Whippersnapper

by Felice Arena

  My father pulls up another chair and sits down beside my mother and me. We’re facing the unconscious me-body. Clara is standing on my mother’s lap, playing with her hair, but suddenly she stops and turns to me.

  ‘Gus!’ she calls out, looking directly at me. ‘Gus!’

  My mother laughs nervously. ‘No, sweetie, that’s not Gus,’ she says. ‘Gus is sleeping. See, that’s Gus, in bed.’

  But now Clara reaches out for me.

  ‘Gus!’ she repeats in her ridiculously cute baby way. ‘Gus! Gus! Gus!’

  My mouth is dry. Can my sister actually see that it’s me? Man, if only she were old enough to talk. Maybe she could convince my parents that she’s right.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ my mum says. ‘She obviously likes you.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ I feel like bawling again. I can’t control these tears. Quick, change the subject.

  ‘So, did anyone find out how the accident happened? Why the bus flipped over?’

  ‘You don’t know?’ my dad asks.

  I shake my head.

  ‘The police said the bus driver had been speeding down Albert Road and lost control when he came out of Hills Bend, but that’s not what caused the accident.’

  ‘No? Then what did?’ I ask.

  ‘Apparently there was a bike in the middle of the road – the bus driver swerved to miss it.’ My dad shakes his head. ‘The crazy thing is that it was Gus’s bike.’

  ‘Corey Barnes!’ I say angrily. ‘He stole the bike and I bet he left it in the middle of the road. This is all Corey’s fault.’

  My parents look shocked.

  ‘Yes, we know,’ Mum says. ‘Gus’s friends told the police what happened. But how do you know?’

  ‘Gus told me about it when we were on the bus,’ I say.

  ‘You certainly talked about a lot of things with my son,’ my mother adds, now staring at me suspiciously.

  ‘Well, I hope Corey is paying for it now,’ I answer quickly. ‘I hope the police have thrown his sorry butt in the slammer.’

  ‘They’re still investigating,’ says my dad. ‘Corey insists that he returned the bike to our place. Left it out on the front step.’

  ‘He’s SO lying,’ I snap. ‘He’s the master of faking it. Remember last season in that game at Winston High, when he faked being knocked off his feet, and I was fouled off and –’

  ‘What?’ my mother says, taken aback.

  Again! I’ve done it again!

  My dad looks shocked, and my mum doesn’t look happy. In fact, she now looks totally angry, and her voice is hard and direct. ‘Mr Cavendish, you seem to know an awful lot about my son, and to be honest I don’t believe that he told you all of this while you were on the bus. Why would he even mention a game from last season? And why do you keep saying things as if you’re him?’

  ‘Honey, please …’ my father says, trying to calm her down.

  ‘No, Jim!’ she says. ‘We’re grieving and I don’t know what game Mr Cavendish is playing here –’

  ‘I’m not playing any game,’ I say, but my mum cuts me off.

  ‘Look here, Mr Cavendish!’ She stands up and hands Clara to my dad. ‘I’m going to get a coffee, and when I get back I’d appreciate it if you were gone.’

  My mum grabs her purse, kisses my me-body on the forehead, and brushes past me.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say to my father. ‘I didn’t mean to upset her.’

  But he just hugs Clara tightly and looks away. ‘This is an excruciatingly tough time for all of us, and you more than anyone else should understand that,’ he says. ‘I see you’ve made some sort of connection with our son through this awful tragedy, but we’d like you to keep your distance now. We don’t need any distractions at this time. I hope you understand that.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I say.

  When I get up to leave, my father politely shakes my hand, as if I’m one of his clients at the accounting firm. I want to hug him, but I don’t.

  ‘Gus will get through this,’ I tell him.

  ‘I know he will. My son has a fighting spirit.’

  I stop and catch my breath. That’s it – spirit! That’s me. That’s what’s happened. My spirit or soul or whatever you call it, has left my body and has gone into George’s. His spirit really could be in my body, waiting to wake up.

  My head is throbbing. And spinning. My brain feels as if it’s about to implode. This is way too full-on for me to figure out. I suddenly feel really dizzy. I wobble and stumble. I want to throw up.

  ‘Mr Cavendish, are you okay?’ my father asks, quickly placing Clara on the ground and taking my arm as I start to keel over. ‘Nurse!’ he calls. ‘Nurse?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ I pant as my dad lowers me back down into the chair.

  As I turn to look at my me-body, just lying there, motionless, I realise something: the only thing I can do now is wait – wait until he comes out of his coma, and try to work out how to swap our spirits when he does.

  Woah! And I thought last week’s Maths class was tough.

  CHAPTER

  09

  Today I’m leaving the hospital. I’ve been here for three days. Dr Sing insisted that I needed to be under strict observation, which included having a couple of brain scans. It concerns him, and continues to scare the hell out of Doris, that I can’t remember anything about my life.

  When I’m alone with Doris, I often play the can-you-tell-me-oh-my-brain-hurts-and-I-can’t-remember card. It works, even though Dr Sing has told her that I don’t have any actual brain damage.

  I’ve already met George’s daughter, Gayle. She talks a lot and I find her kind of exhausting to be around. I’ve also met George’s granddaughter, Hannah. She’s eleven and she likes to make friendship bracelets. She doesn’t talk much – probably because she can’t get a word in because of her mother.

  I haven’t met George’s son-in-law, Kevin, and his other grandchild, CJ, yet. If I actually was George, I’d be pretty cheesed off about that. I mean, I was practically dead and I’ve come out of a coma and they haven’t bothered to come and see me. Plus, I could tell Gayle was embarrassed that they weren’t there. She said something about Kevin being busy at his high-powered law firm, probably suing someone’s butt off, but she didn’t even have an excuse for CJ. She just said, ‘You know how teenage boys can be.’

  ‘Yep, totally,’ I answer, pulling a face, but if my granddad were in hospital I’d go visit him. CJ must be a prize jerk.

  I’m so keen to ditch this joint, but Dr Sing makes a last-minute appearance.

  ‘George,’ he says, smiling. ‘Ready to leave?’

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ I say, gesturing to the nurse that I won’t be needing the wheelchair she’s brought in. ‘Um, any word on the boy?’ I ask.

  ‘George, I promise that we’ll call and let you know if he wakes up. Now, you just go home and enjoy the company of your beautiful wife and family.’

  I look up to see Doris, Gayle and Hannah waiting in the corridor for me. I sigh and walk towards them.

  ‘Goodbye, hospital!’ cries Gayle, as she drives us out of the parking lot. ‘Oh, Dad, I’m so happy! And I don’t usually let Hannah take a day off school, but she was too excited to go. I was telling my friend, Anthea – you remember Anthea, Dave’s wife? Not Dave Wilson, but Dave Shaw. He went to school with me. Anyhoo, Anthea said her father was in hospital for months, and once he got home, well, he was like a whole new man. I guess it must feel like prison after a while … well, not like prison exactly because …’

  Gayle’s voice begins to turn into one long drone. I wish she would just shut up. I wonder if Doris and Hannah are thinking the same thing. They’re listening silently in the back seat.

  I look out the window. We pass the swimming pool I go to. We pass the supermarket my mum shops at, and now we’re coming up to my school. The students are outside. I look at the clock on the dashboard. Of course, it’s lunchtime. I try to spot my friends. I look in the direction of the bike
racks. That’s where we always have lunch. My stomach sinks. They’re not there.

  Gayle turns right and my old life disappears behind us.

  ‘So I said to Anthea that perhaps there’s a lot to be said for…’

  Woah. Talk about motormouth! She must be stopped. Now!

  ‘Um, can I turn on the radio?’ I ask.

  ‘Sure,’ says Gayle. ‘Would you like me to find the Golden Oldies’ station? I know how much you love that. Or I’ve got one of my pre-sets on easy listening – which CJ and Hannah can’t stand – but you can’t get enough of Air Supply, I say. I like to be able to sing along with the melody, and not –’

  ‘Okay found it!’ I say, cutting her off, and tuning into my favourite station.

  Awesome. It’s Dante’s Page. And they’re playing ‘Dust to Dust’. I turn up the volume.

  ‘Dad, are you sure this is the station you want?’ Gayle asks, now almost shouting over the most awesome guitar riff ever.

  I nod my head to the crash of each drumbeat.

  ‘Please, George,’ squeaks Doris from the back seat. ‘I can’t hear myself think.’

  George’s annoying daughter turns down the volume.

  ‘Dad, what’s gotten into you?’ she asks.

  I don’t answer. Something catches my attention outside. I gasp and cough up some of the phlegm that keeps building up in the back of my throat – being old is seriously revolting.

  I see people filing out from a church. A coffin is being rolled into the back of a black hearse. Is that Bobby and Charlie? It is Bobby and Charlie! And my team, too!

  Of course! Today must be Coach Anderson’s funeral.

  ‘STOP THE CAR!’

  It takes a good five minutes to convince Doris and Gayle that I need to get out of the car. I remember George telling me that he and Coach Anderson’s father, Henry, were good friends. I use this as ammunition.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I say. ‘I want to be there for Henry.’

  ‘I know you do,’ Doris says. ‘But your health comes first …’

  I turn and look her straight in the eye and say something I’ve said to my parents hundreds of times. ‘Stop treating me like a little kid, Doris,’ I say.

  She pauses and then nods. ‘Well, okay then, you stubborn old goat. But I’m coming with you.’

  Doris and I slowly approach the mourners. They’re all either hugging one another or hiding their tears behind dark shades. I make a beeline for my friends, but I’m stopped before I reach them.

  ‘George, I can’t believe you came.’ It’s Henry. He hugs me, being careful not to touch my stitches or bruises. ‘With what’s happened to you this week, my old buddy, I’m touched that you’re here,’ he adds.

  My eyes are still focused on Charlie and Bobby. ‘How could I stay away,’ I say, hoping that’s the type of thing George might say.

  ‘You’re a good man, George,’ Henry adds. ‘Bernie and I came to see you at the hospital the other day, but you were sleeping. We didn’t want to wake you. You know Bernie was very distressed about your accident – we both thought we were going to lose our best mate. You’re just missed him, by the way. He was feeling poorly, so he’s gone home.’

  ‘That’s okay, I’ll catch him sometime later,’ I say, nodding, but not having the faintest idea who Bernie is.

  ‘Well, if you’re up for it, we could get together for our usual on Sunday. It would be a nice diversion for us all – we’ve been through a lot.’

  I nod, and Doris steps forward to hug Henry. This might be my only chance to see my friends. I can’t wait to speak to them.

  I push through the crowd and make my way over to them. They’re huddled together, away from everyone else. They look awkward and out of place, but I suppose no one looks comfortable at a funeral.

  ‘Dad!’ Gayle cries out and cuts me off. ‘Where are you going?’

  Behind her, my friends are now leaving! Half of them are jumping into Mr Jackson’s car and the other half are catching a ride with Mrs Swinton.

  ‘Dad,’ says Gayle. ‘Dad? Henry just asked Mum if you wanted to go to the cemetery and I said I don’t mind taking you and –’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ I snap, realising that’s where my friends are going. ‘Yes, I want to go to the cemetery – to Coach Anderson’s burial.’

  CHAPTER

  10

  ‘So, Dad, even though the circumstances were so sad, it must’ve been nice seeing Henry,’ Gayle says, as we cruise at a snail’s pace behind a long line of cars heading to the cemetery.

  I wriggle in my seat, trying desperately to spot my friends in the cars ahead of us. Aha! I see them! They’re about three cars in front.

  ‘Dad?’ Gayle says. ‘Henry? Nice to see him, right? And I bet you’re sorry you missed seeing Bernie.’

  I shrug. What does she want me to say?

  ‘George, you do remember your friends, don’t you?’ Doris asks softly, leaning forward from the backseat.

  I see Gayle take her eyes off the road for moment. Her look says, ‘This is so sad, he really has lost most of his memory.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble. ‘My head hurts. Please tell me. I know Henry. Sort of. But who’s Bernie?’

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ Gayle sighs. ‘Don’t worry. Just take it one day at a time. I was saying to my friend Mary only last week that…’

  Oh, no, another story! ‘So Henry and Bernie,’ I say. ‘What part do they play in my life?’

  Doris patiently explains to me that Henry and Bernie are George’s lifelong friends. They went through primary school, high school, and even university together – that’s like a gazillion years side by side. And every Sunday afternoon they get together to play cards.

  But apparently George is closest to Bernie – Bernie Franklin.

  ‘Franklin?’ I say. ‘Our principal is Mr Franklin.’

  ‘Your principal?’ says Gayle.

  ‘I mean the principal at Pennsbury High School. Any relation?’

  ‘Yes! Bernie is Tony Franklin’s father,’ says Doris. ‘You see! A little patience is all it takes. And your memory is slowly coming back.’

  ‘We’re here,’ Gayle says, pulling into the cemetery.

  I’m about to ask more about Bernie, but I start choking on my own phlegm when I see someone I know hopping out of a car in front of us.

  ‘Lilly!’ I cry.

  ‘Who?’ asks Gayle.

  ‘Chilly! I said. I’m chilly.’

  As Gayle and Doris talk over the top of each other about whether or not I should get out without a coat, my eyes are firmly fixed on the girl of my dreams. I have to say hello to her. Maybe she hasn’t stopped thinking of me since the moment we locked eyes. Maybe she’s been crushed since she heard I was in an accident. I wonder if she’s come to see me – my body, that is – in hospital?

  ‘Lilly!’ I call out, hopping out of the car and shuffling as fast as I can towards her. ‘Hey, Lilly!’

  ‘George!’

  ‘Dad!’

  Doris and Gayle are shouting after me.

  Lilly looks at me, confused. Who is this creepy old man?

  ‘Hi,’ I say nervously. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Um, fine, thanks,’ she says suspiciously. ‘Do I know you?’

  Okay. Maybe I should’ve thought this through. Lilly’s parents are staring at me. Doris, Gayle and Hannah are also totally freaking out.

  ‘Um, no, not exactly.’ I cough. ‘Um, you’re Gus’s friend, right?’ I want to say ‘future girlfriend’, but that would be weird.

  ‘Who?’ she asks.

  ‘Gus,’ I repeat, thinking she’s misheard me, but she just shrugs.

  She’s got to be kidding. ‘You must remember Gus,’ I say. ‘Incredibly good-looking? Super-intelligent guy? You spoke to him at Coach Anderson’s house?’ She still looks blank. ‘He plays basketball for Pennsbury High,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Lilly finally nods. ‘I’ve seen him play, but I don’t really know him. Isn’t he in a coma or someth
ing?’

  I stumble for an answer. This can’t be happening. ‘He spoke to me about you,’ I say, ‘before the accident.’

  ‘He did?’ She pulls a face as if to say, ‘That’s weird … why would he do that when he’d just met me – especially to some random old dude?’

  I feel completely crushed. Meeting Lilly was the best moment of my life, and she can hardly even remember it. I look at her – George must be really creeping her out right now. I have to wind this up. ‘Forget it,’ I say.

  Lilly runs off to join her parents. Wow. Look at her go. She can’t get away from me quick enough.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Gayle asks.

  ‘Um, the boy in the bus with me, that was … that was the girl of his dreams. Thought I’d say hello.’

  Suddenly Doris’s face lights up. She’s smiling, but looks as if she’s going to cry at the same time. Even Gayle is pulling a goofy expression.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ Gayle sighs, as we shuffle in behind a stream of mourners walking to Coach Anderson’s gravesite. ‘Girl of your dreams. That’s what you call Mum all the time. It’s what you called her when you first met.’

  Huh. How random is that? I glance at Doris. She smiles at me and takes my hand.

  ‘Then, of course, there’s the poem,’ Gayle adds. ‘The girl-of-my-dreams poem you wrote for Mum, all those years ago.’

  ‘Do you remember the poem?’ asks Doris, squeezing my hand tightly.

  I look at Doris. For a moment she doesn’t look like an old woman. She looks like Clara, hoping I’ll say the right thing. This time I lie. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

  ‘Of course I do. It’s our poem,’ I say, as we reach the gravesite.

  CHAPTER

  11

  There’s a priest, Caroline Anderson, Lilly and her parents, my friends and teammates, and another hundred or so mourners all gathered around a hole in the ground – Coach Anderson was a popular guy. I spot Principal Franklin in the crowd.

  I catch Charlie’s eye and give him a nod. He looks over his shoulder. He thinks I’m saying hi to someone else.