Whippersnapper

by Felice Arena

  But then I see …

  Annie! What’s she doing here?

  Annie is looking down at her iPod. She has two pairs of headphones attached – one for her and one for me, well, for my body. For a moment, Caroline and I stand there watching her. I smile as I realise she’s humming along to a Dante’s Page song. I look at her honey-blonde, straight hair and her button nose. She’s actually seriously pretty. How did I never notice that before?

  ‘Hello?’ I say, quietly, hoping not to startle her.

  ‘Oh!’ She spins around, her face blushing. She takes her earphones out. ‘It’s you … What are you doing here?’ She sounds nervous.

  ‘I’ve just been to see my doctor,’ I lie. ‘And we just happened to be walking past.’ I introduce her to Caroline, who grabs a chair and sits in close to my body, trying to make contact with George’s spirit.

  ‘So, do you come to visit Gus often?’ I ask.

  Annie nods, looking back at Caroline, obviously wondering what she’s up to. ‘I like visiting,’ she says, blushing again. ‘He is my neighbour.’

  ‘And you play him music?’

  ‘Yes. I heard somewhere that people in comas can still hear us. I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but I thought it might help Gus to hear his favourite songs …’

  She looks up at me with these amazing greenish-blue eyes, then looks back at my body. I’m lying there hooked up to a machine, all stitched up and bruised, but she smiles at me as if I’m the best thing ever. It takes my breath away – seriously. For a moment I literally can’t breathe.

  Then Caroline taps me on the arm and shakes her head. Obviously she can’t make contact with George.

  ‘Well, look, we better leave you to it,’ I say. ‘You take care, Annie.’

  Whoa! I can hardly get the words out, my heart is pumping faster than when I’m running out a full-court press.

  CHAPTER

  20

  ‘I’m sorry, Gus,’ Caroline says, as we make our way back down to the main entrance. ‘You can’t force the spirits to talk if they can’t or don’t want to.’

  I let out a frustrated sigh.

  ‘But I did sense he was in there. Let’s hope your team wins the championship, because I’m pretty sure that old soul’s not budging until you do.’

  Caroline offers to drive me home, but I think I need some time to think. As she leaves, I turn and catch sight of two boys riding their bikes across the hospital parking lot. It’s Bobby and Charlie.

  ‘Hey!’ I call out, as they chain up their bikes.

  ‘Hi!’ says Charlie.

  Bobby nods reluctantly.

  ‘That was awesome, last night,’ I say. ‘Bring on the semi-final!’

  ‘Yeah, we can’t believe it.’ Charlie smiles.

  ‘And, Bobby … that last shot was sweet!’

  But Bobby just shrugs. ‘Yeah, whatever,’ he says.

  It doesn’t take a genius to see that Bobby is super suspicious of me. He’s giving me his best don’t-mess-with-me look.

  ‘Thanks for giving Mr Franklin all those tips last night,’ says Charlie. ‘It really helped us. It’s like you know all our strengths and weaknesses.’

  ‘No probs,’ I say. ‘But you’ve all gotta crank it up a notch. You have to win the semi-final, and then the big one …’ It’s weird, but my heart is starting to feel like it’s speeding up again, and I’m taking great big gasps of air. ‘Yeah, you have to win the championships,’ I say between breaths. ‘You can’t lose, you just can’t! Am I getting through to you?’

  I realise I’m starting to freak out a little. I think I’m having a panic attack. Maybe it’s all too much at once – finding out about walk-ins, seeing my own body, running into Annie and now my friends … Or maybe it’s my crappy old heart giving up on me. I start to panic even more, but then I remember George saying that he was fine, that he wasn’t going to die anytime soon. I hope he’s right.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ gasp for air. ‘Please just promise me you’ll win tomorrow night’s semi-final. Just promise me that! Because Gus’s life depends on it.’

  Bobby grabs Charlie’s sleeve and starts to pull him away. I can’t take this any longer. I’ve got to tell them.

  ‘Can’t you see, Charlie? Can’t you tell that it’s me in here? It’s Gus,’ I say.

  ‘Why are you saying this?’ he asks, somewhere between disappointment and disbelief.

  ‘It’s true, Charlie. I know it’s the freakin’ weirdest thing ever, but you gotta believe me. It’s true.’

  Bobby glares at me. ‘Just ignore him, Charlie. My mum was right. He’s crazy. He’s just a demented old man who thinks he’s Gus. Mrs Delfino told my mum all about you,’ he says. ‘She reckons we should keep away from you. And she’s right! Come on, Charlie, let’s go.’

  Charlie hangs on a sad look before joining Bobby.

  I sit down on the ground, feeling sick and exhausted and dizzy … and totally frustated, too. I can’t believe my friends won’t even try to see it’s me.

  ‘Well, does your mum know that it was you that scratched your dad’s new car with your bike a couple of months back?’ I call out after them. ‘And who else knows that when Charlie stayed at my place last year he had that bed-wetting problem?’

  My friends stop dead in their tracks. At least I’ve got their attention. They slowly turn around – their faces are pale.

  ‘How, um, how do you know that?’ Charlie stutters.

  ‘I know everything about us, Charlie. We’re best friends. I know that Bobby likes to sing with his mum on Singstar. Um, what’s his favourite, again? Ah, yeah, that’s right, “Islands in the Stream”. And, Charlie, that gross-looking pimple-like thing on your left big toe – the thing you think is some weird alien growth. It’s not! It’s just a wart! And you really should get it zapped off.’

  Okay, I have now officially freaked out my friends. And Bobby has had enough. ‘You’re crazier than I thought,’ he snaps. ‘This is some sick, twisted trick –’

  ‘This is no trick! I’m telling you the truth. You’ve got to believe me. If you just let me explain for one moment, then you’ll understand…’ But they’re walking away and soon I’m talking to myself.

  If this was a movie, Charlie and Bobby would’ve believed me. If this was a movie, they would’ve helped me. But it’s not a movie, this is for real, and I’m not sure what’s coming next.

  To pull myself together I duck into a juice bar and order a large super-sized pineapple, watermelon and strawberry to go.

  ‘Juice for Gus! Gus?’ the girl behind the counter calls out.

  It’s so good to hear someone calling my name. ‘Yep! That’s me! You better believe it!’ I say defiantly, only to get a ‘yeah okay whatever’ look from the girl.

  I head out onto the street, looking in the shop windows, loudly sucking from my juice cup. I know I’m stalling. I know Doris will be worried that I’m not home yet, but for this moment I just want to be me – to have a break from being George.

  The next shop window catches my eye – sneakers. Awesome sneakers. Vans. Nike. Tiger. Converse. Yep, all the hottest brands, all calling out to me.

  I look down at myself – I’m wearing greyish-brown slacks, a plain white shirt, a mossy-green woolly cardigan that’s two sizes too big for me, and a pair of black shoes that look like they were ripped off a school traffic lady.

  I suck on the remains of the juice and wish I had the money to buy some new clothes. Then it hits me – I do! Doris gave me George’s wallet this morning with some cash in it. But when I opened up my wallet there were a couple of credit cards in there, too. Okay, they’re technically not mine, but if I’m George to everyone else, well, I kind of owe it to myself to get something that will make me feel better about it. Right? Right!

  Besides, that shop is calling me – begging me to go in.

  Epic! My new special-edition retro Air Jordans are totally awesome! Next stop, the coolest clothes stor
e on the planet.

  ‘Um, can I help you, sir?’ asks the shop assistant, who looks as if he’s one of the models from the ultra-cool black-and-white pictures on the wall and in the catalogue.

  The music is thumping and the entire store is reverberating to hip-hop.

  ‘Yeah, where are your hoodies?’ I ask, nodding my head along to the music. ‘And what new tees have you got in stock? Also, I want a pair of jeans – vintage skinnys!’

  ‘Are these gifts, sir?’ asks the assistant. ‘For your grandson? What size is he?’

  ‘The gifts are for me,’ I say. ‘So drop the interrogation and hook me up.’

  Before I know it, I’m back on the street, decked out in my new gear. And to top it off, I’ve picked up some Ray Bans.

  Now I feel more like, well… me. A pretty cool version of me. I get a few stares. But what’s it to them? Feeling this good makes me decide to ditch the idea of getting a taxi and walk home instead.

  ‘Hey, old man, mean kicks!’

  I turn to see three dudes in their late teens following me.

  ‘Hey, Gramps! We’re talkin’ to ya!’

  I pick up my pace. I’m hobbling as fast as I can, because, well … if Hollywood were casting for three of the ugliest, toughest and meanest-looking thugs, then these guys would win hands down. They make Corey and his mates look like angels.

  But it’s no use. They chase me and within minutes they have me surrounded. Yep, I feel a mugging coming on. This isn’t good.

  I try to push my way past them, but surprise surprise they won’t let me.

  ‘Old man, what’s with the merchandise?’ says the shortest. Despite his height, he’s obviously the ringleader.

  I shrug. ‘Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to get home, okay?’

  I step back as one of them snatches my Ray Bans off my face.

  ‘We’re not looking for trouble, Gramps. Just give us your Jordans and you’re free to go.’

  ‘No!’ I gulp. What am I doing? Why did I say that? My brain is screaming, ‘Give him the damn shoes.’ But I can’t, even though this loser could probably put me back in hospital with just a flick of his pinkie finger. If I give them up, it would be like going back to being George again.

  ‘What did you say?’ snarls the ringleader, giving me the death stare. His two buddies are smirking behind him. I can practically see steam coming out of their ears. He’s clenching his fist. Oh, boy, this is it. I’m going to die …

  CHAPTER

  21

  ‘DAD?’

  Huh?

  ‘Dad, is that you?’ I turn towards the sound of Gayle’s screeching voice. She pulls the car up at the curb. ‘You boys leave him alone – I’m calling the police right now.’

  The thugs bolt.

  I can’t believe it! Talk about showing up in the nick of time. I hop in the passenger seat and Gayle pulls out, back into the traffic. This is the second time I’ve been saved by a girl, I think, annoyed.

  ‘Dad, what were you thinking?’ she asks. ‘Walking home in this neighborhood? And why are you wearing those clothes?’

  I’m silent. I’m in no mood to talk. It’s hard to keep pretending to be George, especially after a day like today.

  ‘Dad, please say something,’ Gayle presses. ‘Are you in shock? Do you want me to take you to the doctor? Dad, you’re starting to worry me.’

  ‘I’m fine!’ I snap.

  Gayle is hurt. She has the same expression on her face as when Kevin barks at her. Besides, I’m lucky she’s still talking to me after I got into a fight with her son and her husband last night.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say softly. ‘I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Thanks for helping me back there.’

  Gayle gives a half-smile. ‘I’m confused, Dad,’ she says. ‘Mum told me you were with Henry, and suddenly I find you here wearing these strange clothes.’

  I shrug it off and say I went shopping for something different, something more modern.

  ‘Well, I can understand that – your cardigans are getting a little tattered. But maybe not something quite so young-looking.’ She giggles. ‘Maybe we can go shopping together for something more for your… your generation? CJ would love what you’ve got on for himself.’

  ‘Well, I’m not giving it to him!’ I realise that I sound whiney, like a little kid.

  ‘Um, I wasn’t suggesting you should,’ says Gayle, taken aback.

  There’s silence for the next couple of minutes as we drive through the streets of Yardbridge.

  ‘Dad?’ Gayle’s voice sounds nervous. My stomach sinks. I can tell she’s going to ask me about last night – why I was so hard on Corey. But anything I say is just going to upset her. I mean, what can I say? ‘No offence, but your son is a bully’?

  ‘Has CJ done something wrong?’ she asks. ‘Aside from stealing that boy’s bike, that is?’

  She looks so sad that I really can’t put the boot in like I want to. ‘Look,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, Gayle. It’s just that, well, Corey, I mean CJ, is … and well, Kevin…’

  I catch Gayle wiping away a tear.

  ‘Hey? What’s wrong?’ I ask as she pulls into George’s street. ‘Are you crying?’

  ‘Oh, sorry, Dad – it’s unfair of me to go on like this, especially with your condition.’ She sniffs, biting her bottom lip. ‘But Kevin and I are going through a rough patch and I sometimes wonder if we’ll make it through. I just wish we could be like you and Mum – fifty happy years together …’

  ‘Woah, fifty years?’ I say. ‘Really?’

  Gayle pulls up in front of the house.

  ‘Dad, you do remember it’s your wedding anniversary next Saturday? We have a huge party planned.’

  ‘Um, yeah, of course,’ I lie. Then something occurs to me. ‘Gayle, what did you mean by “especially with my condition”?’

  At first I think she means the memory loss, but Gayle pulls a face and I realise that she’s accidentally let slip a huge secret. ‘It’s nothing,’ she says. ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Gayle,’ I say in my most fatherly voice. ‘I want you to be honest. There’s something you’re not telling me. And I want to know what it is.’

  Gayle begins to cry all out now. ‘Oh, Dad,’ she sobs. ‘I shouldn’t say anything. Mum should tell you, but she wants you to live a normal life without the worry …’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I snap. ‘What should I be worried about?’

  Gayle finally cracks. She tells me that while George was in Emergency after the accident, the doctors discovered that there was something wrong with his heart.

  ‘It’s damage to the heart muscle,’ Gayle sniffs in between sobs. ‘At your age, there’s nothing the doctors can do about it.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding?’ I gulp. ‘Well, how long do I have?’

  ‘They couldn’t really say – you could have days, weeks or months, but they didn’t say years. Mum doesn’t want you to know, because she doesn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really sorry.’

  Gayle leans in and hugs me tightly. She’s sobbing on my shoulder and all I can do is shake my head – the breathlessness and the weird, fast heartbeat. It all makes sense. What happens when this body drops dead? I wonder. Where do I go if George won’t or can’t leave mine?

  The rest of the evening turns out to be seriously full-on. Doris is in tears for most of it, after Gayle tells her that I know about my dodgy heart. It’s all too much for me to handle and I turn on the TV and watch an NBA game instead. Watching Kobe Bryant and LeBron James go head to head always calms me down.

  ‘Here, I made this for you,’ says Doris, handing me a hot chocolate. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,’ she says for the hundredth time.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say, and before Doris can apologise again, I change the subject. ‘What’s that?’ I ask, pointing at the book under her arm.

  ‘It’s our wedding album. Gayle said she’s going to display some o
f the pictures at our anniversary party. She also wants some of the albums from when we were kids. Here take this, I’ll go get them.’

  Doris leaves me to flick through the black-and-white pictures of their wedding. Doris looks beautiful, just like the picture on the wall. And George looks so young. It’s hard to believe its the same people.

  Doris returns with the other albums. We look through them together.

  ‘Who are these boys?’ I ask, pointing at a picture of a couple of guys about my age holding fishing rods.

  ‘You don’t know? Oh, George. That’s you on the left. And that’s Henry and –’

  ‘That’s Henry? Woah! Look at how skinny he is!’

  ‘And that’s Bernie, of course. You’ll see him tomorrow.’

  Looking at these images makes me think of Charlie and Bobby. I wonder how we’ll look, half a century later. I wonder if we’ll still be friends. I stare at the faded photograph. George and his friends were just like us.

  ‘And don’t look now,’ says Doris, turning the page. ‘But you’ve always liked this one.’

  ‘That’s you!’ The picture is of Doris as a young woman on a beach, splashing in the waves. She looks so happy.

  ‘You must remember that day.’ Doris smiles. ‘It was our second date. We could’ve stayed there forever. You know how much I love the sea, the waves. Oh, and that’s when you recited your poem to me.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the poem …’ I pretend to sigh knowingly.

  ‘Yes, George, the poem.’ She looks at me as if she wants me to recite it to her now. ‘It was so simple, but so beautiful.’

  ‘Ah, yes …’ I continue to nod – I have no clue.

  ‘I knew then,’ adds Doris, ‘that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life.’

  The phone suddenly rings. Phew! Doris reaches over and answers it. She hands it to me.

  ‘It’s a woman,’ she whispers. ‘She wants to talk to you.’

  ‘George Cavendish?’ snaps the familiar voice on the other end of the line. ‘This is Jenny Delfino. Gus’s mum.’ My mother’s surprise call wasn’t just any call. It was a warning: ‘If you visit my son again, I’ll have no choice but to call the police. Do I make myself clear, Mr Cavendish?’