Juliet Nearly a Vet: Rainforest Camp Page 2

  Chelsea’s shoes are still perfectly clean, her clothes are folded neatly in her case and her bed doesn’t have a single thing on it, not even a wrinkle!

  We grab our night-time clothes and head to the shower block. There is a long wait and Mrs Hodby starts banging on a couple of doors to tell people to hurry up in the showers.

  Eventually a door opens and Portia steps out. Her hair is bundled up under a high towel wrapped around her head, and she is wearing little sandals and a flowery dress.

  I look down at the tracksuit pants and T-shirt I’m holding. I know what I’d rather be wearing around a campfire!

  ‘When you are out of the shower, head straight to the hall for dinner,’ calls Mrs Hodby, and she heads off to check on who is still in their cabins.

  Tiffany also comes out of the shower in a dress and sandals. She looks like she feels a bit silly about it.

  ‘I just refuse to wear a tracksuit to dinner,’ sniffs Portia.

  ‘Oh, Tiffany, you’re bleeding!’ says Chelsea, pointing at her ankle. We all look down to see blood running down the back of her heel.

  Portia screams, which makes Tiffany cry.

  I bob down to look more closely. Above the blood, there is a shiny, black blob about the size of a jellybean hanging from Tiffany’s leg.

  ‘It’s a leech,’ I say. ‘It’s okay, Tiffany, it won’t hurt you. I can fix this.’

  ‘A leech! A leech!’ Portia is still screaming and has now run out onto the verandah of the shower block.

  Kids are coming from everywhere. Even the boys are pushing into the girls’ showers, just so they can have a look.

  Girls are crying, boys are gagging. The noise is deafening. We can hardly move. Tiffany looks like she is going to faint.

  Mr Thomson blows his whistle. ‘QUIET!’ he bellows.

  Mr Thomson comes in to see what the problem is. He then makes everyone go outside, except the girls from our cabin.

  Tiffany is really sobbing now. Chelsea and Maisy are holding her hands and patting her on the back. Portia is looking at herself in the mirror.

  Mr Thomson looks down at the leech and the blood. I notice he starts to dab at his forehead with his hanky and looks a little pale. ‘Um, you girls stay here,’ he says. ‘I’ll just go and get the camp guide. He’ll know what to do.’

  ‘I know what to do,’ I say.

  Everyone stops and looks at me.

  ‘I do,’ I say. ‘We have animals with leeches come into the surgery a lot.’

  ‘She doesn’t need a vet, she needs a doctor!’ snaps Portia.

  ‘She doesn’t actually need a vet or a doctor,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll go and find the camp guide,’ says Mr Thomson. ‘Sit down, Tiffany. I’ll be back soon!’

  ‘Be quick, because that thing is getting bigger!’ says Portia, which sets poor Tiffany off again.

  ‘Chelsea, I’m going to grab my kit,’ I whisper. She nods and I slip back to our room.

  I get back with it just before Mr Thomson comes back in, with Mrs Hodby following behind.

  ‘We might just have to wait a little while,’ says Mrs Hodby, looking down at the chubby black leech. ‘Alex has popped home for a while, and the office is locked. We’ll just sit here and wait quietly.’

  Tiffany has started wailing now. ‘I want to go home. I want my mum. Get if off! Get it off! Pleeease get it off!’

  I open my Vet Diary to the page on removing leeches that Mum helped me with, and show the teachers. They both look at it with surprise and interest.

  ‘You have a whole page on leeches in your diary?’ says Mr Thomson.

  ‘I knew we were coming to a rainforest, so I wanted to be prepared,’ I say, feeling a little bit self-conscious with Portia now pushing through the group to see the diary.

  ‘Vets need to be prepared for everything,’ adds Chelsea helpfully.

  ‘Apparently, they do!’ says Mr Thomson, smiling.

  ‘My brother had a leech once, and Dad burnt it off with a match. Has anyone got any matches?’ says Portia.

  Tiffany starts crying again. Portia rolls her eyes.

  ‘Well, Juliet’s diary says not to do that,’ says Mrs Hodby. ‘I think we might go with the information that she has, thanks Portia.’

  ‘Do you feel confident doing this?’ Mr Thomson asks me.

  I nod my head firmly.

  ‘Now Tiffany, this won’t hurt at all,’ I say. ‘Do you know they actually put leeches on people and animals to make them feel better sometimes?’

  ‘Yuck,’ Portia says.

  ‘They suck out all the bad blood and infection, and can be really useful,’ I add. The whole time I’m talking I’m getting what I need from my kit. I have the perfect thing for flicking the leech off. It’s the flat spatula that Mum gave me for putting ointment on things.

  I pull the skin around the area tight. Everyone is gathered around the patient trying to get a closer look, except Portia, who is now back in front of the mirror. She isn’t happy that the teachers have listened to my idea.

  Quickly and carefully I slip the very thin flat end of the spatula towards where the leech’s head is attached to Tiffany’s leg. In one quick move I flick it off. It flies across the bathroom.

  ‘Get it off!’ squeals Tiffany, her eyes squeezed shut.

  ‘It is off,’ laughs Mrs Hodby. ‘Our vet has removed it, no trouble at all.’

  ‘Thank you, Juliet,’ says Tiffany very nicely, as I dab some antiseptic cream on the sore and quickly pop a pad and bandage over the small puncture mark on her leg. I make it nice and firm.

  ‘Tiffany, leech bites can bleed quite a lot, but it’s nothing to worry about. My mum told me that they have something in their saliva that stops the blood from thickening. It will settle down soon.’

  ‘Where did the leech go?’ asks Chelsea.

  We all look around the room.

  ‘It should stand out against the white tiles,’ says Maisy.

  ‘We’ll need to put it somewhere away from the cabins,’ I say. ‘It’ll want to attach itself again pretty quickly.’

  Everyone’s looking really carefully now, except of course for Portia. She is sitting on a plastic chair looking rather impatient.

  Suddenly Chelsea grabs my hand. I look at her. With wide eyes she nods in Portia’s direction.

  There, on her cheek, is a plump black leech.

  She sees us looking at her and looks in the mirror before I have a chance to race over and get it off.

  ‘AGGGHHHHHHH!’ The scream is enough to freeze everyone in the entire camp mid-stride.

  I race over with my spatula and flick it off her cheek before she has even taken another breath.

  ‘It’s off!’ I have to yell at her to be heard.

  Even though it was Tiffany that was actually bitten by the leech, the conversation at dinner is all about Portia. I overhear her telling the story in the queue for dessert, and the way she tells it, I flicked the leech at her on purpose.

  Tiffany comes to sit at our table to eat her ice-cream and jelly. I think she’s a bit tired of hearing Portia’s silly stories too.

  We sing songs around the campfire and play a few games of ‘statues’ in the dark, which is really fun, then it’s time to clean our teeth and go to bed. None of us look that tired, but Mrs Hodby and Mr Thomson do!

  Portia is the first one into our cabin. Suddenly, the entire camp is frozen again by her ear-piercing scream. ‘RAT!!!! There’s a rat in our cabin.’

  Mr Thomson is standing next to me. I hear him mutter something under his breath about not getting any sleep tonight.

  Once again, everyone races to find out what is going on. But this time they are heading straight up the stairs to our cabin.

  ‘It went under the bed. I saw it when I turned the lights on!’ Portia cries. More sobs and wailing follow.

  I’m not actually afraid of rats. I don’t really understand why so many people are.

  I slowly make my way up between the crowd on the stairs until I�
��m at the door of my cabin.

  Mrs Hodby has also managed to push her way through.

  ‘Where is it?’ she asks, sounding a little less patient than usual.

  Portia points inside at her bed. She is perched high up on the handrail outside.

  ‘Can I take a look?’ I ask Mrs Hodby.

  ‘If you could, that would be wonderful, Juliet,’ says Mrs Hodby.

  Grabbing my torch, I get down onto my hands and knees. I shine the bright light into the dark corner underneath the bed. It certainly looks like a rat huddled in the corner, its face hidden from view.

  But something about it makes me look twice. As quietly as I can, I slide forward on my stomach to get a better look.

  ‘It’s an antechinus!’ I say cheerfully, more to myself than anyone else.

  ‘An anti-what?’ laughs Chelsea.

  ‘An antechinus!’ I say. ‘They’re amazing. They do look a lot like rats, only a bit smaller, but the cool thing is that they are actually little marsupials! And, even better, this one has babies with her!’

  I jump up and grab my Vet Diary. I’m sure I have a picture and some information about them in it. I find the page and show the teachers.

  Mr Thomson lets all the kids creep in, two at a time, to have a quiet look under the bed and then at my diary page. Everyone is really interested in what I have written.

  By the time they are finished, everyone wants an antechinus in their cabin!

  ‘It probably came in looking for bugs to eat,’ I say. ‘If we leave the doorway clear, it will probably go back outside.’

  Mr Thomson thinks this is a good idea. Together, we gently shoo the antechinus mother, with her babies hanging underneath her like little Christmas balls, back outside.

  Eventually, Mr Thomson blows his whistle hard and tells everyone that it’s lights out and time for bed.

  Some boys in the Carpet Snake cabin don’t listen too well, but after a visit from both the teachers they seem to get the hint.

  I think I’ll have trouble getting to sleep, but even Portia’s whispering and turning her torch on and off doesn’t keep me awake, and I soon drift off.

  The next morning I wake up before it’s even light. I’m not the only one awake. In fact, I can hear lots of kids slamming doors and running backwards and forwards to the toilets laughing and talking.

  I hear another voice I recognise too. It’s Mr Thomson. ‘GO . . . BACK . . . TO . . . BED!’ he bellows.

  Everyone who wasn’t awake is now.

  While I am lying in bed, I can’t help thinking about the baby sugar glider. I hope I’m wrong, and that it had already grown big enough to leave its mother’s pouch.

  It’s our turn to help get breakfast in the kitchen, so we are allowed to leave our cabin at 6am. The ladies in the kitchen are really nice, and it’s our job to cook the toast, fill the cereal containers, stir the baked beans, set up the serving tables and put foil over the bacon and eggs to keep them hot. We even get to have breakfast before everyone else, because we have to help serve.

  After breakfast and clean-up, our group heads over to the high ropes course. I arch my neck backwards to see the ropes in the tops of the trees.

  ‘I don’t think I can do this,’ I say to Chelsea quietly.

  ‘Yes you can, Juliet,’ whispers Chelsea, squeezing my hand. ‘You can’t possibly fall. Just think, you’ll get to see what possums and birds see.’

  I smile. Chelsea always knows the right thing to say.

  I am second last to have a go. Chelsea is last. Above me I can hear the excited calls as kids make their way along the ropes, switching their clips over at each section just like we’ve been shown.

  Then, when they get to the platform at the end, another instructor, Chris, helps them into the flying fox for the very quick ride back to the ground.

  ‘Woooo hoooo!’ I hear the excited squeals of Maisy as she zips down from the treetops.

  ‘Your turn, Juliet,’ says Alex kindly from the platform above me. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’ll be right behind you,’ smiles Chelsea. They must be able to see that I’m a bit worried.

  I slowly make my way up the ladder to the platform and hook my clips to the ropes like I’ve been shown. I can feel my knees shaking and my helmet is tight under my chin. My mouth is dry and my head feels funny.

  ‘Keep going, Juliet!’ I hear Chelsea call from below. ‘Just pretend you are a sugar glider!’

  But my arms won’t seem to let go of the big tree. ‘I think I want to get down,’ I say to Alex.

  I can hear Chelsea starting to climb the ladder behind me. I feel like I’m trapped. The colour of the sun beaming through the trees and all the sounds of the other children are deafening as they swirl around me. I want to block them out. I close my eyes and hold my breath.

  That’s when I hear it for the first time.

  Pshh, pshh, pshh, pshh.

  My eyes fly open. I would know that sound anywhere. I heard it so many times when there was a fire and we rescued animals. There is no way it could be anything else.

  It’s the sound of a baby sugar glider calling for its mother.

  ‘Stop!’ I yell.

  Chelsea and Alex are the only ones who stop. They look at me with puzzled faces.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ I say. We all strain to listen.

  Nothing.

  ‘What are we listening for?’ asks Alex.

  ‘A baby sugar glider. I heard a baby sugar glider!’

  Alex looks a little confused. ‘How do you know what a baby sugar glider sounds like?’ he asks, a slight smile crossing his lips.

  Chelsea has now made it to the platform too and stands with us.

  ‘She knows, because she is nearly a vet, for a start,’ she says confidently. ‘And we raised some baby native animals after a bushfire, and Juliet was in charge of the sugar gliders.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Alex. ‘I see.’

  We all stand quietly and listen again. Still nothing – just the sound of kids screaming and laughing down below us.

  I search the branches and trunk desperately with my eyes.

  Suddenly there is another sound I recognise. Portia.

  ‘Juliet’s too scared to move,’ she announces to the group of kids who have finished their turn and are now gathered at the bottom of the tree, looking up at our little huddled group.

  ‘We think we can hear a baby sugar glider,’ Chelsea calls down. ‘Shh.’

  Everyone goes really quiet. Except for one person. ‘Oh, that’s a good excuse, if ever I’ve heard one!’ laughs Portia.

  Chelsea is about to yell something back down at her, but I touch her arm.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ I say.

  ‘We really do have to keep moving. It’s time to go back for morning tea,’ says Alex gently. ‘Perhaps it could have been a cicada?’

  The look on my face must have told him otherwise.

  ‘Hurry up, Juliet,’ sneers the voice from below. ‘The other group will eat all of the cake.’

  I look at Chelsea and shake my head. I’m not scared now. I am angry.

  I reach out and grab the rope above me with all the confidence of Tarzan. I shuffle along without looking down. I clip my clips from one rope to the next without a stop, and sail down the flying fox without so much as a peep.

  Before I realise it, I have reached the bottom. I thought it would feel like I was falling, but I felt like I was flying between the trees. It was actually great fun!

  Then I march over to the group, unclip my harness and plonk my helmet into the box, glaring angrily at Portia.

  ‘Funny,’ says Chelsea in a loud voice for all to hear. ‘Juliet didn’t look too scared to me!’

  I don’t feel like eating cake. Instead, I go over to Mrs Hodby and ask her if I can speak to her for a minute. Chelsea comes with me.

  I explain to her what I heard, and she listens very carefully.

  ‘Well,’ she says, ‘you’ve been right about a lot of other animal things o
n this camp, Juliet. I think it is definitely worth another look. Give me a minute.’

  Mrs Hodby goes over to talk to Alex. We watch as he listens to what Mrs Hodby says. Chelsea and I have our fingers crossed behind our backs.

  Then he stands up and heads away from the table.

  Mrs Hodby comes back to us and says that we can wait for Alex behind the hall. He is grabbing his gear and he will climb the tree for another look.

  I hug Mrs Hodby. I can’t help it.

  We quickly tell Maisy what’s going on, and the three of us race back to our cabin and get my vet kit.

  We meet Alex and Mrs Hodby behind the hall, and quietly head towards the tree where it all began.

  We stand at the bottom of the tree in a quiet circle and listen. It’s so much easier to hear, now that all the kids have cake in their mouths back in the hall.

  Nothing.

  Then . . . Pshh, pshh, pshh, pshh.

  ‘Well, I’ll be darned,’ says Alex, and he fastens his harness with great enthusiasm. He looks at me and smiles. ‘Our vet might be right again!’

  He sweeps up the stairs of the ladder and waits silently on the platform.

  Pshh, pshh, pshh, pshh.

  Looking. Silence. More looking.

  Pshh, pshh, pshh, pshh.

  ‘There you are!’ It’s the words we’ve been holding our breath to hear.

  Alex slips out a few metres onto the ropes and reaches to a thin branch. We can’t see anything except his big hand wrapping around something small.

  He slips it into his pocket, then slowly, slowly makes his way down the tree.

  As we all gather around, he slides his hand into his pocket then slowly uncurls his fingers.

  Ohhhhhhhh,’ is all we can say. It is the most adorable baby we have ever seen.

  I quickly open my vet kit and grab out one of the small, warm pouches Chelsea’s mum sewed for us during the bushfire.

  ‘We’ve got to get her warm first,’ I say, and Alex slips her gently into the pouch. Chelsea holds it against her chest so carefully it is like she thinks the baby is made of glass, while I rummage around to find what I’m looking for.