Extraordinary Losers 1 Read online

  Before we even realised that the book was headed towards Leonard, there was a loud “YOOOOOOWWWWLLLL!”

  Leonard squirmed in agony.

  “What happened, Leonard?” Miss Jacobs asked. “Did you get your book back?”

  “Ye… yes, Miss Jacobs. Ouch!” He rubbed his fingers. “Paper cut! Silly Cland…”

  “Then be quiet!” she said. “Don’t make a big deal of a paper cut.”

  There was indeed a cut on his index finger. Blood was oozing out onto his exercise book that was already on the table, facing him.

  Clandestino smiled. The class was stunned. Mundi Sakdipa’s eyes were bigger than they had ever been. Janice’s jaw dropped. What just happened? How on earth did he do that? I wondered.

  Leonard licked the blood from his fingers. “One day, Clandestino, one day!” he muttered.

  Of course no one heard him. Except me. Clandestino continued, tossing the books across the classroom like Frisbees. We took more pride in catching those Frisbees than actually solving problem sums. Keeping an eye on my oncoming book, I caught mine like a pro.

  “Good job, Darryl,” Janice said, noticing.

  “Heh, thanks,” I said, feeling a little awkward that the drama queen was striking up a conversation with me. No one else sustained paper cuts that morning.

  I looked at my Math exercise book. One of the pages was folded, sticking out like a paper aeroplane. Hopefully, not another “SEE ME!!” emblazoned in red again.

  When I flipped to that page, a strange note greeted me. It was typed on a yellow stick-on.

  “Odd,” I muttered. “Very odd.”

  Janice leaned over. “What is?”

  “Oh… nothing.”

  “You sure? Here, you can have my book, I have already copied out all the sums on the board.”

  “How can that be? Miss Jacobs just finished!”

  “Yeah, well,” Janice said.

  “No thanks, Janice, I’ll pass. Thanks.”

  The yellow note read:

  What? Who typed that? I looked up at Miss Jacobs, but she was not looking in my direction. I studied the note carefully, but it was hard to figure out who it had come from. The yellow stick-on had a little image of an apple on it. All my classmates weren’t intrigued by their exercise books. Only me. Meet where? What in the world?? What secret meeting was this?

  A cryptic message! “Telling no one” was difficult. Maybe someone wanted to interview me for position of head prefect. See if I could tie a tie perfectly or something?

  “Okay, now that everyone has received their books, let’s move on,” Miss Jacobs said. Then, she started droning, “If there are 160 buttons in a drawer, and 70 per cent of them are white and 30 per cent are black…”

  She started drawing models on the board.

  “What a racist statement!” Justin cried. “More whites than blacks!”

  The class guffawed heartily. Miss Jacobs couldn’t restrain her laughter either. Just then, Justin raised his hand. “Erm, Teacher, I think I smell urine!”

  “Really? Where?”

  “There!” Leonard pointed to Mundi. Mundi was trembling from the looks of 40 disgusted faces.

  True enough, his legs were wet and glimmering with… eeewwwwww. Class 5B laughed out so loudly that my eardrums ached.

  Miss Jacobs gave Mundi a look of sympathy and walked towards him. “Are you okay? Go and wash up in the toilet.”

  Mundi stood up.

  “Erm… Miss Jacobs, I think he needed to go to the loo, but he didn’t dare to ask,” Clandestino defended him. Mundi was still silent. He bolted off to the toilet, a wet patch on his butt.

  “Stop laughing, 5B!” Miss Jacobs hollered. “He is too shy to speak up! You should be helping him, like Clandestino, and not mocking him.”

  Justin whispered, “Yeah, help him by giving him my baby sister’s diapers!”

  “Haha, what a wimp!” Leonard concurred. Leonard and Justin were the “gang leaders” of the class. If they laughed, everyone laughed. Except for those of us who had brains.

  Five minutes passed and Miss Jacobs was still harping on her button story. Mundi returned to his wet seat. “The buttons move here, and some buttons move there… and you minus this and divide that…” I felt tired for the buttons. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Janice hand Mundi a pack of tissues and a disinfecting wipe.

  “Are those baby wipes? For babies?” Leonard asked. I could hear some girls giggling.

  Mundi accepted them and hastily wiped down his chair. Before he could settle on his wet seat, there was a resounding “BRRRRRRRIIIIINNG!” It was dismissal time. Phew! Saved by the bell! I dog-eared the special page and stuffed my Math book into the secret compartment of my bag (the same compartment I hoard French fries in).

  When I reached home, Sophia was already logged on to her Facebook account. I sneaked up behind her.

  She was posting and labelling her baby teeth pictures on Facebook. What an attention seeker!

  “A watermelon?” I remarked. Sophia was chatting with someone who had a watermelon as a profile picture.

  “Who is Watermelon?” Aunty Maryanne heard me.

  “Darryl! Stop it,” Sophia whined. “Stop being a busybody!”

  “You’d better be careful… Watermelon… that’s crazy,” Aunty Maryanne added.

  “I know what I am doing,” Sophia said. “He’s too shy to show me his real picture.”

  I thought it was very odd. Who would call himself Watermelon? Perhaps Watermelon was a fruit activist? Recently, changes were made in school. Fruit juice, barley and lemonade are the only drinks sold at our canteen now. Soft drinks are officially banned in school canteens. All other drinks that make your tummy ache, rot your teeth, or make you hyperactive and fart are banned… although fruit juice kind of makes my tummy ache and makes me fart too.

  Mum says they produce “good farts” but soft drinks produce “bad farts”. Huh?!! The things adults say…

  Wait a minute, Sophia’s “Watermelon” only appeared recently. And my secret note had a symbol of an apple on it. Perhaps Watermelon was related to my secret note? Were we being assailed by a fruit parade?

  All at once, I heard the familiar sound of keys jangling. It was Mum arriving home from her office job.

  “Darrrryyyyyylll!!!! You have any test results?” she called. “Let me check your bag.”

  Before I could stop her, she was already at my bag, fussing and fiddling.

  No. No. No! Not my Math problem sums book.

  “There are no results today,” I said, rushing to get the book before she did.

  “Wait… Let me see.” She snatched the book from me.

  In an attempt to distract her, I spewed, “Err, you know I saw that my classmate Clandestino had some lice on his head!”

  “WHAT?!” Mum jumped. She was paranoid about children and lice. (Mum makes sure that my hair is a “lice-free zone” by soaking my hair in scalding hot water and Dettol once a month.)

  “Oh my! And look at your ears, Darryl! Why do I always have to tell you to clean your ears?”

  “I will, Mum, just leave it.”

  “Darryl, I am serious! All I can see is ear wax!” She was checking my ears out.

  “I know, Mum, I will clean them!”

  “Yeah, you had better! You are an utter disgrace!” Suddenly, she remembered the exercise book in her hand.

  “Please don’t find the note,” I prayed. It would be all over. Knowing Mum, she would probably storm into school and confront the principal if she saw the note.

  “What’s this?” She saw the folded page.

  “Just some SEE ME,” I said nonchalantly.

  “You are always like that, Darryl, no end to seeing your teachers…” I rubbed my ears to drown out the ear-piercing frequency at which Mum was nagging.

  “Ah, ah… no,” I mumbled. My eyes were on her fingers. Just one more flip and the note would come sailing out like a maple leaf. Instead, she slammed the book shut and hit me with it. />
  “Ouch!” The head slam was just what I needed to sandwich the note deeper into the crevices of my Math problem sum book. Quickly, I scrambled to my room, detached the note from my book and hid it under my pillow. Then I plugged my iPod earphones into my ears to get some sleep. Without my music, I would never have been able to sleep. Crawling ants, whirring fans, and the family’s farting orchestra are not exactly my favourite noises.

  What was the meaning of that baffling message?

  We have selected you. The tallest but not the first and not the last. To meet us there. What is 58/366? Bring yourself only. Be there and be square. Tell no one.

  I stared and stared at it, until the words became blurry, hazy and fuzzy… and soon they disappeared.

  CHAPTER 4: OUR POWERS COMBINED

  Darryl!” Aunty Maryanne slapped me on the cheek.

  “Five more minutes!”

  “Now!” she screamed.

  What day was it today? Friday? Getting up was always a chore. My feet felt toasty under the blanket and I was curled up like a macaroni.

  Wait! Where was my note? I had it with me last night!!! I felt under my pillow and around my bed. It was gone.

  “Bro! You go first! Quick!” Sophia whined. She wanted me to use the toilet first, so she could linger in bed.

  “Wait!”

  “NOW!!”

  I flicked my blanket aside and tossed my pillows off the bed. The secret slip was gone!

  “Soph, did you see a slip of paper?”

  “No!”

  “Nothing?” I felt around her bed. “Ow!”

  Sophia had kicked me hard in the stomach. That’s the price I have to pay for sharing the same room.

  It was already 7am, my bag wasn’t packed and I was not ready for school. The morning bustle made it simply impossible to find the note. Oh no, oh no, how could I have misplaced it? I hastily brushed my teeth and threw on my uniform. I rummaged around my room desperately until Sophie literally pushed me out the door, whining as usual. “What are you doing? You are going to make us late!”

  On my way to school, I tried hard to recall what that mysterious note said. That note could very well be my ticket out of the loser club.

  “Tallest… shortest… you meet us. Or shortest something… 58 over 366, something something… ”

  Aunty Maryanne shot me a quizzical look. “Darryl, what are you doing? Walk properly,” she said.

  Aaargh. I had to solve this. Maybe I could surreptitiously ask around to see if my classmates could provide some clues.

  “Hi, Janice!”

  I decided to make small talk with Janice. She would probably have gotten the note too. Class monitress and Miss Know-It-All, she would know something, surely. I had to ask gently, without divulging the clue.

  “Janice, anything weird happened to you lately? Like, anything strange?”

  “Err. Yah…”

  “Oh cool… Is it something that you know, that I know?”

  “Err, no, because it’s something that only I know,” she said, cryptically. She was so sounding like part of the secret conspiracy.

  I seesawed my chin up and down, hoping to coax her into revealing more information. I thought there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. UNTIL… she uttered her next sentence.

  “I think I am different from the rest.”

  “Huh? Really? How?”

  “Yeah, but I am not sure if I should tell you. ’Cause, you know, you might think I am weird or something. Already, I am the laughing stock of the class.”

  “Hmm. That makes two of us.” I smiled.

  “YOU? How could that be?” she gasped. “Yeah, maybe you do stink at sports but that’s about it. Oh yes, and your ears are disgusting! I can see crusty flakes in them right now, Darryl!”

  “Heh,” I laughed. “They have to be extra coated with ear wax if I were to lead a normal life. Free from painful headaches.”

  “What? What do you mean?” Janice asked. I was reluctant to tell her. I had come to her for clues on the secret note, not to divulge my “secret power”!

  “If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?” I continued. “My mother found it hard to understand my dad as he was special too. That’s why he left us.”

  Janice zipped her mouth.

  “If she knew, she would go crazy!” I sighed, then hesitated. What in the world was I doing blabbing away. And to Janice, of all people! Before I could stop myself, out came my secret. “Well, let’s just say I can hear very well. And I mean I can hear EVERYTHING. The sound of teachers walking to class from two blocks away, the sound of someone’s tiny fart, the sound of a butterfly flapping its wings. I can hear them all! Loud and clear. No one knows about this, not even my mum.”

  “Oh!” Janice said. “Wow!”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  She was about to speak when my ears twitched. Someone was whispering to someone else. It was very very far away, but I could make out a few words.

  “Riddle.”

  “Solve, calendar.”

  “To meet. Clock.”

  The voices were vaguely distinguishable. One sounded a bit “curly”, the other, rather nasal? Mundi and Clandestino? I wasn’t sure. I wished I had powerful eyes too! When I turned back to Janice, she was already gone, with my secret. Which meant I still had a problem: I had to find that note!

  “Aunty Maryanne!” I yelled the minute I got home. “Did you see a slip of paper this morning around or under my bed?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Where is it? Pass it to me, quick!” I said desperately.

  “Oh. It is just a piece of paper. It was on the floor, so I decided to recycle…”

  Before she could finish her sentence, I raced to the recycle bag outside our flat to retrieve my clue. It was filled with all kinds of family scrap. Our milk cartons, chicken rice wrappers and even Sophia’s used tissues. My yellow note was semi-buried in the mishmash, crying out to me. With a deep breath, I sliced through the waste and fished out the note. It was moist and smelly but still emblazoned with the special riddle. I kissed the papaya-smudged note.

  Wait a minute, Google might help with the riddle. Unfortunately, Sophia was in our room, on the laptop. Invading my space, as usual.

  “Cute Watermelon is sooooo chatting with me,” Sophia giggled.

  “You mean ANNOYING Watermelon,” I said.

  “Hey, better be careful it’s not some 50-year-old man lurking behind his screen, pretending to be a cute watermelon while preying on young girls like you,” Aunty Maryanne added.

  “I know,” Sophia said. “You think I’m dumb?”

  “Quite,” I said.

  “What did you say?” Sophia yelled. “Mind your own business.”

  “Look at Mum!” I said, in an attempt to distract Sophia. Then I quickly caught a glimpse of the screen. It said, “Let’s meet, Soph. I have a secret to share with you.”

  Oh no, Sophia was being summoned to a secret meeting as well? Maybe someone knew about my family? At that moment, Mum was whistling and doing the chicken dance. When she caught us giving her incredulous looks, she stopped. Parents are typical Act Serious Adult Disorder (ASAD) sufferers. They are always “acting serious”. Plugging my earphones into my ears, I pretended to study. But I was really studying THE note. I must have pondered so hard I dozed off. Next thing I knew, Mum was yelling.

  “Dinner time!”

  Grandma was already at the table, savouring every bit of her three-course meal on the dining table. Dinner was as predictable as ever – a “nutritious” soup (either chicken or pork), soggy green vegetables swimming in thick murky gravy, and a large pomfret fish (fried or steamed).

  What is really gross is that everyone sticks their saliva-coated chopsticks into the dishes and digs through the vegetables and fish like nobody’s business. It’s pretty disgusting when you find bits of mashed rice in the fish and Grandma’s missing dentures among the vegetables.

  Long after we had finished eating, Gr
andma was still grinding her food with her loose tooth. We accompanied her at the dining table, pretending to read our encyclopedias.

  “They call this the tallest building?” Sophia asked scornfully.

  “Yes, good,” Mum said. “Test each other.”

  “There are so many skyscrapers taller than this today,” Sophia continued. “I can’t believe I am reading this when I can just Google everything.”

  Those encyclopedias were starting to make me sneeze when… something occurred to me.

  “Wait a minute. Did you just say TALLEST?”

  “Yah. So?”

  “Let me see,” Grandma said, grabbing the dust-laden book. She tasted the page with her finger before turning it. Gross!

  “Darryl! Take your cod liver oil!” Mum interrupted.

  Not that potent concoction again! (Mum believes it makes me less hyperactive. I believe it gave me superhuman ears.) Meanwhile, Grandma was locked in a studious moment, studying the ancient photograph. She loved to examine old photographs. I looked over her shoulder.

  “Hmm, interesting,” I said, turning the page back. There was a picture of the Sears Tower in Chicago. It dawned on me that perhaps the clue on the yellow note was referring to the tallest or highest building in school.

  “NOW!” Mum said. I swallowed the foul-tasting brain juice. As the oil dribbled down my throat, Jupiter building came to my mind. (My principal named our buildings after the planets since we were in Brightstar Primary School.)

  “Thanks, Soph!” I hugged her.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you trying to tell no one? It’s okay, you can tell me,” I probed, thinking that, maybe, she had received the clue too.