Devils in Danger, page 6
I didn’t smile, didn’t answer. I just piled up our empty plates, my cheeks still warm with frustration. This wasn’t about facts. It was about keeping Fern safe.
Chapter 12
‘Have you ever seen a Tassie devil?’ I asked while I did Missy’s hair before the school bell the next day.
‘Is this about the science assignment?’ she complained. ‘Miss Bredlow said I’m not supposed to help you.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s way more exciting than science.’
‘Dropped a bit.’ Missy held out a strand of hair.
I let a long breath out of my nose.
‘Okay, okay. What’s sooo exciting?’
I hesitated. Missy was my best friend. I could definitely count on her support. Couldn’t I? Although I was sort of pleased Missy sat with her back to me. There were so few devils in the wild that telling Missy about Fern was like saying Dad’s footy team had actually made the finals. It was so unlikely she’d never believe it. Plus, Mum’s worries about how people might react had made me a little jumpy.
I lowered my voice. ‘Okay, so you know how a few weeks ago, I told you about the paw prints?’
Missy nodded.
‘Well, last week, this professor lady came and put a lump of dead possum inside a trap underneath our house. I had to check it every day, in case we caught a Tassie devil, and yesterday we did!’
Missy spun around so fast that her hair flew in all directions. Colourful ribbons fell to the ground. ‘Wait! What?’ she trilled, snatching up her ruined plait. ‘You have a lump of dead possum under your house?’ She blinked, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘Ewwww. Killarney. Do you even hear yourself? You’ve got disgusting dead possum meat under your house?’ Missy screwed up her nose and made a gagging noise, like she was about to puke. ‘Seriously! I can’t believe you. Doesn’t it stink? Oh my god. I think I’m going to be sick.’ Her gaze darted to the brush, which I was still holding. ‘You didn’t touch the dead stuff or anything, did you?’
I quickly hid the brush and my hands from view. ‘No! The lady from the uni—’
‘Are you sure? Because you’ve been pawing at my hair for, like, half an hour.’
‘No, Missy. I didn’t touch anything. I promise.’
‘Really? Because I don’t know what’s got into you lately. Poo? Dead possum meat? Traps? I thought you liked cute things, like golden retrievers and pussycats and ponies. Not creepy roadkill and stinking devils.’ Missy gave a dramatic sniff before wheeling around and storming off.
So much for keeping things low-key. Missy, my very best friend, was totally freaking out. What chance did I have of explaining what Fern needed to anyone else?
That afternoon I took Bones for a walk to the netball courts, hoping to talk to Missy again. I couldn’t have my best friend thinking I’d lost the plot. But I hesitated as we approached. Missy, Urasha and Katie were shooting goals, just as I’d hoped, but Mario was pedalling round and round the courts on his bike.
Oh no.
‘Bones!’ I hissed. ‘Slow down.’ But Bones had already spotted my friends and was pulling me towards them, wagging her tail in anticipation of cuddles. Before I knew it, we’d arrived right next to the netball hoop, just as Missy lined up a shot.
‘Hey,’ I said, but Missy didn’t look over. ‘Missy?’
‘Here, throw it here!’ she yelled once Katie had caught the rebound. She and the others then sprinted down the court, throwing the ball between themselves until they reached the other end, where they practised bounce passes in the goal circle.
I waited, but they didn’t come back. ‘Hey! Watch out!’ I called as Mario sped past, way too close to me. I held my breath as he circled back. ‘Kitty killer! Kitty killer!’ he chanted, pedalling around me faster.
I frowned. ‘Sorry? What?’
But Mario zoomed off again, laughing as he went. ‘Kitty killer! Kitty killer!’ he jeered, louder now, as he lapped the court once more.
I stalked down to the far hoop. Missy and Urasha had their arms in the air, defending against Katie while she tried to shoot. ‘What’s Mario talking about?’ I demanded.
None of them looked over.
‘You can’t ignore me forever!’ I shouted.
Missy snatched up the rebound. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ she warned.
‘Kitty killer! Kitty killer!’ sang Mario, whizzing by on his bike.
My eyes pricked with tears. Why were they being so mean? ‘Missy?’ I pleaded. ‘What’s going on?’
Missy finally turned to face me, the ball hugged to her chest. ‘Mario saw your devil dragging a cat across Old Forcett Road!’
The air around me froze. ‘What?’
‘Kitty killer!’ Mario shouted as he shot past again.
Katie gulped. Urasha chewed worriedly on her thumbnail.
‘Seriously?’ I blurted. ‘Since when do you believe anything Mario says?’
‘Okay, I know Mario can, like, stretch the truth sometimes,’ Missy protested, ‘but he said the devil had the cat by the neck and—’
‘Poor Stripes,’ murmured Katie, her bottom lip wobbling.
‘Mario said the devil was gripping onto it, like, really really hard, while poor Stripes miaowed and miaowed, struggling to get free.’ Missy’s eyes were huge. ‘He said the devil’s teeth were like fangs, huge fangs, sharper than any dinosaur’s.’
‘What if it attacks another pet?’ Katie whimpered.
‘Like Bones? Or Trevor, Missy’s horse?’ Urasha added.
A big fiery ball of frustration suddenly exploded inside me. ‘As if little Fern would attack a horse!’ I cried. ‘How ridiculous! Tasmanian devils are mostly scavengers and, even when they do kill to eat, the animal would have to be pretty small.’ My voice was suddenly shaky. Where did these rumours come from?
‘I’m just telling you what Mario saw, that’s all,’ Missy sulked.
I looked over to where Mario was circling the hoop on the far side of the court. Wait till I got hold of him!
‘What if the cat was already dead?’ I suggested. ‘Knocked over on the road? Mario might have seen a devil dragging an already dead cat. Have you even thought about that?’
‘Ugh, no,’ Missy said. ‘Why would I? I’m not obsessed with disgusting roadkill. Unlike some people.’ She rolled her eyes then tossed the ball to Katie, who threw it to Urasha. Blinking back tears, I watched them take the ball down the court again, then I reached out a hand to pat poor Bones. I wasn’t the only one feeling upset. She’d been doing her very best sit and hadn’t even got a single cuddle.
My chest was too tight for me to think straight as Bones and I headed home. How dare Mario accuse little Fern of killing Katie’s cat. Stripes had been missing for ages, before Fern even arrived. I was busy going over all the possibilities of what Mario may have actually seen when I spotted Mr Snibbler marching along the footpath towards me. Wearing his usual black suit pants and chauffer’s cap, the stick-thin old man leant slightly forward, like he was carrying a heavy backpack. He strode with his eyes fixed to the ground, as if looking for lost coins, and would have bumped right into me if I hadn’t called out.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Snibbler,’ I said, knowing Mum would expect me to be polite.
I hoped he’d say hello back and keep walking but, as usual, Mr Snibbler had a bee in his bonnet to share. ‘Indian mynas!’ he announced, shaking his fist at the sky. ‘What a bunch of scallywags! Have you seen the way they’ve taken over?’
I chewed my lip. There were a lot of mynas around, scaring away the native birds, but Mr Snibbler was always complaining about something. It was best not to get involved.
‘Pooping all over my limo! Just when I’d given it a polish.’ He paused to twiddle one end of his curled-up moustache. ‘Reported them, of course. The department’s always keen to know about mynas. Rotten pests.’
I was just about to answer, that yes, mynas were pests, when Bones leapt up and planted her front paws right on Mr Snibbler’s chest.
Mr Snibbler stepped back with a start. ‘Get off, you filthy mutt!’ he cried, pushing Bones away. ‘Goodness! Don’t get me started on dogs. This one does nothing but bark. Bark bark bark. Day in, day out.’
I was about to defend Bones and explain that she’d been barking for a reason, when Mr Snibbler clasped his hands across his cap and crossed to the opposite side of the road. My heart squeezed. Good thing I hadn’t blurted out anything about Fern. If Mr Snibbler couldn’t put up with dogs or birds, how would he react to a noisy Tasmanian devil?
My mind raced as I popped Bones back into her yard. No wonder Mum didn’t want a fuss. It had only been one day since we found Fern, and things weren’t going too well at all. People were surprisingly difficult to educate.
I paused at our letterbox. Strange. Mum always checked the mail before I returned from school. And yet, now, in the late afternoon, a corner of white paper stuck out from the slot. Maybe she’d forgotten? Or someone was dumping junk mail again. I reached my hand through the flap and pulled out not one but three folded pieces of A4 paper.
I gasped. My hands shook. Who would write such terrible words?
Chapter 13
REMOVE THE DANGEROUS DEVIL! screamed one of the dreadful notes.
TASMANIAN DEVILS, TASMANIAN TIGERS! cried another. MAKE THEM ALL EXTINCT!
FREE DODGES OF DEVILS! demanded a third, the angry handwriting practically leaping from the page.
I looked up, my eyes darting down the street. Mr Snibbler? The old man was at the far end by now, near his house. Surely he wouldn’t have written such horrible words? How did he even know about the Tassie devil? I certainly hadn’t told him and I was sure Mum wouldn’t have said anything.
I searched around for other suspects or clues, but other than some random tyre tracks crisscrossing the mud – some narrow, others wide – there was nothing to be seen. I quickly stuffed the letters into my pocket. I didn’t want Mum seeing them. She was spooked enough about people’s reaction to Fern.
I ducked in by the side door, hoping to slip to my room unnoticed, but my heart dropped when I saw the customer in Mum’s salon chair.
Mrs Dwyer sat with a black cape draped across her shoulders while Mum worked on her foils. What if, being a farmer like Pop, Mrs Dwyer thought all devils should go?
Mrs Dwyer was so busy chatting, though, that I was able to slink past, mumbling something about homework. I couldn’t risk mentioning the devils with Mrs Dwyer in the house.
Once I’d closed the door to my room, I reached for my soft toy pelican and lay the angry notes out on my desk. Free Dodges of Devils? Remove the dangerous devil ? I paced the floor, my throat tight.
Someone really had it in for little Fern.
‘Who’d write such horrible things?’ I asked the pelican. Missy? Mario? Mr Snibbler? The possibilities fizzed in my head like sherbet as I pulled out my notebook and sat, with my pelican cradled in my lap, making a list.
Pro-devil: me, Mum and Dad, April
Anti-devil: Missy, Mario, Urasha, Katie, probably all the Grade Three boys and anyone who played netball or handball
Unsure: Mrs Dwyer, Mr Tratt, Mr Snibbler, Grannie Annie, Noah, Miss Bredlow
Any of the anti-devil or unsure candidates could be responsible for the notes. ‘We have to find a way of changing their minds,’ I told my pelican. ‘A way of making Fern seem cute.’
I waited until Mrs Dwyer left before tiptoeing out to the kitchen and turning on the laptop. Despite Mum’s protests, I had to make those posters. I’d keep the information simple, include a list of easy dot points, then print the posters off and pin them up at school, the bus stop and the community garden noticeboard. Dad could put one up at the footy club and, if I was lucky, I might persuade Mum to allow one in her salon.
It took a few goes to figure out the right wording – and lots of spellchecks! – before I was happy.
Finally my poster was ready.
Help us help endangered Tasmanian devils by:
Keeping dogs on leads
Driving slowly
Avoiding use of rat poison
Not clearing trees(unless absolutely necessary)
Leaving out fresh water for devils to drink
For more information, see the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program site.
I printed off five copies and raced over to Noah’s.
‘Hey!’ I called as I snuck through his back door. ‘Earth to Noah?’
Predictably, Noah was in front of the TV, headphones on. Grannie Annie stood washing vegies at the kitchen sink, a green scarf in her hair. Neither of them seemed to hear me, so I waved a hand in front of Noah’s face.
‘Hey, squirt,’ he murmured, his eyes still on the screen. ‘Just give me a sec.’
Grannie Annie looked up. ‘Oh, hi, Killarney. What are you all excited about?’
I hid the posters from view. Which list would Grannie Annie be on? Pro-devil or anti-devil? ‘Um … nothing,’ I muttered, before sidling up behind Noah. ‘By the way. It’s not a wombat,’ I whispered.
He didn’t turn around. ‘What?’
‘The thing in our yard.’
His eyes stayed on the screen. ‘Seriously?’
‘Don’t tell your gran yet, but it’s a devil, a female Tassie devil. She was raised in captivity and released, but now she’s going to have babies, so everyone in Dodges needs to look out for her.’ I took a breath, watching to see if Noah flinched.
He didn’t even blink. ‘A devil?’ he said as he jabbed the contoller. ‘Awesome. Why are you whispering?’
Bones was chewing at my laces, and I had to hop and jump to get her away. ‘People are acting weird,’ I said.
Noah frowned. ‘What do you mean weird?’
I told him about Missy’s reaction.
‘Don’t stress. Horse people are weird.’ He spoke as if addressing the TV, but I knew he was talking to me. ‘She probably thinks devils spread cooties.’
‘And then there’s Mr Snibbler. I don’t know what he’ll do when he finds out.’
Noah laughed. ‘Mr Snibbler? He hates everything …unless it’s a car.’
‘But devils don’t hurt anybody. Why don’t people understand?’
Noah leant back against the couch and scratched his belly under his crumpled school shirt. ‘So, what are you going to do?’ he said, finally looking over.
I fiddled with my rolled-up posters and proudly opened them up. ‘Well, I made some …’
Noah’s eyes glinted as he read my dot points. ‘Seriously?’ he said. ‘Who does posters anymore?’
I snatched the pages from view. ‘Oh.’
Noah groaned. ‘We’re not in the seventies, Killarney. What other groundbreaking ideas have you explored? Don’t tell me. Key chains? Bumper stickers? Homemade badges?’
‘No!’ I scrunched the paper in my hands. Posters? Der! But what else would convince people to look out for our devil?
‘Anyone fancy a glass of carrot juice?’ called Grannie Annie from the kitchen.
Noah shook his head.
So did I. ‘No thanks,’ I said as the juicer began to whirr.
Noah leant towards me. ‘You were right not to mention the devil to Gran by the way,’ he warned. ‘She’s all wound up about her vegies. Cauliflower heads … nibbled. Kale leaves … ripped. Snow peas … gobbled. Something’s got in there and ruined the whole winter crop. I’m not sure she’ll be on any animal’s side right now, no matter how you try to persuade her.’
I was about to remind him that devils didn’t eat vegetables but decided against it. I said goodbye instead and skulked back home. It was dark outside now, and my stomach rumbled. I asked Mum if she needed help with tea but she didn’t, so I wandered to my room and pulled out my journal.
I sat on my bed. Ideas to help Fern, I wrote across the top of a blank page. Then I stared at the heading, my mind searching for ideas. How would I get people to care about our Tasmanian devil? Not with posters, obviously. Or homemade badges. There had to be something that would work.
But even when the smells of Mum’s cooking wafted through the house, the page stayed blank. I couldn’t think of anything.
Some sort of wildlife advocate I made. If I didn’t do something soon, I’d be letting everyone down: April, Fern, Fern’s babies. Everyone at the Save the Tasmanian Devil Program would be disappointed with my lousy efforts.
Chapter 14
I still hadn’t thought of one single idea to help Fern when I heard Dad’s ute pull in after work that night. I waited for him to come inside, but when he didn’t, I padded down to the lounge and peeked out the window. I needed to explain my dilemma, but he must’ve been talking to someone on speakerphone. He sat with the ute’s engine running and the headlights shining down the drive as he nodded and chatted away.
‘Killarney, honey,’ called Mum from the kitchen. ‘Can you run out and tell Dad dinner’s nearly ready? And then can you lay the table?’
I stepped out onto the verandah, the night’s air cool against my face. It was so cold Dad’s hot exhaust fumes made a big billowing cloud from behind his ute tray. I was grateful for the warmth of the house, snug on my back. I waved, but Dad was concentrating on his call and didn’t look over.
I stood for a while, hoping to catch his attention, then let my gaze follow the beam of his lights. They were pointing towards the trampoline, making eerie shadows in the garden. I squinted. I thought I saw something move around the edges of the light. I squinted harder and just made out a black shape, lumbering away from the trampoline, half hidden by the long grass that Dad missed every time he mowed. It was about the size of a small pug, with black shiny fur, but had its back to me, and I couldn’t see its ears or face. Could it be Fern?
