They looked so happy. Charlie reset the tin can as Dexter punched the air and cheered him on.
“Why not?” I said. “What happened?”
“Well, Charlie’s team won the league that year. He played his best baseball ever. He really was their star player.”
I smiled as Charlie threw the ball again and knocked the can flying. Dexter ran around the garden, waving his arms above his head. He had green eyes and a big wide grin. He looked like he’d be really fun to hang out with. But then the image began to blur. I leaned forward on the sofa. Suddenly we were back at the baseball field again, but this time the game was over. Charlie was being held up on his teammates’ shoulders as he waved a shiny gold trophy in the air.
“They circled that field seven times. Seven! The crowd went crazy,” said Sam.
They all looked so happy I almost wanted to applaud them myself. An older, chubby man was following the group of kids, clapping madly with a big grin on his face.
“That’s Coach Benson,” said Sam.
I watched as he reached up and patted Charlie on the back. “I’m so proud of you, boy. You’ve made this team complete, and if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be holding this trophy today.”
“Thanks, Coach Benson,” said Charlie, before his teammates carried him off on another lap of the field.
The image faded again and now we were in Charlie’s bedroom. He was asleep, the trophy under his arm.
“He slept with it under his arm for three nights running. But that was it. Not long after they won the league, Charlie gave up baseball completely.”
“What?” I said, confused. “He gave it up? Why?”
As I asked the question Sam’s color faded and he moved his arm, and the image changed again. I was back at the baseball field, but this time it looked like they were training.
“Coach Benson brought in a new kid—Elliot.”
I could see the coach with Charlie and another, smaller boy. They were talking about something, but Charlie had his arms folded and he didn’t look happy.
“Coach Benson told Charlie he wanted him to take Elliot under his wing and teach him all he knew about pitching. He said they needed more than one strong pitcher on their team.”
“Charlie tried it for a bit, showed him how to stand, and taught him about curveballs and sliders and all that … but, you know … it just didn’t work out, so he quit.”
I watched the image change and saw Charlie throw the ball on the floor and stomp off the field. Following behind him was Dexter, his green glow now a dull dishwater color.
“He quit? Their star player quit? Just because they brought in a new player? Why would he do that?”
Sam shrugged. “He took it personally. But it wasn’t Coach Benson’s fault. They needed a team of good players, not just Charlie. Dexter tried his best to talk him out of it, but it was no use. He joined another team and, well … Let’s just say things were not the same.”
Sam waved his hand again, and this time we were at another baseball field with a team dressed in red. Charlie was sitting on a bench looking incredibly fed up. Behind him was Dexter, his green color almost gone as he watched his friend looking so miserable.
“His new coach, Coach Rudge, wasn’t great. He hardly picked Charlie to play at all. So in the end he just stopped playing altogether.”
I suddenly felt angry. “But that’s so stupid! What about Coach Benson? Couldn’t he have just gone back to his old team? He’d have taken him back, right?”
Sam sighed. “Coach Benson saw him at a game one weekend. He noticed he wasn’t getting any play, so he came over at the end to talk to him. ‘You can come back to us anytime, you know, Charlie. If your new coach isn’t working out for you, we’d have you back in a millisecond.’ ”
“And?” I said. “What did he say?”
“He was tempted, I know that much. But that new kid, Elliot, had been their pitcher all day. Dexter had whispered into Charlie’s ear: ‘Do it, Charlie. Tell him how much you miss his team and how much you want to go back.’ ”
I could see it all happening in front of me on the screen. Dexter’s green glow was as bright as grass after a rainstorm as he whispered into Charlie’s ear while Coach Benson stood in front of them. The coach clearly had no idea that Dexter was there. Charlie chewed on a knuckle, and then I heard his voice:
“No thank you, Coach Benson, I’m quite happy where I am. Coach Rudge is great. He’s the best coach I’ve ever had, in fact!”
Dexter’s green color dulled until he faded away altogether.
I stood up.
“This is utterly ridiculous! Charlie gave up baseball just because he didn’t want to admit things weren’t right with the new coach, just to get back at Coach Benson? That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”
Sam watched me but didn’t say anything. His face was blank. He waved an arm and the image shimmered into waves and then the wall returned to normal. I threw myself back onto the sofa.
“That Charlie sounds like a complete moron. Why didn’t he just say to Coach Benson—I’m sorry but, you know what, Coach Rudge isn’t great. Why didn’t he tell him? Why didn’t he just tell him how bad it was?”
Sam crouched down beside me and rested his arms on his knees. He leaned forward and looked straight at me, and as he did his eyes seemed to age. The skin around them looked suddenly thinner, and wrinkles began to form. It almost felt like I was looking into my dad’s eyes.
“Why didn’t he just admit he was upset?” I said, in a whisper.
“I don’t know, Nate,” said Sam, aging before my eyes. “Why did you tell your dad that Gary was great when he wasn’t?”
I shut my eyes, and when I opened them again, Sam was gone.
I woke up the next morning a twelve-year-old. My mum was missing, there was a scraggy chicken in the kitchen, I had a glowing imaginary friend in the living room, and somewhere outside was a weird treasure hunter named Kitty. I think it was perfectly fine that on this year, more than any other, all I wanted to do was pull the duvet over my head and stay in bed. I could hear the chicken making a squawking noise in the kitchen. Her food was probably all gone, and I knew I should go down and let her out, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t get out of bed.
I felt my breath hot against my chin as I lay there. I decided I’d just stay there in bed and wait. I’d wait for time to pass and for Mum to come back and then everything would be all right. She’d walk back in with a big smile on her face.
“I’m so sorry I was so long, Nate. I’ve been busy making this for you! It’s taken me ages.”
From behind her back she’d reveal a huge, three-tiered birthday cake. That’s what must have happened. She was just busy somewhere making a surprise cake for my birthday. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe she was back with Gary, forgetting all about my birthday, forgetting all about me.
I felt tears prickle and begin to fall—I dabbed the duvet on my cheeks, trying to soak them up, but they just kept coming.
My sixth birthday had probably been my best birthday ever. Mum and Dad were still together back then, and they’d hired the village hall for a party. We turned up two hours before the guests were due, along with Grandma and Granddad, and we set about decorating the whole hall. I say “we” but it was really them. I just spent two hours running the length of the hall and skidding along on my knees until Grandma eventually told me to get up as I was ruining the nice khakis that she’d bought for me.
I’d invited twenty-two friends from school, and they all turned up at exactly three o’clock—each with a gift-wrapped present that they dumped on a big table before running around hitting one another over the head with balloons. I ran around too, but I kept an eye on the table as the mound of gifts grew and grew. I couldn’t believe it—I’d never seen so many presents in my whole life.
After ten minutes of running around we were all told to sit down, as the magician, the Great Stupendo, was about to start his routine. We sat down on the floor
by his feet and stared up at the large man wearing a dark robe covered in little golden stars. He started off a bit rubbish (he made a plastic birthday cake disappear, but we could all see that it folded flat and he’d just squashed it with a lid). But the tricks got better and better, and we all went crazy when he poured a jug of milk into a newspaper funnel and nothing got wet. Toward the end of his routine he asked me up to be his assistant. All I had to do was hold the magic wand while he got everything ready for the next trick. But when he gave it to me it went all floppy, like a piece of black rope. My friends burst into laughter.
“What are you doing, young man?” cried the Great Stupendo, making the wand go back to normal again. “You’ve just got one task! Just hold tightly onto this magic wand, and I’ll get everything ready for the next trick …”
He turned away and the wand, which was normal in his hand, collapsed into a useless, floppy stick when I held it.
My friends went wild.
“Look! It’s gone all funny!” they screamed. “He can’t do magic tricks with that!”
I stood there frozen, the droopy wand hanging over my hand. I didn’t understand it—what was I doing wrong?
The magician acted all flustered.
“Come on now, Nate. Stop this messing around. We’ve got a captive audience here, and they’re waiting for the headlining trick in my act—aren’t you, boys and girls?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, well don’t mess it up again …”
He took the wand from me and gave it a wipe with his magic scarf and it miraculously went solid again.
“So, this is your last chance to get this right, Nate. You’ve just got one job to do, just hold this for me while I …”
The wand was back in my hand, and it instantly slumped across my palm as if it had fainted.
The audience was hysterical now, and Daisy Harrison had actually rolled onto her back, clutching her stomach.
But I wasn’t laughing.
The magician made a great fuss and wiped at his forehead with hundreds of multicolored scarves that he pulled from his pockets. My friends were going crazy now, trying to catch the little squares as he threw them into the air.
I looked at everyone laughing at me, and then I saw Mum and Dad watching from the back of the hall. They were standing apart, both with their arms crossed. Dad was smiling at me and he gave me a quick thumbs-up, but Mum had her eyes fixed on the magician. She began to make her way around the kids sitting on the floor, edging toward the front. She stopped to one side for a moment as she bit on the end of her nail. She does that when she’s thinking.
The Great Stupendo took the wand again, which magically returned to its proper shape. I had one eye on the wand and one eye on Mum. This could be a disaster; she was going to show me up in front of everyone.
“I’d normally give up by now, young Nate. But as it’s your birthday I’ll give you one more try. It’s quite simple. All you have to do, my little fellow, is hold onto this very, very precious wand that was carved from wood from Outer Mongolia. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded.
He held the black wand up in front of my face, took my hand, and placed it firmly on my palm. I heard a little click and the wand sagged onto my palm again, just as Mum took a step forward. The screams of laughter were ear piercing.
“You’ve done something to it!” I shouted. “I heard it!” I turned toward the crowd. “There was a little click—it isn’t my fault it’s not working. He made it go like that!”
The laughter faded as all the children stared at me. Daisy Harrison pushed herself up off the floor, her mouth open with shock. They couldn’t believe that the birthday boy was ruining the whole act.
The Great Stupendo patted me firmly on the shoulder. “Now, now, there’s no need for that. You don’t want to spoil it for everyone, do you? Maybe one of your other guests would like to be my assistant instead?”
Twenty arms shot up instantly. I threw the wand onto the floor and made a run for the bathroom.
“Nate! Wait!” called Mum and I could hear her running across the hall behind me. She caught me before I could get to the boys’ room. “What was all that about? It was just a trick.”
“You were going to say something. You were going to embarrass me in front of all of my friends!”
Dad appeared behind her. “I think you’ve done a good job of that yourself, don’t you?” he said. I ignored them both and ran into the bathroom, locking myself in a stall. They must have decided to leave me to it, as no one followed.
After about fifteen minutes of hiding, Eddie Durrant came in and found me standing by the sinks with my arms folded. His face was dripping with sweat.
“What’re you doing in here? You’re missing your own party!” he said, splashing his face with some cold water. “It’s mad in there. Your dad’s got us all doing a giant conga. Come on!”
He rushed back to the hall, and I slowly followed him out. Someone had turned the big lights off, and the bright disco lights were swirling around the hall as a snake of kids wound its way this way and that. My dad was at the front with a party hat on his head, laughing and kicking his legs.
“Nate! Grab me!” said Malaya Barnes, who swept past me at the end of the line. I ran and placed my hands on her shoulders and grinned as I kicked a leg to one side and then to the other.
After the last person had left and we’d swept the hall and turned off the lights I remember climbing exhausted into the back of the car. The trunk was stuffed with presents ready to open when I got home. Mum turned around to me:
“Happy birthday, darling. I hope you’ve had a lovely party,” she said, smiling.
I grinned back at her.
“Thank you, Mum. It’s been the best day ever.”
I’d forgotten all about my tantrum in the middle of the party. I’d felt like such an idiot up there with that magician, being laughed at by everyone, but I was more worried that Mum was going to wade in and make me look even more stupid. It was funny, but I’d always imagined that that day had been the best day of my life. I guess even good ones can’t be all perfect. Mum must have been so upset with me for spoiling everything, but she never mentioned it once.
I shut my eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but the room was too bright and my eyelids glowed yellow.
“You getting up then?”
I squinted. At the end of my bed was Sam, his bright T-shirt glowing like a hazy sun.
“Go away,” I said, and I shut my eyes again. I could sense him walking around to the side of my bed.
“Nate, it’s your birthday. And there’s a whole bunch of people downstairs who have traveled quite a way to meet you. So just get yourself up and come see. Okay?”
I opened my eyes, but he’d left. I lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the cottage creaking and the wind rustling through the trees outside, and then I rolled over and shut my eyes again.
After about a minute I could hear singing. It was distant but it was definitely there. I sat up and listened.
“For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow … for he’s a jolly good fellloooowww … and so say all of us …”
Then there was lots of clapping and cheering. What was going on?
I got out of bed, pulled a sweater over my pajamas, and slowly walked to the top of the stairs. The noises were getting louder. It sounded like there was a crowd of people in the living room.
“Is he coming?”
“Are you sure you haven’t just imagined him, Sam?”
“When’s he coming? When can we meet him?”
I slowly walked down the stairs. The living room door was shut, but I could see lights coming from the gap at the bottom. Bright lights. I held the handle and slowly turned it.
“SURPRISE!”
I stumbled backward, dazzled by the colors that filled the room. It was packed—there were imaginary friends everywhere. I held my hand up and used the wall to steady myself as I took it all in. Sam
appeared in front of me, his grin wide and his yellow T-shirt brighter than ever.
“Happy birthday, Nate!” he said.
I just stared at him, openmouthed.
“Come and meet everyone!”
A girl wearing silver-framed glasses and a silver sweater and jeans pushed through the crowd and jumped in front of us.
“Hi, I’m Beth. Happy birthday! Great to see you.”
She gave me a little wave, and I held up my hand and gave a feeble wiggle of my fingers.
“Are you for real?” said another girl, pushing through the crowd. She was wearing a pair of bright orange overalls. When she got closer her eyes widened. “Wow, Sam. You were telling the truth after all! He is real.”
“Well, of course I’m real …” I said, but no one was listening.
“Nate! Nate! Over here!”
In the corner behind the mass of figures were Meena and Dexter, the imaginary friends from Sam’s stories. Meena was waving her arms about and Sam began to edge toward them, so I followed. As I passed, the friends all stared at me, grinning madly. Some even bowed.
“It’s so nice to see you!”
“Isn’t he amazing? I can’t believe he’s really here.”
“And on a special day like today. His very own birthday!”
I smiled at them as I went, unable to speak.
Meena was jumping up and down, clapping her hands.
“So, what do you think?” she said. “Is this the best birthday you’ve ever had, or what?!”
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“The guy is overwhelmed, aren’t you, Nate?” said Dexter. “Come on, let’s get the music on!”
From somewhere, I don’t know where or how, music began to play. It began with a rhythmic drumbeat, and then a man started singing about sun shining in the sky. I knew it immediately; it was “Mr. Blue Sky,” my mum’s favorite song ever. I felt tears prickling my eyes.
“Come on, Nate! Let’s dance!” squealed Meena, and she leapt into action and shimmied this way and that along with the other figures. I looked around and everyone was dancing: Some jumped up and down in time to the repetitive beat, some shook their heads, and some held on to each other and spun around and around. It was like watching an incredible, swirling rainbow right there in the living room. I stood still for a moment, and then I caught the eye of the girl in the orange overalls, who was waving her arms above her head. She made her way over to me, and I wiped the tears away from my cheeks.
The Light Jar Page 13
