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Chapter 2

TOM Problem

Mars Bar was a dog expert, or so he said. His grandfather raced greyhounds. But Mario couldn’t handle India’s dog Tiny. Tiny was a bitser. He had lots of dog relatives. Some of them must have been BIG.

Hanging onto the dog’s collar, Mars Bar was dragged by Tiny into the General Purpose Room. He tried to use his sneakers as brakes. They didn’t work against the dog’s weight. The dog leash dragged on the ground behind him.

Mario yelled at India.

Hey! Dogs aren’t allowed in the schoolyard. I found yours drinking at the taps. What’s wrong with him?’

‘Hot dog,’ muttered India. ‘Sit down, Tiny. ‘

Tiny’s tongue lolled out of his mouth in a dog smile.

‘He just likes people.’

“To play with or to eat?’

Just then, Mrs. Tasker swept into the General Purpose Room, her arms full of notes, boxes and cardboard sheets.

‘Is this animals yours, India?’

‘Unfortunately.’

India’s dog wasn’t tiny at all. He was a giant.

‘He should be a horse in the presentation, ’panted Mario.’ Someone could ride him. Go on, Art.’

Art shook his head.

‘You’re too scared. Look. Like this.’

Mario tried to scramble onto Tiny’s back. But Tiny objected and ran round and around Mario, wrapping him up with the leash. Everybody laughed.

‘Someone, take him outside,’ ordered Mrs. Tasker.

For a moment, Art wasn’t sure whether she meant the dog or Mario. ‘Okay, I’ll take him,’ he offered.

He unwound Tiny. But Tiny went the other way. The leash was tangled. So was one of India’s crutches. Then Mario stepped forward, tripped on the crutch and fell flat on his nose.

‘AWWWW!’

‘Are you all right Mario? ‘

Then Mrs. Tasker checked his nose. ‘You’ll live, ‘she said.

‘It hurts,’ complained Mario, but everybody was untangling the dog.

‘As coach, I must warn you. No real animals, firearms or naked flames allowed in TOM presentations,’ stated Mrs.Tasker firmly. Mars Bar always made a fuss.

Who is TOM? Art wondered.

‘Tiny won’t be coming on the day. I’ll take him outside now.’ India hobbled on her crutches. ‘Come, Tiny.’

But Tiny ran away. ‘Tiny!’ warned India. But Tiny liked playing .he jumped on Mario.

‘Get off!’ sneezed Mario. ‘I’ve got a cold too. I’m sick. My gran says there’s a virus going around.’

‘Computer virus?’ India was quick. ’My aunty was talking about that. She’s worried a hacker might mess up her experiments on the computer.’

‘No.’ said Mrs. Tasker.’ I think Mario just has a cold.’

Art took a tennis ball out of his pocket. He bounced it so Tiny could see. ‘Come on Tiny. Let’s have a throw. Fetch?’

This time, the dog followed. So Art threw the ball a few times. Tiny fetched it. Then Art tied the dog to the strong part of the fence. ‘Don’t wreck the fence, Tiny,’ he warned. ‘We need it for cricket practice tomorrow.’

Then Art hurried inside to hear Coach Tasker. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to join this competition she was talking about. The teams had six weeks to get ready.

‘On Tournament Day, each team has ten minutes. They must set up, perform and take down their props,’ said Mrs. Tasker. ‘The coach isn’t allowed to interfere. They must be your ideas.’

‘What do we have to do?’

‘Act out a problem. Each term will have seven people, but only five on stage at any one time. ‘

‘Will I still be in the team?’

Everybody looked at India, with her crutches leaning against the chair.

‘That’s up to the team to decide,’ said Mrs. Tasker.’Work things out. I have to get something from the office.’ She left.

The children talked loudly.

‘Could India’s broken leg be part of the act?’ asked Art.

‘But would we have to cost it?’ worried India. ‘We’re only allowed $50 for props.’

‘How much is a cast worth?’ asked Mike. ‘When I broke my nose playing footy,my dad said it would have to stay crooked.’

‘Can’t see the difference.’ Mario inspected Mike’s face. ‘Still ugly. And you missed the goal that time too,’ he remembered. Then he sneezed again.

‘At least I wasn’t born ugly! And you weren’t even playing.’ Mike said crossly.

Mario insulted most people. He always got in first, just in case they wanted to say something bad about him.

Insult swapping didn’t interest Art.

‘See you later. I’ll drop Tiny off at home for you, India,’ he called and vanished before Mario insulted him, or India yelled at him.

‘Excuse me.’

The chemist looked over his counter piled with jars, tubes and packets of pills. He wore a white jacket and his bald head shone under the light as he bent forwards. Art wondered if he polished it with Mr Sheen.

‘Yes?’

‘How much does a cast cost?’

‘What kind?’

‘A plaster cast.’

The chemist laughed. ‘I’ve never been asked that before. Well, I suppose it depends whether it’s new or used.’

Art thought for a moment. ‘Second-hand.’

The cast was on India’s foot, but it was old. Sort of. India had worn it for several days now. Since she fell off the camel.

‘Is it on a person, or loose?’ asked the chemist.

‘On the person.’

‘How much of the person? Full body? Arm? Leg?’

‘Leg.’

The chemist laughed. ‘Is it the fibula? That’s the little bone inside the leg.Is that the one?’

‘Probably,’ said Art. There couldn’t be that many bones to break in a leg. Later, India looked it up for him. Only two large bones in the bottom of the leg. Seven in the neck. And 208 in the whole body. You never knew when a detective might need to know that!

‘Cost of materials, about fifteen dollars.’

‘Great,’ said Art.’ That was less than fifty.

But then the chemist added,’ Of course, there’s the doctor’s fee- about $130.Most doctors would include the cost of the plaster in their fee. All up, it’s worth about $130,I suppose.’

‘Oh,’ said Art. That might be a problem.

Art wasn’t keen on joining the competition. There might be a lot of reading. If India’s leg could still be in the team because the cast cost more than the fifty-dollar limit, India mightn’t need him. He’d have to find a way of making the cast cost less./

‘Ah!’ Art had an idea.