Fake ID

by Hazel Edwards

  ‘Thanks, Luke.’ I didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘I reckon Gran should have left Bark a message on the pets bit of the finalthoughts.com. He can’t read,’ said Luke. ‘But he can dig.’

  Luke’s dad had collected the car, and Bark, who was now back to normal, surprisingly.

  Within two days, Bark had dug up most of Gran’s yard, and even under Mrs Donna’s fence. Now we could hear Mrs Donna’s heavy breathing as the backdoor slammed behind her. ‘Take that dog for a long walk Zoe, or else I’ll…’

  ‘OK, Mrs Donna,’ we said quickly, just as Bruce also arrived.

  ‘Take this, too. I found it stuck inside your gran’s black vase.’ Mrs Donna handed over a Madga Kovacs marriage certificate. ‘She loved that vase, I know.’

  Bruce checked the document. ‘Genuine. 1953. But not your gran’s. Your grandfather meant to leave everything to your gran. But, legally, he was still married to the original Magda. This is their certificate. That’s why, when Pa left everything to “his wife Madga”, the lawyer went searching for the original marriage certificate. Magda One died before your grandfather, so her son Sandor would inherit, and your gran felt she should sort things out.’

  I showed Bruce the family photos. ‘D’you think she was going to scan these into the finalthoughts.com message?’

  ‘Maybe. I had all the “bits” translated. Your gran did do things in a hurry at the end.

  As far as I can work out, Sandor contacted her recently about getting his share of the house. Kat would get the other half because the original Magda died in 1963, before Janos, so his estate would be shared equally between his two children. Then the change in Hungarian law meant files and photos were released, naming your gran as a journalist and political informer, when she was involved with Tibor. Although the name was different, the photos showed the same woman. She could be recognised.’

  Bark barked, loudly. Mrs Donna wasn’t impressed. ‘When’s Kat coming home to get the dog?’

  ‘Do you think there’s something valuable here?’ asked Luke eagerly.

  Bruce shook his head as he looked at the mess Bark had made. ‘No, the dog is bored. Just needs a good walk. Although one new tenant’s dog dug up money and jewellery the previous owner had buried in the backyard. Last I heard, he’d hired a front end loader to dig up the yard.’

  ‘Could have borrowed Bark,’ I said.

  Bruce threw the leash at me. ‘Walkies. Now. Use it as hockey training.’

  After running, I felt puffed, but better. I knew the rules for hockey and for dog training. Not like in family histories.

  That afternoon Luke gave me a family history disk, which would have been helpful, except he said, ‘Thought you’d have a nose for history.’ My nose isn’t a joke. Especially if it ever grows to the size of Gran’s.

  Luke rattled on. ‘It’s a do-it-yourself, fill-the-gap, family medical history program for your school assignment. Got the link from the Dead Persons’ Society. They’re a groovy site with a dancing skeleton, music, and their ‘genis’ are medical sleuths too. It’s specially for blended families, like step-families where you have a few extra twigs and branches.’

  My gran had turned into a shady lady. It was like she was several people…like shadows. In the end, I just sort of let it go. I never knew who she really was.

  ‘I’m still not sure which name was really Gran’s,’ I said to Luke as we munched our hot dogs.

  ‘Does it matter what label a person has in your family? Isn’t it what they do and say that matters?’ Luke said. ‘Your gran acted like your gran. Isn’t that enough? Like your pa.’

  Gran left a different kind of ‘will’. Maybe I would belly dance just once.

  That night, my bedroom door was shut. I opened it. The door was really heavy. How come? Something clanked against the door on the inside.

  I pushed it wide open. Then I looked behind. Gran’s portrait of me was hanging on the back of the door. It wobbled a bit. The family tree was on the other side. I ran my hand across the ex-sneaker hole. Invisible tape!

  Thanks, Luke. Just wait until I get that yellow and purple ‘Puss the Wonder Cat ’ tie made up for you! With computer bugs and viruses on it!

  Chapter 11 Luke warns

  Going back to school the next day was a bit of a let-down. So many big family things had happened so fast in the past two weeks. And Mum would be coming home at the end of the season. She rang to tell me the date of the polar ship’s return. Now I had to do the ordinary stuff like tests and science assignments and ‘losing’ or ‘finding’ a grandmother wasn’t an excuse that Mr Noel accepted.

  ‘Your science homework’s late again, Zoe. Despite the extension I gave you. That means staying back for a detention tonight. Where’s yours, Luke?’

  Just then, Mr Noel’s stack of marking slid off the edge of the desk, page by page.

  ‘Had hockey training, Mr Noel.’ Luke dived to save the falling sheets and handed them back to the teacher. ‘Here you are.’

  ‘No excuse.’ Mr Noel was like that. ‘Even if you are a fast mover.’

  Despite Luke e-mailing his ‘Lost Sense of Humour’ graphic which looked like a police missing person’s poster with Mr Noel’s face on it, Luke got a detention too.

  I’m glad Mr Noel wasn’t ever cloned or Luke and I would have had detentions forever.

  Since we both ended up in an hour’s detention that night, and we were starving, we nicked into Macca’s on the way home. Luke reckons he’ll get an afternoon shift there if he eats enough and they get to know his face. But I reckon it’s just an excuse to eat junk food because he’ll never fit training in with an eight-hour cooking shift. Or an excuse to see Jessica.

  ‘Two medium fries.’

  The French fries were hot and I could smell the oil. Maccas was crowded with hamburger and caramel soft serve dessert junkies plus the usual after-school lot. Jessica was on the register and gave Luke an extra big bagful.

  ‘Hi Luke-Warm,’ she said in a very friendly way. I must have suddenly been invisible. I looked back at Luke who went red. He doesn’t like that name, but Jessica could say anything and he’d think it was brilliant. ‘Heard about the match against Street High B.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Luke. ‘We didn’t do as well as last time, when you played.’

  ‘When are you playing them again?’ Jessica moved a paper placemat onto the tray in one practised flick.

  ‘Next season.’

  ‘I might be back on the team.’

  Luke was trying to act casual, you could see that. ‘What about your job here? Thought you needed the money.’

  ‘I do. But I miss hockey. And especially the guys in the team.’

  The shift supervisor is hovering, so Jessica goes into her cash register manner.

  ‘How can I help you? What would you like to order? To eat here or take away?’

  Satisfied the Macca robots are working, the supervisor moves away to check on the fried conveyor line which seems to have a traffic jam near the hot oily-smelling fryer.

  ‘Any late afternoon shifts going, Jess?’ asks Luke. You don’t need to be a genius to work out that Luke thinks the ‘team’ means him, and that’s who she’s missing. Or so he likes to think.

  Jessica shakes her head and her green ear-rings dangle.

  ‘Isn’t there a health and safety law, you can’t work with food and wear jewellery?’ I say quickly. ‘In case your ears get dragged off in the machinery?’

  Jessica shrugs. ‘Dunno. I’m just on the register, not cooking out the back.’

  ‘No law against, “Do you want fried ears with that?” ’ joked Luke.

  Jessica looked blank.

  ‘Do you want fries with that?’ said Luke quickly. ‘That’s what you usually say to me.’

  The queue behind us was growing. Luke grabs the freebie paper to read the sports results, but I think it is to cover up. Sometimes he’s a real nerd and I even feel sorry for him. We find a table down the back, near the kids’ birth
day room. Not a good choice because about a million five-year-olds are screaming in there and the birthday kid is throwing up.

  ‘Have a chip, Luke,’ I offer. ‘Or do you want fried ears with that?’

  Quickly he looks up, glances at the birthday kid and then puts the chip down. ‘Thanks, Zoe.’

  ‘Which laws would you break for her?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If it was wartime, and she was your girlfriend, would you expect her to help you?’

  Luke looked gobstruck. ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

  ‘OK. Well, if you had a girlfriend, and there was a law you didn’t agree with…and she wanted you to break it for some reason.’

  ‘What sort of law?’ Luke stopped with a long chip halfway to his lips. ‘I mean I might take something, or NOT do something but I wouldn’t kill anyone. It would depend on how stuck I was on her.’

  ‘My gran did it for her boyfriend. I broke the law when I drove Bark to the vet.’

  ‘Dad said that was a pretty stupid thing to do. You could just have rung him instead.’

  I felt my face going red. ‘Would you do it for me?’

  ‘Do what? Help you break the law? Or help you because you’d broken the law? Or ask you to do something I thought was right, but there was a law against it?’

  ‘I mightn’t see it that way. I might think the law was dumb. Like not being able to go to certain places because you’re under age or having to be seventeen before you can drive with L plates.’

  ‘This is not about L plates. This is about your gran, isn’t it?’

  I nod.

  ‘Different time. Different place. Wartime is different to peace time.’

  ‘And different people.’

  ‘Your gran had lots of secrets.’

  ‘Yeah. Trouble is, I don’t know what I don’t know.’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Yes. It does. She left lots of unanswered questions. And I don’t know whether she did it deliberately or because she got sick at the end.’

  ‘Why don’t you e-mail her?’

  I looked at Luke. ‘You’re joking!’

  He blushed. ‘Yeah, I know she’s dead and can’t answer. I’m not stupid. But writing it out might make you feel better.’

  ‘And so how am I going to get an answer to my e-mail? Apart from it bouncing back?’

  ‘ e-mail gran.com. Er… Joke.’

  Sometimes I remember why the others call him Luke Warm. The birthday kid who’d thrown up over the cake was being face-washered by its mother and I wondered if mums love their kids ALL the time. Luke’s mum still loved him. Number one fan in the Luke fan club. Even when he got things wrong.

  ‘You could file it in draft. And never send it.’ Luke shifted so he couldn’t see the birthday kids.

  Well I wasn’t doing a mass mail-out to every gran in the world.

  Maybe e-mailing my unanswered questions wasn’t such a dumb idea. They could travel cyber-space instead of going round and round in my head. At least I’d get them out there.

  Chapter 12 Unanswered questions

  What should I put on the e-dress? Firmly, I type in mygran.com.

  Then I look at the lower-case letters, which almost spell migrant or migraine and imagine it going to some multicultural or headache site. So I hit DELETE.

  To Gran? Or leave it blank?

  What will I call the message? FAQs? How about LQs? Late questions.

  No, I’ll call it Unanswered Questions.

  Hi Gran,

  I know you won’t get this where you are, but …I need to ask you stuff. When you helped Tibor, did you think you were breaking a law or were you just helping a friend? Did you ever regret what you did? Were you sorry or was it OK at the time?

  If you were here now, and you were fifteen, would you break a law you didn’t agree with, just to help a friend?

  Does wartime make such a big difference. Or are you still the same person inside?

  How much of you is in me? How much of you is in Mum? Do we have some of the same genes even if we are different?

  Is it better to stay and do what you can or is it better to run away? If you leave, are you going somewhere or are you just running away?

  I stopped typing. The keyboard was full of letters but it was up to me to make them fit together.

  Should I hit SEND?

  It would probably bounce straight back.

  Then I had another idea. I’ll cc it to Mum. She would get a copy even if Gran didn’t. And Mum’d have time to think before we next met. She could pretend she never got it if she didn’t want to answer.

  At the weekend, I gave Luke the tie. It wasn’t quite ‘Puss the Wonder Cat’, but it did look sort of cat burglar-ish. The Reject Shop had some on special. So I drew some bugs on it. Could be virus.

  ‘Luke, what happens if you send a message to two people and the e-dress is wrong for the first one and it bounces? Does the second message get through?’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Luke. ‘Usually.’

  ‘You know when you asked me about whether I’d break a law for you?’ said Luke.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’d do it for you… I’d drive you, and Bark, to the vet as long as you didn’t call me Luke Warm.’

  About the Author

  Hazel Edwards is the author’s real name: not a fake I.D. Best known for the picture book ‘There's a Hippopotamus on Our Roof Eating Cake’, now a film shown at the Sydney Opera House in 2012 , Hazel writes fiction and fact for all ages.

  Co written’ f2m: the boy within’ and ‘Outback Ferals’ are amongst her other Y.A. novels. With her son, she co-wrote ‘Cycling Solo: Ireland to Istanbul’.

  Hot air ballooning, an Antarctic expedition and belly dancing are part of the participant observation research Hazel has tried. The hockey facts in ‘Fake ID’ are based on her family’s experiences. Her non-boring history workshops have indicated interest in family history mysteries across generations.

  Hazel’s adult non-fiction includes ‘Authorpreneurship;The Business of Creativity’ , ‘Writing a Non Boring Family History’ and ‘Difficult Personalities’.

  A reading ambassador, mentor for youth and with two grandsons for whom she writes a book each birthday, Hazel offers mentoring via web chats.

  Many of her e-books are available via her online bookstore.

  http://www.hazeledwards.com/shop and discussion notes are offered.

  * A Fake I.D. film script exists but has not been produced, yet.