Tall Story

by Candy Gourlay

  It was after midnight when they left. I was insanely curious about what was wrong with Bernardo but Mum wouldn’t let me come along. She said I had to go to bed because I had school the next day. She made Dad go to bed too because he had an early shift at the hospital.

  When I was really little, Mum used to say, ‘If you go on being naughty like that, I’ll take you to A&E.’ And I used to stop whatever I was doing and sit down on the floor, my hands folded on my lap, demure as anything.

  That ended when I turned seven and knew better. I mean, Mum is an A&E nurse. She went there every day. Which made her and all the A&E doctors and nurses the naughtiest people in the world.

  Right now, they were probably giving Bernardo an enema or draining his blood or tapping him for spinal fluid or shaving his head or sucking out his brain.

  That’s what they do at A&E.

  The phone woke me at two in the morning. It rang and rang but Dad wasn’t picking up. I could hear him snoring across the hall. I went downstairs and answered it. It was Mum, of course.

  ‘I just wanted you to know that everything is fine: they’re giving Nardo an MRI right now.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘MRI? Magnetic Resonance Imaging. They’re scanning his brain.’

  I knew it! They always went for the brain. ‘For what?’

  ‘Can I speak to Dad?’

  ‘He’s asleep.’ After all that fuss about Dad needing his sleep – it was just like Mum to want to wake him up now because she felt like sharing. ‘Mum, why does Bernardo need a brain scan?’

  She ignored me. ‘Get Dad.’

  The other day I spotted a piece in a magazine about Neutralizing Flashpoints. I only read it because I thought it was a new film at the cinema.

  But it turned out that Flashpoints referred to good old-fashioned family rows. And Neutralizing was just fancy jargon for telling everyone to stay cool. The secret? Information. Apparently parents could Neutralize Flashpoints by simply keeping their teenagers informed about what was going on.

  Mum would get an F in Neutralizing Flashpoints.

  I ran up the stairs and shook Dad awake. He shambled down to the telephone without even opening his eyes. He didn’t have to say much. He just grunted while Mum talked and talked. Then he put the phone down and was on his way up before I managed to say, ‘Dad, what did Mum say?’

  But he had already disappeared into the bedroom.

  Neutralizing Flashpoints – haven’t you heard of it, Dad?

  10

  Bernardo

  The earphones were meant to block out the MRI’s noise but I could still hear everything. The banging and crashing and the electronic whining.

  And Gabriela.

  Nardo, she whispered. The voice was not Gabriela’s. It was Mad Nena’s. You left.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ I said through clenched teeth.

  You left, she laughed. And now it’s going to be all your fault.

  Then I remembered the button. Sunita said if I pressed the button, she would stop the machine and get me out. But what would I tell her? How could I tell her about Gabriela?

  I closed my eyes and tried not to listen to the machine’s screaming.

  When I first met Gabriela, I was only thirteen.

  It was the same year Ma’s famous letter arrived, just a week after my thirteenth birthday:

  They told me your visa should be ready in a few days so you must start getting ready. You will be on a plane to London in just two weeks!

  After we read the letter, Uncle, Auntie and I were so happy we jumped up and down for a long time.

  I remember thinking it was the best birthday present ever! At long last, I was going to London!

  My head was full of plans. I would bring the catapult Uncle had made me out of mango wood. I would ask Jabby to lend me the woolly jumper that a relative had sent him from America. It was too hot to wear in San Andres anyway.

  And presents. I couldn’t go to London without presents for Ma and Uncle Will and Amandolina.

  I had been saving my centavos in a piggy bank shaped like a London bus that Ma had sent long ago. I emptied the coins on the floor and counted them. I would use half of the money to buy a box of sweet pili nut turrones for Mama and Uncle William. And the other half? I was going to buy puka shells from Sister Len-Len, to string into a necklace for dear little Amandolina.

  Amandolina would have been ten. I liked to imagine that she would be like Jabby’s younger sister, Pet, who was about the same age.

  Pet was always needing Jabby to walk her to school or braid her hair or tell her a story. Pet the Pain, he called her. When she rushed to hug him after school, he always wrinkled his nose and muttered, ‘Pet? She’s more like a pest.’ But I could tell he liked it. I would.

  That morning on my way to school, I stopped at Sister Len-Len’s roadside stall, where she sold seashells to tourists on their way to the beach. The puka shells were more expensive than I had remembered but Sister Len-Len kindly measured out an extra portion, just because it was for my little sister.

  Jabby had a new basketball with him but I cried off a game at recess because I wanted to work on Amandolina’s necklace. When the bell rang, I rushed out to the frangipani tree in the back playground where I knew I would not be disturbed.

  But I had not reckoned on Gabriela and her gang. By some unlucky twist, they had decided to sit under the frangipani tree instead of on their usual bench.

  I knew Gabriela by then. I no longer needed Jabby to warn me away from her. I could see what she and her gang of girl thugs did to the other children.

  By the time I realized that they were there, it was too late.

  They did not give me a chance to run away. Three of the girl thugs grabbed me and manhandled me to the spot behind the tree where Gabriela was waiting. She looked pleased, like a cat that had just been dangled a juicy mouse.

  ‘You’re that little boy with the giant’s name!’ Gabriela reached out and stroked my hair. I struggled to get away but Gabriela’s girlfriends were stronger and bigger than me. Then I thought, Why not just co-operate, get it over with? What could Gabriela do to me? I had no money. I was worth nothing to her.

  ‘What giant’s name?’ one of her thugs asked.

  ‘Bernardo.’ Gabriela’s eyes glittered like the dew on the frangipani’s broad leaves. ‘His name is Bernardo. Like Bernardo Carpio.’

  The girls laughed and shook me hard like they were shaking fruit from a tree.

  ‘So. Bernardo. What have you got?’ one said. But instead of waiting for me to reply, they swung me up and over like a floppy rag doll, dangling me upside down so that the few coins I had left fell out of my pockets. And then, to my dismay, the small brown paper package with shells for Amandolina’s necklace tumbled out.

  ‘Jackpot!’ Gabriela laughed as she snatched up the package.

  A helpless fury suddenly filled me. ‘NO!’ I shouted. ‘That’s for my sister! Leave it alone!’

  But shouting was pointless. I knew that nobody in the playground was going to come to my rescue. Not the children. Not the teachers. Gabriela’s thugs pushed me down on the ground, hard. I fell awkwardly, banging my head and shoulder on the hard earth.

  ‘Ah, puka shells!’ Gabriela smirked at me. ‘What a lovely brother. Were you making a necklace for your sister?’

  I didn’t answer, watching with disbelief as she examined the shells.

  ‘I like necklaces. Remember this?’ She pulled the wishing stone from her collar. ‘My mama made this for me.’

  I leaped up, throwing myself on her. She flinched as my fingernails grazed her arm. ‘Stupid boy!’ She slapped me hard on the face with her other hand.

  Her thugs peeled me off and shoved me down on the ground, kicking and punching until I could only curl up in a ball, my arms over my head.

  ‘Don’t you know the rules of Sacred Heart Academy, Bernardo?’ Gabriela nudged me with the toe of her foot. ‘Rule One: Gabriela is always right. And what is Rule Two, girls?�
�

  Her thugs replied in chorus: ‘Rule Two: Refer to Rule One!’

  They laughed as they walked away, my precious package clutched in Gabriela’s hand.

  I uncurled and lay flat on my back staring up at the spreading branches of the frangipani tree, the tears streaming down my face. I had no money left to get Amandolina anything else. She was going to be so disappointed. I grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled as hard as I could but the pain could not distract me from my failure.

  I wished I had not chosen to sit under the frangipani tree.

  I wished I had waited until after school to buy the shells.

  I wished that my immigration papers had not come through so that this would never have happened.

  And then, of course, it turned out that the immigration papers weren’t coming after all.

  Ma wrote to say sorry, the Home Office wanted more paperwork, whatever that meant.

  11

  Andi

  Truth to tell, I had always regarded Bernardo as a partner waiting to happen. He’s a boy, isn’t he? He and I were going to go running, play basketball, do sport.

  And I could tell Bernardo would have been willing.

  He loved Michael Jordan. I loved Michael Jordan.

  But no. That body. Even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t. And of course it was not his fault. I am the blame.

  No, no. He was not the blame, poor guy. Just unlucky.

  He’s not the blame that I am so totally disappointed.

  I was already dressed in my school uniform, pouring some Coco Pops into a bowl, when they finally returned from the hospital.

  Dad had already left for his double shift.

  Bernardo looked ghastly. He seemed to teeter even more as he stood there, looking down at the breakfast table, so tall his head was in the shadows above the table’s pendant light. Mum’s hair stood on end like she’d just crawled through a bush. Neither of them smelled sweet and I moved upwind of the table to finish my Coco Pops.

  She poured Bernardo a bowl of cereal even though his eyelids were sliding down over his eyes every few minutes. He sat down and the chair bowed visibly.

  ‘So what happened?’ I said. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘We won’t know until Doctor Grant has had a look at the scans. They sent us home.’

  ‘You were there all night and they didn’t tell you anything?’

  Mum made a face at me.

  There was a soft clunk and we realized that Bernardo had fallen asleep, his head cradled on one arm, his spoon in his hair.

  Mum clicked her tongue the way she does and gently shook him awake. She escorted him up the stairs to my room. When she came down again fifteen minutes later, she was dressed in her nurse’s uniform, her hair swept back in a professional bun. But her eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion.

  ‘You’ve got nothing on after school, have you, Andi?’ Mum said. ‘What time do you get home today?’

  ‘Why?’ I looked at her through veiled lids. She had a guilty expression on her face. This was not a motherly enquiry into my wellbeing.

  Mum sighed. ‘Look, I booked the day off but one of the other nurses is sick.’

  ‘You’re going to work?’

  ‘I’ll be back after eight tonight. Dad is on that double shift. He won’t be in until after bedtime.’

  ‘Mum, how can you do that? You had so much time to plan for Bernardo’s first day!’

  ‘I know, but it can’t be helped.’

  I could feel my chest tightening. This didn’t sound good.

  ‘Anyway, I want you to look out for Bernardo when you get home.’

  ‘What?’ How was I supposed to look after a sixteen-year-old?

  ‘Please, Andi. Just keep him company. He doesn’t know where anything is. He’s never been outside San Andres. Look, if you don’t want to look after him, help him. Just help him, Andi.’

  ‘But, Mum—’

  ‘He’ll still be jetlagged. He will probably sleep all day. I’ve marinated some chicken in the fridge. Forty-five minutes in a medium oven …’

  ‘MUM!’ I was supposed to babysit him AND feed him? This was worse than getting a pet.

  But Mum was already on her way out, adjusting the little nametag that she wore at the hospital.

  ‘Thank you, darling, I really appreciate it.’

  12

  Bernardo

  It had been morning when my plane took off from Manila. And it was still the same day when I landed in London, even though I’d been travelling for sixteen hours and, back in Manila, the date had changed.

  It was not an exaggeration to say that I had travelled backwards in time.

  So? I could imagine Jabby joking about it. You arrived several hours YOUNGER. You have nothing to complain about.

  No, but the time-travelling left me … unbalanced. And last night’s rush to hospital did not help.

  When the doctors had finished pricking and prodding and weighing and measuring and testing, Mama took me home.

  I was so tired I don’t remember much about bedtime except Mama hugging me as I sat on the mattress on the floor. A thought briefly crossed my mind that this was a momentous occasion, my first bedtime in London. But I was so tired, too tired. She stroked my forehead like a baby, then tucked the quilt high under my chin. It pulled right off my feet. ‘Oh, Bernardo,’ Ma sighed. She left and returned with another quilt to cover my legs.

  ‘Amandolina will be here when you wake up,’ she whispered as she turned to go. ‘I’ll see you after work this evening, darling Nardo.’

  And then Ma drew the curtains shut and I tumbled down, down, down into the utter darkness of a bottomless pit.

  13

  Andi

  Lunch time. I avoided the playground and went into the new gym, ignoring the sign that said No Entry Unless Authorized.

  Avoiding Rocky had become an integral part of my daily school routine:

  Enter by the side gate in case Rocky and his friends were hanging out in front of Saint Simeon’s.

  Stay in the library until the bell went.

  Eat my packed lunch in a secluded corner, then head straight for the new gym to shoot hoops until the bell rang for afternoon lessons.

  I could forget all my troubles when I played. Goodness knows I deserved some upside after finding out I had Fee-fi-fo-fum for a big brother.

  It was not as bad as it sounded. Saint Simeon’s gymnasium was fantastic: it even had three-point lines painted on – at my previous school, we didn’t have three-point lines so all my cool long-distance shots were wasted.

  Lucky for me, the ball lockers were fastened with the same crummy locks as my old school. It took only one elbow and a kick for the door to fall open. I extracted a basketball and pushed through the double doors to the court.

  Oh Holy Mother of God.

  There was someone else there, shooting baskets. Someone so tall and hench, he was virtually bursting out of his shirt.

  Rocky.

  He took aim at the basket and released the ball. He missed.

  I whirled round to leave but Rocky’s ball beat me to the exit and banged hard on the double doors in front of me.

  ‘Hey!’

  Oh Holy Mother of God, he spotted me.

  I turned round and faked a smile. ‘Hi.’

  He looked like he wanted to laugh. ‘You look different in school uniform.’

  And you look as stupid in your tie as I do in my skirt, I thought. But what I said aloud was: ‘So do you.’

  ‘Your name is Andi, right?’

  ‘Andi with an i.’ I turned towards the door. ‘Well, gotta go.’

  ‘Wait!’ Rocky called. ‘Were you going to shoot some hoops?’

  No, I was going to plant some rice. ‘I was just going to pass the time.’

  ‘One on one?’

  I don’t know what got into me. Instead of marching out of the court, I spun round and passed him my ball. He caught it, leaping into the air like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar on hydraulics to ho
ok it at the goal. It looped over our heads but bounced harmlessly off the back board.

  I raced after it. Rocky didn’t bother to run after me, he just positioned himself under the basket waiting to pounce when I came close for the shot. No chance, mister. I stopped at the three-point line and made my shot. Swish. The look on his face was a prize.

  ‘Pow!’ He punched the air, staring at me in wonder. ‘Hey, Andi, you didn’t say you were good.’

  You didn’t ask, I thought. But pleasure spread through my stomach like warm water. I shrugged, my face expressionless as I went to collect the ball from under the basket. I toed the three-point line and took another shot. Swish.

  Rocky shook his head in wonder and grabbed the ball. ‘Show me some more.’

  We played for the rest of the break. Rocky sank exactly two shots. I didn’t count how many baskets I made. I just stayed away from him, running wide – no point getting up close with Rocky blocking the way like a plaster. I shot from the three-point line. Swish. Swish. Swish.

  After fifteen solid minutes, we stopped to drink from the water fountain beside the court. My cotton blouse stuck to my back, wet with sweat. But I felt good.

  ‘You don’t miss, do you?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You’re amazing. You’re exactly what the Souls need.’

  I stared hopefully up at him. But the doleful expression on his face was enough. He didn’t mean it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Andi. I can’t change the rules.’

  The bell rang. I tossed Rocky the ball and turned away, avoiding the searching look in his eyes. ‘Thanks for the workout.’

  Before I could push through the double doors of the exit, Rocky yelled, ‘Wait!’

  He sprinted up to me, tossing the ball. I caught it instinctively.

  ‘There’s nothing in the rulebook that says you can’t train with us.’ The brown eyes glowed warmly down at me and the quick rush of blood to my cheeks almost distracted me from what he was saying. ‘Wanna come? You’ll have some fun and you could definitely teach the boys a thing or two.’

  ‘You mean it?’

  ‘Sure.’ Rocky waved as he disappeared out of the door. ‘Sunday afternoon. Two p.m. at the outdoor courts near the hospital. Be there!’