by Oisin McGann
‘Hold the chair steady,’ he whispered and climbed up onto the seat.
That was easy for him to say. While he tried to clamber up onto the back of the chair, I leaned all my weight on it to hold it still. I thought I should remind him about the dangers of messing with electricity.
‘If you get electrocuted,’ I asked him, ‘can I have your CD player?’
‘No,’ he retorted.
Wayne was able to hoist himself just high enough to open up the fuse box, but he couldn’t reach inside. Holding onto the door ledge with one hand, he lifted himself up like a monkey, so that his feet were dangling above the chair. I had to admit, when my little brother wanted something, he really went for it. I wished I could be more like that.
Reaching in with his other hand, he fumbled around for the key. I watched, amazed, as he held on just long enough to grab the key before he dropped back onto the seat and fell off, tumbling against the pots’ cupboard with a crash. We both froze, listening for any sound upstairs … but only the mewing of whales and the warbling of panpipe music drifted down. Mum did not come out. Wayne picked himself off the floor and I moved the chair away from the door. He unlocked the door and opened it. There, standing in the middle of the garage, was the motorbike.
Wayne looked at me with a big silly smile on his face.
Seizing the bike keys from the drawer in the workbench, he rushed across to it, and climbed onto the saddle. It was up on its stand, leaning on its back wheel, but when he jumped on it, it tilted forwards onto the front wheel. Wayne wanted to start it up and watch the back wheel spin round. This was just the most exciting thing ever for him. You can see why he’s such an embarrassment. And we go to the same school.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m switching it on. I want you to kick-start it.’
‘No way,’ I retorted. ‘That thing’ll take my leg off.’
‘Don’t be stupid!’ he hissed. ‘And you promised, remember?’
He couldn’t kick-start it himself, because he was only eight, and he was short even for an eight-year-old. So his stunted little legs could not reach the foot-rests. He had to stay up on the saddle to keep the bike leaning forward, so the back wheel stayed off the ground.
‘The sooner you get proper-sized legs, the better,’ I muttered.
Even with fantastic-looking hair there was only so much I could take of Wayne bossing me around. I leaned against the saddle, lifted my foot and stamped down on the kick-start pedal. It gave a grunt and I jumped away in fright.
‘Harder!’ he snapped. ‘Give it some welly!’
I was going to answer him back, but I just put all my anger into my foot instead, and whacked it down on the kick-starter. The engine boomed into life, sounding really loud in our small garage. Wayne gave a whoop, and I winced, hoping Mum wouldn’t hear all the noise. He twisted the handle, revving the engine, looking out the window of the door to the back garden, pretending he was out on the road. Smoke poured out of the exhaust, and I had to go and open the wide back door to let some air in. I walked back to watch the rear wheel whizz around. Wayne actually made engine sounds himself, while the real one roared beneath him. He’s that stupid.
After about ten seconds of this, I was bored. The adventure was over, and I wanted to go and hang out with Kelly. Over the noise of the engine, I thought I heard someone talking behind me. I looked round, but there was nobody there. The fringe of my hair fell across my eyes, and I brushed it aside.
I was walking around the back of the bike towards the kitchen, when my hair suddenly fell in front of my eyes again. I tripped on a toolbox lying on the floor and fell headlong towards the spinning motorbike wheel. I caught the back of the bike just before I got a zooming tyre full in the face. But as I leaned against the bike, it hopped forward on its stand, the back wheel touched the ground, and the whole thing took off like a bat out of hell – with my little runt of a brother on the back of it.
It tore out the door, wobbled across the garden, before ploughing along a flowerbed and crashing into the bushes against the back wall. I only discovered all this after I had taken my hands down from my eyes. There was no way I could watch.
I ran out the door, and for a second, I thought Wayne must be dead. My face seemed to twist up all on its own, and I started to ball my eyes out. I mean, he was a pain, and everything, but he was my brother – the only one I had (unless Mum and Dad came up with a new one) and …
He was alive! I stopped and stood there, feeling sick and cold, but really relieved. The bike looked in bad shape, and Wayne looked worse, crawling out of the bushes, trembling in shock. He was scratched all over, and I bet he was going to be really bruised. But he was alive, and he was walking. Well, crawling anyway.
The garden was totalled. Mum was serious about her garden; she won competitions at the flower show. She wouldn’t be winning anything this year.
‘What was that noise?’ Mum called from the bathroom window.
Wayne and I glanced at each other, knowing that we only had seconds before Mum reached the back door. In a fit of blind panic, I sprinted out to the front garden, and down the street.
I hid in the park for the hour it was going to take Mum to regain her sanity. Wayne was in real trouble … and I would be too if she found out. I hoped he wasn’t badly hurt. Please, I thought, please let him be all right. I’d heard about how people could hit their heads and be fine for days and then they’d suddenly fall over dead. I’d never forgive myself if that happened. I felt really guilty about messing things up – if only my hair hadn’t fallen in front of my eyes like that. I sniffed back some tears as I imagined facing Mum. She’d be angry at the fact that we had crashed the motorbike, but angrier that I hadn’t owned up. I sat and watched the ducks, and waited it out.
4
It’s So Bad, Wayne Is Reading
It was late in the morning when I finally risked going home. The house was very quiet. I slipped in the back door and crept upstairs to Wayne’s room. There was no sound from inside, so I opened the door and looked in. Wayne sat on the edge of his bed, staring at where his television had been. So that had been his punishment. Mum had taken away his TV. There are worse punishments, but I couldn’t think of any just then to make him feel better. He couldn’t play his games now, either. A quick peek into my room told me all my most treasured possessions were present and correct. So Wayne hadn’t told on me. That made me feel even worse. I went back to his room and leaned up against the door.
‘Hi,’ I whispered.
He glanced up at me but didn’t say a word. I could tell by his eyes that he’d been crying.
‘I guess you didn’t tell Mum about me then,’ I added. ‘Thanks for that.’
He still didn’t answer.
‘I’m really sorry, Wayne.’
But he was not listening. He turned away and picked up a book, which was a sure sign that he wanted to do anything else but talk to me. He had some plasters on his face and arms, and there were a few bruises starting to show up here and there. I tried to see if his head was damaged in any way.
‘What are you looking at?’ he demanded, sullenly.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘Then get out of my room.’
So, he seemed perfectly normal then. I left and closed the door. Trotting down the stairs, I decided I had to tell Mum that I had helped Wayne. But first I had to talk it out with Kelly. She always has the best ideas about how to own up to parents.
‘Mum, I’m going out!’ I yelled.
‘Don’t shout! Where are you going?’ she called back.
‘Kelly’s, I’ll be back later.’
‘Take a coat. It’s going to rain.’
I sighed and pulled my coat from the coat rack. Then I ran out and headed down the street to Kelly’s house. There was so much we had to talk about.
When the door opened, I put my hands to my cheeks and screamed. Kelly had got her hair done as well. We hugged each other and ran upstairs to her room.
‘Did you get
yours done in the same place?’ I asked.
‘Oh no, my usual hairdresser did it,’ she said. ‘She’s good at stuff like that.’
When she said that, I could feel my head start to itch. I scratched it and wondered if I had nits. Kelly was talking to me, but I had to keep brushing my hair away from my ears, because I couldn’t hear what she was saying. It was as if my hair was trying to stop me listening.
‘… So then she said that everyone was getting it done. Mel!’ Kelly prodded me. ‘Listen! I’m telling you about my stylist. Now, she said …’
But I could barely hear her. I gasped in disgust.
‘Kel, have you got a hairpin?’
‘What? Oh, sure … hang on.’ She dug into one of her drawers.
Her room was a complete mess, but then it always is. There were clothes and dolls and all sorts of things all over the floor (even makeup, which Mum wouldn’t let me wear). It was amazing she could ever find anything. But eventually she dug out a hairpin and handed it to me. I pulled my hair back over my left ear and tried to pin it back. But I couldn’t get the hairpin in.
‘Here, let me do it,’ Kelly said, taking the pin from my hand.
She got in close and was trying to put the hairpin in when somehow our hair got tangled.
‘Ow!’ I said. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m not doing anything! Stop pulling! You’re hurting!’ she replied.
‘I’m not pulling! What are you talking about?’
She screamed and pushed me away, but it was like my hair was gripping on to hers – neither of us could get away. Our heads were pulled back and forth while we fought to get free. Kelly started to panic. She was shouting really loudly and I was worried her mum was going to come in. I tried to get her to be quiet so I could untangle us, but she was too upset. I grabbed the strands of hair and started to pull them apart, bit by bit until we fell away from each other, too tired to speak.
‘That …’ she panted after a while, ‘was really mean.’
‘But I didn’t do anything!’ I cried.
‘You’re just mad because I’ve got the same hair as you,’ Kelly sobbed.
‘I’m not, Kel, honestly. I don’t know what happened. It’s like my hair was doing it all on its own. It was like it was alive or something.’
‘Now you’re making fun of me. I think you’d better go home,’ she said.
I was going to argue, but I could feel myself starting to cry again. This was turning into the worst day of my life. Picking up my coat, I left.
5
I Am So Dead When Mum Catches Me
My whole body shook, I was sobbing so hard as I walked away from Kelly’s house. I couldn’t believe it. How could Kelly think I’d attacked her? How could she think that? It was … it was just crazy. She was my best friend in the whole world (or she used to be – she’d probably never talk to me again after this). I’d never do anything to hurt her – at least not on purpose. What was going on with my hair? How could something so beautiful be causing so much trouble? I was starting to think I was jinxed. It was so unfair.
I was walking up the road past the WitchCraft salon, when I saw a girl about my age come out the door. She had the WitchCraft hairdo as well and she was coming towards me. As we passed each other, her fringe ruffled as if it was blowing in the wind and then mine did too.
But there was no wind. It was as if our hairdos had waved to each other.
I pulled up my hood and ran the rest of the way home.
Mum was in the kitchen when I got in, reading one of her magazines and drinking a spring water. The bike was still sitting out in the garden, because neither Wayne nor Mum could lift it. The garden was in a state. I was about to head upstairs when I remembered Wayne. I hung up my coat and walked into the kitchen.
‘Hello honey,’ she said without looking up. ‘How was Kelly?’
‘Okay, except I don’t think we’re friends any more,’ I replied.
She raised her head and put down the magazine. I knew she was looking at my red, cried-out eyes.
‘Why not? Have you two had a fight?’ she asked, tenderly.
‘Sort of, yeah.’
‘Well, don’t worry. You’ll make up. You always do. It’s not like you’ve never had a fight before.’
‘There’s something I have to tell you, Mum. It’s about Wayne and the motorbike.’ I bit my lip.
Mum closed the magazine and folded her arms.
‘Yes?’
‘I helped Wayne, y’know, start it up. You just didn’t see me ’cause I ran away after it went through the garden.’
‘I see,’ she said, her voice all cold and hard, the way it is when she’s trying not to be angry. ‘Well, at least you’re being honest about it. You’d better go to your room. Your dad will be home soon and we’ll deal with all this then. And look in on your brother. I don’t think he’s been himself since I took his telly away. He was actually reading a book last time I checked in on him.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
Wayne was still reading. He glanced up when I opened his door, and then shoved his face back into the book.
‘Hi. I … eh. I told Mum I … helped you,’ I mumbled.
He didn’t say anything.
‘Are you okay? What’s the book?’
‘It’s about witches and sorcerers,’ he hissed. ‘It’s a story about how a boy is cursed with a sister who’s stupid and gets him in trouble, but doesn’t get in any herself. The sister gets eaten by giant rats in the end.’
‘It doesn’t sound very nice,’ I said.
‘Life isn’t nice. Life is hard and then you die,’ he replied in a dark voice.
Now I was definitely worried about him. He was starting to sound like a heavy metal song.
I stayed in my room until Dad got home. I lay on my bed, feeling depressed and scratching my head, which was feeling itchy again. I really hoped he wouldn’t be too mad. I didn’t know if I could take it. When I heard his keys in the front door, I covered my head with the pillow.
He nearly went through the roof when he found out what had happened.
Mum tried to break it to him softly, but that was difficult with his pride and joy lying in a heap against the garden wall. He was pretty angry when he saw the bike, I know that. But I think the fact that we could have been hurt really made him explode. He and Mum always get angry when Wayne or I do dangerous things. Maybe because it scares them.
Wayne and I got shouted at for nearly ten full minutes. Then Mum and Dad calmed down and talked about how much they worried about us. That was even worse, because even though they were the ones who’d been doing all the yelling, it made us feel like we’d really hurt them. After that, things went very quiet, and Wayne and I crept back up to our rooms until dinner was ready.
Mum tried to make conversation over dinner, but nobody wanted to talk. Dad chewed every piece of his food for a very long time, a sure sign that he was absolutely furious. In the end, Wayne and I were to have our televisions taken away for a month. Wayne could not play his console games and I was not allowed use the phone.
I nearly cried there and then at the thought of being away from the phone for a month. They had only started letting me use it that year, but now it would be hard to do without it. I went to bed feeling miserable and ashamed.
Just as I started to fall asleep that evening, I could swear I heard a soft, niggling voice in my ear. It was only barely loud enough to hear and I wasn’t sure. It was as if my hair was whispering something to me, but … no. It was all in my head. I was just upset. I fell asleep and forgot about it.
***
I heard Mum calling my name. I was asleep, or at least I was waking up and I could hear her calling out …
‘Melanie! MELANIE! What on earth are you doing?’ she cried.
I woke up and found that I was standing up. I was standing up and I was in Mum and Dad’s room. It must have been late, because it was dark and Mum and Dad were in bed. The cupboard door was open beside me. I frowned
and was going to ask Mum what was going on when I realized I was holding something. In my right hand was a pair of scissors … and in my left was one of Mum’s dresses. The dress was almost cut in half. On the floor at my feet was a pile of Mum’s clothes, already cut into pieces.
Mum’s face had gone a colour I had never seen before.
I wailed and threw the scissors away, running out of the room. I tore down the landing and into my room, slamming the door behind me. I cried in big, heavy sobs. It was my hair. I was sure of it now. It was cursed. It was alive or something. I don’t know what, but it was evil whatever it was. They’d never believe that, though. They’d think I’d gone mad. I wasn’t sure what they did with mad children, but they were bound to lock me up and they would probably give me injections like we all got from the school nurse one year. I hated injections. And even if they locked me up, the evil hairdo would still be with me. If it could make me do things in my sleep, who knew what else it could do? I was going to have to get rid of it somehow.
‘Melanie!’ Mum knocked hard on the door. ‘Open this door at once! You have some explaining to do, young lady.’
‘It wasn’t me, Mum!’ I sobbed. ‘I wasn’t even awake! My hair made me do it!’
That definitely made me sound mad. I was going to have to be more careful than that or I was going to end up in one of those hospitals with the high walls.
‘I was having a bad dream, Mum! I must have been sleepwalking.’ I kept my back to the door while I tried to make up something that an adult would believe. It was tough. Grown-ups don’t believe in much. Mum pushed the door and I moved away from it. She stood in the doorway and stared at me.
