‘OK. Let’s make a fresh start and get it right. Everyone’s entitled to one mistake.’ There was more exaggerated throat clearing and then … ‘The Adventures of Goldilocks … and the Three Beers.’
‘Bears!’ Sophie screamed at him.
‘Where?’ Razza screamed back as he leapt off the couch.
Ignoring her brother, who was chuckling, Sophie jabbed her finger at the page. ‘In the story. It’s three bears, not beers. You got it wrong again.’
‘Phew, that’s a relief,’ Razza said, climbing back beside Sophie. ‘I thought we were under grizzly attack. Anyway, good thing it isn’t beers. This chick is way too young to drink. Just remember, Soph – Uncle Razz says if you drink and break into a bear’s home, then you’re a bloody idiot, OK?’
Jeremy laughed out loud and bottomed his way across the carpet, but Sophie folded her arms tightly across her chest and clamped her brow into a fierce frown. ‘Do it poply.’
Razza held up his hands. ‘Sorry, the pressure just got to me and I admit it … I choked. I’ll get it right … I pwomise.’
Sophie’s face remained set hard.
Razza gave Jeremy a terrified look and pretended to chew his nails. Then he tried to pick up the book, but his hands were shaking so much he had to press it flat on his lap. Jeremy rolled back on the floor holding his stomach. Razza took a deep breath and blew out slowly like he was preparing for a world-record attempt in the clean and jerk. He began to read.
‘The Adventures of … Goldilocks …’
Razza raised his eyebrows at Sophie, who nodded once.
‘… and the Three … Bears.’
Razza checked again and Sophie nodded a second time. Razza smiled and ploughed on confidently. ‘Twice upon a time there lived a little girl called Goldilocks. One day …’
‘No-o-o-o-o-o-o-!’ Sophie let out a bellow that towards the end warbled into a giggle. ‘It’s once – once upon a time, not twice. You said twice!’
‘Only once?’ Razza said in disgust. ‘Man, you fork out big money for these books and they only give you a “once”. What a rip-off! It’s daylight robbery. I’ve got a good mind to …’ Then Razza stopped and turned to Sophie, who was desperately trying to maintain her hard schoolteacher scowl. He smiled sheepishly. ‘Poply?’ he asked.
‘Poply,’ Sophie replied sternly but with a slight quiver on the edges of her little down-turned mouth.
Razza pushed out his lips and nodded. ‘OK … Poply. Once upon a time there lived a little girl called Goldilocks. One day when she was walking in the forest, she came across a neat little cottage. Inside the cottage lived three bears.’ Razza paused proudly and looked for approval from Sophie, who smiled warily. Razza went back to the story.
‘There was … Poppa Bear …’
He glanced up at Sophie and Jeremy.
‘There was … Momma Bear …’
He glanced up again.
‘And there was …’
Razza’s eyes flicked around the room then settled back on the page.
‘… mutant-two-headed-blood-sucking-spew-chucking-alien-baby bear!’
Sophie shrieked and cackled with laughter all at the same time. Jeremy cheered and leapt up on to the couch, where he bounced around shouting, ‘Yay! Mutant-blood-sucking-baby bear! Mutant-blood-sucking-baby bear!’
At this point Kelly and Sally stuck their heads around the doorway.
‘What’s going on?’ Sally said. ‘Is someone being murdered in here?’
‘Just a bit of quiet reflective reading,’ Razza said innocently.
‘Yeah, we’re reading Pinkilocks and the three blood-sucking alien bears!’ Jeremy shouted.
‘Really? Well I’m afraid you guys will have to run along soon. Razza’s got to help us with debating.’
‘No!’ Sophie said. ‘Wazzie’s gotta stay here with us. He’s got to finish the story.’ To emphasise the point she wriggled on to Razza’s lap and locked his arms together as if she was strapping herself in for a roller coaster ride.
‘Yeah,’ Jeremy added, jumping on Razza’s back and grabbing him around the neck, ‘Razzie’s gotta stay here with us.’
Razza tilted his head to one side and smiled helplessly. ‘What can I do? I’m a prisoner in the system.’
‘All right, all right,’ Sally relented with a smile, ‘I can see that I’m outvoted. You can finish the story. But that’s it, you guys, OK? One story and then we’ve got work to do.’
Both Sophie and Jeremy cheered. ‘Wead, Wazzie,’ Sophie said.
‘Poply?’ Razza asked.
Sophie thought for a moment then clamped her mouth shut and shook her blonde curls furiously.
‘Wicked!’ Razza said, and he and Jeremy shared a high five. ‘Now where were we?’
While he searched for the place, Jeremy burrowed under his arm to get closer to the action.
‘Here we are. Cool! One of my fave bits is coming up – Goldilocks and the snot-infested porridge.’
‘Wicked!’ Jeremy said. Sophie cheered and slid her arm around Razza’s neck.
As I watched the three of them on the couch I became aware of a sort of humming, sighing sound coming from the doorway. I turned around to see both girls watching Razza intently. Kelly was smiling, but Sally almost looked as if she was in pain.
‘That is sooooooooooo sweeeeeeeeeeet!’ she purred while she gazed at Razza in a strange, misty, dreamy sort of way.
Game Over, man.
32.
THE FREAKIEST, MOST BIZARRE THING
The freakiest, most bizarre thing happened at Sally’s house that afternoon. It was this: nothing freaky or bizarre actually happened.
What I mean is, I wasn’t accused of turning the pool into a urinal, I didn’t go to the bathroom and come back with five metres of toilet paper trailing from my shorts or my underpants on the outside, I didn’t accidentally puree the family budgie in the blender, I didn’t even mistake the ashes of Sally’s dead grandmother for a jar of pepper and sprinkle her over my lunch. As unbelievable as it might seem, I didn’t do any of the things that a long-term sufferer of Ishmael Leseur’s Syndrome could be expected to do. In fact, I’m pretty sure I behaved like a normal person and, just as amazingly, I think we actually helped Kelly and her team with their debate.
Not long after Razza finished reading Goldilocks, the other three Lourdes girls turned up and we got down to work. Razza and I (mainly Razza) told them all about last year’s short preparation debate and how Bill almost won it for us, then Scobie took over and gave the girls some great tips on how to divide up their time, what to bring along on the night and what kind of topics to expect. He even went through a practice debate preparation using the hour time limit.
But the best part of the day was later, when we ate and I got to sit next to Kelly after Razza deliberately bulldozed me into the spare chair beside her. Suddenly I found myself close enough to Kelly Faulkner to smell the rose scent of her perfume; close enough to make out tiny flecks of gold in her ice-blue eyes; close enough for her to accidentally brush her arm against mine while she was talking and close enough even to start dreaming that we could be close in more ways than just space.
All afternoon we just talked and laughed. Everything seemed so easy. Razza had everyone in hysterics, especially Sally, and I don’t think any of the girls had ever met anyone quite like Scobie before. Even I managed to contribute something after someone said I had an interesting name and I gave in to pressure from Razza (who else?) and told them how I ended up being called Ishmael.
Then everyone got in on the act. Razza said he was named after his great, great grandfather Orazio who was a pig farmer in Italy. Two of the other girls, Phoebe and Susan, said they were named after relatives as well. Sally told us that she got her name because her mother’s favourite movie was When Harry Met Sally. Scobie didn’t really know how his name came about and Gossamer thought hers was probably made up.
When it came to Kelly’s turn she said it was ‘a bit embarrassing’ bu
t her parents named her after Princess Grace of Monaco, who was a Hollywood actor called Grace Kelly before she married a prince. ‘So my full name is actually Kelly Grace Faulkner,’ she said with a crooked smile. It sounded just perfect to me.
I found out some other things about Kelly Faulkner that day, like when Sally mentioned about her wanting to be a writer. ‘She’s really brilliant,’ Sally said. ‘We’ll all end up in a Kelly Faulkner bestseller one day, you wait.’
Kelly just shook her head shyly.
‘It’s true,’ Phoebe added. ‘She never goes anywhere without her diary, and she’s always scribbling away in it. So you better watch what you say. I’d hate to think what you’ve written about me in there, Kel.’
Razza’s eyes lit up. ‘Hey, that’s just like Ishmael. He wrote this humungous journal thingo last year. Maybe you two should get together. You know … to compare notes and stuff. You could be, like, pen pals or something.’
A few laughs and comments bounced around the table. I couldn’t tell you what Kelly was doing, because at the time I felt like someone had slam-dunked my heart, and my face was sizzling like deep-fried chicken. ‘It was nothing,’ I mumbled, and thankfully the conversation soon moved on.
We talked like that for over an hour, until a storm began to move in and the wind started to blow rain on to the deck.
‘This is all Kelly’s fault,’ Sally said as we cleared up the table and headed for cover.
‘Kelly’s fault? How come?’ Razza asked.
‘Well, I organised the place and she was in charge of the weather. She’s got connections, you know. People in high places.’
Kelly gave a pained smile and sighed heavily. ‘My dad – he works in the weather bureau. He’s the head guy. So of course, every time it rains when it shouldn’t or it’s too cold or too windy or too hot or too something, my so-called friends blame me. Now, does that seem fair to you? Just because I’m the daughter of a weatherman – does it?’
She was asking me. ‘No … No way.’
‘See!’ Kelly said, pointing at Sally and the other girls, ‘Ishmael’s on my side. Ishmael will defend me.’
I was and I would-to the death.
Not long after that Mum arrived to pick us up and just about the most perfect afternoon of my life came to an end.
That night as I lay in bed listening to the rain, I couldn’t stop my imagination from taking over. I saw myself alone with Kelly Faulkner, looking into her ice-blue eyes and telling her everything I had kept secret for so long. Then I pictured Kelly gazing at me and saying my name and moving towards me in slow-motion until she was so close that I could feel her breath on my lips and then … and then … And then everything blurred and warped into nothingness. I guess there must be some things too impossible even for dreaming. But it still didn’t stop me from wishing and praying that somehow a miracle would happen and one day Kelly Faulkner would look deep into my eyes and say my name with real passion.
And guess what? My fairy godmother must have been listening in.
Track 7:
Bad day for angels
It was a morning
When the sun kissed the sky
And you were yawning
As I watched you walk by
Then you smiled at me
And I heard you say
Looks like it’s gonna be
A beautiful day
But sometimes it’s so hard to know
Just which way the world will go
Chorus
It was a bad day for angels
A bad day for putting on wings
A bad day for angels
And magical things
A bad day for angels
Don’t look in the sky
A bad day for angels
A bad day to fly
From The Dugongs: Returned & Remastered
Music & lyrics: W. Mangan and R. Leseur
33.
A WIN, WIN, WIN, WIN SITUATION
Back at school Razza was pretty hyped up, even by his standards.
‘Man, I told you. I told you! Did I tell you or what? You and Kelly, dude-it’s so on. She digs you, man. There’s no stopping you now. You are cookin’ big time, dude. You are cooooooooook – in’!’
I was determined not to let Razza get my hopes up too high. The afternoon at Sally’s had been great, but on the other hand, nothing really happened between us and as far as I knew Brad was still lurking around somewhere. Still, even I had to admit, things were certainly looking up.
‘Yeah, well I don’t know about that, but what about you?’ I said, hoping to take some pressure off myself. ‘You and Sally.’
Razza gave me one of his rare serious looks. ‘Sally rocks, man. Sally’s … brilliant. But that’s the problem … I told you before, man. I know my limits and she’s way out of bounds for me.’
‘Razz, you’re wrong. You didn’t see her looking at you when you were reading that story. She gave you the face – the Game Over face. She said you were sweet – I heard her.’
‘Probably talking about the ankle biters.’
‘But what about the way she was laughing at all your jokes? She almost choked at one stage.’
‘Someone laughing at you and someone liking you are not necessarily the same thing, man.’ Then he smiled. ‘Anyway, I’m on to you, dude, so quit trying to side-track me. This is about you and Kelly Faulkner getting together. That is my quest and I won’t be denied. Onwards and upwards!’
Two weeks later, when the girls won their short preparation final, Razza and I were there to congratulate them and to arrange another get-together, this time at Kelly’s house, to help prepare for the big semi-final.
Because they knew the topic in advance for this one, back at school Razza and I, with help from Scobie, Bill and Prindabel, put together a bunch of arguments that we thought their opposition might use against them. At one point Razza turned to me with a smirk. ‘You know, I wonder why Kelly didn’t just ask us to email these arguments to her? Would have been much easier and quicker than us going all the way over to her place, don’t you reckon? Strange.’
I was thinking about what to say to that when he jabbed me in the ribs. ‘You are so in, dude!’
On the day itself, it was just Razza and me who went along to Kelly’s. Scobie couldn’t make it because he was going with his father to some insect and bug convention and neither Bill nor Ignatius were interested. As it turned out, Sally and Kelly were alone as well. When we moved inside Razza secretly gave me the old bouncing eyebrows. I knew exactly what he meant.
For most of the day everything seemed perfect again. We met Kelly’s parents, who were really nice, and they said it was wonderful to meet me because they knew all about how I tried to stop Barry Bagsley and his mates from bullying their son Marty. Then of course Razza had to embarrass me by saying, ‘Don’t worry-he does that kind of stuff all the time,’ but I guess I didn’t mind too much.
After that we went with the girls to a big study area downstairs and for the next couple of hours we actually focused on the debate, developing counter arguments and possible rebuttal points. The rest of the day the four of us sat around under the pergola in the backyard talking, joking and swapping stories about school, and stuff like our favourite movies and most embarrassing moments (I had a big backlog of material here) and a million other things. Razza even made me tell them all about Dad and the Dugongs’ reunion concert.
I was hoping the day would never have to end – that somehow the rest of my life could be spent sitting under that pergola. Eventually though, Mum called on the mobile saying she was on her way to pick us up and Razza and I went down to the study to collect our backpacks.
As soon as we were alone Razza started. ‘You and Kelly are really hitting it off, man. I reckon it’s time to bring out the big artillery.’
Now I was worried. ‘Big artillery? What are you talking about?’
‘This … Ta! Da!’ Razza said, whipping something from the side pocket of his back
pack and holding it in front of my nose.
It was the poem. The old ‘Hot or what!’. It was like having a corpse leap out at you from a coffin. Razza hadn’t even mentioned it for over a month, but here it was, resurrected in a fancy font on a small rectangle of paper with the words To Kelly added at the top. To give Razza some credit, it looked a lot better. Unfortunately it still sounded the same.
‘Razz, how many times do I have to tell you? There is no way I’m giving that to Kelly. No way.’
‘Look, man, maybe you were right to say that when you’d hardly spoken to her, but not now. Now look at you two, eh? Rapping and laughing together. Don’tcha see? Now it’s different – now’s the time to strike. She’s starting to fall for you, man, and this poem could be just the thing to really push her over the edge!’
I couldn’t argue with that.
‘Look … I know you’re only trying to help … but it’s not going to happen, OK? Remember that stuff Mr Guthrie said about it having to come from me? Well, I think that’s true. Anyway, I’m not going do anything until I know for sure what Kelly really thinks of me.’
‘Dude, what more proof do you want? What about at Sally’s? What about today?’
‘What about Brad? Maybe she’s just being friendly and nice … like she is to everyone.’
Razza groaned as I held out the poem for him to take back. ‘No, keep it, man, keep it,’ he said, waving a hand at me and walking away, ‘just in case some miracle happens and you change your mind.’
I was about to shove the poem in my pocket when Razza’s voice returned in a strange whisper. ‘Hey … Check this out.’
When I looked up he was holding a red-velvety-covered book. ‘You know what this is, don’t you? It’s Kelly’s diary, man-you know, the one Sally told us about? Well, this is it. I saw her with it when we first got here.’
I shot a hasty look at the door. ‘Razz, what’re you doing? Put it down.’
‘It’s all right. Don’t panic, man.’
‘Razz, it’s not all right. What happens if Kelly comes in and sees you with her diary? Can you just put it down … please!’
Ishmael and the Return of the Dungongs Page 14
