Will

by Maria Boyd

  By now he’d managed to throw his right leg over the edge and was holding on tight, not really sure how to proceed. You could tell the kid was scared brainless of falling out but just as scared of falling back in.

  It’s all right, mate. Just throw your other leg over and you’ll drop to the ground. It really isn’t that far.

  The two eyes attempted to make contact again. This time they didn’t seem so ancient, just plain frightened.

  I’ll come and stand underneath you and try to break your fall.

  I think I heard a tiny whisper. Thanks.

  I maneuvered myself underneath where I thought he would fall and braced myself as I would for a tackle. Within a second the kid dropped. We both fell to the ground. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but neither of us had broken any bones.

  He quickly got up and beamed at me.

  I knew you and I were going to be friends.

  Yeah, yeah. Let’s not make a big a deal of it. I just happened to be passing by, that’s all.

  My dad reckons that things always happen for reasons, the kid replied, attempting to match my stride and having to skip a little as a result. Synchronicity. Have you heard of it?

  Of course I’ve heard of it. I’m not in Advanced English for nothing, you know.

  I didn’t know what he was on about but I wasn’t about to admit that to a Year 7 geek who had just escaped from a Dumpster.

  Man, you stink real bad.

  He ducked his head like I’d hit him square in the gut. But it also got his mouth moving again.

  All the kids reckon I stink, that’s why they put me in the bin in the first place, because they reckon that’s where my home is. They reckon I get all my clothes from a bin too.

  He took a breath.

  No, mate, that’s not what I meant. I mean you stink from being in the bin.

  He lifted his head up.

  Come on, I don’t know you well enough to hang crap on you.

  That doesn’t stop the other boys.

  Yeah, well, I’m more mature than those little dropkicks. If only Andrews could hear me now. Listen, mate, you can’t go back to rehearsals smelling like that. If you do, your life at St. Andrew’s will be over. You’d better go home and change, or at least give someone a ring to come and pick you up.

  He was shaking his head as soon as the words were out of my mouth. He seemed more uptight about this than actually being thrown in the skip.

  No, I live ages away and I can’t ring Dad ’cause he’s gone out for the day. Can’t I come with you?

  No way, I’m out of here!

  His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  But haven’t you got to stay after lunch too? Brother Pat will be expecting you.

  I’d forgotten about the Brother Pat factor. He’d be pretty let down if I bailed, especially after all that role-model stuff he’d gone on with this morning. The last thing I wanted was to encourage the kid, but I couldn’t let him go back inside like that. The teachers would get involved and make a real thing of it. This would only ensure his life would be hell for the next couple of months.

  Listen, my mate Chris has got three little brothers, he’ll have some clothes you can borrow.

  Chris who?

  Chris Holden.

  He cut me off before I could say anything else.

  I know him! He’s the guy who always speaks at assemblies and stuff. You’re mates with Chris Holden! Cool! OK, let’s go. This is so cool.

  All right, settle down. It’s no big deal.

  But apparently to the little guy jumping around beside me it was.

  Getting chucked in that bin was the best thing that has happened to me since I came to St. Andrew’s!

  This kid’s life was definitely sad.

  The Holdens

  The little guy gave a running commentary as we made our way over to Chris’s place.

  In between nodding and throwing the occasional yep, nope in his direction, I tried to remember what Chris and I were like at his age. I’d forgotten how hard-going we found the first couple of months at St. Andrew’s. That move from primary to high school is pretty big and I don’t reckon many kids handle it half as well as they pretend to. At primary school you think you’re kingpin; then you arrive at a place where you’re nothing, a tiny, insignificant, lowly bit of nothing. You’re bullied into standing down the front of the bus, harassed into lining up all of lunchtime to buy food for ten people you don’t know and threatened into giving over your lunch money to some guy who’s got his fist in your face.

  In the beginning Chris and I just used to take off. It wasn’t planned or anything, it was like we both knew. We’d get out at lunchtime, look around for the teacher on duty, who was normally yelling at some kid to pick up papers, and then, when no one was looking, we’d walk out the gate. Dead easy. We’d arrive at the Holdens’ right in time for lunch. It was funny, it was only now that I wondered why we didn’t get in more trouble considering they were always going on about legal permission to leave school grounds. Chris’s mum never said anything. She’d just smile and ask us if we were hungry. Then she’d leave the room and make a phone call.

  Yes, Helen, they are here. Can you pass that on? No, they’ll be fine. I’ll ring Patricia.

  Helen was Mrs. Young, the school secretary; my mum said she was a saint, and she was for Chris and me because it must have been her who smoothed it over with the year coordinator. We would have done that at least once a week in the beginning and then we kind of stopped.

  I reckon it was around then that I developed this thing about the Holdens’ kitchen. It’s one of the places I rate in my top ten. It’s big and warm and cozy and filled with great smells, and there is always someone in there, guaranteed. Five males multiplied by hunger equals a lot of time spent in the kitchen. The Holdens definitely have an open-door policy—everyone is welcome. That’s why I knew it would be all right to take the kid there.

  I could see the screen door hanging open as always, like it was expecting company. Surrounding it was a runners’ shop full of shoes. Once Mrs. Holden made the rule that you washed the floorboards, all of the floorboards, if you dirtied them, the boys figured it saved a lot of time and work if they left their shoes at the door. It worked for the floorboards, but it meant there was always a whiff of bad feet as soon as you came into the house.

  I walked straight in with the kid hopping behind me. There was never any door-knocking at the Holdens’. Chris had obviously had a shower and then not bothered to do much more. His hair was sticking up all over the place; no shirt but he had his footy shorts and socks on. Typically he only looked mildly surprised.

  Willo, mate! I thought you had detention duty at the St. Andrew’s gaol. Did you stage a breakout?

  I raised my eyebrow and indicated the kid behind me.

  Oh great, so you’ve corrupted a juvenile as well.

  Chris stepped forward and shook the little guy’s hand.

  Chris Holden.

  The kid was barely able to contain himself.

  Yeah, I know you. You’re the guy who’s going to be school captain next year.

  Chris looked confused. Right, well, you had better come into the kitchen then.

  I think you’ll find the little guy here has had an accident. It might be better if he goes to the bathroom.

  Bad wording on my part—it sounded like Chris had to go and grab one of Jess’s nappies.

  I mean he had an accident with a Dumpster.

  Chris was watching the kid rather than me. He didn’t know what I was on about but he could definitely see that the kid needed some assistance.

  Sure. You’re just lucky everyone’s out doing the Saturday sports shuffle, otherwise you’d be surrounded. It’s only Jess and me here.

  Jess? the geek asked.

  Yeah, replied Chris. She’s the number-one girl in my life.

  The freak obviously intended to get as much information about Chris Holden, St. Andrew’s pin-up boy, as he could.

  You mean yo
ur girlfriend?

  I think Chris might have even blushed.

  No, mate, she’s my two-year-old sister. But don’t you think I should be the one asking the questions?

  The freak had no problem starting up.

  It was lunchtime and the kids in the band asked me what I had for lunch so I told them and then they started to follow me, so I ran down the driveway and that’s when they got me and threw me into the Dumpster.

  They what! I interrupted.

  I’d spent all day with those little peewees and there was no way they could have picked up this kid and thrown him anywhere.

  Well, that’s not completely true. Dad always says to tell the whole truth because you always get found out.

  So?

  Well, they kind of backed me into the corner and told me to get into the Dumpster.

  And you did? It was really hard not to put you idiot on the end of that question.

  I thought they’d leave me alone.

  Did it work?

  Yeah it did. They ran as soon as I got in. I stayed in there for another five minutes to make sure they’d all gone and then I tried to get out but I couldn’t.

  And that was when yours truly came along, I told Chris. I thought maybe our friend here could borrow some of James’s clothes, you know, just for the weekend.

  The kid suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Clearly something was wrong. What could be worse than getting harassed by a bunch of geeks and thrown in a bin?

  I don’t want Dad to … His voice trailed off.

  What could be worse? Your dad finding out.

  He already worries about me. He’s had to come up to school already. He keeps saying that if it happens again he’s going to put me in a different school. But I like it at St. Andrew’s.

  This kid really was sad!

  Chris looked him square in the eye.

  Listen, you’ve got to tell someone about the kids hassling you. Your dad’s right to be angry with the school. They should do something about it.

  The kid began shaking his head.

  They haven’t done it for ages. It’s just these band kids. They want to show off that they’re tough.

  I was ready to go and find the little jerks and lock all of them in the Dumpster for the next month. I bet this was the first time any of them had had a chance to pick on anyone. I bet they were always having the crap kicked out of them.

  Well, if you hang out with Will here there won’t be any more trouble. But you still have to do something about those clothes. What will the guy who’s got to play next to you say?

  That’s me, I said, more enthusiastically than I’d intended.

  Right, well, forget about that, Will stinks already so he wouldn’t notice, but what about the other guys?

  The freak’s eyes grew in his head again and he shrugged.

  We could throw your jeans and jacket in the wash and dryer and I’ll drop them off on my way to footy?

  The kid’s whole body lit up with hero worship.

  Yeah, and then I could get changed and Dad wouldn’t have to know.

  The kid took the clothes Chris gave him and went into the bathroom. I knew this meant I was going back to the hall to finish my sentence. Just knowing that Andrews was there wound me up again, but I figured I could ignore him.

  So, Will, it looks like you’ve made your first new friend from the musical. Your mother will be so happy!

  I chucked the geek’s shirt at Chris and yelled out Hurry up!

  The geek left Chris’s place the way he’d arrived—talking.

  You’re the best, Will. I always knew Chris was a really nice guy. No wonder he’s going to be school captain. And look at these clothes! These are the coolest clothes I’ve ever worn. Dad reckons I shouldn’t worry about how I look. He reckons you have to stand on your own and be an individual. It’s not that we’re poor. That’s what all the kids at school think. They think I dress the way I do because we don’t have any money. We do. Dad’s a university lecturer and we live in Balmain, looking over the water. It’s nice. He paused, looked away and then continued. Heaps nicer than around here. Apart from Chris’s place. His place was cool.

  I had started to listen after he had finished with his Chris Holden Fan Club routine. This kid’s parents had to catch up with the times. It was all right for them. They were safe in their hippie suburb living their hippie lives.

  Listen, when we get back to the rehearsals, take it easy, act cool.

  Yeah, Will. I get you.

  We walked in silence but I could feel that he was gearing up for another question because he became all jumpy again.

  Will?

  Yeah?

  My name is Zach. Zachariah Cohen.

  I stopped walking and held out my hand.

  Nice to meet you, Zachariah Cohen.

  I cut his smile short.

  Come on, Freak, we better bolt, otherwise Andrews will have my balls.

  The smell of guilt

  Good to see you made it back, Will. I was beginning to worry you had reneged on your responsibilities.

  Andrews hadn’t backed off since my outburst. But like I’d decided earlier, I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

  Come on, sir, as if I would do that.

  I slowly eyeballed every one of the tiny geeks in front of me.

  In fact I met Zachariah Cohen during the lunch break. He found himself in a bit of trouble and needed some help.

  The geeks weren’t old enough or skilled enough to hide their fear.

  Andrews’s face crumpled into a frown.

  Was there a problem, Will?

  Andrews became teacher serious, letting me know he would step in if I needed him to. But to dob these guys in would have meant playground death for the Freak. No. I just wanted them to live in fear of me putting them in it.

  Nothing that I can’t fix myself, sir.

  The geeks’ restlessness increased. They looked at their music, in their bags, at their instruments. One even put his head into his lunch box. Anywhere but in my direction.

  Well, let me know if I can offer any assistance.

  The smell of guilt escaped like silent deadly farts.

  Don’t worry, sir, I will.

  And with that we got on with the rehearsals. I just managed to look over my shoulder and saw the Freak giving one of the guys the finger before he picked up his trombone. There was hope for him yet.

  Still at auditions—the new guy

  Andrews and Ms. Simons, the teacher from Lakeside, had narrowed it down to a top ten for the male leads. Thank God for that! The band actually sounded pretty good considering they had just learned the songs this morning. I’ll give the geeks that, most of them could play a tune.

  We had exactly an hour to go and it was going to be a very long hour. I stretched out my arms as far as they could go, threw my head back and sighed. It must have been really loud because when I lifted my head, Brother Pat was staring right at me.

  When you’re ready, Mr. Armstrong.

  Sorry, Brother.

  We were up to the final four who were trying out for the lead role, some guy called Tony. One or two of them had been all right. But in my opinion not good enough to get up there and play the lead without causing themselves and every single person involved in the musical severe embarrassment. I settled on my guitar, ready to have my eardrums bleed again. Possible Tony number four. About five notes in it became pretty obvious this bloke was different from the other wannabes. Whoever he was, he could sing.

  Every person in the hall stopped and stared. Not only could he sing, but he didn’t look like he could sing. He was built. Not gym-junky built, but like an AFL player and nearly as tall. It didn’t seem to fit. I had no idea who he was. He had to be a senior and, since I hadn’t seen him in our year, he had to be in Year 12. But they’d been warned off the musical this year.

  I watched Brother Pat and Mr. Andrews exchange looks.

  Thank you, that was excellent. How about having a go at another of
the tunes?

  Brother Pat waited for all the geeks to scramble behind their music stands.

  Ahh, William, would you mind preparing yourself.

  The boom from his voice nearly blew me off my seat. I was definitely over being Brother Pat’s right-hand man. We played the song through once and then the new guy joined in on the second go, taking it all in his stride. He mucked around when it got to the sappy parts about how much he loved this girl he’d met for two seconds and he was actually pretty funny.

  Good! Good! I’d like to see you, young man, once this is over.

  I kept my ears open trying to get the guy’s name, but Andrews and Brother were tying everything up and finally seemed to be in a hurry to get out of there. No complaints from me.

  Mr. Andrews stood on stage and called for silence.

  All right, thanks, everybody. A big hand to those boys who got up and sang today, we know it’s never an easy thing to do. And an extra big thank-you to the members of the band. It was a long wait between singers but you all did very well.

  The geeks shone like their newly polished instruments.

  Even you, Mr. Armstrong …

  Wanker! I smiled a fake smile and bent down to start packing away my guitar. As I did a pair of jean-clad legs moved in and out of my vision and at various intervals jumped up and down in front of me. It could only be one person. I looked up slowly.

  Do you think Chris has left the bag of clothes? You don’t think he’s forgotten, do you? If he’s forgotten then Dad is going to find out and he’ll contact the school and then it will be really bad. It’s not that I’m not grateful, I am, it’s just that …

  I continued to stare, wondering how someone with such a small head and mouth could manufacture so many words in such a short amount of time.

  I’ve got a great idea. How about you go out and have a look?