Extraordinary Losers 2 Page 4

  Whoof! A big cloud of powder overwhelmed us.

  “Ah choo!” went Clandestino. The powder had irritated his nose so much that it opened the mucus floodgate.

  “Mundi, you know my nose is so sensitive.” He sniffled.

  His nose was indeed getting red and mucus trickled down freely.

  “Ah choo!” He swiped his red and wet nose again.

  “I like it,” Janice added. “I can smell strawberry, lavender, mint and plain old talcum powder… so fresh and… light and…”

  “Okay… okay, Janice. Guys, you know how to dust for fingerprints, no?” Mundi pushed back his glasses in place.

  “No, sadly we don’t,” I said.

  Janice stood with one hand on her waist. “Wait, do I know? Let me think.”

  Mundi scanned the different bottles of powder with his fingers. He was a Powder King. No one knew more about powders than Mundi. He had all kinds of powder. Fruit-scented powder, scentless powder, prickly heat powder and even his mom’s compact powder!

  “Why do you have a collection of powder, Mundi?” Janice asked.

  “For different occasions. The fruit-scented one is for school. That’s expensive, no? So I can smell nice.” He smiled sheepishly. “The compact powder is when I have a pimple or two, which doesn’t happen often, no? The prickly heat one is when I feel itchy, and the scentless one is when I visit my relatives. When I don’t smell good, they won’t squeeze me and hug me. No?”

  “Clever,” Janice remarked.

  Remembering something very important, Janice suddenly bolted up from the floor and toddled to her bag.

  “Here everyone, take one.” She took out an oily paper bag filled with an assortment of donuts. Because they had all been squashed and melted from the heat of the day, the flavours couldn’t really be identified. But I was so hungry from the physical exertion of the match and the excitement of the fire that I couldn’t resist.

  “Heh, thanks, Janice,” I said sheepishly.

  “Yeah, go ahead!” She stretched over to pass the bag of donuts to me. I stuck my hand into the “lucky dip”, felt around for a while before emerging with a deflated donut dipped in all kinds of colours – brown, pink and even a hint of green and purple! Oh well! I thought. The colours in the cream must have mixed to get green and purple!

  “See, they are great, right?” Janice sputtered, half munching on her own colourful donut.

  “Yeah, they are! Thanks!” I chomped. They were really great! I couldn’t believe I was enjoying a melted, squishy and sticky greenish-purple donut!

  When Clandestino and Mundi noticed my delight, they too rushed to the bag. Clandestino, with his quick fingers, managed to grab two donuts with one hand.

  “Hope you don’t mind, Janice, I did so much running today,” he explained.

  Janice was more than happy to share her donuts and said with a beam, “Sure!”

  Mundi was a little more careful. He looked into the bag, analysed its contents before carefully extracting a well-shaped donut. It was still round and in good shape. (A mathematician knows a round shape when he sees one.)

  Each with a donut in one hand, all of us studied the can on the table.

  “There are definitely prints on there!” Mundi said. “All we need is my mom’s make-up brush. Hold on!” Mundi scampered into his mother’s room and came out with a brush in his hand. He studied Clandestino carefully. With one finger, he carefully swiped off black residue from Clandestino’s shirt and brought the specimen close to his nose. He sniffed it a few times, thought for a while and then cleared his throat in satisfaction.

  “Definitely soot,” he concluded. “Perfect!”

  We all looked at each other with incredulous looks on our faces. Mad mathematician and scientist at work.

  “What we have to do is this,” he said. He grabbed muruku on them. He flicked them onto the floor. Then he ran to his powder collection and grabbed the bottle of scentless powder. He sprinkled some white scentless powder into the dish.

  “Okay, watch this.” He scanned Clandestino from head to toe. Then he scraped some soot off Clandestino’s shirt with his finger and sprinkled it over the white powder. He did this a few times till Clandestino was almost clean and the amount of soot collected was as much as the plain white powder on the dish!

  “Clan, your soot is indeed helpful, no?” Mundi muttered, as he mixed the white powder and black soot.

  “Okay, this is weird,” Janice commented. After 10 minutes of scraping and sprinkling, dusting and flicking, Mundi jumped up.

  “Perfect fingerprint powder!” he announced, obviously very pleased with himself. “You see? This is called fingerprint powder!”

  “COOOOOOL!!” we chorused. We were our very own detectives. Who needs CSI?

  Mundi turned and looked at me through his thick magnifying glass-like spectacles. With euphoria in his eyes, he asked, “Darryl, do you have some clear scotch tape?”

  “Yes,” I replied. I quickly got up and came back with the scotch tape, careful not to spoil the moment.

  By this time, Mundi was dipping the make-up brush into the dish of fingerprint powder and dusting it on the can.

  “My m-m-mother is definitely, m-m-most definitely going to k-k-kill me, no?” Mundi mumbled.

  All of us couldn’t do much but munch on our soggy donuts and wait.

  Then all of a sudden, we could see the distinct mark of a fingerprint! Actually, there were a few but only one was clearer than the others.

  “Darryl, scotch tape.” Mundi snapped his fingers like a surgeon demanding his tools. I reached for the scotch tape and tried with all my might to pull out some, but to no avail.

  “Here, let me do it!” Clandestino grabbed the tape unceremoniously and in a second, pulled out a length of tape about 10 centimetres long.

  “Here you go, Mundi.” He tore a section off.

  Mundi took the tape and carefully pasted it over the fingerprint on the can, pressing down as hard as he could. He exerted so much force that his tongue came out and was licking his lips awkwardly.

  “Eew!” I heard Janice whisper when she saw Mundi’s tongue.

  Mundi counted to 10 and then tore off the scotch tape.

  “Ta da!” he exclaimed. There was a fingerprint on it! He quickly took a piece of white paper and pasted the fingerprinted tape on it.

  “See! Now we can bring this anywhere we want,” Mundi concluded. He was smiling gleefully.

  The three of us looked at the paper and couldn’t believe what Mundi had just accomplished. It was amazing.

  “Yes, that will come in handy,” Clandestino muttered. “So the teachers won’t think I am the suspect.”

  I pinched the white paper gingerly, folded it into half and sandwiched it in my book of poems (where all other secrets are kept).

  “Good thinking, Clan!” Janice smiled. “But why didn’t you show the teachers how fast you can run? If you just show them, maybe they’ll believe you.”

  “Yeah, Clan. After all, they can see how fast you are during PE and the basketball match,” I said.

  Clandestino shook his head and said, “You think that’s fast? I can be much faster if I want to.”

  He looked up at all of us, sadness in his eyes. “You know why my name is Clandestino?”

  “No,” Mundi replied. “It sounds cool?”

  “I hate my name!” Clandestino replied. “My parents knew since I was young that I had special abilities. They knew someday that people would come after me – the army, the government, crazy scientists. No offence, Mundi.”

  He sighed. “So… they named me Clandestino, which means secret, to remind myself never to tell or show anyone my secret ability. It is meant to protect me.”

  We all looked down. All of us had special abilities too, but we weren’t as sad as Clandestino. It was ironic. He was the most powerful among us, but he was the one that needed the most protection.

  “Don’t worry, Clan,” I said. “Our lips are sealed. Right, Janice?” I tur
ned to her because she was the spiller of beans.

  “Yup.” She zipped her mouth.

  “Yes, your secret is safe,” Mundi promised.

  Clandestino bowed his head low and looked up at us again. “You know what? I have a feeling the teachers and the police are going to investigate this on Monday. I am one of their prime suspects. We have to find more evidence to lead us to the real culprit before Sunday. If not, I might end up in Juvenile Prison.”

  CHAPTER 6: CRIMESCENE DETECTIVES

  Here! Quick!” Clandestino urged. “Before anyone sees us!”

  “This is not right… This is not right…” Mundi murmured nervously.

  It was 8.10pm on a Saturday night. The school stood eerily on its premises. The air felt heavy in the aftermath of the fire and the ground was strangely warm. Clandestino was hauling each one of us over the school gate. He was the tallest and only his flexible hands could weave in and out of the metal grilles.

  Of course, when it came to Janice, things got a little tricky. She was a girl, she was rather heavy, she was wearing a skirt and … (well you get the idea).

  Mundi rushed to grab a stool from the canteen and threw it over. “Here! Step on this and try to climb over yourself.”

  “I can’t!” Janice whined.

  “Go on. Try, Janice!” I said. “You can do it.”

  Janice pulled up her skirt and balanced precariously on the weak plastic stool. She was tipping left, right, left, right, right, right, right, right… and just when the stool abandoned her pointed feet, two hands grabbed her from the top of the gate. It was Clandestino. He was standing on me. Mundi was grabbing onto his feet to make sure he wouldn’t fall.

  “Are we done yet?” I groaned. “My shoulders are burning!”

  “Here you go, Janice,” Clandestino said. “See if you can do it.” Clandestino helped Janice crossover carefully. Then he leapt off my shoulder and landed perfectly like an athlete would.

  “Gee, thanks, Clan!” A sheepish grin was plastered over Janice’s face.

  It was nearly 8.30pm. As we tiptoed towards class 3A where the fire had been, I thought I heard some footsteps. I stopped in my tracks and the others stopped too.

  “You know what? I hear some footsteps,” I whispered. “And it’s coming from the direction of the burnt 3A classroom.”

  “Are you positively sure, Darryl?” Mundi checked.

  “Yes!”

  We looked at one another and held our breaths for a good 20 seconds.

  “Wait… they are gone now,” I said.

  “It must be your imagination. There’s no one here. The gate is locked,” Janice added.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s walk slowly. In case I hear them again,” I said.

  Everyone took my advice and we tiptoed so carefully no one would have known we were there. When we arrived at class 3A, we scanned the sight before us. The flames had been doused and a red tape cordoned off the classroom where the fire had raged. Clandestino used his iPhone as a flashlight, illuminating the scene.

  Soot was everywhere – on the walls, ceilings, cupboards, desks and even in the air. Everything was blackened and the paint on the ceiling peeled in huge sheets. All was black. Ash was everywhere and we made ghastly shoeprints with our feet.

  “The amount of ash, enough to bury someone,” said Janice.

  “That’s what happens when there are too many worksheets stacked up in class,” I added.

  “Major fire hazard,” Clandestino chimed in. “Major.”

  “Be careful, no?” Mundi warned. “Don’t touch anything that might incriminate us.”

  The fire had been put out but I could still hear the fire crackling. Little orange specks glowed from the ashes as if they were still alive, in my imagination at least.

  “Tread carefully, guys,” I warned. “It’s like a dormant volcano.”

  It was an eerie sight. The teacher’s wooden desk had been half-consumed by the inferno. All that was left on the notice boards were thumbtacks that were now black too.

  “Terrible… terrible…” Janice moaned.

  At that moment, Janice spotted something on the floor.

  It was semi-buried in the ash. Arrowing in on the object, she walked towards it. The ash seemed to come up to her ankles.

  “Hey, guys, look here,” she said, stooping low to examine the object. “I think there is something here.”

  She flicked some ash off. It was greenish.

  “Are those f-f-f-fing… fing… fingers?” Mundi asked. He began to shiver and it snowed powder.

  Janice shielded her eyes. “Oh my goodness, are those really fingers? Please tell me someone isn’t buried under there.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Clandestino said.

  He had always been the bravest among us. He got down and unearthed the greenish, finger-like thing with his bare hands. It was a green rubber glove.

  “Oh no!” We gasped. I wanted to be brave too, so I poked the glove.

  “No hand inside,” I confirmed. “But look here.” Part of the rubber glove had melted away, eaten away by the fire. There were only three “fingers” left.

  Mundi rushed over and knelt down. Realising something else, he uttered, “Th-This must be the fire head. The ash here is the thickest and the char marks on the floor are all ra-ra-radiating from this point, no? Also… the fire seems to have been more in-in-intense he…”

  “And that’s about near where I had found the can of Coke,” Clandestino recalled.

  “Ssshhh … everyone. I hear those footsteps again,” I said. “They are very near.”

  Immediately, Janice scooped out the disturbing green glove, flicked off the ash and stuffed it into her pocket, together with her hoard of donuts.

  “Where?” Clandestino stood up. He began to paw the ground with his feet again. Ready to take off.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Can you not SPEED here, Clan?” Janice stopped him. “You’ll just be churning up more ash and dust.”

  “Okay,” he said disappointedly. Instead, he swung his arms back and forth, bent his knees a little and with one big leap, jumped out of the blackened classroom. All of us stopped breathing.

  Five seconds later, he reappeared.

  “I didn’t see anyone, but I found this.” There was a piece of paper in his hand. “I think someone is trying to tell us something.”

  The three of us rushed to see Clandestino’s find. He positioned his iPhone over the paper so that we could see by its light.

  “This is so strange,” Janice exclaimed.

  “A photocopy of an identity card,” I said.

  “With a clear thumbprint,” Clandestino added.

  “And look whose name is on the card, no?” Mundi pointed out.

  “Siti… Noraizah,” we read out in unison.

  CHAPTER 7: EYE SPY

  Is someone trying to tell us something?” I asked, entirely bewildered.

  “Yes, why leave a copy of Madam Siti’s IC in the middle of the corridor, no?” Mundi thought out loud. “Maybe, someone is trying to tell us that she is involved?”

  “A teacher involved?” Janice was doubtful.

  “Tough,” Clandestino said, sighing. He put his iPhone away and took out a pen. He started scratching his neck. I couldn’t see it but I heard the scritch scratch of a pen tip against rough skin. In the darkness of the night, we could only see each other’s eyes.

  My gaze collided with his pair of narrow slit eyes. “Are you sure you found this right outside the classroom?”

  “Yes, when we came in, it wasn’t there. Remember? And after we, or rather YOU, heard the footsteps, it suddenly appeared.”

  “Strange.” Janice mulled. She needed her donuts to think and she secretly pinched a morsel of a donut hidden in her pocket and popped it into her mouth, thinking no one could see in the darkness. (Of course, I heard all the munching.)

  “Guys, it’s getting late. I need to be back home,” Mundi said. “Let’s discuss this another time. We
cannot stay here any longer. Someone obviously knows we are here! No?”

  “I agree,” I said. Knowing Mom, she would be worried sick if I was home late.

  We climbed out the gate and started making our way home. Of course, Clandestino was the first to disappear.

  As I lay in bed tossing and turning, images of the fire and the blackened classroom flashed through my mind. It kept me so awake that I couldn’t sleep. The fingerprint on the vandalised wall and on the Coke can… Was it supposed to match the fingerprint on the IC? I realised I knew someone who could help.

  “Psst, Soph, can I borrow your eyes for a moment?”

  “Now?” she said, yawning. Sophia was already almost in dreamland.

  “Yes, please?” I begged.

  “Okay, what do I get in return?” Sophia rubbed her eyes, still awake enough to bargain.

  “You get, let me see… my Internet time for tomorrow?”

  We only had one laptop in the house. That was Mom’s way of teaching us to share and get along. What Mom didn’t know was that the laptop was the source of every contention because we were always fighting to use it. What’s worse, we resorted to lies and bribery (like this).

  “Deal!” She jumped up from her bed and dragged her feet to where I was.

  “What now?” she said, followed by a big yawn.

  “THIS!” I pinched the piece of paper with the fingerprint from my poem book.

  “So? What do I do with a fingerprint? By the way, this looks quite disturbing.”

  “Compare it with this.” I slid her the photocopied identity card with a fingerprint on it.

  “That’s easy,” she said.

  “Hang on. And… this.” I whipped out my handphone and tapped on “Albums”. Quickly, I located the photograph of the fingerprints on the vandalised wall I had taken. I zoomed in on the fingerprint.

  “Are you trying to be a detective, Darryl?” Sophia asked. “You had better not get involved.”

  “I know what I am doing. Just this once. Please, Soph?” I begged.

  “Hai,” she sighed. “Okay. By the way, this is really a no-brainer task.”

  She looked at the three specimens before her. The photocopied IC, the sheet of paper with just a fingerprint and the zoomed-in photo on the phone. Then her head stiffened, her pupils expanded and she peered hard at each specimen for about two seconds each.