Blacky had insisted on coming with us. As he put it, there was a greater chance of success if someone with brains was there. I’d be really glad to see the back of him.
‘What do we do now?’ I said when the flood out of the gates had become a trickle.
‘We walk in,’ said Dylan.
‘Maybe your mate isn’t as dumb as he looks,’ chipped in Blacky.
I was going to point out that that was impossible, but didn’t bother. My mouth had gone dry and I was nervous. No matter how much time I’d spent thinking about the problem during lessons, I couldn’t see any other way. We were going to have to steal God.
‘What?’ I said. ‘Just wander round the school until we find him?’
‘When we get close,’ said Blacky, ‘I’ll know where he is.
I can talk to him, remember? I’ll keep calling. He’ll answer eventually.’
I passed this on to Dylan.
‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘No reason to hang around.’
There wasn’t, but hanging around was just what I was in the mood for. Dylan, however, moved with purpose through the school gates, Blacky trotting at his heels. There was no choice. I followed them. Even though most of the students had gone home, we still met a few as we travelled across the yard. I kept expecting them to challenge us, but it was like we were invisible. Soon we found ourselves at the main entrance.
Rose’s school is a rambling place, but luckily there is only one main building. About six floors, mind you, but at least we knew that God would have to be there somewhere. We skirted the reception desk. Some old woman with hair that could scour a pan and a potato for a nose was talking on the phone. She didn’t glance up. So far so good.
There were doors and corridors and stairways everywhere. I had no idea where to start our search.
‘We’ll do the ground floor first and then take each storey in turn,’ said Dylan. His eyes were shining. This was action. Dylan came into his own where action was involved. I was happy for him to lead. Then I got an idea.
‘Hey, Blacky,’ I said. ‘What are we gonna do if someone spots us? I mean, me and Dylan are just kids and they might think we’re meeting a brother or sister or something. But they won’t be pleased to see a dog.’
Blacky stopped and sniffed at his bum.
‘Not a problem,’ he said. ‘I can smell people coming. And if we do run into someone, I am a master of disguise.’
I let this go. Master of disguise? I had a sudden image of the Principal coming round the corner and Blacky morphing himself into the Head of English. Or a filing cabinet. But the Principal didn’t appear. In fact, we saw no one at all on the ground floor, so we took the stairs up to the first floor. Some cleaners were working there and we had to hide in an alcove at the top of the stairs until they had gone into classrooms. Then we moved quickly along the corridor. Blacky, a few paces in the lead, stopped halfway along and cocked his head to one side.
‘What is it?’ I said.
‘He’s on the next level. Directly above us,’ he replied.
I was relieved and scared at the same time. Relieved that the search was nearing its end. Scared because I was now getting to the pointy end of the whole business.
‘Let’s do it,’ I said.
We found another flight of stairs and crept up them. Luck had been on our side so far. I was praying that would continue. When we got to the top it seemed it would. The corridor was deserted. Keeping hunched over below the classroom windows, just in case there were teachers in there, we moved as fast as we dared. Blacky’s nose was twitching and his short, stumpy tail was wagging. We were close.
Blacky trotted up to a closed classroom door and sniffed at the gap between door and floor. He turned his pink-rimmed eyes towards me.
‘In here,’ he said.
It was a Science classroom. A large sign said so. I supposed that wasn’t too surprising. It was unlikely, after all, that God would be in a Maths classroom. Or even a classroom for Religious Instruction. I moved towards the door.
This classroom was different from most of the others. There were no windows onto the corridor, for one thing, and the door itself was solid. This had advantages and disadvantages. Stealing God would be easier since no one could look in and spot us doing the foul deed. But there was no way we could tell if there was already someone in there. It probably wouldn’t matter, I told myself. The door was bound to be locked.
I tried the knob, fully expecting it not to turn. But the door opened. I stuck my head round. No one there. Just rows of benches with sinks and those weird gas tap things. There were posters on the walls and strange-looking devices in the corners. Boxes with glass fronts and control panels. On the far side of the room, against windows that looked over the rest of the school, was a long bench with glass tanks ranged along its surface. And right up the front of the classroom was a brand new one.
Blacky trotted immediately to the new tank, raised himself on his hind legs, propped his front on the side of the bench, and whined. Dylan and I followed. The tank had a sign on the front. I read it.
PYGMY BEARDED DRAGON, it said in big letters. And underneath was a whole load of information about its habits. A small map of Australia, with portions highlighted in red, showed where the dragon could be found in the wild. I didn’t pay it much attention. Beyond the sign, crouched in the corner behind a large rock, was God. He was perfectly still, head to one side, like he was listening to Blacky’s whining. I suppose he was. Dylan and I kept our faces up against the glass.
‘God thanks you,’ said Blacky. ‘He was beginning to think he would die in there. But no more time can be lost. We need to get him out, now.’
My hands trembled a little as I touched the lid on the top of the tank. I was so glad the mission was nearly over. But I was also scared by what I was doing. This was stealing and I had never stolen anything in my life. How could I do this?
‘He doesn’t belong to anyone other than himself,’ said Blacky. Either he was reading my thoughts or he was reading my face and trembling hands. ‘This isn’t theft. This is liberation.’
I guess he was right, but it still didn’t make me feel any better. My heart was beating fast. Maybe I should have got Dylan to do it. He, after all, has no fear. But I knew, like a cold certainty in my gut, that this was something I had to do myself. I had one hand on the glass handle when Blacky gave a low growl.
‘Someone’s coming,’ he said and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. I dropped my hand to my side and spun to face the door, just as it opened. There was no time to hide. Probably no point either.
We had been caught. Not exactly red-handed.
But definitely pink-handed.
The guy in the doorway wasn’t much bigger than me and his face was thin, like someone had whittled it with a sharp knife. My legs started shaking.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’
I tried to answer, but my brain had seized up. A low rumbling sound came from my throat, but that was it. His eyes hardened as he looked us over.
‘You are not students at this school,’ he added. ‘What are you doing here?’
His repetition of the question crushed my faint hope he’d forget to push the point. I looked around for inspiration and noted Blacky had gone. I checked out the classroom quickly, probably in a manner that looked really guilty. That’s okay. I was guilty. But there was no sign of him. Maybe he had adopted the disguise of a stool. Or a bell jar.
I tried to talk again, but the low rumbling was all I could manage. A thief and a moron. I was doing myself all sorts of favours.
‘Hi, my name is Dylan. Pleased to meet you.’
Dylan stepped forward and offered his hand to the teacher. The guy shook it, but you got the impression it was an automatic response. His eyes still looked suspicious.
‘Sorry we are in your classroom without permission,’ continued Dylan. ‘But we are here to meet Marcus’s sister, Rose. Oh, sorry. This is Marcus.’
‘Rose is in the school play,’ Dylan continued. ‘And we said we’d meet her at school after her rehearsal.’
My brain was starting to clear. Dylan often surprises me. Normally in very unpleasant ways. But not this time.
‘Rose Hill?’ said the teacher. ‘You’re Rose Hill’s brother?’
I nodded.
‘You look like her,’ he said and I resisted the urge to kick him in the nuts. I wasn’t in the right position to do it, no matter how bad the insult. ‘She’s one of my best students. A lovely girl.’
I was used to this. Everyone loves Rose. They won’t when they wake up one morning and find that green alien slime has taken over the world. No rays of sun shining from her bum then. Until that happens I have to keep the truth to myself. It’s a burden being Marcus Hill sometimes.
Actually, being Marcus Hill is always a burden.
‘But that still doesn’t explain what you are doing in my classroom. The rehearsal is in the Drama Studio on the ground floor.’
I opened my mouth, doubtless to rumble at him again, but Dylan was on a roll.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘She told us to come to the second floor. Probably a joke. You know what a kidder she is. Anyway, we were looking for her and we couldn’t help but notice the tanks in here. So we slipped in to have a peek. You have some magnificent specimens.’
Magnificent specimens? Where did Dylan drag that phrase from? He normally specialised in words with no more than four letters in them.
‘Aren’t they, though?’ said the teacher. He was smiling now. Dylan had clearly found his weak spot. ‘You like animals, then?’
‘Passionate about them,’ said Dylan.
Passionate?
‘Any one in particular?’
‘The pygmy bearded dragon. Wonderful creature.’
Creature?
‘Ah, yes,’ said the guy. ‘Just got him. Yesterday, as a matter of fact. Isn’t he great?’
‘Marvellous,’ said Dylan.
Marvellous?
The teacher bustled over to the tank, his suspicions apparently forgotten in his enthusiasm.
‘Fascinating reptiles,’ he said. ‘And this one is particularly interesting. You see the markings?’ I’d joined him at the tank, but I noticed Dylan hung back. ‘They are quite rare in a bearded dragon. I am hoping to mate him. But really, as with all the animals here, they are for my students. So they can observe their habits. I am a firm believer that students learn best by direct observation, by being hands-on with the care of animals. Don’t you agree?’
I rumbled in what I hoped would be interpreted as agreement.
‘Yes,’ he continued. ‘He’s the pride of my collection.’
‘You don’t think he looks a little … sick?’ I said. I was relieved that my voice had managed to turn up.
‘Not at all. Not at all. In fine fettle. Should live for ten years at least.’
I couldn’t begin to explain how I knew that God could measure his life span in days, rather than years. I didn’t try.
‘So you wouldn’t think of selling him?’ I said. It was a desperate question. But I was desperate.
‘Of course not. I only just bought him. Excuse me!’
Something out of the corner of his eye must have caught his attention. The teacher turned to where Dylan was fiddling with a roll of sticky tape. He had a mass of it wrapped around his hand and arm.
‘Can you stop messing with that?’ the Science teacher snapped. His voice had lost that friendly tone. ‘That is my sticky tape.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Dylan, trying to get the stuff off his hands. Finally, he managed to screw up the tangled strips and dropped them in the rubbish bin. ‘I can’t help myself.’ He grinned sheepishly and held up his arms. ‘I see sticky tape and I just have to play with it.’ This was true. I had seen him do it many times before. But it kind of destroyed the good impression he’d spent so much effort creating. The teacher frowned.
‘We’d better go,’ said Dylan. ‘We have taken up too much of your time already and we really need to find Rose.’
The guy didn’t argue. I glanced at the tank and then back to Dylan. This was my last hope. If I walked out of there I knew I had failed. This panicky feeling was lodged in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t just that I would have to face Blacky’s anger. I could deal with that. But I wasn’t sure I could deal with my own guilt, the sense I had been given a chance to do something good and had blown it. I was useless. Maybe I should just make a grab for God and do a runner. But I knew that wouldn’t work. I would have to get the lid off the tank, snatch God and get out of the door, then down two flights of stairs and out of the school. It was too much to hope that the teacher would be paralysed while I was doing all that.
‘Come on,’ said Dylan.
I went. But my shoulders sagged with the weight of failure. I had never felt worse in my entire life. I slunk along the deserted corridors, following Dyl. Blacky appeared on the first floor. I had no idea how he got out of the Science lab. He didn’t say anything, just trotted a few paces to my right. I almost wished he would say something. Maybe I would feel better if he just told me exactly what kind of a worthless human being I was. Not that I needed reminding.
Dylan said nothing either. He got outside the school gates and sat on a bench by a bus stop. I flopped next to him as he pulled out yet another can of cola and popped the ring-pull. Blacky jumped up next to me. I shrank from him a little. I thought it was entirely possible he was about to rip my throat out.
He didn’t. But he did lick my hand.
‘Why did you do that?’ I asked in my mind. ‘I have failed. God is going to die in there and it’s all my fault.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Blacky. ‘You tried. You did your best.’
‘My best wasn’t good enough.’
‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘But I can’t ask more of you than you do your best. God couldn’t ask more of you. I tell you, tosh. I thought you were a pathetic excuse for a human being, a sad loser, a dropkick, a drongo, a moron, a gutless wonder. But you’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.’
‘But the rest is right, huh?’ I said. ‘The loser, dropkick stuff.’
‘Pretty much,’ said Blacky. ‘But you’re a drongo with guts.’
For some reason, I thought this was as high as praise was likely to go. I nearly smiled. I would have smiled, but the thought of God in a small tank stopped it. I put my hand on Blacky’s head. When I took it off I still had all my fingers attached.
Maybe I’d miss him a little.
‘Thanks, Dylan,’ I said. ‘You were good in there, mate. Really good. Pity I couldn’t have matched you.’
‘No worries, Marc,’ he said. ‘When the chips are down the tough get going.’
I was almost relieved to see his language skills had returned to normal.
‘But that’s game over,’ I said. And just saying the words made me taste them. They felt dry and shrivelled on my tongue.
Dylan snorted.
‘Not yet, it isn’t,’ he said.
‘You don’t get it, Dylan. God has to be out of there tonight. If he isn’t, then Blacky won’t have time to get him back to his family. Even now, it would be touch-and-go. Freeing him tomorrow is no use. He’d die on the journey.’
‘I’m not talking about tomorrow,’ replied Dylan. ‘I’m talking about getting him tonight. I have a plan. Do you want to hear it?’
I did.
It was a surprising plan.
It didn’t involve a brick.
And it stood a chance of working.
Mum was in a frenzy.
I wouldn’t have minded that so much, but most of her frenzy was directed at me. She had ironed my best pants until I was in danger of cutting myself on
the creases. She had insisted on me wearing one of those shirts that feel as if they are made from plastic sheeting. And my shoes were so highly polished I’d blind motorists if I took them out in the sun. Then she combed my hair for me! I put up with all this only because I didn’t have a choice. But I was prepared to draw the line if she wanted to sprinkle talcum powder on my bum.
Dad wasn’t much better. He looked as if he was dressing for a dinner date with the Pope. Mum had her very best outfit on. It was scary. We looked like religious fundamentalists about to go door-knocking.
Then Rose got back from the final rehearsal.
She was wired.
Nervousness and excitement came off her in waves. She tried to eat something that Mum had saved for her – we had eaten earlier, so we’d all be ready on time – but couldn’t get more than a couple of mouthfuls down. I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
I still couldn’t get my up-close-and-personal experience with the toilet out of my mind.
Rose didn’t say anything on the journey to her school. I had to sit in the back of the car with her, of course. Normally, I wouldn’t look at her, particularly after a large meal. But she was muttering to herself, so I stole quick glances. She was going through the lines of the script, frowning in concentration. Maybe this wasn’t going to be too bad after all. Maybe, up there on stage, she’d freeze. Her mouth would open and close like a goldfish while she searched her small brain for her lines. Then everyone would see what I already knew. That Rose was a fake, a fraud, a loser.
But I didn’t think about all that very much. My mind was too focussed on Dylan’s plan.
We got there way early. Rose had to be backstage at least half an hour before curtain-up time and, given she was so hyper, it was closer to an hour that we had to wait. Rose hugged Mum and Dad at the entrance to the theatre.
‘Oh Mummy! Daddy!’ she wailed.
‘Break a leg, sweetie,’ said Mum.
Now that was more like it! Someone who thought like me about Rose. Then Mum saw my puzzled expression and explained that you couldn’t say ‘good luck’ to an actor since, apparently, that wouldn’t bring good luck. So you had to say ‘break a leg’ which would bring luck.
The Dog that Dumped on my Doona Page 7
