by Lisa Nicol
‘Oh please, Mum, no! They’re not crazy at all!’ A panic spread across Blue’s face as if she’d just been hit with a cream pie out of nowhere. She scrambled for ideas that might change her mother’s mind. ‘Why don’t you come and spend a day with me at the clinic? It’s wonderful. You’ll love the music!’
‘My acoustics counsellor, Bernice, advised I don’t listen to anything other than white noise, as you’re very well aware, Blue. Anyway, my sense of humour is all in order. I’m hilarious. And my laugh is gorgeous. You could bottle it and sell it to those poor refugees who are having such a tough time lately, locked up on those tiny islands in the middle of nowhere so no one can hear them cry. That’d cheer them up. Not a bad idea, actually. I’ve always liked helping others. Anyway, stop trying to distract me. You’re not going back to the Ooglybooglies, and that’s that!’
‘They’re the Boogaloos.’
‘WhatEVER! Let’s face it – you’re a lost cause. Gawd, what on Earth have your father and I done to deserve this! Get me a glass of bubbles, will you, Melvin.’
Melvin rocked himself up from his chair in the hall. On the way up, he let out a small fluff, which is not unheard of for a man of that age. With all the drama going on, no one seemed to notice. Relieved, Melvin shuffled off to get Blue’s mother a glass of champagne.
‘Please, Mum, I beg you! Just give me one more day.’ Blue was nearly in tears. ‘I promise you, if I’m not cured by then, I’ll stop going. Please, Mum, I just need one more day. I can feel a huge breakthrough is just about to happen for me. I know it is.’
Melvin returned with a glass of bubbles for Blue’s mother. She slugged it back in one go. ‘Oh, all right, Blue. I’ve got lunch with the girls tomorrow, anyway. It’ll get you out of the house, at least. The girls and I love a laugh, as you know, and you’d just bring everyone down. YOU’VE GOT ONE MORE DAY, BLUE. THAT’S IT! But first, I want you to spend an hour practising in your high heels. No poles! Oh, I’m too much of a softie, aren’t I, Melvin? I’m just a big, squishy marshmallow on the inside.’
Melvin nodded and did the best he could to haul his droopy lips up into a semicircular smile. It was part of his job as the chauffeur to always agree with his employer. Unfortunately, an odd rectangular smile bearing his higgledy-piggledy teeth was the best he could manage. What absolute numpty-twaffle, thought Melvin, who didn’t even swear in the privacy of his own brain.
Blue breathed a huge sigh of relief. For a moment there, she thought her time with the Boogaloos was over. And right now that thought was unbearable. Blue headed upstairs to do her high-heel practice. She strapped on her pink diamond shoes and tried to walk using the wall to help her balance. Through her bedroom window she could see the Taylor boys.
‘FOO FOO FOO … FOO FOO FOO.’
Blue was very familiar with their farty-sounding machine-gun impressions. There was little the Taylor boys loved more than armed combat. Blue wobbled over to the open window.
‘FOO FOO FOO … FOO FOO FOO … You’re DEAD, NED!’ said Riley, an arsenal of homemade weapons sticking out the back of his t-shirt and pants and even his socks.
‘Nah, I’m wearing a bulletproof vest, dude.’
‘Yeah, but I just shot you in the butt! You’re not wearing a butt vest, are you?’ said Riley triumphantly.
‘Will you two stop talking like bloody American gangsters!’ said Mrs Taylor. Her hair was in a messy bun that looked more like a collapsed pannacotta sliding off the side of her head. ‘You’re kids from the suburbs, and I need to do the laundry.’
Ned and Riley dissolved into laughter. So did Mrs Taylor. She disentangled Ned’s arms and legs from the washing basket he was wearing as a bulletproof vest (truth be told, he looked more like a ninja turtle) and disappeared back inside the house.
‘It’s true. He definitely got you in the butt, Ned.’ The words came out of Blue’s mouth before she even realised she was going to speak.
Startled, Ned and Riley looked up to where the voice had come from.
‘You an expert in the trajectory of imaginary bullets, Girl Next Door?’ asked Ned.
‘Um, no,’ said Blue.
‘Didn’t think so,’ said Ned with a winner’s grin.
‘Seems like she knows what she’s talking about to me,’ said Riley. ‘You’re just a sore loser, Ned. Hey, do you want to play? You can be my wingman any day, Ice Princess.’
‘My name’s Blue. I’d love to, but I’ve got practice to do.’
‘Yeah, what do you play?’ asked Ned. ‘I’m learning the guitar.’
‘I know. I’ve heard you. I’ve got to practise walking in high heels.’
‘Oh, how posh!’ said Ned. He did his very best impersonation of a lady walking in high heels. Riley fell about laughing.
‘You’re better than me!’ said Blue.
‘IS THAT YOU, BLUE? YOU’RE NOT TALKING TO THOSE DIRTY CHILDREN NEXT DOOR, ARE YOU?’ yelled Blue’s mother from the garden below.
Blue shut her window and stepped back as fast as she could so that her mother wouldn’t see her. She lay down on her bed and flicked her diamond-studded high heels across the room.
Her mother was wrong about the Taylors. Their hair might have always looked a shambles, but they were nice people. And she was wrong about the Boogaloos, too. They weren’t crazy at all. But her mother was right about one thing. Blue hadn’t felt as much as a ‘hee’ or a ‘ha’ or a ‘ho’ since she’d been there. Blue began to fret that one more day with the Boogaloos wasn’t going to change a thing. She crossed all her toes and all her fingers. She even crossed her arms and legs till she looked like a giant pretzel. Blue made a wish seven times –
Please make tomorrow the day.
Please make tomorrow the day.
Please make tomorrow the day.
Please make tomorrow the day.
Please make tomorrow the day.
Please make tomorrow the day.
Please make tomorrow the day …
CHAPTER 12
A Hum
The next day Bessie arrived on the iBike. After more than a week of treatment, the magic of the bike had become almost everyday.
‘Morning, Bessie. Who’s that playing?’ said Blue.
‘Oh, that’s the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra with my favourite punk singer from Alaska. And I’m on horns.’ Bessie squeezed a bright yellow horn on the handlebars.
HONK, HONK!
Off they went. Bessie’s skirt billowed out like butterfly wings. Blue closed her eyes and felt the iBike lift up into the sky.
‘Oh, that voice!’ said Bessie. ‘Gives me a squishy, rolling feeling inside, like hot fudge chocolate pudding! And listen to those strings! That’s a wild duck melody, for sure. Feel that pull in your belly? That’s them calling to their young, “Keep up, little ones, big winds are coming.” Wings and strings, Blue. You can’t have one without the other, luv.’
While Blue didn’t quite understand what Bessie was saying, she loved listening to her talk about music. Before the Boogaloos, music was just something they played at assembly through tinny speakers. But now, it was something entirely different. It was a huge new world that had opened up. It felt like a wilderness on the inside, a place Blue could escape to and roam around in.
‘Bessie?’ asked Blue, remembering to keep her eyes firmly shut.
‘Yes, luv.’
‘How does music fix people?’
‘Hmm. Well, that’s complicated.’ Bessie paused for a minute. ‘Think of it this way, luv. Music lets your heart fly. You can feel your heart flutter as soon as the music hits you, right? That’s the wings being attached. Snap, snap! Then if you pay close attention, you can feel your heart nudging your ribs, dipping into your stomach and flying out through your skin. That’s that tingling feeling.’
‘Then what happens?’
‘Well then, it’s out in the world, soaring high above the clouds, all the while attached to you with an invisible golden thread that’s stronger than a spider’s web. Somet
imes our strings get tangled up with other people’s strings. That’s called falling in love. That’s why you can’t fall in love without music. It’s just not possible! And that’s why musicians fall in love all the time. And why everyone falls in love with them! You see, whenever they play they’re in danger of getting their strings all tangled up. That’s just a fact. Sometimes they even get tangled up with more than one person at a time. Boy, does that cause a kerfuffle!’
‘Does everyone’s heart do that when they hear music?’
‘Not everyone hears the right music, Blue. Or knows how to listen. And they suffer terribly. That’s why the clinic is always so busy. If you don’t let your heart fly, your tune gets right out of whack. It’s a bit like spending your whole life indoors. It’s just not good for your health, luv.’
Blue imagined her heart soaring high above her like a balloon. She imagined the sky full of heart-shaped balloons and people’s strings all a tangle as they danced and sang below.
Blue and Bessie arrived at the clinic. Dr Boogaloo was busy tightening the skin on a djembe drum.
‘Morning, Blue,’ said the Doctor. ‘Be with you in a minute.’
Blue sat down and waited. The strange tune with the Alaskan punk singer that played on the iBike that morning went round and round in her head. Blue began to hum along. ‘Hum mmm hum hum hummm … mmm.’
Dr Boogaloo’s head jerked up. His djembe drum fell to the floor. ‘You’re humming, Blue!’
‘Sorry, Dr Boogaloo, that iBike tune’s stuck in my head. It’s going round and round. Sorry if I’m distracting you. I’ll stop humming. Maybe it will go away.’
‘No, no, no, Blue! Don’t stop! That’s your musical immune system. It’s starting to work!’
‘It is?’
‘Yes! It is! Most people think songs just get randomly stuck in the head. There’s nothing random about it at all! It’s the body’s musical immune system carrying out a very precise operation.’
‘Oh. So songs stuck in your head are good?’
‘Indeed,’ said the Doctor, clearly excited, ‘very good indeed. Your body’s musical immune system knows exactly what it needs. Everyone’s does. Take for example teenage girls and their obsession with pop music. Pop music is extremely therapeutic for girls of that age who are growing in all sorts of wonderful ways. And so is screaming. Screaming along to a bit of pop music helps them find their true voice. Otherwise, they’d become too quiet. Now, that song you were humming. That’s an Alaskan punk singer, if I’m not mistaken. Of course, of course it is. With an orchestra, no doubt. I should have thought of that sooner. Ah, thank goodness for Bessie. She’s the magic in my wand, as always. Come with me, Blue! To the Reel-to-Reel room! I have some recordings you need to listen to. And here, take these.’
The Doctor grabbed a pair of old wooden castanets off the shelf and handed them to Blue. On each side were painted women dancing the flamenco. Their arms and hands were outstretched, curled above their heads like smoke. Their long skirts a crashing wave of red ruffles.
‘From now on, keep them with you,’ said the Doctor. ‘At ALL times. Come on. There’s no time to waste!’
CHAPTER 13
The Reel-to-Reel Room
Dr Boogaloo and Blue headed off for the Reel-to-Reel room at a cracking pace. The wind was blowing, unclasping yellow leaves from the stand of tupelo trees next to the pond.
Dr Boogaloo picked up a fallen leaf and handed it to Blue. The tips were starting to turn red.
‘Looks like we’re on schedule. By the end of this week, the leaf’s transformation will be complete. And hopefully, dear, so will yours.’
Blue smiled, jogging to keep up with the Doctor’s long-legged trot. She crossed her fingers behind her back. Blue hadn’t told the Doctor and Bessie about her mother’s ultimatum. She didn’t want to offend them. And, quite simply, she couldn’t imagine not seeing the Boogaloos. If her mother’s ultimatum had made her realise anything, it was how much she’d come to love being with Bessie and the Doctor. Although they wanted to help her, the Boogaloos accepted Blue just the way she was, laughter or no laughter. They didn’t mind that she wasn’t perfect and that was a wonderful feeling.
From the outside, the Reel-to-Reel room looked like an old log cabin. But when they stepped inside, everything familiar disappeared.
Day became night. Inside became out. And small became enormous!
‘Sorry, it’s a bit hard to see in here,’ said the Doctor. ‘Give it a minute or two and your eyes will adjust. The darkness is necessary, I’m afraid. Increases the strength of the recordings. Recorded music’s not nearly as powerful as live. I’ll get things started – need to fire up my machines. Back in a banjo twang.’
Apparently able to see perfectly well, the Doctor strode off into the darkness. Blue stood still, too scared to move left or right. After a few minutes her eyes began to adjust, just like the Doctor had said. A sea of tiny lights appeared, puncturing the huge empty darkness.
Arms outstretched to stop herself from bumping into anything, Blue slid her feet along the floor towards the tiny lights.
The shape of the room began to emerge. It was irregular, like a glowing cloud of space dust. As she got closer, she could see the lights more clearly. Each one was attached to one of the Doctor’s round silver tape boxes, which were messily stacked on thousands of shelves that lined the entire cavernous room. Each light lit up a label with the details of the recordings inside: instruments used, musicians who played, the songs sung, location and date of recording, even what the weather was like! The shelves were labelled too, with each recording filed away under the disorder it was used to treat.
As she browsed the shelves of the Reel-to-Reel room, Blue’s eyes popped. She was shocked. Did people really suffer from such conditions? While she recognised some, the rest made Blue feel like No Laughing Syndrome was positively ordinary!
BUS STOP DISORDERS
* Can’t Stop Disco Dancing At
The Bus Stop Syndrome
* Urgent Need To Fart Every Time
The Bus Stops Syndrome
* Can’t Stop Playing My Recorder
At Bus Stops, Even When People
Ask Me Nicely Not To Syndrome
CLOTHING DISORDERS
* Forever Forgetting To Wear
Underpants Syndrome
* Will Only Wear Socks On My
Ears Syndrome
* All Shoes Even Slippers Must
Be High Heels Syndrome
CUTLERY DISORDERS
* Cups, Plates And Glasses Leap
Out Of My Hands Syndrome
* Steal Forks Wherever I Go Syndrome
* Plants Cutlery In The Garden And Believes
It Will Grow Syndrome
DANCE DISORDERS
* Tap Dances While Sleeping Syndrome
(see also SLEEP DISORDERS)
* Dances Like An Emu Syndrome
* Can’t Think Unless Dancing Syndrome
* Can’t Stop Dancing Syndrome
(more serious than it sounds)
DRINKING DISORDERS
* Will Only Drink Slushies Syndrome
(common in children)
* Can Only Drink Through The Nose Syndrome
* Can Only Drink From Cups With Small Umbrella
On The Side Syndrome (common in adults)
EATING DISORDERS
* Can’t Swallow Unless Watching
A Screen Syndrome
* Only Eats Food Off Other People’s
Plates Syndrome (common in mothers)
* Only Eats Chippies Syndrome
(common in all children)
* Frightened To Death Of Ice-Cream
With Sprinkles Syndrome (only found in adults)
HEARING DISORDERS
* Can Hear The Weather Coming Syndrome
* Hears Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer All Day Long Syndrome
* Can Hear Other People Thinking Syndrome
HOMEWORK DISORDERS
* Can Only
Do Homework
On The Toilet Syndrome
* Eats Homework After
Completing It Syndrome
* Homework Causes Head To Go
So Droopy I Can’t Lift It Up
Off The Kitchen Table Syndrome
* Can’t Do Anything Until
The Very Last Minute Syndrome
KISSING DISORDERS
* Can’t Stop Kissing Telegraph
Poles Syndrome
* Believes My Nose Is Just Way
Too Big To Kiss Anyone Syndrome
* Will Only Kiss People With Noses
That Are Just Way Too Big Syndrome
* Kisses Like A Fish Syndrome
PLAY DISORDERS
* Thinks Chinese Burns Are
Playing Nicely Syndrome
* Can’t Stop Trying To Catch Clouds Syndrome
(highly dangerous)
* Always Ruins Everybody’s Game Syndrome
* Hides When Supposed To Be Seeking, And Seeks
When Meant To Be Hiding Syndrome
PLAIN PAINFUL DISORDERS
* Nothing’s Ever Right Syndrome
* ‘It Wasn’t Me!’ When It Plainly
Was Syndrome
* Has To Be First At Everything
Syndrome (often occurs with
Knows Everything Syndrome)
* Cranky As A Cassowary Syndrome
RANDOM & RARE DISORDERS
* Sticks Feathers All Over Body
And Pretends To Be A Bird At 2.38 pm Precisely
Every Day Except Sunday
And Every Second Tuesday Of The
Month Syndrome
* Toes Growing In The Nose Syndrome
* Has Hair Growing Between The Toes
In The Nose Syndrome
* Not A Single Strange Or Weird Thing
