declared a fortnight after Noah posted the clip. ‘It’s really working.’
Old Mr Tratt from the post office ‘liked’ and shared our video. ‘Fantastic effort!’ he wrote in the comments.
Mrs Dwyer and her husband and sons watched and donated, as did Missy’s family and Miss Bredlow too. Our video soon had six thousand, five hundred and forty-two views.
‘Are you the devil girl?’ asked a Preppie while we lined up one Monday morning for assembly. She pointed to my ‘I ♥ Tassie devils’ scarf, which I’d been wearing every day.
‘I guess,’ I told her.
‘Here.’ The small girl pushed her tiny fist into mine, filling my palm with a tinkle of warm coins. I opened my hand to find about three dollars’ worth of twenty-cent pieces.
‘It’s my pocket money,’ she explained.
And she wasn’t the only one. Loads of students came up, handing me fistfuls of coins. It was the most amazing thing. Everyone wanted to help. The donations came flooding in. My bank balance grew higher and higher.
‘Unbelievable,’ smiled Mrs Dwyer as she cast on the stitches for yet another scarf.
‘Never doubted it,’ said Miss Bredlow, announcing my efforts at assembly.
‘Twelve thousand dollars?’ said Grannie Annie, handing me a box of spare cauliflowers. ‘What a feat!’
‘Might even deter the mynas,’ conceded Mr Snibbler. ‘These Night Eagle things you’re buying.’
By the end of Term Two, I’d raised thirteen thousand dollars, enough for two kilometres of Night Owls on either side of Old Forcett Road. Now all we had to do was install them and hope they’d work to keep Bella and Benjamin away from the traffic.
Chapter 23
‘Roadkill’s dropped by half!’ April’s voice was breathless with excitement when she rang to share the latest news about the Night Owls. They’d been in for only a month and we’d already saved loads of animals from dying on the roads!
She reeled off some more statistics but then she paused, making me hold my breath. Did she have more good news? About a cure? Or bad news? About Benjamin or Bella?
‘I wanted to pass on an invitation,’ she said at last, ‘on behalf of the university and everyone involved in the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program. We’d like to present you with an award and have organised a small ceremony. We really hope you and your parents will come.’
The following Thursday, once Mum’s last client had left and Dad was home from work, Mum, Dad and I dressed in our smartest clothes and drove all the way to one of the oldest hotels in Hobart. I’d invited Noah and Grannie Annie too, since Noah had helped with the video but, predictably, he refused to come.
I didn’t talk much on the way, my stomach swirling and twirling. Would the people from the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program ask me difficult questions? What if I didn’t know the answers?
I chewed my lip as Mum followed the sat nav directions and Dad complained about the state of his footy team.
‘Here we are,’ Mum announced when she finally pulled up. The hotel was old, only three storeys high, and had a pair of tall white columns flanking its heavy glass doors.
‘Fantastic. You wait here,’ said Dad. ‘I’ll just fill the meter.’
Mum checked her lippy in the mirror while we waited, then flicked her eyes to me. ‘What’s with the serious look?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t you excited for this evening?’
I shrugged, keeping my gaze on Dad punching numbers in to the meter. Surely no-one would really ask me questions? They were the experts, not me.
Mum smiled, then reached back between the front seats to haul her oversized handbag from the seat next to mine. ‘Just think. Little old you from little old Dodges has done something huge to help a species. You should be proud, throw your shoulders back—’
‘Mu-um,’ I groaned just as Dad swung open my door. ‘Not helping!’
‘Look, there’s April now,’ said Mum.
April had parked behind us, but instead of getting out, she sat in her ute, her face red and flustered as she ran her hands repeatedly over her hair. She looked super smart, wearing a black tailored jacket and even a smudge of pretty lip gloss, but her curly hair frizzed like fairy floss around her face.
She didn’t smile when she saw us, which made Dad give me a wink. ‘Looks like you’re not the only one who’s nervous, Killarney. How about we chill here for a sec. I think April might want to walk in with someone too.’
We didn’t have to wait long before April came rushing over to our car. ‘Sorry, guys. Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Her hand reached for her head. ‘It’s just this silly hair of mine. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Hi, April. Lovely to see you.’ Mum smiled politely while Dad and I tried not to look at the offending curls.
‘Normally I just let it air dry,’ April continued, ‘but I panicked and got stuck into it with a brush. Worst possible idea. And now what do I look like? A fuzzy lion!’
Mum shook her head. ‘No, of course you don’t. You look lovely.’
I nodded. ‘Yes, you do. Look lovely, I mean.’
April glanced towards the hotel entrance. ‘You’re too kind,’ she murmured. ‘I’m no good at these things, especially when my hair’s all over the place, distracting me. All my colleagues are in there.’
And I thought I was nervous! Poor April. Mum always carried a million products in her handbag. She’d fix April’s hair in a jiffy. ‘I’m sure there’s a bathroom in there,’ I suggested. ‘Mum’s a whizz at fixing frizz.’
Mum smiled. ‘Sure am.’
April fingered a misbehaving curl. ‘No, I couldn’t. It’s supposed to be your night off.’
‘I really don’t mind,’ said Mum. ‘Come on.’
April nodded. ‘I’m not normally one to fuss.’
I watched them head towards the door, then I turned to Dad. ‘Do you mind if I give them a hand?’ I asked.
Dad raised his brows but then smiled. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he warned. ‘I’ll go and find us a seat.’
I hurried after Mum and April as they pushed through the front doors, my eyes widening as we entered the massive foyer. The old hotel was very grand, with tinkling piano music, high ceilings and more than one sparkling chandelier, but it smelt of old carpet and chalk. Over to the right, a large function room was signed Save the Tasmanian Devil Program – Event, but instead of heading towards it, Mum and April rushed towards the ladies’ bathroom.
I smiled encouragingly as April sidled up to the gilded mirror. She gave me a small smile back then glanced nervously at Mum who was pulling all sorts of potions, combs and clips from her bag. She’d not long set to work when April’s phone, which was propped beside the sink, buzzed on and off until she eventually grabbed it.
‘Sorry,’ she explained, distracted by a message on the screen. ‘Just a sec.’ Mum stepped away from April’s hair as the professor held the phone to her ear. ‘Tomato paste’s in the pantry,’ said April, ‘and … What’s that? Okay, quick, put him on.’
She apologised to Mum again, then, ‘Tim? Sweetheart, don’t give your brother a hard time, okay? Yep, I know. I’ve gotta go!’
April smiled. A proper smile, making a dimple in her right cheek. ‘Boys!’ she exclaimed. ‘Honestly. You’d think they’d be sensible for a minute. Now, where were we?’
Mum worked her magic a little longer until April’s hair finally settled down. ‘How’s that?’ Mum asked.
April beamed at herself and her smooth hair in the mirror. ‘Perfect! Thank you so much. Science, I can do, but hair? Definitely not my thing. I have no idea how you hairdressers do it.’
Mum’s face filled with pride. So did mine. ‘It’s because she’s the best hairdresser in Dodges,’ I told April.
‘Well, I’m the only hairdresser in Dodges,’ Mum said. ‘But I’m glad I could help.’
April, Mum and I joined Dad in the function room where the evening was about to begin. I sat very still and very straight as the lights dimmed. I listened hard while two scientists gave interesting speeches about the latest research into devils.
But I sat even straighter when April took to the lectern. My face burnt as she said kind things about me and the people of Dodges, then my chest felt fit to burst as she explained how I’d raised the money for the Night Owls.
‘And so, without further ado,’ she said, ‘I’d like to invite Killarney to join me on stage.’
My knees shook. I’d never won an award before. Not like Missy and Katie and the others. And this stage was so much bigger than the one at school!
My knees trembled even more when the founder of the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program congratulated me and handed me a special glass plaque engraved with my name. People clapped and cheered, and I gave a little bow.
And when the presentation was over, a crowd clustered around me.
‘What did you think when you first heard the devil under your house?’ someone asked. ‘Were you scared?’
‘Have you always been into wildlife?’ wondered someone else. ‘Is this the first cause you’ve taken on?’
‘What would you say to others? If they were to find a devil under their house?’
I replied to all the questions, gratefully sipping the orange juice Dad bought me. But the very last question made me stop and put the glass down.
‘So what do you want to be when you grow up?’ someone asked. ‘A devil researcher, like April?’
I glanced at Mum, who smiled.
‘Maybe,’ I said, smiling back. ‘I’m keeping my options open.’
Afterwards, I carried my plaque carefully to the car. I read and re-read the engraving as April, Mum and Dad stood chatting a little longer. It was getting late by the time Mum fished out her keys, saying we’d better go.
April had one last thing to add. ‘I can’t let you leave without sharing one more piece of news,’ she said. ‘It’s not one hundred per cent official yet, but I can’t wait a moment longer. I was speaking to my colleagues in there tonight, and do you remember when we caught Fern and the joeys and took those blood samples for the lab?’
How could I forget? It was when we confirmed Fern had DFTD.
‘Well,’ April continued, ‘we’ve found the most incredible thing. The DNA tests show Bella has a mutation in her cells, making her immune to DFTD.’
I frowned. A mutation?
‘The coding in Bella’s cells has changed in a fluke, a one-off event, which basically makes Bella a super devil,’ explained April. ‘She’s one of the few genetically wired to fight off the facial disease!’ She smiled. ‘Which means, even without a vaccine, Bella can’t catch DFTD.’
I wanted to leap and whoop. So, this was nature’s way of making Bella safe? She had a mutation, so she’d never die a painful death like her mother?
‘And when Bella is eventually ready to breed, the resistant coding will hopefully spread among the devil population, passing down from generation to generation,’ continued April. ‘The cancer might become a thing of the past.’
I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘That’s awesome,’ I said. ‘Totally awesome!’
‘Just think,’ April said, ‘if you hadn’t gone to so much trouble, we’d never have discovered this resistance at all.’
‘Goodness!’ Mum declared. ‘Well done, Killarney.’
Dad gave me an affectionate squeeze. ‘Great work, poss. Always knew you were a keeper,’ he said.
My cheeks hurt from smiling, but then my heart suddenly sank. ‘So, does this mean you’ll take Bella away?’ I asked. ‘To somewhere safer, to pass on her genes?’
April gave a soft chuckle. ‘Killarney! Bella is somewhere safe! Thanks to everything you’ve done – educating people, the video, raising money for the Night Owls. Thanks to all your hard work, we’ve even got a grant to clean up that dreadful reserve. I can’t think of a better place for our super devil than Dodges. Fingers crossed she soon has young of her own.’
I beamed. Bella the super devil would be staying in Dodges? Spreading her super genes around? I didn’t blame her. Dodges Ferry really was the best.
Chapter 24
The following year, Mum, Dad and I were about to sit down to our Easter dinner when a gut-wrenching cry filled the house. It was followed by a grunt then a growl, then a screech.
‘Good grief,’ whispered Mum.
I flung myself down beside the glass panel and swung my torch beam around Fern’s old den. There’d been no activity down there for over a year. But now my beam caught four shiny red eyes, staring straight into the spotlight. ‘Come see,’ I whispered.
Mum and Dad joined me on the floor, lying flat on their bellies, their faces crowded around the glass. Below us, a smaller devil chased a bigger one, screaming every time the larger devil came too close. I didn’t recognise the big one – it definitely wasn’t Benjamin. But the smaller one had one white paw plus a white spot over her left eye.
Bella!
We watched in silence while the devils squealed and fought, until suddenly, everything went quiet again.
‘Guess what?’ I gushed when we called April to tell her the exciting news. ‘We just saw two devils. There was a small one, who looked seriously like Bella, chasing a bigger one around.’
April laughed. ‘Fantastic news! I’d say the second devil might have been a male, hoping to find a mate. But … it’s a bit late in the season for mating. If anything, it suggests Bella, if it was Bella, might already have imps. I’m guessing the male was just sniffing around.’
‘Bella has imps?’
‘Maybe. Devils usually begin breeding at around about two years old, so I’d say, going on those behaviours, your Bella has already been active.’
‘Which means?’
‘Which means she may well have arrived at your place to den. Any signs of …?’
I grinned. Mum had complained of three lost towels last week, Dad had misplaced a pair of woolly socks, and Grannie Annie was missing her pink-and-yellow polka-dotted scarf.
‘Bella’s denning!’ I cried.
The next morning, I helped April set a tube trap under the house. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to reveal our visitor.
‘Hey, Bella girl,’ I soothed as April held her by the tail and under her chest. ‘I missed you.’
Bella’s eyes were shiny and her nose wet. She had a glossy, healthy-looking coat with no signs of tumours or sores around her mouth. None at all.
‘Okay, so, let’s see. She’s coming in at 5.3 kilograms. That’s great for a devil her age.’
I balanced my soft toy devil on my lap, while I wrote down everything April said. I hadn’t told Mum or Dad, and wasn’t planning on telling April, but after Fern’s death, I’d named my small plush devil Fern too, in memory of our brave little mum. I patted her now before making a note of the few scars on Bella’s nose and the chunk missing from her left ear.
