The Project Read Free Page B

held the sack tightly around the cone and looked across at Tommy. His long flop of black hair was plastered against the side of his head. His T-shirt was soaked in anoval patch across his chest. He was shaking the sand off the shovel into the cone. He seemed to be struggling a bit, and the shovelfuls were starting to come slower.
    “My turn,” Luke said.
    “Nah, I’m good,” Tommy said, although clearly he wasn’t.
    “You’re just showing off your muscles for Ms. Sheck,” Luke said.
    Tommy laughed. “I’d better let you have a turn, then. Give you a chance to impress her.”
    He handed Luke the shovel and swapped onto the sand-pile side of the wooden tray.
    It was a simple enough motion: dig the shovel into the sand, twist around to the tray, turn the shovel to empty the sand into the upside-down cone, and turn back to the sand-pile.
    It took Luke a couple of minutes to settle into a routine, but once he got his rhythm, he found it easy going and, little by little, kept increasing his speed. It was much easier than digging drainage ditches on the farm back home.
    Shovel, twist, turn. Shovel, twist, turn.
    After a while, a new volunteer, a younger kid Luke didn’t know, came to help Tommy move the bags, which left Luke free just to shovel.
    They ran out of sandbags after about an hour, and Luke paused for breath. Someone from the city was handing out water bottles, and he took one gratefully. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and noticed a few people staring at him.
    He glanced quickly at Tommy, wondering if he had done something wrong, but it turned out to be the opposite.
    “You’re pretty strong for a little guy,” the kid next to him said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it. There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd.
    Luke shrugged it off. He’d dug a lot of ditches on the farm. This was nothing.
    “You guys have done almost as many bags as the rest of us put together,” the water guy said.
    Luke said nothing, embarrassed.
    “Show-off,” Tommy said, and Luke flicked half a shovelful of sand at him. Tommy laughed and shook it out of his hair. He dug a handful of sand out of his sack and threw it at Luke. For a moment there was a flurry of sand flying back and forth, creating a mini sandstorm over the tray. Then Tommy, his eyes screwed shut against the sand, stumbled and lurched forward.
    He put out a foot to regain his balance and crashed into the edge of the wooden tray. It twisted and tipped, then collapsed on itself with a loud crack, spilling sand and witches’ hats across the ground.
    “Oops,” said Tommy.
    The old rapper came trotting over. “Who did this?” he demanded.
    Tommy raised a hand. “My bad.”
    “No, it was my fault,” Luke said.
    Tommy picked up an end of the tray, which was now just a loose heap of timber, and said, “We’ll have to fill the sandbags without the cones, I guess.”
    “That’ll be too slow,” the old rapper said.
    “Give me a sec,” Luke said. He grabbed some discardedwire that had bound the bundles of sacks together. The old man shook his head and wandered off.
    “Can you lift up the end?” he asked Tommy. “Hold it together?”
    Tommy lifted one end, and Luke grabbed one side and wound a length of wire around it, then crossed over to the other side and twisted the wire tightly around that. He repeated it with another length of wire; then one of the other volunteers found him a heavy screwdriver, which he put between the two wires and twisted around and around. The wires became taut, bit into the wood, and gradually pulled the two sides back into shape around the upside-down cones.
    He lashed each side with another length of wire, and did the same for the cracked section in the middle.
    He tested it with a good shake. It was more wobbly than before, but it was usable.
    The old rapper came back when Luke had finished, and glanced at his work. He said nothing and left.
    “That’s awesome, dude,” Tommy said.
    “Us Kiwis can