Stuff

by Jeremy Strong

  ‘Sky?’ prompted Miss Kovak. ‘Of course, you don’t know anyone’s name, do you? Just point, that’ll be fine.’

  Sky raised her arm and everyone began to push.

  ‘Boys, it’s no good trying to stand where Sky is pointing. Just keep still, thank you. OK, Sky, go ahead.’

  ‘Him,’ she nodded.

  I picked up my pencils and sketch pad and off we went, leaving the Hounds of Envy to howl their annoyance. Ha ha ha, sorted! We settled in a quiet corner near the windows, where the light was better. My heart was thrumming.

  ‘I don’t know your name,’ Sky said.

  ‘Sorry. Simon. Stuff. People call me Stuff.’ And I explained why.

  ‘I like that,’ she said.

  ‘Why did you pick me out of that lot?’

  ‘Don’t get big-headed about it,’ said Sky, with a faint smile. ‘That was easy. You’re the only one who hasn’t been forcing yourself on me since I walked into the room.’

  ‘Right.’

  Another little smile. She cocked her head on one side and her eyebrows gave a little flicker. ‘And I like the way you look. I don’t mean your appearance, I mean the way you look at people, as if you’re trying to see the person inside.’

  ‘Right.’

  Mad panic. Oh God, she talked about scary things. This was way beyond the kind of stuff Delfine and I did. All we did was slag off Honzo da Bonzo, among others. Could I handle this? I mean, this was deep like, I dunno, philosophy or something.

  Sky angled her pad on her lap and started to draw. The minutes slowly passed and I began to relax. This was good. All the time she was concentrating on her pad I could study her. I couldn’t believe she was so close. Her face was so neat, as if God had drawn it with a really fine pencil.

  That is so stupid! I don’t even believe in God and here he is, not just drawing – he’s drawing the Love of My Life!

  It is so difficult, so hard to explain, but I’m trying to capture everything I loved about her – the high cheekbones, the graceful slant to her green eyes, her cheerful little knees.

  Well, they were! As soon as I saw Sky’s knees they just seemed to smile at me.

  Anyhow, I was getting desperate to start drawing her. I had such an image of her in my mind and it was bursting to leap on to the page. It was the only way to show how I saw her, what I saw in her.

  Sky lowered her pad. ‘Done,’ she said, with a broad smile.

  Miss Kovak came over and glanced at the portrait. ‘That’s good, Sky. Did you do much art at your last school?’

  ‘Not really, but I’ve always drawn, ever since I was about three. I’m going to be an artist.’

  Miss Kovak nodded. ‘I’d say you’re heading in the right direction. You’d better show Simon. He’s dying to see.’

  Sky blushed slightly lifted her pad and turned it round. It was terrific. It really looked like me. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It’s good, but you could have left out my spot. Is my chin really that big?’

  Sky laughed. ‘It’s not big. It’s your chin, that’s all. Come on, your turn now.’

  I began to draw and, as I sketched, the real world shut down around me. I was drawing my way into another universe. I drew and drew and the art room vanished and Sky and I were left floating in a timeless world of our own, a world of hidden dangers. Half the time I didn’t even look at her, as if my pencil had a mind of its own. And what I was drawing didn’t make sense. I wasn’t just drawing Sky, I was drawing this new world. Bit by bit she took shape on the page in front of me, bursting with life, with power. And she wasn’t just a face – she was AN EPIC!

  In a Time that doesn’t exist, a different world is born …

  Great galaxies collide. Black holes swallow entire solar systems. Wormholes wriggle between parallel universes.

  Danger is everywhere, in the shape of monstrous creatures unknown on Earth, creatures more hideous than Mr Frobisher, the IT teacher, more dangerous than a female tyrannosaurus with PMT – this is the world of the Drooling Dorkoids of Doom.

  Yet in this world of death and despair there is still hope. One superhuman strides across Space, bringing hope to all those who suffer.

  Behold – Skysurfer!!

  POW! KERRUNGG! SPLOGG! PLIFF!

  ‘My goodness!’

  It was Miss Kovak, standing behind me, studying my work. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Hmmm. That person being eaten by a shark there – is that your English teacher?’

  ‘Um, sort of.’

  Miss Kovak nodded slowly. ‘It’s quite something, Simon. Is that how you see Sky?’

  I wanted the ground to swallow me up. ‘It’s – just how it came out,’ I explained.

  Sky looked puzzled.

  ‘You’d better show her,’ Miss Kovak suggested.

  I lifted up my pad and turned it round. It felt as if my embarrassment was so great it had jumped right out of my body and infected hers. I watched Sky turn red.

  ‘Wow!’ she murmured, and no wonder.

  Her eyes flicked to mine and quickly looked away, but already I had seen amazement and fear. I cursed myself for getting so carried away.

  ‘Simon, could you bring your work over here for a moment, please?’

  Now I was going to cop it from Miss Kovak too. Great. I picked up my pad and followed her to the other end of the room, where we couldn’t be heard.

  Miss Kovak never did public put-downs. Not like some in the school who I could mention. Now she took another long look at the drawing. ‘I didn’t know you did work like this,’ she began.

  ‘I only do it at home. I got carried away. Sorry.’

  ‘But it’s terrific. I don’t think it will get you through the art exam, but it has great impact.’

  I was speechless. Inside my head everything was going crazy. I waited breathlessly to hear what she would say next.

  ‘I have an idea for you to consider. First of all, you mustn’t show this to anyone else. OK?’

  ‘But Sky’s already seen it.’

  Miss Kovak glanced towards Sky. ‘I think I can sort this with her. Do another portrait, an ordinary one this time – not quite so … exciting. You can show that to the others. Then come and see me at the end of the lesson and I can tell you what I’ve got in mind.’

  I could see the rest of the group were getting interested in what was going on. Pete was pulling faces. He obviously thought I was in deep trouble.

  ‘What about the picture I’ve already done?’ I asked.

  Miss Kovak winked at me. ‘We can soon sort that out.’ She suddenly raised her voice and tore a clean sheet of paper from my pad. ‘And don’t you ever make a drawing like that again, Simon. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Kovak.’ I hung my head and grinned at my shoes. I still hadn’t a clue what was going on, but it was great!

  Miss Kovak ripped the clean sheet to bits and put them in the bin. ‘Now, go back and do another portrait – a decent one.’

  The boys at the other end of the room hooted with delight.

  6

  Radical Rabbit

  Miss Kovak put out a school broadsheet every week. She called it Art Works. It had illustrations, poetry and short stories by students. Now she wanted me to add a graphic story – a comic strip, with a storyline. Miss Kovak was working on a degree project, trying to show different ways of bringing art to more people.

  ‘I want to show everyone that art isn’t a hobby. It’s something relevant to all of us because it is about our own lives. It speaks to everybody.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, and tried to look intelligent. She’d given me a lot to think about. Her idea was exciting – off the wall, even. I wondered if I was good enough to do it. Could I come up with enough ideas? Making drawings was one thing, but adding words and a storyline – that would be hard.

  I loved the secrecy, as if we were doing something naughty. I knew we weren’t because Miss Kovak had given it the OK, but it was secret, and it made me grin inside.
>
  ‘You could draw a comic strip for Art Works and let it tell a story,’ Miss Kovak said. ‘It could be about your life, your feelings … about school. I loved the little details, like the shark. Heaven knows what that Titanic business was about, but I expect you do! And the way you caught Sky’s character – it was as if you’d seen something brave and exciting and adventurous inside her that nobody else could see, but you found it and turned it into a different character, but who was also the same.’

  ‘Yeah.’ (?????? What was she on about!? I was just drawing!)

  Miss Kovak smiled and patted my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Simon, that’s just the smart talk I’m going to put in my degree thesis. You come up with the artwork and we’ll take things from there. Don’t tell anyone. It’ll be anonymous, and that means you have a free hand to draw what you like. I want to see how people react.’ Miss Kovak looked me straight in the eye. ‘I want it to make a stir. Get the message?’

  Then, as I was leaving, she added a bit more. ‘You know, if you can catch Sky like that, you might be able to do it for others in the school. Think about it.’

  So I was. Thinking about it.

  Of course, at the end of the day Pete wanted to know what was going on, so I told him Miss Kovak had been really cross, that was all.

  ‘What did you draw? Why did she tear it up?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You drew Sky in the nuddy!’

  ‘Come on! I’m not that stupid, not in the middle of an art lesson.’

  ‘Well, it must have been something pretty bad,’ Pete insisted.

  ‘Look, it was just a crap picture. She told me I was wasting my time and if I couldn’t be bothered to make an effort I should give up art altogether.’

  Pete walked beside me in silence for a bit, but he could never keep his mouth shut for long.

  ‘So, not in the nuddy?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Just undies?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘Pete!’

  ‘Oh, all right. Pity really. See you tomorrow’ And he peeled off down the road to Aunt Polly’s.

  I was barely inside my own front door when my feet were subjected to a wild assault from a manic white furry tornado. Pankhurst was up to her usual tricks.

  I had better explain. You remember when Sherry Trifle arrived she brought a rabbit with her, and at the time I said there would be more info about the rabbit later? Well, now is later and here’s the info.

  Some Useful Information About Emmeline Pankhurst

  Emmeline Pankhurst is a giant angora rabbit. (Well, obviously Emmeline Pankhurst was not a giant rabbit originally – she was an Edwardian lady who protested about women not being allowed to vote by chaining herself to railings and things like that, as you all know.)

  Pankhurst (the rabbit) is enormous, about as big as a fluffed-up pillow and a great deal more terrifying. To be fair, Tasha did tell me.

  ‘She’s a radical feminist rabbit and she doesn’t like men. Don’t say I haven’t warned you.’

  ‘That’s stupid,’ I snapped. (This was barely five minutes before Pankhurst hurled herself from an armchair and did a drop kick on my behind that cannoned me halfway across the room – and left two dirty great bruises on my posterior.)

  ‘See,’ said Tasha, tossing her curls. Miss Smug, 2005.

  Later on I stood in the bathroom and examined my backside in the mirror. (As you do.) I wondered what would happen if I got run over and killed and ended up on a slab in the mortuary. The doctor is examining my dead body and he (or she – cheeky thing!) looks at my bum and says: ‘Aha! Cuts and abrasions to the buttocks, made by large paws. Good grief! This poor young man was mown down by a giant hit-and-run rabbit.’

  Dad and I soon discovered that Pankhurst would attack us at any time, anywhere. She never ambushed women, only men. It was as if she’d been trained. Spooky. We began to creep about the house like the SAS on a deadly mission. Meanwhile, Pankhurst had the run of the place.

  ‘Dad, we’re being ruled by a rabbit. Do something. Get rid of it.’

  ‘Si, if I get rid of the rabbit, I will lose Tracey’

  ‘So, what’s the problem?’

  ‘I will pretend I didn’t hear you say that, Simon.’

  And I will pretend that Pankhurst hasn’t just weed in your slippers, Dad.’

  At least Dad had the guts to make a complaint.

  ‘She’s a house rabbit,’ Sherry Trifle declared. (So, no apology there, then. What a surprise.) ‘She’s always lived in the house.’

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ I complained.

  La Trifle cocked an eyebrow. ‘She’s a lot cleaner than most men I know.’

  ‘I’ve never seen men weeing in their slippers,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Be careful, Simon,’ warned La Trifle. ‘You’re so sharp you’ll cut yourself.’

  So, I got home from school, walked through the door and Pankhurst was upon me, pounding my feet with her enormous paws. You are probably thinking: So what? It’s only a rabbit. You have obviously not been reading this properly. Remember that word ‘giant’? Remember how it came before the word ‘rabbit’? Pankhurst weighed as much as a small refuse truck and here she was, trying to turn my feet into mash. It was not pleasant.

  I dashed for the stairs, but Pankhurst was too quick. She scampered round me and threw herself across my path so that I tripped and made a short, unpowered flight across the hallway before crashing on to the bottom of the staircase. Painful? Yes. But it did give me a good idea for a brand-new extreme sport: indoor hang-gliding.

  But that was not the end of it. The rabbit thundered up the stairs after me and I only managed to save myself by slamming my bedroom door shut on the monster. Pankhurst headbutted the door so hard it almost came off its hinges. I collapsed on my bed and nursed my feet. What I say is, give rabbits the vote and stop all this nonsense.

  A strange day. It felt as if I had been turned upside down and given a good shake. Or maybe it was my world that had been turned upside down. Either way something had been turned upside down and shaken.

  First of all there was Miss Kovak’s secret project. It sounded great and I wanted to start work on it right away – I just wasn’t too sure how.

  Then there was Sky. Couldn’t stop thinking about her. I really, really wanted to know her better, to be friends with her.

  And, of course, there was Delfine. What would happen there? I didn’t want to do the two-timing thing. It wasn’t right. And Delfine really loved me. I know she got cross with me sometimes but that was because she loved me. I knew that because she kept telling me, so it would be hard on her if I dumped her and hard for me to do. Did I love her? No. I liked her. She was good to be with, panic attacks aside. But Sky was the Real Thing.

  So, if I chucked Delfine and went after Sky, what would happen if I failed? I wouldn’t have anything. Result: misery.

  If I stayed with Delfine and went after Sky behind Delfine’s back, what would happen if I got Sky? I’d have to tell Delfine. Result: misery.

  If I stayed with Delfine, went after Sky behind Delfine’s back and didn’t get Sky? Result: misery.

  If I stayed with Delfine and just stared at Sky every day? Result: more misery.

  And if Delfine ever found out what I was thinking right at this moment? Mass suicide, probably.

  It seemed to me that things were about to get awfully miserable. How my life goes.

  I decided to take my mind off Delfine by starting work on the secret project.

  7

  Two Dead Famous People

  Killer day at school – brilliant. Miss Kovak loved the strip. Said it was just what she was looking for.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve disguised Sky’s appearance a bit. There should be a bit of mystery about her. Who’s this monster woman?’ She pointed at La Trifle.

  ‘It’s, um, it’s … just … something that came into my head,’ I mumbled.

  Miss Kovak let it go. ‘You’ve got an interesting imagination,’ she sa
id. ‘Have you ever seen the paintings of Salvador Dali? Look him up. He was a surrealist. I think he might appeal to you.’

  So that’s what I did next. It had been odd seeing Miss Kovak like that and handing over the strip – all had to be done where nobody could see – very undercover. The name’s Stuff. James Stuff 0071/4. Licensed to draw. Anyhow, off to the library and I found a book on Salvador Dali and the surrealist painters.

  A Brief History of Salvador Dali

  Salvador Dali was a Spanish artist. He lived near Barcelona and he died in the 1980s. He became famous for three reasons.

  1. He had a weird moustache. It was very thin and looked like this:

  2. He made weird films, with things like ants crawling out of wounded hands.

  3. He painted weird, dreamlike pictures of things like elephants on stilts, melting watches and a steam train thundering out of a front-room fireplace. (Actually that last one was by another surrealist painter, Magritte. He was in the same book. His stuff was even more brain-exploding – especially the man with an apple for a head.)

  Dali liked to shock people. He also liked to paint naked women. What a surprise. Like I said before, I’m going to be an artist when I leave school. I thought Dali’s nudes were a bit on the heavy side. This is a purely aesthetic observation. If I were painting a nude, I would make her slimmer and more elfin. Like Sky. Just an example, artistically speaking.

  I got the book out of the library and showed Pete as we went off to RE. He was impressed. (With the book, not RE.)

  ‘That is weird,’ muttered Pete. ‘That person’s head looks like an egg that’s cracking open.’

  ‘It is an egg, but it’s also a head,’ I said.

  ‘He must have been off his trolley,’ Pete observed. ‘Wow! Will you look at her!’

  ‘That’s his wife, Gala. He painted her loads. Hi, Delfine.’

  She came running up from behind. ‘Gross,’ she said, looking at the nude. ‘You’re such a perv, Pete.’

  ‘Not me. Stuff got it from the library.’