Dreamrider

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘Your cheek is red. Is that a bruise?’ Leah touched it gently.

  I laughed. ‘I walked into your bedroom door. Seems like Scamp wasn’t the only one to keep a reminder of what happened last night.’

  A shadow fell across the grass. I’d forgotten Martin Leechy and the appointment. He looked down at us, a small smile on his lips. I stared back. I had the courage now. Olive skin, high cheekbones. Teeth white and even, dark hair gelled. Expensive clothes. If I could have invented someone completely the opposite to me in every way, it would have been Martin.

  ‘Forgot our little arrangement, huh, Michael?’ he said.

  ‘I did, actually, Martin,’ I replied. ‘Sorry about that. Mind like a sieve.’

  I saw the tiny flash of irritation again. I nearly smiled.

  ‘However,’ I continued, ‘I can spare you a few minutes now, if that’s convenient.’

  Martin glanced at Leah.

  ‘In private?’ he said.

  I noticed it was a request and not a statement. I turned to Leah.

  ‘Would you excuse us?’ I said.

  Leah didn’t want to leave. Her face was creased with worry.

  ‘I’ll catch up in English,’ I continued. ‘Save me a seat. It’s okay. Seriously. Martin and I just need to discuss a few matters.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Leah,’ said Martin. ‘You’ll get your boyfriend back in one piece. I only want to chat to him.’

  Leah stood and brushed grass from her skirt. She threw Martin a look full of hatred. I was surprised he didn’t feel it like a fist. She walked across the oval towards the canteen while Martin and I watched. Only when the crowd of students swallowed her up did Martin sit down.

  ‘She’s really keen on you, mate,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ I said. I couldn’t believe how good it was to say that, to feel it.

  ‘You’ve changed,’ said Martin. ‘Something about you.’

  ‘I know,’ I said again. ‘I have changed. I’ve lost my fear. And what’s more, I don’t believe it’s coming back.’

  Martin cracked his knuckles.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘That’s progress. Fear cripples you. It stops you doing what you feel like, when you feel like it. Nearly everyone suffers from it. They call it different things – morality, conscience, ethics. Labels to make themselves feel good about their fear – but that’s what it comes down to. Scared of taking what you want for no other reason than you want it. To make people suffer just because you can. You know something, Mikey? I think that’s the greatest pleasure in the world.’

  I locked my fingers around my knees and followed the flight patterns of three kites that were circling something on the oval. Maybe it was a lizard. Suddenly, one of the kites swooped down, brushing the grass. It gripped something small in its talons. Death was all around.

  ‘Has it ever occurred to you that you’re a psychopath, Martin?’ I said.

  He laughed.

  ‘Many times, mate,’ he said. ‘But even psychopaths need fun. Especially psychopaths, actually. And anyway, Michael, stop kidding yourself. That’s what I was talking about before. You want to feel good about yourself, so you attach labels to me. But tell me this. And be honest. Isn’t there someone out there that you’d like to kill? Someone who’s made you suffer, someone who hurt a person you cared about? Of course there is. And if you could get them at your mercy, you wouldn’t be satisfied with justice. You’d want to taste their pain. You’d want to bathe in their suffering. And you’d enjoy it. I know you better than you know yourself. Remember that, Michael.’

  ‘I’m not scared of you anymore, Martin.’

  He put his arm around my shoulder. My flesh shrank from his touch, but I didn’t move. I didn’t want him to misinterpret it as fear. He moved his mouth close to my left ear.

  ‘I don’t want you to be scared of me, Mikey. You don’t understand. Not yet. But you’re getting closer. All I want is for you to stop being scared of yourself. It’s that simple. And when you truly know yourself, when all the fear has gone, then I’ll help you. I’m no different to Leah in that regard. We just have different things to offer.’

  I stood up. I was tired of this. I brushed grass from my legs.

  ‘You talk in riddles, Martin. And I’m tired of it. I don’t want to waste my time with it. You rub chocolate cake in my face, and punch me, and now you try to confuse me by babbling on about not fearing myself. I know you are trying to terrify me physically and emotionally. Drive me mad. Well, I’m not playing the game anymore. Play with yourself, Martin. It’s about all you’re good for.’

  I walked across the oval towards the canteen. I didn’t look back. I didn’t respond when he called after me.

  ‘I just want to help you, Michael. You’ll see. Soon you’ll see how much you need me. At the Social, Michael. I’ll show you at the Social.’

  I kept on walking. The kites circled overhead.

  3 .

  Y do u want 2 go?

  Leah’s handwriting was large and rounded. Almost childish. It was a lot like my own and I felt pleased. Another thing we had in common. She pushed my exercise book back across the desk. I kept one eye on the teacher, but she was reading to us from a novel and hardly looked up from the page. I wrote slowly and lightly, so the sound of the pencil wouldn’t draw attention.

  Mr A. He seems sad + worried.

  Wot r u thinking?

  I want 2 check.

  Wagging?

  Y not?

  I h8 waggers.

  U don’t have 2 come.

  Try stopping me.

  It was really easy to get out of school without anyone seeing us. When the bell went, Leah and I mingled with the swarming students. No one paid attention as we slipped into the yard and out the gate. I felt guilty. It was stupid, but I’d never felt comfortable breaking rules. I supposed I’d have to get used to it. After all, in the Dream I made my own rules.

  As I crossed the road I glanced back at the school. Its concrete face and blank, staring windows didn’t seem to care one way or another.

  I had some difficulty finding the house. I wasn’t even sure it was the right place until I saw the dog lying in the driveway. Now it came down to it, I felt nervous again and Leah had to open the gate and ring the doorbell. I stayed behind her, as if hiding.

  This time, the footsteps approaching were stronger. Feet hit the floor, rather than scuffing over it. I started to hope again. Mrs Atkins opened the door and cocked her head to one side as she looked at Leah. Her smile was polite.

  ‘Yes?’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’

  Leah didn’t answer. She simply stepped to one side. Mrs Atkins’s smile slipped. I saw a struggle in her face, doubts that left marks in her eyes. I took a pace forward.

  ‘Mrs Atkins,’ I said. ‘My name is Michael. I think we’ve met before.’

  She looked me up and down. Then her smile returned.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I believe we have, Michael. Please come in.’

  We had tea and biscuits. We talked.

  I hadn’t planned this. Not really. But Mr Atkins had been worrying me since Home Group. His sad eyes, the sense of pain and concern. None of that should have been there. Not if I had cured Mrs Atkins, like I’d cured Scamp. I had to know. One way or another I had to know. When I’d explained this to Leah on our walk she’d seen the sense of it straightaway. But it wasn’t as simple as that. It was only when we’d left the school that I’d had the time to think about it properly. How could I ask someone, a total stranger, if their cancer has miraculously disappeared? A cancer I shouldn’t have any idea existed in the first place. What could I say? ‘I think I came to you in a dream, Mrs Atkins, and took away your tumour. I can do stuff like that. Feel like giving me an update?’

  When I’d told Leah of my concerns, she’d snorted.

  ‘Worried about making a fool of yourself, Michael? Think that’s important? Let’s just go. See what happens.’

  As it turned out, I didn’t even have to bring the
subject up. Mrs Atkins did. We sat in the same room as before. Everything was identical, apart from Leah sitting opposite me, a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of biscuits balanced on her knee. The bowl of sugar cubes was on the table between us. Mrs Atkins talked about the weather and how nice it was to have visitors. I looked for signs in her face and the way she sat in her chair. Signs of wholeness, the absence of darkness behind the skull. But it’s all different when you’re not in the Dream. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t say much. Finally, Mrs Atkins put her cup down on the table and clasped her hands in her lap. I knew what was coming was important.

  ‘I have to thank you, Michael. Putting it into words would sound ridiculous. But I think you have come here today in search of an answer. Well, I believe the answer is “yes”. I believe. I won’t know for sure until I go to see my consultant. Get some tests. But I feel . . . I feel, strongly, that what was wrong with me is no longer wrong. And that you had something to do with it. Everything to do with it. Does that make sense?’

  I nodded. Suddenly I had an urge to get out of there. I put my half empty cup down on the table and stood.

  ‘We’d better go, Mrs Atkins,’ I said.

  ‘Wait a moment, Michael,’ said Leah. ‘I want to know more.’ She turned to Mrs Atkins. ‘How do you know this?’

  I sat down again.

  Mrs Atkins was silent for a long while. I wasn’t even sure she was going to answer. But then she gave a slight smile.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I was thinking about my husband. He . . . he’s a magician, you know. Tricks. Coins out of ears, rabbits out of hats. He loves it. He loves the idea of the impossible. It’s what he said drew him into teaching. But he’s also got another side. Rational. Everything can be explained. He knows I’m going to die. He’s known for months. It makes sense to him. Even though it’s also destroying him.’ She laughed. ‘And now I can’t say anything. Not until I go through the whole thing with scans and doctors’ reports. Until I have something on a medical report that says it scientifically. A miracle. Except they’ll call it remission. But it’s the same thing. It just sounds more respectable.’ Mrs Atkins picked up her cup again. ‘Isn’t that strange? I can’t tell him what I know. You see, my dear, I’d have to tell him what I’m telling you now. That, in a dream, a boy touched my head and took away the cancer that was killing me. But I can’t tell him. Not yet.’ Her voice broke and I thought she was going to cry.

  ‘We’d better go, Mrs Atkins,’ I said. This time, Leah got up with me. We went to the front door. Mrs Atkins shook our hands. She held onto mine for longer than she needed to. I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I’m really pleased, Mrs Atkins,’ I said eventually. ‘And we won’t say a word to your husband.’

  ‘You are destined for greatness,’ she said. Her voice was low and intense. ‘To bring happiness into the world, by driving out the darkness.’ She nodded at Leah. ‘She knows it. I know it. You’re the miracle, Michael. You.’

  We left then. I glanced back once and Mrs Atkins was still at the door. She gave a half wave. Leah and I walked back to school and we didn’t say a word. I looked at the sky and the trees and the birds. The world was full of possibilities.

  When we got back, the schoolyard was busy with students. Leah and I waited until the teacher on lunch duty had gone around a corner and then we slipped in through the gates. Leah went off to get some food from the canteen while there was still something left. I wasn’t hungry. For once. And I didn’t feel like going back to my tree.

  So I stood in the yard, my mind swirling. The sun was fierce. I could feel it burning the top of my head, but it didn’t seem to matter. I stood surrounded by a shimmering sea of bitumen. Kites circled overhead.

  When Miss Palmer touched me on the arm, I didn’t react. She had to stand in front of me. Maybe I was almost asleep. Standing asleep. It would be useful if I could do that.

  ‘Michael, are you all right?’ said Miss Palmer. Her voice was strange and distant. I almost had to snap myself back into my body.

  ‘Fine, Miss. Thanks,’ I added.

  ‘Aren’t you hot, Michael?’

  I was. When she mentioned it, I was very hot. I felt dizzy.

  ‘You’ll dehydrate,’ she said. ‘Come on. Come with me.’

  She led me to the bubblers. I noticed, in a vague sort of way, that when I got there all the other kids left. Miss Palmer made me drink. Not just a couple of mouthfuls, but huge gulps. The water felt good where it splashed on my face. Miss Palmer offered me a clean handkerchief which I wet and pressed on the back of my neck. When I straightened up, I could see she was worried about me. The eyes don’t lie.

  ‘What were you doing, Michael? Standing in the full sun. You know better than that, don’t you? Look at me, Michael.’

  I did. Her eyes softened.

  ‘I saw you from the staff room. It’s dangerous, Michael.’

  ‘I’m fine, Miss. Thank you.’

  The bell went. I had Maths next. Miss Palmer wanted me to go to the nurse, but I refused. She made me drink some more water though. I wasn’t allowed to go to class until I had. It sloshed around in my stomach and made me uncomfortable. As she walked off, she still looked doubtful. I watched her go.

  ‘I’m destined for greatness,’ I said. But I said it quietly and she didn’t hear. Even so, she glanced back at me. When I had time, one night, I’d do something about that worry in her eyes. It couldn’t be healthy.

  I joined my class outside the Maths room. The door was locked and students were milling around. There was no sign of Mr Williams. A few boys were jostling each other, hot, sweaty and pumped with energy after playing footy on the oval. I didn’t know their names. Except Jamie Archer. He hadn’t seen me, so I sat on the floor, back against the wall. He didn’t worry me. I just wasn’t in the mood. Jamie had another kid in a head lock and was rubbing his knuckles into the boy’s scalp. They were both laughing. Finally, Jamie pushed him away.

  ‘You’re fuckin’ gay, Kyle.’

  The other boy rubbed snot from his nose with a sleeve.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ he said, laughing. ‘Well, it wasn’t me grabbin’ someone by the head and runnin’ my hands over him, was it, Jamie? Ya poof.’

  ‘You’re so fuckin’ gay you should be in Atkins’s Home Group.’

  Some of the other boys, who were leaning against the wall and watching, howled with laughter. A couple of the girls joined in, but most kept their distance.

  ‘Yeah, Kyle. I reckon he fancies you.’

  ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘Give us a kiss, Kyle.’

  ‘You’d be great together. A double act. Ben Down and Phil Macafferty.’

  The screams of laughter intensified. Kyle had bad acne and a stupid face. He cast around for support, but couldn’t find any. His dull, heavy features fell. He was trapped. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted a way out.

  ‘You wouldn’t catch me in the same room as that arse bandit,’ he said finally. I knew what he wanted. It wasn’t a way out, after all. It was a way back in. He hoped his words might buy him a ticket. ‘That poof. He makes me puke. They shouldn’t have him here, among kids. Friggin’ paedophile.’

  ‘Mr Atkins isn’t gay,’ I said. ‘And, anyway, paedophiles are rarely homosexual.’

  I hadn’t spoken loudly, but my words fell into a brief, noiseless space. Kyle turned towards me, his sleeve rubbing again at his nose. Everyone stared at me. Jamie Archer pushed through a knot of boys.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Mr Atkins isn’t gay. He has a wife.’

  Archer moved a step closer, his lips twisted. I could see his yellow teeth.

  ‘And what do you know about it, ya fat bastard? You’ve only been here five fuckin’ minutes, Wrenbury. Suddenly you’re an expert?’

  I stood up.

  ‘He isn’t gay,’ I repeated. My voice did not shake. And that was another miracle. I looked directly into Jamie Archer’s eyes and felt good. We stared at each other for about ten
seconds. Then he punched me in the face. I didn’t even see it coming. One moment I was standing my ground, the next I was on my back on the hard floor and a trickle of blood was running from my nose. Numbness spread across my face. Archer aimed a kick at my head, but I grabbed his ankle and twisted so he fell on top of me. He grabbed me by the front of my T-shirt and drew his fist back to hit me again, but I managed to roll over, pinning him. I pushed down with all my weight on his chest, so he couldn’t move. Our faces were millimetres apart. A few drops of sweatsoaked blood dripped from the end of my nose onto him.

  ‘Listen, you bastard,’ I whispered. ‘Because I’m telling you something, Archer, and you need to listen. You’ve just been promoted to number one on my list. I’ll be coming for you, Archer. Tonight. When you’re asleep. When you think you are safe. I’ll be there. And I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to you. Do you understand, Archer? Do you?’

  Maybe it was in my eyes. They felt hard with hatred. Perhaps it was my voice, quiet and serious. Archer suddenly seemed a little kid, terrified of the dark. His bottom lip quivered and his eyes swam with moisture. In their wetness I could see my own reflection, distorted. Archer didn’t get a chance to say anything. Suddenly I was dragged to my feet and pinned to the wall.

  Mr Williams had arrived for his Maths class.

  4 .

  Miss Palmer’s room was prickling with tension. I was in the chair by the door, Jamie in the corner, Miss Palmer in the middle. Keeping us at a distance.

  Mr Williams took us both down there. Immediately. He didn’t even ask for an explanation. The helpline poster was still on the wall, but it didn’t command my interest anymore. I kept my eyes on Miss Palmer.

  ‘What happened, Michael?’

  I gave it some thought. I wanted to choose my words carefully. I wanted Miss Palmer to see me as a responsible, composed person. When I took the wad away from my nose, the bleeding had nearly stopped. I folded the tissue neatly and crossed my legs.