Always Jack

by Susanne Gervay

  We check out Hector, then my ponto. Leo looks interested before he sets up his computer games. I notice a photo of Leo and his mum on his screen. Guess he loves his mum. I end up working on my new fungus experiment. Leo doesn’t talk, but we both look up when Samantha and Nanna arrive with chocolate-chip cookies for Hector. ‘Hector’s not allowed so many cookies, Nanna.’

  She giggles. ‘Just a little treat.’ Nanna sprinkles a few broken-up ones in Hector’s bowl. Hector loves Nanna. Then she and Samantha head off to give some choc-chip crumbs to the mice. I give up.

  Suddenly Rob’s head appears in the doorway. ‘Are you boys right?’ Leo keeps playing his games. The car scene this morning flashes into my mind. Why is Leo’s mum so angry? It’s not Rob’s fault. It’s not Leo’s fault either. I feel bad. I’m going to force myself to be Leo’s friend, whether Leo likes it or not.

  ‘Pack your things away. We’ve got work to do. A barbecue.’

  I like barbecues. Last week, Rob and I set up the barbecue area next to the sunflower patch. It’s so good having our own backyard. I give Leo a tour of the shed and show him his bench and the metal locker. Rob’s put Leo’s surfing gear there. Leo’s looking a bit happier. ‘No one will touch your stuff here. It’s your space.’ Then I remember Samantha. She could ‘borrow’ something. No, I won’t say anything to Leo. He’s got enough problems.

  It’s teamwork. Everyone pitches in bringing out the blue-checked tablecloth, plates and knives, glasses, sausages and steaks, salads, salt and pepper, tomato sauce. Christopher will be over soon with bread rolls. His mother is coming which is really rare. His parents hardly ever leave their bakery. Christopher works there most afternoons as well.

  Leo’s helping Rob get the barbecue going. It’s sizzling when Rob throws sausages onto the hotplate. I yell out, ‘Hey, Rob, how do you know sausages don’t like being fried?’ Ha, ha. Rob doesn’t know. ‘Because they spit.’

  ‘That’s smart, Jack.’ Rob grins.

  ‘Yep, that’s me. Smart.’

  I grab my camera and click Mum rocking around, Nanna eating cookies, Leo flipping sausages. The Napolis arrive and I click some shots of Mrs Napoli waving her arms in the air. ‘The banana cake you sent us was very beautiful.’ She hugs Mum, who loves compliments. I click so many photos of Anna that she starts laughing, so I take some more.

  Christopher and his mum arrive. He’s holding up a ball. We’ll play handball this afternoon. Anna quickly says hello, before she and Samantha check out the mice. Someone needs to clean their cage soon. They always smell.

  ‘Come and get it,’ Rob calls out. Leo’s sticking pretty close to him, and I want to hang out with Christopher for now. Mum makes sure everyone has plates, ready for the feast.

  I squirt tomato sauce over the sausages and take some bread rolls, then Christopher and I head toward the back porch where Nanna is sitting. ‘Here’s a sausage, Nanna.’ She loves sausages. She doesn’t like steak because it’s too hard to eat and her teeth slip out. Straight away a big blob of sauce plops onto her blouse. That’s Nanna. Her wrinkles crease into a smile. ‘Your grandad would have loved this.’ I wish Grandad was here. When we visit him next time in the cemetery, I’ll take my ponto and show him. ‘Where are your grandparents?’ Nanna asks Christopher.

  I’ve never thought about Christopher having grandparents. He just goes to school with me, and there’s his mum and dad, and he’s my mate. (I know Anna has grandparents who live in Italy. The Napolis are planning to visit them next year.)

  Christopher takes his handball out of his pocket and squeezes it. I don’t think he’s going to answer. ‘I remember my grandmother. My dad’s mother. She lived with us but died when I was little.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Christopher.’ Nanna gives a toothy sigh. ‘And what about your other grandparents?’

  ‘They never got out of Vietnam. Soldiers from the north took them away. No one knows what happened to them.’

  Nanna reaches out her knobbly hand to Christopher. ‘Jack’s grandfather fought in Vietnam.’ I’ve seen Grandad’s medals but I don’t really know what happened. ‘What’s your Vietnamese first name, Christopher?’

  What first name? Christopher is one of my best friends — I know his name.

  ‘An.’ Christopher looks really uncomfortable. ‘It means Peace.’

  How did Nanna know? How come Christopher never told me? He speaks Vietnamese but never talks about Vietnam. I know he’s clever at school and wants to be an engineer and he plays great handball. I didn’t know he had another name called Peace.

  Samantha and Anna run over with more sausages and rolls. Everyone is too full: even I can’t eat another sausage. Mrs Napoli pours her home-made grape juice into cups and then she says the boring, annoying, dumb word. ‘Wedding.’ Mum’s face lights up and there’s a girl huddle with Mrs Napoli, Nanna, Samantha, Anna and Mum and they start. ‘What about the dresses for the wedding?’

  Christopher and I give each other the look. We’re going to play handball.

  I turn around and see Leo. ‘Do you want to play, Leo?’ He looks at Rob and then they both walk over. The side wall of the garage is just right for handball.

  Christopher wins two sets and I win two sets. Leo wins one set. ‘We’re pretty good.’ I pummel Christopher’s back. I’m chasing him when his mother calls out that they’re going back to the bakery. When we stop, I whisper in his ear. ‘Are you going to tell me? We’re mates, aren’t we?’ Christopher shrugs, but he knows I’m talking about Vietnam and his name.

  ‘Later.’ He races toward his mother.

  I’m going to ask Nanna about Grandad and Vietnam later too. The Napolis are leaving as well. Mum packs left-over salads and cake for them. Anna waves, but we’ll see her tomorrow because she’s coming to the beach with us. Rob calls out that he and Leo are walking to the shops to buy milk. ‘We’re short of milk,’ Rob says, but it’s a lie. We’ve got enough milk. I get a shooting pain in my head. Then I look at Mum and Samantha and Nanna. I’m all right.

  * * *

  Sunday morning. Rob walks in with a determined look. He checks the thermometer. ‘Perfect weather, not too cool and not too hot.’ He takes out the juicer squisher and six oranges. Glasses are lined up on the kitchen bench. Breakfast is quick with cereal, toast and orange juice. Surf’s up and we don’t want to waste time.

  Leo’s ready with his board. I’ve got mine. Samantha has hers. Nanna stands there in her faded yellow beach dress with her yellow sunhat. ‘Your grandad loved this dress.’ She brushes out the creases. Nanna talks a lot about Grandad. We’re visiting Grandad at his grave soon.

  Mum whirls into the room with her yellow sunhat, holding one for Samantha. Nanna loves the sunhats especially since she bought them at Susie’s Super Discount Store. Nanna always says she’s so clever to have found them. ‘The best bargain in the shop.’ Photo opportunity. I snap hats and girls. It’s going to be a great shot. We could walk to the beach, but Nanna can’t make it that far, so we pile into Rob’s car. Anna’s waiting in front of Napolis’ Super Delicioso Fruitologist Market with Mr Napoli. Leo and I start laughing. Guess what? She’s wearing her yellow sunhat, bought by Nanna. Everyone’s laughing. Nanna knows she’s the star and gives a huge toothy grin.

  The waves are rolling in. I’m hanging out to get into the surf but I have to help Mum move Nanna out of the car. Hurry up, Nanna. Hurry up. We organise a fold-up chair for her and the sun umbrella. It takes forever. At last Nanna saves me. ‘Go have a swim. Stop fussing.’ I love Nanna. ‘I’ll enjoy the beach and watching you.’

  Great, we’re off. The water is just right. Leo and I head for the waves. Rob follows with Samantha and Anna. Mum stays with Nanna. We wait for a set of waves, then paddle like mad. I get a big one. Leo catches the next wave. It’s only a boogie board, but Leo’s good. Suddenly he’s half-kneeling on his board. Half-drop. I’ve been trying to do that move for ages. Leo spins the board before riding a small shore-break tube. The waves crash over him as he does a turn. Anna
calls out, ‘Leo, you’re terrific.’

  ‘Terrific?’ I stand on my hands in the surf with my legs in the air. Anna splashes away from Leo to me. Samantha splashes behind her. As I stand up, Anna laughs and her eyes sparkle. Her wet black curls dangle over her ears and my face feels hot. ‘Hey, what kind of hair do oceans have?’ Anna shakes her head. ‘Wavy. Ha, ha.’ I’m a funny guy.

  ‘Not funny,’ Samantha squeaks.

  ‘What’s small, wet and noisy?’ I grab Samantha’s toe. ‘Samantha.’ The waves roll in and we’re off before Samantha can stick her tongue out.

  I can’t believe that it’s already time to leave. We have to be home in time for Leo’s mother to pick him up. As we drive home, Leo is quiet. Rob says, ‘You can stay whenever you want, Leo.’ That’s not really true. Rob knows it’s not true. There’s school and arguments between Rob and Leo’s mother and Leo lives too far away. ‘I’ll come up when I can.’ Rob knows he can’t get away that much. ‘You’ll be here for the wedding. It’s soon.’ That’s true.

  We drop off Anna. Home, unpacking, showers, Leo’s ready just in time. There’s a loud car horn beeping. It’s his mother. I’m standing with everyone on the front porch. We watch Rob and Leo walk toward the car. Leo’s holding his computer games. We wave at him. He quickly opens the back door. He doesn’t even give a short wave. Leo looks at Rob through the open car window. I can just hear him say, ‘Bye, Dad.’

  Chapter 5

  Left-Over Sausages

  Dinner is left-over sausages and salad. Rob’s not speaking and Mum’s not bouncing around. Puss is in Nanna’s lap and Samantha is patting her.

  Leo looked really miserable in the back seat of the car. He’s probably halfway to Port by now. Suddenly I feel rotten. I’m going to take my tools off Leo’s workbench in the workshop. Then I get an idea. ‘Rob, in the next school holidays can we go on a surfing trip up north? We can get Leo and camp in the National Park.’ I glance at Mum. ‘After the wedding.’

  ‘After the wedding,’ she brushes Rob’s hand, ‘we’ll make time for Leo.’

  Rob leaves the clean dishes to drip-dry, and nudges me. ‘Coming, Jack? Got to put away the rest of the barbecue things and all that.’ We head off to the workshop.

  I shove the gas cylinder under the bench. Rob puts Leo’s boogie board in his locker. He’s just standing there looking nowhere. ‘You’re a good kid, Jack.’ Rob never says things like that. He stays frozen for ages. ‘Leo’s a good kid.’

  I get this pang in my head. I’m not a good kid. Leo isn’t a good kid. I’m an all right kid. Leo’s an all right kid. He’s not my best friend, like Christopher. I watch Rob wipe down the workbench. I like Rob here. I like Mum and Rob at home. Leo’s mother jumps into my thoughts. She was so angry and Leo’s stepfather drives like a maniac and shouts. I don’t like it when Mum and Rob go out at night. When Rob comes home late. What if there’s an accident? What if they’re killed in a car crash? I’d have to look after Nanna and Samantha and I’ve got no dad. I shake my head. This is dumb. Nothing will happen to Rob or Mum, but if it did … Nothing will happen.

  ‘I need to see more of Leo.’ Rob checks the thermometer in the workshop. ‘Parents can make a mess for you kids.’ He flicks my head. ‘We have to get haircuts before the wedding.’

  * * *

  Monday morning Rob goes early to work as usual. Mum’s in the kitchen making school lunches before she leaves for the library. I give Hector a pat, pack my bag, check out my ponto. It’s got another green shoot. I quickly write that down in my scientific notebook and take a photo. Need the bathroom. ‘Samantha, get out of there.’ I bang on the door. I can hear the hairdryer. She’s doing her hair. She’s always doing her hair. I bang on the door.

  Mum calls out, ‘Stop that, Jack.’

  ‘Samantha is so slow,’ I shout back.

  Mum doesn’t answer, but Nanna is shuffling along the hallway. Oh no, I’ve got to get into the bathroom before Nanna. She takes forever.

  Samantha comes out just in time, with her pony-tail bobbing. ‘Hey, Samantha. What did the pony say when Jack grabbed her tail?’

  Samantha scrunches up her nose. ‘What, Jack?’

  ‘That’s the end of you.’ I look at her. ‘You get it? The end, the tail.’ She giggles. I quickly pull her pony-tail and race into the bathroom. I am so funny.

  Today Nanna is walking with us to the school bus stop. She’s on an assignment. Christopher’s parents’ bakery is right next to the bus stop and she needs to buy some cream buns for our after-school ‘treat’. That’s what she always calls our buns. She’s buying some hot doughnuts for her morning-tea ‘treat’ too. She’s dropping into Napolis’ Super Delicioso Fruitologist Market as well, to get some bananas.

  Nanna has finally accepted that she’s wobbly. She knows that she has to use her walking stick when she goes outside though she still sneaks out without it when no one’s looking. She doesn’t catch the bus any more. It’s too dangerous because she can fall. The good part of this is that Nanna can’t get to Susie’s Super Discount Store in the shopping centre — she only shops down the road these days. So she can’t buy any more fluorescent purple underpants. Nanna’s bargains are good and bad. I love her buying cream buns, but I don’t love her buying purple underpants even if they are cheap and amazing.

  Christopher and Anna are waiting for us at the bus stop. I take a ball out of my pocket and wave it at them. We’re playing at lunchtime. Christopher and our mate Paul have been practising but Anna’s sometimes better than they are. I’d never tell them. Nanna waits for us to get on the bus, then leans on her walking stick and trundles toward the bakery.

  On the bus Samantha and Anna sit in the girl group. George Hamel and his mates are hanging out at the back of the bus. It seems ages ago when he used to bully me. He doesn’t any more. If I see a kid being bullied on the bus, my friends and I hang around the kid. Bullies always pick on kids when they’re alone or can’t defend themselves. I’ve been there and it wrecks your life. I’m not scared of George Hamel any more.

  The bus driver screams when he sees an apple core whiz down the aisle. ‘Who did that?’ He’s looking around as we clamber off the bus. He grabs a kid by the collar and grumbles that he’s going to report him to the principal.

  Christopher and I are laughing when we get into our classroom. Mr Angelou gives us a sit-down-and-keep-quiet stare. Anna passes a note across the aisle. I just see it before Mr Angelou grabs the paper, looks at it, then throws it in the bin. Anna has sketched her flower-girl dress for the wedding. She’s gone red. ‘Sorry, Mr Angelou.’

  The wedding’s a month away. Wish it was over and done with already. Rob and I aren’t allowed to see Mum’s wedding dress, although Samantha, Anna and Nanna have. At least I didn’t have to go shopping for it. I couldn’t stand another day hanging around dress shops. It’s so boring. Anna’s coming over this afternoon to discuss more stuff about the wedding with Samantha. What else can they discuss? Anna also wants to visit Frank.

  Mr Angelou writes on the board. ‘Immigration.’ It’s our topic area for the term, and he’s describing our major project today. ‘I want you to select places that matter to you. Maybe where your family came from, or your ancestors. Or the focus could be on Australia and the first European settlers or New Zealand’s Maoris or the Sioux Native Americans — or people from any part of the world. The project will involve research, history, interviews. You can include photos and posters.’ Mr Angelou’s bald head shines except for the tufts of hair out the sides. ‘You’ll work by yourselves or in pairs.’

  Anna’s chocolate-drop eyes sparkle as she puts her hand up to say she’d like to do Italy. Wish I had my camera. ‘We’ll do Vietnam,’ I call out, elbowing Christopher.

  Mr Angelou’s head shines. ‘That’s a great choice, Anna. You too, Jack and Christopher.’ Other kids choose Ireland, Greece, Afghanistan, Thailand, Lebanon, Hungary, England, China, Sudan, Israel, the Outback. I didn’t know kids from my class came from so many places.
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  ‘We’re beginning the project today. I’ve organised books in the library, computers and information to help you get started. You’ll work on it at home as well as in class sessions.’ Mr Angelou hands out worksheets with all the activities, then helps a few kids who can’t decide what they want to do. Christopher and I scramble up the stairs to the library. I’m panting as we race each other to the desk by the window. We leave our stuff there and go to the shelves. We find a great book, The History of the Vietnam War. I open up at the first page: it’s a map of Vietnam, divided into North and South. ‘Where’s your family come from, Christopher?’

  ‘The South. A village near Saigon.’

  I flip to a chapter on Saigon: photos with thousands of bicycles and motorbikes and people in long-sleeved tops and flapping trousers, wearing pointed bamboo hats. The description says that the buildings are French with arches and stonework. There are bamboo shutters and washing hanging out over the old stone balconies. A crinkled man with eyes like Christopher’s is bending forward with his hands pressed together. A soldier is bowing with his hands pressed together too. It feels sad. Christopher doesn’t say a word.

  I flip to pages about the countryside. There are photos of mountains, jungle, rivers, villagers in huts, soldiers in uniforms with machine guns, burnt-out trees and planes in the skies. Then I turn the page and there is a photo of a girl. She’s running down a dirt road with soldiers behind her and kids in front, screaming with their mouths wide open. Pulitzer Prize photograph by Nick Ut of nine-year-old girl Phan Thi Kim Phuc fleeing from her village of Trang Bang, June 8, 1972. She’s naked and burning. It’s hard to look at the photo. I read the word Napalm.

  Mr Angelou is leaning over our shoulders. Christopher is leaning over his hands. Mr Angelou speaks quietly. ‘Write what you need to, Christopher. And Jack, this is why it’s an important thing to be a photographer.’