Alarmed
I ’d never walked down Main Street at two o’clock on a Tuesday morning before. It was completely empty. No cars, no people, no noise. Just the dim humming of the street lights. It was cold too. But in a way, it was nice. Soothing. Topps was wearing a cap that was pushed down to his nose and had his coat collar was pushed up over his face. He kept on looking anxiously up and down the street, before removing his glasses and cleaning them, then scanning the street again. ‘The cops will pull us up for sure,’ he said. ‘This is crazy Staceman.’
Topps only called me “Staceman” when he was over-excited or really anxious. Like when we first went on the Big Dipper at Luna Park and I discovered he really didn’t like heights, or when he found an ultra rare card in a World of Warcraft booster pack and waved it around in triumph. I couldn’t blame him for being so anxious. My hands were thick and clammy and my throat was dry.
‘Are you still for real, orange peel?’ he said as we walked past the Rising Sun Bakery.
‘Are you in or out, brussells sprout?’ I retorted as the blue fluorescent glow of the Rosedale chemist sign turned us into ethereal ghosts.
‘I’m in…just.’
We reached the Video Saloon. A crumpled, torn poster for Knocked Up still hung on the window despite it being a weekly rental for, like, years. It was one of Crass’ favourite films.
I turned the key and discovered my hands were slightly shaking. With more difficulty than normal I opened the large glass door and hurried inside, let Topps in, then relocked the door. I found this really difficult to do, but not just because of nerves. It was as if I was cutting myself off from an escape route – just like I’d done a week before. Topps squeezed in beside me. He turned on his small head lamp, which was stretched over his head with elastic webbing. I hadn’t even thought of bringing a torch. It was a good idea. Probably not a good thing to turn on the store lights when you’re breaking and entering. I flicked open the small alarm system box and quickly keyed in the code: 1-2-4 … then forgot the last digit. My brain froze.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Topps as the alarm gave off three indignant beeps. It made me even more nervous. ‘I can’t remember the last digit,’ I said.
‘What? Just double the previous number. Four, double it, eight! Push eight!’ I pushed the number and then “OK”. The alarm gave three sharp beeps, but it didn’t die.
‘What’s happened?’ said Topps. We were both staring at the “Activation On” light that should have now turned off.
‘Oh God, I dunno, I must have messed it up,’ I said. I keyed in the numbers again as carefully as I could. 1-2-4-8. Then I pushed “OK”. Again the alarm refused to die. It gave off three defiant, belligerent beeps.
‘Vince must have changed the alarm code!’ I said. ‘He never changes the code!’ ‘Are you sure you’re right?’ said Topps. ‘We’ve only got one more try. It’ll blow if we get this wrong.’
‘He’s changed the code, or perhaps Crass did,’ I said as the alarm continued beeping hysterically. I only had a few seconds to enter the code again. As I did I told Topps to open the door so we could get ready to run for it. Then I finished the code entry. For a second I though we’d done it. The alarm died, but before I could even sigh in relief it erupted in an ear-piercing squeal. A blue siren above the door (I’d never even noticed it before) spun like an old-fashioned police car.
‘Run for it!’ yelled Topps.
I almost tore the door of its hinges as I tried to unlock it. Once we were outside I locked it again. Topps was already half way down Main Street before I had turned the key. He waited impatiently before I caught up with him. Breathlessly, with Topps five steps ahead, we sprinted for the park and home. Thankfully not one car passed us on the street as we wheeled past the estate agents and made it to the park. I’ve never run so fast in my life. My legs felt like they were running on air. I could have run all the way to Lakes Entrance the way I was going.
‘What were you doing?’ Topps said as we rested at the children’s playground. I could still hear the alarm like a cat’s wail.
‘Locking the door,’ I said, my hands on my knees, my bum resting on the kid’s slide. ‘That way it wouldn’t look like anyone had broken in.’
‘Man, we got the code wrong,’ said Topps wiping his brow. ‘That’s the end of that brilliant plan.’
‘Vince has changed it for sure. Damn, it was such a good idea too. I’m sure those DVDs are inside as well.’
Topps took off his glasses to clean them for the tenth time that night. ‘Well, there’s other things we could do. We could forget about it, that’s the first option.’ ‘Would have agreed with you a few days ago. Now? No way,’ I said. ‘I want a bit of payback here. What’s next?’
We both started walking home, keeping to the path and on the look out for the police. The alarm died. Someone must have turned it off.
‘We could sneak into the store during the day,’ said Topps. ‘You know where the box is kept. I could divert Crass’ attention, and you could sneak down to the cellar and take some photos…’
‘We’re not ninja Topps. As soon as he sees me he’ll be suspicious. And what if he caught me? No, it wouldn’t work. Too much of a risk.’
‘And breaking and entering isn’t? Well, an anonymous telephone call to Detective Rooks then,’ said Topps.
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘We probably could do that, though that’d make me feel like a primary school dobber. It’d have been nice to have included the bonus DVDs with it. Good, hard evidence and I’d feel like I’d actually done something. This was a stupid idea anyway. Let’s just forget about it.’ I was suddenly feeling dejected. What did I think I was going to do? Walk into the store and find all the DVDs just waiting for me? Gungho wasn’t my style. This proved it.
‘Hey, Staceman, don’t give up yet,’ said Topps as we reached my house. ‘I’ve got one more idea if you really want to get your hands on those DVDs. We can still get the code for the store. I’ll explain it at school. When are you coming back?’
I sighed. ‘I’ll be there. Thursday. I need a sleep in tomorrow.’
* * *
I did, as it turned out, return to school on Thursday. Dad wasn’t so sure but I convinced him I felt fine. I was over it. Everyone wanted to know what had happened. I was sick of talking about it. I must have answered the same questions a hundred times: “Did you totally freak out?”, “Did the dude have a knife?”, “Have the cops caught him?, “Is he still after you or what?”
Kids I didn’t even know stared at me in the hallways. I was pointed out and gawked at all day. Two year eleven boys hummed the theme from Psycho when I passed them in the canteen. I felt like giving them the finger. Creeps. Even the teachers weren’t sure how to treat me. It was all, “How are you coping, Stacey?” and “If you need another week on your project, that’s fine Stacey.”
Topps kept quite. He and Skye shadowed me protectively around the school, as if they were bodyguards. He sounded out a few students who asked too may questions or stared for too long. It was kinda sweet.
That afternoon I spent some time with the school counsellor, on instructions from both Dad and Huffy. It would help me cope better at school, apparently. I spoke with the counsellor, a woman with a crooked nose and large eyes named Ms Tonkin who drove a pink VW Polo and ate lima beans for lunch, but she was cool. I talked to her non-stop for an hour. Let go of a lot of crap and felt better when I left her. She wanted to keep telling me nothing that happened was my fault, that I was the victim here – if only she knew the true story. I was almost tempted to tell her exactly what I had done, but I didn’t.
Funnily enough, I got a sort of supporter base going, especially amongst the girls. Caitlin passed me that afternoon and gave me a quick, urgent smile, but never said anything. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be mad at her or not. It sort of felt she had been on Crass’ side. I was tempted to confront her, but I didn’t. Not yet.
Topps grabbed me on the way home. ‘Something to show you,’ he said. When we reached the plaza he took a small box out of his school bag. ‘What is it?’ I asked. I was feeling tired now and had bought a can of Pepsi to try and wake myself up. It’d been a big day.
‘A mini wireless spy camera,’ said Topps. He showed me the camera. It was incredibly small, about the size of a ten cent coin. The lens was about the size of a pin head. It was connected to a 9-Volt battery. An antenna a quarter the size of a straw stuck out of the head of the camera ‘Where’d you get it?’ I asked, holding the camera between two fingers. It was featherweight. I still wasn’t sure what he planned to do with it.
‘My uncle. He imports security and surveillance equipment. Gave a bunch of samples to Dad a while back. I play around with this one sometimes. It’s about five hundred bucks worth. I rigged it up in the living room once, hooked it into my TV and watched my sister pick her nose all the way through an episode of Spongebob Squarepants. It’s amazing. It transmits to a receiver, which you hook in to a TV or video, or you can connect it with a USB connection to a laptop. The range is good – it goes straight through a couple of walls for a hundred metres or so – and it’s got a good picture too, colour with audio. It’s clear. Clear enough to record Crass or Vince inputting a code number, for example.’
‘Oh man,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘You told me it’d be too much of a risk to sneak in behind the Video Saloon counter during the day, but you’re going to put a miniature camera in the store instead. This is such a lame idea…’
‘No way Stacey! It’d work. I’ve thought it through. I get Will and Ray to come with me just before closing time. Ray’s brother Justin will drive us. As they rent some DVDs I can install the camera in the children’s section, right next to the alarm. It’d take half a minute, max. Nobody’d see it. It’d click onto the shelving and fit right between a couple of videos at shoulder level. The big problem is the camera receiver. I’m going to have to hook it up to my laptop, and then get Justin to park down the road from the store.
We’ll have the receiver and laptop in the car. The receiver has a range of up to a hundred metres, and it’ll go through the Video Saloon wall easily enough. I’m just not sure what the visuals will be like. We stay there until Vince or Crass locks up, record the image of them inputting the code, then I go back the next day and collect the camera. Man, it’d be easy. The risk is trying to line the receiver up with the camera to get the best possible image and then getting the camera at the right angle to record the input of the code. Hey, who’s on tonight?’
‘What?’ I said. I was only half listening. It all seemed too random. Being back at school had dampened the desire for revenge. The weekend raid on the Video Saloon had
been enough. It hadn’t worked and now I didn’t want to go any further. ‘Er…Vince, I suppose. Monday night is his night.’
‘And is Vince left or right handed?’
‘What…right, I guess. Why?’
‘If he’s right handed he’ll stand slightly to the left of the alarm system. Meaning I’ll have to install the camera closer to the door.’
‘Topps, why don’t we just let it go? I don’t want to sneak back into the store. Not after what happened on the weekend. And what if there’s no pirated DVDs when we go back? I’m not going to get up at midnight every night for the next week.’ Topps put the camera delicately back into a box and then placed the box into his bag. ‘Stacey, you wanted the perfect revenge. This is it. It’ll work. All you have to do is trust me.’ He reached over and touched my cheek. He looked at the ground, then back at me. ‘Stacey, Crass took away your smile. I’ve never seen you so miserable over the past week since…since your mum died. Now it’s up to you to wipe the smile off Crass’ face.
Payback. Remember?’
Topps was one of the few people I knew who could talk about my mum’s death with me. I’d rather talk to Topps than Dad. Dad always ended up morose or in tears.
Topps actually stood next to me at the funeral, his hand on the small of my back the entire time. I cried at that funeral, but it was nothing like the night three weeks later when we sat on his couch watching a re-run of The Simpsons. The one when Bart gets expelled so he has to be home-schooled by Marge in their garage. ‘Can you imagine your mum being your teacher?’ laughed Topps. I think it was those two keywords: mum and teacher. It trigged me off. I really bawled. I soaked Topps’ T-shirt, but Topps didn’t mind at all. I couldn’t imagine any other boy his age allowing a girl to cry on his shoulder. But he let me. For over 15 minutes I cried, until Ray Knipe knocked on the door wanting to borrow a console joypad.
I looked at him for a moment. ‘”Crass took away your smile?”’ I laughed. ‘Where did you pull that one from?’
‘Dunno. Just thought of it then. Dramatic, yeah?’
‘No. Corny as.’ I punched him in the arm. ‘Anyway, if you’re going to use the camera, do me a favour and write your will beforehand.’
‘Anything you want?’ Topps asked.
‘Yeah. Your CD collection, your PC, and while we’re at it, your mobile phone too, cause I wouldn’t be in this mess if I had a decent one.’
‘Deal.’