Avalon Expandable Heart: The Wild Heart Series

by Shantelle McKinnon

  I shrug at Pop, moving back towards fake Noah, wanting to ride this pony while I’m on a high. I should probably sing to him here, right now. But what?

  “Avalon!” Pop says in a commanding do this now voice.

  As I whirl, my stomach drops because, der me, I know what he’s been trying to communicate. Frank. Voldemort. National TV. Live chase and pulverize scene. The extreme opposite of soft and appealing. Oops.

  I really am praying now that Frank is too transfixed squashing tomatoes to have noticed a random Voldemort walking amongst hundreds of people in the city.

  God may have given me a short spray of rain right on time, but it looks like he’s decided that maybe my thoughts about Noah have been edging on a bit impure for his liking, and he will ignore me from now on, because beady eyed Frank has spied Voldemort too. Tomato juice cascades over his lips as he lifts his huge head. Great, now he looks like a vampiric bull. All we need. I’m kind of prophetic though, with the whole vampire angle so that’s an interesting find. I lunge to get Noah just as Frank lunges toward the Voldemort.

  Nathan is quicker on the uptake, only, in my opinion, because he hasn’t had to be soft and appealing, and has already begun sprinting towards the Voldemort leisurely mounting the footpath, oblivious to the danger gaining speed behind their person. Nat scoops him or her up and pitches them over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes and dodges through the crowd. A woman by the sound of the ear-splitting scream.

  He sprints ignoring the bashing on his shoulder. I do catch sight of his phone held out in front of him. He’s filming this. Trust. He’ll probably tell dad it was an undercover scientist trying to lure me through my reading habits and that he deserves a raise.

  I sprint.

  Frank barrels.

  People scream and scatter everywhere, I’m panting as I peg the cardboard character to Harry as I pass him and evaluate how I can take a short cut to get to Frank. Nathan points to where he’s going. Gotcha.

  Holy cow! I laugh at the pun as I zip through people, my feet burning without my boots on. I leap on to this little green housing thing just as Nat zooms past flicking the phone my way for a second. Frank looms toward me, galloping down the sidewalk. People are squealing and diving left and right, jumping into shops and onto the road. Shit, I’m not sure how this will go down with MM but it’s a lot more exciting than just sitting there. Was it only like bloody yesterday I did this as well?

  I time it as he comes thundering down the footpath, a lacy lingerie set somehow swinging precariously from a coat hanger around his horns. Hope that isn’t a sign.

  I’m grateful I’ve done this a million times with Amber. I count down hoping he will maintain his speed, last thing I need is another trip to the hospital. I vault and catch him around the neck, one hand threading through his halter and tugging hard. My heart beats furiously against his side. He slows instantly as he feels me sliding off and bellows in frustration. I reckon he might feel like popping my head like that tomato right now. He lets his knees hit the ground as he drags his head along the concrete, his horns leaving drag marks on the pavement. I clamber on to his back while he is lowered. “I’ll make you a Voldemort when we get home, boy. Three! Three Voldemort’s causing chaos that you can chase and pulverise, I promise.”

  I gaze around at all the people’s enraptured faces, and shrug sheepishly, hoping I haven’t messed up any stealth infiltration chances I had amassed. I fancy I can sense MM’s disapproval from here. I shrug again with a small chuckle, “Working with animals.” I spot the fact we are near the bookstore so decide what better place to calm Frank totally down.

  “What’s the odds?” I shake my head at Harry who has turned up and standing slightly away from me; eyes warily assessing the puffing bull. I untangle the lacey bra from Frank’s horns and toss them to Harry. “That someone would dress as Voldemort today of all days and walk across that crossing? God clearly loves me. I mean, what the hell have I done wrong?”

  Harry’s face creases as he laughs and he tucks the bra set into a small bag. “I can’t imagine, kiddo. That was a Muslim lady wearing… what they wear.”

  “I think I’ve heard that word before,” I reply. “Are they an acting group?”

  “No,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Religious. What are you doing?” he asks as I turn into the shop.

  “I’ve got a list for today. Getting a book, man nappies for Sam and something that I will never think of because I just said man nappies for Sam, could you please ask Nat to come in when he’s done. I hope he’s got my money.”

  Harry’s eyes widen but he just nods. The bookstore is huge! Frank starts sniffing the books and the tension eases slightly from his body. I pick up a book and read the back to him and he totally relaxes, licking his lips and sighing. He bumps me toward his back. I lay a hand on there instead of climbing aboard.

  “I don’t know about this one, sounds boring,” I say to him putting it back on the shelf. “Let’s go further in and explore.”

  Frank follows like a lamb; he even throws in a little skip. This place is both our dreams come true.

  “God, Frank, my bum is itchy. Oh, look here’s one with a cow on it,” I show him one from the little kids’ section desperately trying not to shove hand down my daks and attack my bum crack that feels like its sweating some bathtubs. “Her name’s Petunia. She goes to the city too!” There were so many to choose from. “She doesn’t try to run down any fake Voldemort’s though. Tame, Frankie, tame. But maybe, we’ll get it just in case you harbor any dairy cow fetishes!” And for Dell’s baby.

  “Ah! Excuse me,” a snooty voice sounds from behind us. “You can’t have a… a cow in here. Remove yourselves now!”

  “Well, they’ve let you in, so it seems cows are just fine to have in here,” Nat appears and towers over the lady and stares down at her. She splutters like a goldfish.

  “Go away,” he rolls his eyes, impatient to relive his dash of fame. “That was a muslin chick not a bloody Voldemort, Frank, learn the goddamn difference before I get charged for manhandling when I’m actually saving a life. She scratched the shit out of me. Women with nails are now off my list. Nasty buggers.”

  “Muslim,” I correct him absentmindedly, stoked that I see him holding my Noah. “They are religious, not an acting group! I don’t think religious people do bad things, like dob and stuff, so you should be good. If they do, we can film Frank crushing a Voldemort then that should clear your intentions up pretty quickly. Anyways, we are scouting for some exciting, new books. Do you have any money on you?”

  “I do and you should start in the bloody history section, boofhead,” he uses the cardboard Noah to do some things to the lady’s backside, who is still there trying to convey her message through her outraged visage. He then turns sideways to get past her, and he pats his back pocket telling me his wallet is in there. “Excuse me!” she trills finally finding her voice.

  “Put a cork in it,” Nat growls, pegging Noah over the next aisle to me so he won’t get too near Frank. “We’re just bloody trying to do some shopping.”

  She gapes.

  “It’s true. We love books,” I tell her, gesturing to us three.

  “Seems like people won’t leave you alone in book shops too. It’s inconvenient. You want to film something in here for the song?” He asks me, pulling his phone out.

  “May as well,” I fix myself up, dusting off more hairs poking out of my bikini and give in to rearrange the never ending wedgey before setting Noah up like we are casually book shopping hand in hand with our pet bull.

  I grab Noah’s hand and meander down the aisle with Frank in tow, pulling out a book and showing Noah and Frank. Sometimes I pretend that Noah is showing me a book with one arm and holding me around the waist with the other. I have to stop Frank licking him at various times or taking a nibble from the side. Nathan follows on the adjacent aisle filming.

  The lady also follows, she appears mighty uncomfortable, maybe she has a wedgey too.

&n
bsp; “I can’t take the steaks off,” I tell her seriously. “My boyfriend would feel very excluded as he has no other clothes available.” I thumb at the Noah. People are filming us on their phones, I don’t mind long as we get some good books and shots.

  Pop moseys in and proceeds to give us the hurry up look. Oops.

  Fate

  Avalon

  Pop walks back out of the hospital with Harry, minutes after Nat and I settle down on the lawn with some scallops and burgers after running through the streets filming with ‘Noah’ and Frank. We both watch him without speaking as he treads lightly down the stairs towards the rare bit of city grass we are lying on. Frank is ignoring the small crowd standing a distance back with their phones out gawking; happily chewing on the hay we bought him. Stand-in Noah is lying beside me.

  My side is uncomfortable now after climbing up numerous city light posts and throwing cans at Nat and then swapping over to play Crocodile Dundee. But uncomfortable is pretty much the same as nothing and I’m stoked it’s healing fast. Dad always said I was a rapid healer; Daryl used to narrow his eyes at me shooting the message through thin, invisible brain lasers that that was only due to his tireless nutritional program… not actually me.

  I notice it and so does my brother, the tightness around Pop’s eyes. He didn’t want us to go in, well, maybe he didn’t want Frank to go in. He did mention that he wanted one hospital that would take us in again if need be. Harry hung with him for which I was very grateful.

  Nat and I get up at the same time, Frank raises his head but lowers it after his inspection of the area and my body language. “What is it?” Nat and I both ask at once, concern marring our voices. Frank heaves a breath out of his nose.

  Pop smiles and it’s a strange smile; I don’t like it. It doesn’t resemble the other mysterious ones from earlier, this one sends a shot of chill deep into my belly. My heart starts beating oddly. Nathan moves closer so that our sides are touching, I lean into him. Please, God, let there be nothing wrong.

  “Don’t overreact,” Pop begins, and I don’t because those words literally bloody paralyse me. Nathan is stock still too. “Turns out it was lucky you organised that checkup and I’m here visiting now. Fate, see?”

  I don’t like where this is going, considering I organised that when I was in the Hostel all that time ago.

  “No, I don’t see,” I choke out.

  “It’s all okay,” pulls a callous set of fingers along my cheek. “They have discovered I have some lesions on my lung, which is why I have been coughing of late. Harry has graciously offered me accommodation while I undergo further tests,” he smiles gratefully at Harry who says nothing but squeezes him on the shoulder.

  “Lesions…” Nathan trails off.

  “… as in cancer?” I finish his sentence and step toward Pop to place my hands on his shoulders, trying to stem the horror washing through me by directing it into super interrogation eyes.

  “Could be,” Pop pulls me in for a hug most likely to avoid my eyes, “but it’s only a fifty-fifty chance of that. Most likely benign from old infections or what not.”

  “What if they are malignant?” Nat asks wrapping his arms around us both. I lean into him, wishing I could have some super power to suck some strength out of us and shoot it into Pop.

  “Then I’m in the best place to get treated. Either way, it’s early days and the Doctor is optimistic even if it is cancer,” Pop steps back.

  “Can we speak to the doctor?” I ask, wanting to make sure there is no waiting around or waiting time... or reps wanting him to test stuff. Dad would feed me to the feral pigs if I let that happen.

  Pop chuckles, “Ah, I’d rather not let you two in there to intimidate the poor fellow.”

  “Oh God,” Nat groans, “make sure you tell Dad we tried.”

  “Thank you, Haz,” I hug Harry.

  “Family,” he whispers in my ear.

  Frank bellows suddenly making me jump. I turn to find he has finished his hay and is looking around with an expression that bodes ill, he’s probably restless and wanting to get back to a paddock after all his city excitement. “Me too, Frank. Me too,” I murmur feeling an uncharacteristic wave of complete tiredness wash over me.

  chills

  Avalon

  I delete the third annoying image of the night, Noah in some sort of pub, I guess. Hands wrapped around the arms of a girl who obviously likes him. I repeat to myself how photos are just halted milliseconds in time, and that there are billions of explanations for each. I remember the betrayal I suffered from photos being taken the wrong way, I learn. And speaking of the wrong way? Who am I to say what someone can and can’t do because I like them? I throw the lame arse attempt at sabotage out of my mind. The person didn’t even have the balls to send it with their number.

  “It’s so yummy, isn’t it?” Irene crows as she watches me down the drink.

  A veritable smorgasbord of flavours explode in my mouth as I push the liquid to the back of my mouth to swallow. I choke on the fumes that seem to curl through the back of my throat to swarm up my nasal passage with a rush of burning heat. My eyes begin to water.

  “So… very… yummy,” I splutter, trying to get a hold on my numb tongue.

  Irene and Gwen laugh delightedly, “It will kill any nerves in you,” they sing song in unison, like it was an embedded mantra for them. Probably was.

  Nathan watches me and is about to say something but stops, frowns and takes a swig of the concoction; even his eyes widen. I notice the hidden I just ate a lemon reaction as the warmth hits my belly and I almost have to close my eyes to stop them from rolling back into my head.

  “You’re right about killing nerves. I doubt I’ll feel anything for at least seven months, in any extremity of my body.”

  One of the old birds looks scandalous and mutters something suspiciously dirty under her breath. I try hard not to decipher it. I feel my cheeks flame to life.

  “Did you literally chuck everything we bought in this one drink?” Nathan says in a voice that is being forced to be even. They had requested like ten different bottles of alcohol amongst some other weird ingredients: ground fruit tingles being one of them.

  “Sure did!” Gwen fluffs my hair before grimacing, she holds up a long-straightened strand between two fingers and peers at it. “Girls, there’s more drool here.” A few of the other older ladies swoop in to fuss over it with whatever. I have had a lovely evening of the being pampered with hair doing, it has certainly relieved the need to itch my bum or maybe that was the cream Flea gave me once I told him why I couldn’t stop ripping at my butt. Seriously, I could hardly talk for it. Lucky, I had wormed myself this morning, although he did say it might be the dying infestation. I half hoped it was and that I’d find a shriveled-up tentacle.

  I didn’t read what the medicine was he handed me, I just knew it didn’t come out of the human area of the medicine cabinet, wouldn’t be the first time or the last. But, however much I wished for the shriveled tentacle to be the cause, it was the pants. I would never tell D that while beautifully made and painted, they had wreaked havoc on my sensitive non-underwear nether regions beyond anything I’d ever experienced, even my duct tape pizzle trials. Sliding on the leotard was another form of hell. I had to rip it off, as the heat was causing sweat to slide around and dribble down to places that didn’t need any more moisture. I really can understand now why some horses just itch, the pleasure out does the pain until the that whole thing reverses and you wished you’d died pretty much. My fingers twitch as I think about it. I sit on them, desperate not to start the whole process over again. Mind over matter, Avalon!

  “It burns,” I moan to no one in particular. Nathan of course laughs.

  “Have a swig, Sam!” Irene thrusts the bottle towards Sam.

  “Don’t need it, I’m overflowing with glee today,” he states in a joking tone, and thing is, he has been really happy. He practically crushed me in a hug when he showed up before, animatedly telling me how mu
ch he would have loved to see Kelsey’s face in person instead of imagining it. He really does not like that girl. As I have been using her today as my model citizen muse I only shrug in reply, I have nothing against her. Unless, of course, she is the one annoying me with these photos. But I couldn’t see Kelsey staking someone.

  “Gerald better be ready to butter my biscuit all night loooooooong,” Gwen shimmies as she sings the last bit to the AC/DC hit. It’s my eyes turn to widen as she runs her hands up her body suggestively.

  She flicks her long-straightened wig with sass. I had found the wigs in the shop Pop had made me return the lacy lingerie set that had hooked itself on Frank’s horns. They decided on the option not to take them back, so I had gifted the red lacey number to Gwen for extra luck in her evening events. The wigs look awesome, now that Lucy and Tina had worked out (using numerous YouTube videos) on how to put them on without the old chooks resembling robbers with stockings over their faces. We all have the same Single Ladies hairstyle.

  “Biscuits!” Crows Irene. “There’s four main ones!”

  Four main biscuits? Nathan chuckles at my consternation before glaring and telling me to think no further on the topic.

  “I’m sure if he doesn’t there will be a whole line up to snap up his spot, hey Sammie boy?” Nathan grins cheekily at Sam.

  Sam pales, “Y-yeah.” I can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down like it’s on the top of an emu’s head. Gwen slides up her choir gown to reveal the very edge of those red lace strips of material waggling her eyebrows. Sam’s pale turns green like he’s going to vomit just even thinking along those lines, let alone the vision before him… thoughts I should not be thinking along either. Oh, that milk slithering over my monster’s abs. Die tentacle, die!

  “I better go see if D is all right,” I go to stand up to escape this whole direction but Irene swoops in with the bottle and one hand on my shoulder.