Roxy Ran: Red Samurai Part 6

'Maybe Elecktra will use some of her magic tomorrow,' Cinnamon says as we park ourselves in front of the noodle toss to wait my turn. We watch kids try to throw a pool noodle through hula hoops. I'm glad Sergeant Major has lightened up. It used to be regimented fitness drills only, but now he adds in fun games too. I think he's finally accepted that we're not in the army.

'What are you talking about?' I ask.

'I heard Elecktra's entered the talent quest tomorrow,' Cinnamon says.

'She did what!' My stomach flips. She will use her powers for sure. I knew that cape meant trouble.

'Quick!' Cinnamon yanks me out of Gate Two. I'm dying to know our secret destination. We run down the street with our school socks flopping around our ankles. I love seeing Cinnamon run. Her tomato-red hair sets a mean pace; in the wind it looks wet, as if there's ketchup dripping across her shoulders. I thought she would be tired after sport this afternoon, but she seems even more energetic. I don't know what's come over her lately. She's walking to school every day with Rescue on a leash, she's taking home Mum's recipes and trying to eat ninja nutrition.

'You will love this,' she says. 'I've been planning it for days. Mum's meeting us.' Her hair whips me in the face as we turn a corner. Up ahead Cinnamon's mother, Mrs Evans, waits by her car. She has the same curly red hair as Cinnamon, but harnesses the ringlets into a knot at the nape of her neck. I've always liked Mrs Evans. She lets us stay up late during sleepovers. Cinnamon's house has a conversation pit in the backyard covered with fake gra.s.s and sometimes Mrs Evans helps us to pitch a tent and sleep in it under the stars. She's a cool mum.

As we approach, she walks around to the boot of the four-wheel drive and opens it. Cinnamon grabs my hand as we pull up at the rear. Inside the car stand two sparkling mountain bikes, black striped with pink.

'I've been wanting Mon to ride a bike for years,' Mrs Evans says to me. 'When she mentioned that she would only ride if you came, I couldn't help myself and bought two.'

I gaze at the bikes. They look really expensive, but Cinnamon's parents can afford them. My bike is so old it still has a basket and streamers attached to the handlebars. Both Elecktra and I are embarra.s.sed whenever we ride it.

'Cool,' I gasp, reaching out to touch the handlebars. 'They even have gears!'

Cinnamon nods proudly. 'I can't wait to show you where we're going. Hop in,' she says, sliding into the backseat of the car.

Mrs Evans drives us twenty minutes from school. I watch Lanternwood drift past the window. I like my town because it is so organised. The evergreen trees decorated with lanterns grow to the same height and stripe the wide boulevards that coil neatly into the centre of town like a snail. Many of the houses are identical too, except for our yellow apartment. I've always hated that it stands out so much, but Art thinks it makes life easier for the postman.

We pull up at a wall of trees. I arch my neck to see past them, but they're too dense. Mrs Evans helps us to take the bikes out of the car.

'Where are we?' I ask.

'Surprise.' Cinnamon smiles.

Mrs Evans hands me a blue helmet and I snap the buckle closed under my chin.

'Have fun,' she says. 'I'll wait here.'

Cinnamon and I set off on a brick path that threads through the trees. We ride past a sign that says Hole 19.

'Is this a golf course?' I call out to Cinnamon in front of me. Her hair trails behind her like dragon's breath.

'Yes, an abandoned one,' she calls back. 'I don't think anyone from Gate One even knows it exists.'

The path twists through freckled gra.s.s and shallow sandpits. Tall palm trees reach into the sky like fingers. Not an adult, golf cart or even a golf ball is in sight. Up ahead I see a group of kids tying strings around tree trunks. Cinnamon slows down and lifts her face to the sky. I pull up beside her and crane my neck back too. Way up in the sky are kites: fluorescent boats, pastel planes, striped eagles and unfurled b.u.t.terflies.

'They're practising for the kite champions.h.i.+ps,' Cinnamon explains.

One kite is so large it takes six kids to hold it. Some kites are so high they are mere b.u.t.tons of colour in the jacket of blue. We roll our bikes onto the gra.s.s and prop them on their stands, then sit down beside them to watch.

'It's really peaceful here,' I say to Cinnamon. Silence drapes over everyone when a kite is launched, then it's as if you can feel every kid holding their breath as it takes its first dip and glide. My favourite kite is a red boat with rainbow sails gliding across the waves of sky. It reminds me of our kitchen table, which is forged out of different woods from old boats. I allow the sway of the red boat kite and the tickle of the breeze to lull me into a daydream. I imagine myself fastened to one of those kites and sailing above everyone else. Art is always telling me to take myself to five thousand metres when I get stressed. He says it's a good way to shrink a problem or to find a new perspective. I try to look deep into the blue, past the kites to five thousand metres, but the sky swallows me up and I am distracted by the animal-shaped clouds.

'What animal would you be?' Elecktra used to ask everyone when she was little. Some adults would play along and say a giraffe or a penguin, others wouldn't play at all or remind her that they are humans, so already animals. One day Lecky asked a lady at the supermarket checkout. The lady leaned over Elecktra and said, 'I'm not an animal. I'm a ferocious monster who likes to eat little girls.' Elecktra stopped asking after that. But still to this day, she is the best I know at shaping animals out of clouds. She'll see an echidna hiding behind a hippopotamus when others would only see a bird. It's a gift.

I turn to look at Cinnamon. Her face is serene as she watches two teams of kids delicately drive their kites on invisible strings. The kites are so powerful, flying against the strong wind, but grounded too. They're like my powers - wanting to fly free, but held back by strings. Strings of self-doubt perhaps. Strings of uncertainty. I wonder if I'll ever be able to cut the strings and sail freely as the White Warrior.

As if waking from a nap, Cinnamon blearily turns to me and asks, 'Should we go?'

The warm afternoon sun tugs heavy on our eyelids. I stumble to my feet, shake out my legs, then kick off my bike stand. We ride around to the other side of the golf course, where there is a lake protected by water lilies. Kids are playing on the bank and kites now crowd the sky in a vibrant flock.

We pull up next to a kite team who is preparing to launch an orange kite the size of a couch. It's in the shape of an eagle and has two spread wings, a tail and a white papier-mche beak.

'I love your kite,' I tell a kid who looks about eight years old. A smile pins between two blonde pigtails.

'The grown-ups have to help us bring it down because it's so humongous,' she says, 'but if we can launch it, I think we'll win today.' She tilts her face up to the sky to observe the compet.i.tion. 'The kite champions.h.i.+ps are coming up.'

'What do you have to do?' I ask. I've never seen kiting taken so seriously.

'You have to fly the biggest kite the highest and keep it the most still,' she says, then turns her attention back to her team. They encircle the kite and hold it gently between their fingers.

'On the count of three,' the little girl instructs. Together they chorus, 'One, two,' and then on 'three' they all run in the same direction. I cross my fingers and Cinnamon holds her breath. After a few steps, the kids let go of the kite. At first it sails close to the ground, but with an expert tug on the string from the pilot, the eagle swoops once, then glides up into the sky. The boy holding the string unravels more slack and the kite lifts higher. The kids cheer as the eagle kite soars into the clouds.

'Look!' the little girl yells and points at the kites.

I blink up into the blue. A section of kites drifts off into the distance like lost balloons. Screaming kids run to the trees where their kites are anch.o.r.ed.

'They're coming!' the little girl shrieks and her kite team races to create a protective formation around the pilot.

'Who's coming?' Cinnamon asks, but before the kids can reply, we see them. Hero, Krew and Bruce ride along the path, Hero wearing his usual black belt under his school jumper and boxing boots. The group of kids with the eagle kite is nearest to them and Hero holds something that makes them scream - a pair of silver scissors. His eyes flash to me before he rides straight at the kids, splitting them apart and cutting the string. The eagle flies away. The kids begin to cry. Their kite is lost forever. The little girl with the blonde pigtails yells at Hero, but there is nothing she can do. He's too big for them. Hero laughs at her, then skids off with Bruce and Krew.

'It took us weeks to build that kite after the last one he cut away,' the little girl whimpers. Cinnamon wraps an arm around her.

I try to control the blistering anger rising within me, but it is too ferocious, like trying to cage a tiger. Before I can think it through, I summon the wind with a single exhaled breath. The wind builds in a strong reaching hand over the golf course, then blows all the loose kites into a bouquet with one big gust. Kids snap their heads backwards in amazement as their kites entwine together above them. I direct the wind to carry the kites gently down to the gra.s.s. The kids cheer, then rush into the pile to unpick their precious kites from the bunch.

'That was lucky,' Cinnamon says, her ruby eyebrows arching towards me.

The little girl rubs away her tears and runs to join the others. 'The wind changed!' she calls to her friends. No one questions how it happened - they are too happy to have their kites back.

Up ahead Hero screeches to a stop and glares at me. I'm not afraid to glare back at him. He's a bully and the White Warrior isn't afraid of a bully. Cinnamon and I swing our legs over our new bikes and continue our ride through the abandoned golf course.

Soon the kites are back in the sky and kids are retying them to the trunks of the palm trees and posting guards to keep watch. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help summoning the wind to strengthen so the kites can dance. I make a mental Post-it to tell the little girl to place nails on the ground around their pilot. Nails will blow Hero's tyres if he ever shows up again. He really is so mean, preying on little kids with kites. But I guess that's why he does it. Picking on people smaller than him makes him feel bigger. A guy who wears his black martial arts belt under his school jumper obviously has something to prove.

Finally the golf course fills with kids' laughter again. Coasting along, the reality of being the White Warrior spins into the wheels of the bike and for the rest of the ride, I enjoy being a normal kid.

By the time I arrive home, Elecktra has already left for Ballet Fu. It sounds more like a disease than a workout. I hunt around her room for her cape. If I can hide the cape, she won't be able to perform in the talent quest tomorrow - Elecktra would rather die than not be properly costumed for a performance. I search her walk-in closet, under her bed, her wooden chest, in her school bag, but the cape has disappeared. I flop down on a pile of Elecktra's magazines. I'll try to speak to her, to make her see common sense, but unfortunately Lecky hates anything common. If she's this much trouble now, I can't imagine how much trouble she'll be once she's fully ninja.

SEVEN.

The next day at school I find Elecktra out the front of the a.s.sembly hall with a gaggle of her girlfriends. She sits on the steps as Chantell and Brandice s.h.i.+mmy around her. I notice straight away Stephanie Blankenangel is crying. As I approach, I hear Chantell yell at Lecky, 'We're sick of your stupid magic!'

Elecktra's face drops.

'Yeah!' Brandice chimes in. 'You're totally deluded. You're not magical. You're totally av-er-age.' She emphasises each syllable of the insult to drag out the abuse.

The girls huddle over Stephanie and stroke her hair. Elecktra's lips quiver. If there is anything in this world that Elecktra hates, it's being normal or, even worse, average.

Brandice looks over her shoulder at Elecktra and thrusts her nose in the air, then steers Stephanie and Chantell away.

'What do you want?' Elecktra says when I arrive by her side. Her voice is strong, but her eyes glisten. She has just experienced what it's like to be Gate Two. Year Ten looks tough.

I branch out my arms to hug her. Elecktra jumps off the steps and out of the way.

'Stephanie has a dog called Ralph,' she says. 'I thought it would be funny to make a tennis ball fly through the air and say it's Ralph's playing ball. How was I supposed to know he died yesterday?'

I try to put my arms around Elecktra again, but she shrugs me off and fastens her hands to her hips.

'I'll show them! Blankenangel is my sixth best friend anyways. And she's still auditioning!' Elecktra shouts.

'No, Lecky! Showing anyone anything is a really bad, bad idea,' I tell her, but she shoves past me.

'I need my cape,' she calls over her shoulder.

Oh no, not the cape!

Every year we have a talent quest to raise money for charity. The local community is invited and sits on chairs at the back of the hall while we sit on the floor in our a.s.sembly lines. I am so nervous about Elecktra's performance. Even when her friends turn on her, she still has the confidence to get up on stage and remind them of her awesomeness. Lecky's toughest compet.i.tors are Elena and Emily with their 'So You Think You Can Table Tennis' routine - ch.o.r.eographed table tennis to music is always pretty hard to beat.

The gold curtain parts and Elecktra walks out on stage wearing her school uniform, kitten high heels, knee-high socks and multicoloured sequined cape. She has tucked a pink gerbera flower into her s.h.i.+rt pocket. I really hate that cape. It's the same cape she made me wear to casual clothes day last year and I ended up on the school's worst-dressed list.

'h.e.l.lo. Today I will be performing magic and the best song you've ever heard in your life,' Elecktra announces. She disappears off stage for a moment. Then her bottom appears out of the wings, followed by her shuffling legs and her arms dragging a small card table covered with items. Elecktra centres the table, then stands behind it. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, then addresses the audience again. 'I would like to sing "My Favourite Things" from The Sound of Music, with a twist from The Sound of Elecktra's Shower.'

There are murmurs of giggles and the school pianist begins to play the melody.

'Flawless fake tan and extensions on lashes. Statement necklaces and pop colour clashes,' Elecktra sings. She lifts her left hand and a statement necklace of pink crystals leaps off the table and into the air. Elecktra twirls in her ritzy cape while the necklace hovers. The audience gasps. The necklace drops back onto the table, then she presents her nails to the audience. 'Rosy nail polish for a brand-new ring. These are a few of my favourite things.

'High heels, handbags and zebra-print bikinis.' Elecktra shakes both her hands like presenting a prize on a game show and a bikini rises into the air.

'You're using string!' a kid calls out.

'Floral teapots that have chai tea and genies.' Elecktra pretends to take a sip from a teapot that floats past her lips. 'Parrots that speak and fluffy angel wings. These are a few of my favourite things.'

She holds the back of her hand to her forehead. 'When the heart breaks, coz friends are fakes.' She glares down at Brandice and Chantell. 'When I'm feeling sad.' She juggles chocolate b.a.l.l.s around her face with no hands. 'I simply remember my favourite things. And then I don't feel so bad.'

She turns to the audience with a stapled-on smile, to no applause. They probably think it's some kind of elaborate puppet show.

'Bring back "So You Think You Can Table Tennis"!' a kid shouts.

Elecktra bows and exits the stage with a flick of her sparkling cape, dragging her tokens of failure.

In Elecktra's room, pop music is blasting.

'Lecky, look at this graph,' I say, pointing at her maths textbook. 'Explain what an asymptote is.'

'Daisies,' she replies, twirling in her pink Ballet Fu tutu.

'Elecktra, stop being silly! You asked me to help you study so I'm trying to help!' I think she wanted to avoid talking about the talent quest.

She levitates into the air and continues to twirl. She hits her head every now and then on the ceiling, but luckily it's still covered with mattresses. They were for Lecky all along. Mum's always one swift step ahead; she knows every ninja turns out different.

'Okay. Let's try biology?' I suggest.

'Is there an app for that?' Lecky asks.

I sigh. 'I don't know why I bother.' I switch off the music.

Elecktra slides down to the floor like a banana peel. 'Well, aren't you Miss Perfect Powers. Got everything under control,' she snaps.

'You can have everything under control too. But you can't show off. Ninjas are meant to be stealthy, remember? The invisible warriors, secretive and always in the shadows - not the spotlight!'

Elecktra slouches down onto her doona. It's not often you see her with rounded shoulders. Lecky believes in good posture and likes to walk around the house with books on her head.

'Lecky, don't you see? It's not normal to move things with your mind,' I say gently.

'I know,' she whispers, tracing a heart on her tights with a red-polished nail. Her cheeks begin to tremble and her eyes water.

I squint. Is she ...?

Lecky blinks and tears start streaming silently down her face. It's amazing - Lecky never shows her weak and vulnerable side. Seeing her in tears is like seeing one of your teachers at the supermarket - suddenly they become a real person.

'Lecky,' I whisper. She grabs my arm and pulls me into her for a hug. I sit on the bed and stroke her hair as she sobs into my shoulder. Lecky is always so full-on with everything she does that it doesn't surprise me she's a full-on crier too.

'Cat,' she sobs. 'All my friends hate me. I might as well be Gate Two.' She lifts her head, blinking through hair soaked with tears.

'I know the feeling,' I tell her.

Elecktra sits up and wipes her tears onto her wrist. 'I guess you do,' she says, then more tears stream down her face. I go to hug her, but she pushes me away and hides her face.

'You're an ugly crier,' I say lightly.

Elecktra laughs through her tears. 'No, I'm not.' She brushes the tears away with the palms of her hands, then looks at me intently. 'I'm sorry I'm such a toad to you.'

I'm so taken aback by her apology I can't breathe; it's as if I've been punched in the chest.

'I know you get teased at school. I know Hero gives you h.e.l.l and I don't do anything to stop it. I'm your older sister. I should stop it.' Lecky's eyes begin to water again. 'But I'm so scared people won't like me if I say something. Who's going to talk to me then? I don't have skills like you do.'

'Skills?' I ask.