Half Brother

by Kenneth Oppel

  But it was strange being without him. When he was little, we’d sometimes taken him with us shopping and even to restaurants, but now that he was so active, we couldn’t take him out in public. He wasn’t used to cars or big crowds. He might get freaked out and bite someone or—and this was scariest to me—he might run off into the forest and decide he didn’t want to live with us any more. Dad had once said that if we ever took him out in public we’d have to put him in a collar and leash, but I’d hate to see that—even if it was for his own safety.

  I stretched out on my beach towel. School was all over now. My final marks weren’t the greatest, but I’d improved a bit, and that seemed enough to satisfy Dad. He wasn’t going to pull me out of Windermere. I closed my eyes and thought of Jennifer, somewhere in Europe. I thought of smoothing suntan lotion on her perfect back.

  When we got home, Mom and Dad gave me a great new photo enlarger as my main present. And in the evening, instead of going out to a restaurant, we just ordered in Chinese food, because that way, Zan could be with us. It wouldn’t have felt right without him.

  Just knowing Jennifer was on the other side of the world made everything feel less like summer.

  I thought about her all the time, wrote about her in my bulging logbook, and re-read the old bits. It wasn’t only notes and observations. It was also a diary. Our after school make-out session took up about ten pages—I hadn’t wanted to leave anything out. Sometimes I just described how I felt about her. Or I’d imagine things we might say to each other, and do together. I wouldn’t say it ever got dirty exactly, but there was some pretty personal stuff in there.

  The only picture I had of her was our class photo. But in my head she got more fabulous and luscious with every day, until she was so overwhelmingly beautiful, I could barely stand it.

  So I wouldn’t go crazy with boredom, Mom and Dad signed me up for these summer day camps at the university. I wasn’t wild about them, but Mom said she wasn’t having me loafing around the house all July. So I’d go in with Dad in the mornings, and while he worked in his office, I swam and did team-building stuff and made tie-dyed T-shirts with a bunch of other thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds. Probably I should’ve seen it as an opportunity to make some friends and meet cute girls. But there was only one girl I was interested in.

  I got a couple of postcards from David, and one from Jennifer. Hers was from Italy and had a picture of the Roman Coliseum. At the end she wrote Wish you were here followed by two exclamation marks and a heart.

  The world should have been in Technicolor, but seemed more like black and white.

  Towards the end of July, Peter asked if I wanted to catch a matinee of Conquest of the Planet of the Apes. I was pleased he thought I was cool enough to hang out with.

  He drove me downtown in his beat-up Corvair. Near the passenger seat there was actually a little hole in the floor where you could see the road. We had the windows rolled down and the radio going. I decided I wanted a car just like this when I got my licence.

  The university year had ended back in May, and Project Zan had lost a few of its students for the holidays, but Peter had stayed on and was doing a lot more shifts over the summer. I got to help out more too. I wasn’t collecting data any more, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with Zan. With the learning chair gone, Zan seemed much happier. The temper tantrums had fizzled out; he’d started signing more, and learning faster.

  We were in the cinema with our popcorn, waiting for the movie to start, when Peter slouched down in his seat. “Oh man,” he said in a whisper. He tilted his chin. “Creepy Susan Wilkes.”

  She was sitting near the front with some guy. She didn’t work with Zan any more. I wasn’t sure if she’d quit, or Mom had fired her. I’d once overheard Mom saying to Dad, “She has designs on you.” Whatever the reason, she was gone, and I was glad. Zan had never liked her much, and I hadn’t either.

  Then the lights went down and the movie started. It wasn’t as good as some of the others in the series, but it was still pretty entertaining. The apes led a revolt against the humans who’d been enslaving them.

  “Those damn apes, huh?” said Peter as we walked out—quickly, so we wouldn’t run into Susan Wilkes. “Rising up against us like that.”

  “That’s what happens when you make them cook for you,” I said.

  Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we had it coming.” “Hey, you don’t think Zan has a plot to take over our house, do you?”

  “Ben,” said Peter, “he’s already done that. Wake up!”

  We headed down past the Empress, got ice cream, and walked around the inner harbour, looking at the boats and craft stands, listening to the buskers. With an aching intensity, I suddenly wished I were with Jennifer.

  “So, what do you think of this new guy your dad’s bringing in?” Peter asked.

  I turned to him in surprise. “What guy?”

  “He didn’t tell you? This hotshot linguist from Berkeley. Greg Jaworski.”

  Now that I wasn’t going to the weekly meetings any more, I wasn’t that up on the official Project Zan; everything I learned was from Mom and Dad over the dinner table, or more often from Peter.

  “Where’s Berkeley?” I asked. I’d heard Dad talk about it, but I couldn’t remember.

  “California. He’s going to make sure Zan’s learning language properly.”

  We sat down on a bench, and looked back at the ivy-covered Empress.

  “I don’t get it. We all know Zan’s learning language properly. What do we need this guy for?”

  “Well, your dad’s not technically a linguistics expert, so I think Godwin put some pressure on him to bring one aboard.”

  It was strange, thinking of someone telling my father what to do. To me, Dad always seemed like the guy who knew everything and gave the orders. Other people scrambled. It was especially uncomfortable to imagine him being bossed around by David’s father.

  “It’s probably good for the project,” Peter said. “You know, its credibility and everything. There’s a lot of linguists who don’t even think ASL is a proper language.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but Jaworksi does, and he’s big. So with two experts heading it up, Project Zan looks pretty hot. I don’t think your Dad was crazy about sharing credit, but it’s not like he has a lot of choices right now.” “What d’you mean, choices?”

  “Just that he’s got to make the project work here. There aren’t too many universities that would sponsor something like this.” He must’ve seen the confusion in my face. “Teaching chimps sign language is not something most big old universities would take seriously. It’s pretty far-out. U of T wouldn’t touch it. Harvard and MIT probably wouldn’t either.”

  “How would you know?” I said. But I remembered Dad grumbling about how U of T wouldn’t get a chimp for him. I’d thought it was because the university was stupid, not because the whole idea of the project was crazy. “Anyway,” I added defensively. “Dad just got another grant a couple weeks ago.”

  It was only a small one, apparently, not like the biggie he was still hoping for, but it would help. And now Dad seemed more relaxed.

  “I know,” said Peter. “Look, I think it’s totally radical and groundbreaking. And it’s good news for everyone, Jaworksi joining the project. It’s bound to win that big grant. And it might open up some U.S. funding too.”

  “That’s good,” I said.

  As long as the project kept going, Zan would be safe. He’d stay part of the family.

  August fifth had been marked on my calendar all summer, and when it finally arrived, I wanted to call Jennifer that very afternoon, but didn’t. They’d be tired from their trip back.

  The next day I thought about calling, but decided I’d look too eager. Play it cool. When I called the day after, there was no answer, and I lost my nerve and didn’t call again.

  Next morning, the phone rang, and Mom answered and called out that it was for me. My heart was pounding. I hoped it wa
s Jennifer.

  It was David.

  “Bonjour, Benjamin,” he said.

  “You speak French now, I see.”

  “I speak many languages now,” he replied.

  “How was your trip?”

  He grunted. “It was okay—kinda boring. So you want to go to the beach? A bunch of us are going. And, yes, that includes my little sister.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Thanks for the postcards.”

  “No problem. We’ll swing by and get you around ten-thirty.”

  The beach. Fantastic. Just like last summer. I’d made sure to get tanned over July, so my chest and legs didn’t look all pasty. I put on my bathing suit and stood in front of the mirror for a while, checking out how I looked from different angles.

  When the Godwin’s station wagon pulled into the driveway, I could see it was just full of guys. Cal was driving, and another one of his hairy rugby friends was in the front, shirtless, looking muscular. David was in the back with Hugh.

  “The girls are coming in a different car,” David explained as I got in. “Jane’s older sister is driving.” “Jane’s coming?” I moaned.

  David screwed his face up into his best Jane impersonation. “What’s your prawblem, Ben? Gawd!”

  “She scares me,” said Hugh.

  “She’s crazy about you, though, man,” David said to me. “It’s obvious.”

  “You’re kidding me.” The only thing obvious was that she hated me, and loved seeing me squirm. “Jennifer told me, Tarzan.”

  I nodded, hoping David would keep going and tell me Jennifer was crazy about me too. But he didn’t.

  “Is Kelly coming?” I asked Hugh.

  “Ah, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly,” said Hugh. “We split up.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “She didn’t like Gilligan’s Island,” he said.

  David snorted, like he knew something I didn’t. But Hugh didn’t say anything else, and I wasn’t going to be a pain and ask more questions, so I let it drop.

  We drove all the way out to Willows Beach in Oak Bay. I’d never been there before. There was a field and a playground and a snack bar that was pumping out the smell of french fries and vinegar. The beach was nice and long, and the tide was way out so there was lots of sand. Across the water was a little island and beyond that you could see the mountains rising up on the American side, snow-capped.

  The girls were already there, lying side by side on their towels, Jennifer in the middle, looking at a photo album.

  I sucked in my breath as we drew closer. My entire focus was on Jennifer. She was wearing short shorts and a halter top and these really glam sunglasses.

  All morning I’d wondered how she’d greet me. Throwing herself into my arms and kissing me crazily was my first choice, but unlikely, I thought, especially in public. She wasn’t getting up from her towel, so I just said, “Hey, welcome back!”

  “Thanks!” she said.

  “Did you get the shades in Europe?” I asked. “Paris,” she said. “Pretty fab, huh?”

  “Very Brigitte Bardot,” I said, which seemed to please her. “So are these your pictures from Europe?”

  “No, Ben,” said Jane, “they’re her pictures from Disneyland.

  Duh.”

  I ignored Jane. Now that I knew she liked me, suddenly she didn’t have as much power. I felt like Superman after the kryptonite has been taken away.

  “Hey, I want to see these too.”

  No one was exactly shifting to make room, so I plonked myself down on the sand in front of Shannon’s towel. The album was kind of upside down, but that was as good as I was going to get. Jane made a big sighing sound.

  “Ooh, who’s that?” Shannon said, pointing at a photo of Jennifer with some guy.

  “Oh. He was our tour guide in Berlin,” said Jennifer.

  “What a hunk!” said Jane.

  “European guys are really good-looking,” said Jennifer in this casual way. “And do they ever know how to dress.” I thought he was kind of weaselly, but I didn’t say anything because it would sound like sour grapes. I started to worry she’d had some kind of fling with him. Mom sometimes talked about her trip to Europe after high school and it sounded pretty wild. Crazy romances happened in Europe all the time. Luckily I didn’t see any more pictures of the Berlin tour guide, and I figured it was unlikely Jennifer had had a torrid affair right under her parents’ noses.

  Anyway, according to David, who flopped down beside us with Hugh, they were only in Berlin twenty-four hours. Jennifer went through the pictures, taking us from country to country. David chipped in with his own funny commentary, sounding like a voice-over from those old newsreels.

  “Bustling Trafalgar Square in the heart of London! Look at all the tourists feeding the pigeons! Look at all the pigeons crapping all over the tourists! Delightful fun!”

  There were tons of pictures of the Godwin family in front of statues and historic buildings. Lots of pictures of Jennifer looking gorgeous on cobbled streets and on riverboats and old stone bridges. I didn’t like thinking of all these other people getting to see her while I was way over here.

  By the time the last page of the photo album was turned, I hated the entire continent of Europe, and all the well-dressed people in it.

  Jennifer took off her halter top and shorts, and her bikini was underneath. I tried not to stare. It looked like her breasts had gotten bigger since the last time I’d seen her in a bathing suit—exactly a year ago. And she seemed different, a little more aloof. She’d gone to Europe and gotten all sophisticated and Europeanized.

  She was sandwiched between Shannon and Jane, like they were bodyguards. When she needed lotion on her back, she asked them, not me.

  I kept hoping she’d wander off meaningfully along the beach, and I could walk with her, but she seemed happy gabbing to her friends. A few times I walked down to the water alone and stood looking heroically into the distance, but she never joined me, so I gave up and started throwing the Frisbee around with David and Hugh.

  After a while the girls came and wanted to join us, so we made teams and started a game of Frisbee tag.

  “Let’s see those muscles ripple, Ben,” said Jane.

  I tried to whip the Frisbee at her head a couple of times, but kept missing.

  I noticed that Hugh had no problem making body contact with Jennifer, and a couple of times he plowed into her pretty hard. He’d been David’s friend for so long, I guess they’d all grown up playing together. I was always worried I was going to nudge her breasts—as much as I wanted to—or hurt her, so I was always kind of skimming past her.

  Once Hugh knocked her right over onto the sand and when he helped her up I heard her give a little shriek.

  “Did you just slap my butt?” she demanded.

  She didn’t seem that upset, and Hugh just laughed and ran off with the Frisbee.

  I started looking at Hugh more closely. I’d never thought of him as handsome. But he was a year older than me, and he was big and played rugby on the A team. Did that automatically make him cooler than me?

  I started thinking backwards, fusing scenes together in my head like some crazy movie flashback. Hugh danced with her at the dance. He talked with her at school and made her laugh sometimes. But I’d just thought they were pals. David had never mentioned anything about Hugh liking Jennifer, or vice versa.

  When it was time to go home, I was hoping Jennifer would come back in the station wagon with me, but Jane’s older sister had come to pick her up, and Jennifer wanted to go with the other girls. Hugh lived really close to Jane, so he went with them.

  The day hadn’t turned out at all the way I’d imagined it.

  Greg Jaworski, the hotshot from Berkeley, showed up in mid-August. He was going to stay in our spare room for two weeks, working on Project Zan with Dad and Mom.

  He was wiry and bearded and smiled a lot. His eyes behind his glasses were just the tiniest bit buggy and he talked really fast. Everything seemed t
o excite him. He was excited about meeting Dad and Mom and me. Excited about meeting Zan. Excited by the hidden cameras. And he was really excited when he watched us signing with Zan for the first time. He used the word fascinating a lot.

  At first Zan didn’t know what to make of him, and hung back. But by the end of the first afternoon, Zan was climbing into his lap and taking off his glasses. He seemed to like Greg, and that made me like him too.

  “What a fascinating little fellow he is,” Greg said. I wasn’t sure how Project Jennifer was going, but Project Zan was going to be just fine.

  FIFTEEN

  UNEXPECTED FINDINGS

  It was the Wednesday before the Labour Day weekend, and CBS television was all over our house, setting up cameras and lights.

  Peter and I were out in the backyard with Zan, playing with him until the film crew was ready.

  “I hope he doesn’t freak out when he gets in there,” I said.

  “Every celebrity’s entitled to a few tantrums,” Peter joked, but I could tell he was nervous too.

  The university had been contacted just last week by a show called 60 Minutes, which was huge apparently, a much bigger deal than Time magazine. They’d wanted to send a film crew to Victoria to do a piece on Project Zan. Dad had been hesitant about the whole thing, but the university wanted the publicity, and Greg Jaworksi agreed, saying it would focus the eyes of the world on our research.

  Every so often, Mom would come out into the backyard with just one or two members of the film crew, so Zan had a chance to get used to everyone gradually. It seemed to work, because when we finally took him inside, Zan was pretty calm—which was amazing, since our house was totally transformed.

  The furniture was all moved around and there were cables taped to the floor and big lights on stands and a boom mike dangling like a giant fishing rod over the living room. It was like they were shooting a movie in our own house and we were all actors.

  But Zan was the star.

  Nervously I watched him look around at everything and everyone with wide eyes. Our house was hot with all the lights, and crammed with strangers: the lighting guys and sound operators and cameramen and the show producers and the interviewer himself, who was famous and very distinguished-looking.