James Munkers

by Lindsey Little

  Oh. I didn’t think of it like that.

  ‘Well, the word “strange”, it doesn’t really –’

  ‘Enough,’ Michael snaps. ‘You can stand there telling us tales all night, James, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re irresponsible, disrespectful and a liar. Now go to your room.’

  Did he just send me to my room? How old does he think I am? I haven’t been sent to my room since… since…

  Suddenly I’m standing in a different house in front of a different father. James, go to your room! he yells at me. Go! NOW! And he yells on, words I can’t catch, that I don’t understand, but I know that if he keeps going he’ll disappear and I won’t be able to find him, no matter how hard I try.

  But he’ll never stop. He’s been yelling in my head for more than ten years.

  ‘STOP IT!’ I scream. ‘JUST STOP IT!’

  There’s a ringing silence, and for a dreadful moment I think I’ve lost another father, that he’s disappeared like the last one. Then my vision clears and I see him standing in front of me. I exhale in relief.

  He doesn’t look so happy.

  ‘Don’t you ever raise your voice to me!’ Michael shouts. ‘You’re grounded for a month, young man.’

  I stand there in the middle of the room, digesting this speech. For a few seconds I feel as guilty as he thinks I am. Then I remember what happened tonight – what I’ve seen, what I’ve been told – and resentment surges through me. I storm down the hallway without another word. Grounded for a month, huh? Well, let’s hope the world doesn’t need saving anytime soon, then.

  When I get to my room the door slams behind me without my even touching it, and the force of it makes me stumble down the steps onto the floor. Looking down, I see dark blue electricity playing around my fingers. It looks like anger brings this on as well as fear. Different colour, though. I lie down on my bed and try to breathe deeply, figuring I’d better calm down. The lightning’s just disappeared when there’s a soft knock on my door.

  ‘Go away,’ I call.

  The door opens anyway. It’s Claire. I should have known. Telling her to go away never works. She sits down at the top of the stairs looking worried but determined.

  ‘Is it drugs?’

  I almost choke on my own saliva. ‘Is it what?’ I say, appalled.

  ‘Mum thinks you’re hanging out with drug dealers,’ she says.

  ‘Where the hell did she get a stupid idea like that?’ I demand.

  She’s still looking at me seriously. ‘James, you’re hanging around at nights on school football fields, you’re staying out late, you’re meeting up with strange men in their cars, and you’re being totally evasive about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.’

  ‘You were listening to all that in there?’

  ‘Everyone was listening.’

  ‘Terrific.’

  ‘Look, I’m not going to run off and tell them if you are, you know,’ she says. ‘But are you?’

  ‘No,’ I say, my intelligence offended. ‘I, am, not, doing, drugs. Okay?’ I stare at her, eyes wide to prove my sincerity, then turn onto my back and stare up at the ceiling grumpily.

  She’s not done yet. ‘Are you gay?’ she asks next.

  I actually sit up for this one. ‘First I’m a user, and now I’m gay? How exactly does your mind work?’

  ‘Because there’s nothing wrong with it, if you are,’ she assures me.

  ‘I’m not!’

  ‘He’s a nice guy, is Jem. I like him a lot.’

  ‘You have a homosexual relationship with him, then.’ Okay, that didn’t make any sense. I’m far too tired.

  ‘I’m just trying to help,’ Claire says quietly.

  I sigh deeply, stand up and cross over to sit next to her. ‘Look,’ I say, ‘I’m not doing drugs, I’m not gay, and, no, I didn’t spend the night changing tyres.’

  ‘Well, that was obvious,’ she mutters.

  ‘Don’t interrupt.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  I sigh again. ‘Something’s going on, and I’m involved, and I don’t think I can get out of it.’ My head falls sideways onto the shoulder of my big sister, and I just want to fall asleep and wake up and be normal. ‘I’m scared, Claire,’ I say quietly.

  She’s silent for a moment. Her head falls sideways onto mine. ‘Can I help?’ she says at last.

  I shake my head.

  ‘Mum? Michael? Police?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a parents or police kind of thing,’ I say. ‘I’m not even sure I don’t want to be in on it. I think it might be important. Weird, but important.’

  ‘And scary?’

  I think about the dark figures on the field. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But you can’t tell me what it is?’

  I sit back up and look at her. ‘I don’t think so,’ I say. ‘Not yet. But I’ll probably need an ally sometime soon.’

  ‘And I’ll need an extra-large Christmas present this year,’ she says, standing and walking up the steps. She pauses in the doorway. ‘He was only yelling because he was scared for you,’ she says, and closes the door.

  I sit on the steps a while longer before I catch a glimpse of someone lurking in the back garden. I stomp over to the door and slide it open. ‘Can’t you leave me alone for ten minutes?’ I yell out into the night.

  ‘Do you want a protection shield up on your house or not?’ Pippa’s voice says, sounding amused.

  ‘Oh. Right, yes. Thank you. On you go.’

  ‘Go to bed, Jim,’ the voice says, floating out of the dark. ‘You’re safe tonight.’

  ‘Jim? Hey Jim?’

  That’s Winifred’s voice. I emerge from a beautifully deep sleep – my first in a week – and feel like a million. It might be because I have magic powers. How cool is that?

  I smile up at my sister. ‘Winnie. Good morning.’

  ‘Have you got my ballet shoes?’

  I grab her arm and pull her onto the bed for a cuddle. ‘Why would I want your ballet shoes?’ I ask her.

  ‘For posterity.’

  I laugh. Win’s always saying funny things. Win’s fantastic. Just look at all the beautiful sunshine streaming in through my window. I wonder if it was Pippa who fixed it. The window, not the sunshine. Can Guardians fix the weather?

  ‘Isn’t waking up wonderful?’ I say dreamily. It must be the almost dying last night that’s making me appreciate the simple joys of living this morning.

  ‘Sure. Until you can’t find your ballet shoes.’ Win disentangles herself from my arms and leaves to continue her search. I bounce out of bed and whistle my way to the shower.

  Washed and dressed, I enter the family area and hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Aha! Another sister. ‘Happy Friday, Claire,’ I greet her.

  ‘You have no right to look so darned chipper,’ she tells me sourly. ‘I was up half the night worrying about you.’

  ‘Yes, you are looking a little the worse for wear,’ I say, peering at the circles under her eyes. ‘Poor Claire. Tell you what, I’ll make you some breakfast, shall I?’

  Breakfast is the most important, exciting, stupendous meal of the day. I make her a big bowl of cornflakes, cinnamon toast and a big glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Only she says she just wants coffee, so I eat it all instead. Delicious.

  Mum and Michael appear halfway through the second course. Poor dears, they must have been so worried last night. I smile and bite hungrily into my toast to prove to them that I’m quite alright. They look terrified by this, then suspicious, particularly when the humming starts up. They probably think I’m off my face from whatever got sold to me last night, or the sugar on my toast isn’t actually sugar, but I really can’t help it. I’m just terribly, terribly happy this morning, and it’s even funnier that they think it’s all drug-induced.

  ‘I’m driving you to school this morning,’ Michael says quickly as I stand up and reach for my bag.

  ‘Hey, thanks, Dad,’ I say, picking up his car keys from
the kitchen counter and tossing them at him.

  ‘And you’re to come straight home after school,’ Mum says.

  ‘There’s no place I’d rather be,’ I assure her. ‘In fact, I was thinking I’d search out the Christmas decorations. It’s about time they were up, and we can do it all together, all seven of us. Family time is just so important, don’t you think?’

  She looks mortified. So does Garth. Oh, this is hilarious.

  The others are walking to school, so it’s just Michael and me, and I get to ride in the front. Apart from my drum-beating on the dashboard, it’s a silent trip, until Michael pulls up outside the school and I open the door to get out.

  ‘Hold up there, sport,’ Michael says.

  I shut the door and turn to him attentively. He doesn’t look angry, just worried and nervous.

  ‘Is it drugs?’ he says, trying to sound understanding.

  I smile. ‘Claire’s already had this conversation with me,’ I tell him.

  ‘Well now I’m having it,’ he says testily.

  I put my hand over my heart and look right into his eyes. ‘Dad, I am not buying, selling or taking drugs, or associating with anyone else who is. Oh, and I’m not gay either,’ I add. ‘Just in case you were wondering.’

  I leave him looking surprised and wander off to get educated. I meet Jem on the way. He doesn’t look too phased by last night either. ‘Grounded?’ he asks as I get nearer.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ he says. ‘I’ve got two weeks.’

  ‘I’m grounded for four,’ I counter. ‘I’m also a gay drug-addict.’

  Some girls passing us give me a strange look. I smile at them. Jem watches them go. ‘How long do you think it’s going to take that rumour to get round the school?’ he says.

  We hear Mr Grayson’s voice then, and turn to see him weaving between the students, offering them morning greetings. ‘Nice to see you back safe and sound,’ he says to us as he passes.

  ‘Thanks, it’s nice to be here,’ I reply politely.

  ‘Now what do you suppose that meant?’ Jem says once he’s out of earshot.

  ‘Well, I’d say that either he was watching me tackle a speeding football with my face last night, or he was watching me tackle a speeding dagger with my face last night.’

  ‘I know it was an interesting evening for you both,’ remarks Pippa Green as she falls into step with us, her long skirt swishing around her boots, ‘but I don’t think the rest of the school needs to know about it.’

  ‘Are you going to slap me again?’ I ask. ‘Why did you do that the other day, anyway?’

  ‘I was worried you’d say something about me hanging around your place at night.’

  ‘So how come you’re hanging with us now?’

  She shrugs. ‘It’s more feasible that I’m hanging out with you at school than that I’m stalking you in your back garden.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘And after you let loose with that protection shield last night, it was decided that we should keep a closer watch on you.’

  ‘Yeah, that protection spell was really cool, wasn’t it?’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘Yes, it’s tremendous that you announced your presence to the entire extra-dimensional population.’

  ‘Yeah, that bit was bad, but it looked awesome.’

  ‘Yeah, it looked awesome,’ Jem backs me up.

  ‘Well, no more experimenting, please,’ she says. ‘There could be Hoarders anywhere, and you don’t want to expose yourself by accident.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure I can help it when I do stuff,’ I say. ‘I seem to get angry or scared and it just… happens.’

  ‘Are you telling me you can’t control it?’ Pippa asks.

  I shrug. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘Fantastic.’ She bites her bottom lip as she thinks. ‘Fine, then, we’ll just move up your training schedule.’

  ‘What does that translate as?’ Jem asks.

  ‘We start magic control lessons,’ she informs us. ‘Tonight.’

  ‘Can’t,’ I say. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve come over all grounded.’

  We’ve reached the main corridor of the school by now. She stops, holding up everyone behind us. ‘Grounded?’

  ‘By my parents. For a month.’

  ‘James,’ she says sternly, ‘you’re a pivotal figure in a major prophecy. We’re talking about saving the whole world. This is no time for parental interference.’

  ‘Do you want to tell them that, or shall I?’

  She cocks her head for a moment, as the rest of the school streams around us. ‘We’ll see what we can come up with,’ she says at last.

  ‘I’d appreciate it.’

  She nods and turns on her heel.

  At the end of school she’s waiting for us at the bottom gate, sitting on the brick wall, but I almost don’t recognise her because she’s replaced her long skirt and boots for the checked skirt and black lace-up shoes that most of the other girls wear. She’s also got her hair in a high ponytail that swings about as she turns her head to us.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Jem asks.

  ‘I walk you both home.’

  ‘Genius.’

  She jumps off the wall and swings her bag onto her back. ‘I know.’

  We reach Jem’s house first. ‘James, you walk along ahead for a bit and wait for me around the corner,’ she instructs.

  ‘If you think it’ll help,’ I say, shrugging. I mosey on and mill around the place, picking small branches off the trees and using them to hit other bits of nature that are within my reach. Pippa comes round the bend a few minutes later looking satisfied, and we press on.

  ‘What did you do?’ I ask.

  ‘Just worked some magic,’ she says.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  We swing around back onto the main street, and come to my house about ten minutes later. We stop and look up at it, and I wonder what magic spell Pippa is casting on it. I look around to see what she’s doing, but she’s just standing around awkwardly, her ponytail swinging as she shuffles about. The point of her shoe is tracing things in the driveway, and I crane my neck to see if she’s writing a word or symbol, but it just looks like rubbish.

  She seems to be waiting for me to do something.

  ‘Um… I can’t invite you in, because of the whole grounded thing.’

  ‘Oh, no, that’s okay,’ she says quickly. ‘I, uh…’ She giggles nervously. ‘I should be getting back home anyway.’

  What’s with her? She’s just lost about a hundred years of maturity right before my eyes.

  ‘Are you alright? What about the magic?’

  ‘Well, you see…’ She takes a tentative step forward, and looks up into my face winsomely. I’ve never actually seen winsome before, but I’m sure that’s what it is.

  Then she leans forward and kisses me. It’s quite a lingering kiss, but undecorated by all those hands and hair and tongues that they put in the movies, like she’s not quite sure yet just how it’s done.

  And I’m certainly in no position to help her out.

  At last she detaches, and I’m left staring goggle-eyed at her, my lips still puckered slightly.

  ‘James,’ she says calmly.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Could you smile a bit? It’s for the magic spell.’

  I smile. Blankly, but it’s a smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I’ll come round for you at seven.’

  And she swishes off.

  Oh dear lord. She’s in love with me. She’s all overcome by my world-saving celebrity stardom and she’s gone and fallen in love with me. I haven’t the faintest idea what to do. Actually, I haven’t the faintest idea about anything. I stagger blindly across the driveway, through the front door, and into the living room.

  Peter and Mum are standing in the kitchen. They look around as I come in. Peter is looking amused, and Mum is looking relieved. Peter gives me the thumbs up, to which I smile mindlessl
y. Mum comes over and gives me a hug.

  ‘You stupid boy,’ she says. ‘You’re not grounded, but could you please be home by eight o’clock in future? Why didn’t you tell us?’

  I look at her in confusion. Did Pippa somehow explain the whole magical world-saving thing to everyone after all, and Mum’s so relieved that I’m not a drug addict that she’s willing to let me have a go at magic practice in the early evenings?

  ‘I saw you from upstairs,’ Peter explains. ‘Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to gatecrash your first kiss or anything.’

  ‘Unless you kissed her last night,’ Mum says. ‘Was that the first time you two have been out together?’

  Oh. Silly James.

  Chapter Nine: Lesson Number One

  It’s unbearable.

  Mum keeps looking at me adoringly, and when the others get home from school Garth crows and Claire looks appalled. Then, of course, Michael comes home, and he laughs and shakes my hand and ruffles my hair and laughs some more. What’s so bloody funny?

  He’s still laughing when the doorbell rings at seven. My hands are covered in soap suds, so he flings the tea towel he’s holding onto my shoulder and calls that he’ll get it. Mum is hovering around giggling and tittering and squeezing my arm. Oh, for crying out loud.

  Michael comes in, steering Pippa by the shoulders. ‘Look what I found on the doorstep,’ he cries.

  She’s actually looking quite pretty. Long skirt again, but not old-fashioned, nice top, a bit of subtle make-up. Mum hurries forward to offer her a permanent place in our family home, and Pippa laughs sweetly and smiles and says charming things and draws reindeer with Winifred. I mime throwing up into the sink. Pippa smiles shyly at me in response. Mum turns beaming, silently congratulating me on my find, before returning to her gushing.

  ‘Now I know why you said you were scared,’ Claire mutters.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I hiss. ‘It’s a cover-up, we’re not actually going out.’

  She looks uncertain. ‘Are you sure it’s worth all this?’

  We make a grand exit, with everyone following us out onto the driveway to wave us goodbye. Pippa’s told them that we’re walking over to see her sister, who she wants to introduce to me. All very respectable and plausible. Mum extends the curfew to nine-thirty.