Dreamrider Page 3

  Some kids stared at me and whispered behind their hands. They didn’t laugh out loud, but only because the teacher was strict and glared at anyone who made a noise. That suited me. English was next and that was okay as well. The teacher was friendly enough, but without much control over the class. A couple of the boys made snide comments, but she either didn’t hear or decided to ignore them. Again, that was fine. Anything to avoid trouble.

  At recess I wandered out to the oval. Leah had offered to meet me but I’d said I would be fine. I didn’t want her to feel obliged. She’d want to spend time with her friends, after all. Anyway, I needed to explore by myself. I had to find my place and I could only do that alone. I always found a niche, at every school. Somewhere that felt right, where I could be by myself. It’s difficult to describe, but I always knew it when I found it. In our new house, for example, it wasn’t my bedroom, it was the steps outside the laundry. It felt good there. Quiet. I knew there would be a place like that somewhere in the school grounds. It was just a case of finding it.

  I skirted groups of kids littering the oval and ignored their stares. There was a tree away from the main area and I headed towards it. It was a hot day and I needed shade. Most of the other trees already had groups of kids under them. I sat under my tree and faced the oval. I didn’t want it to seem like I was staring at anyone.

  I opened my lunch bag and found the treat Mary had packed. It was a big slab of chocolate cake, already starting to melt in the heat. I picked up a piece and it crumbled in my fingers. I had a chunk almost to my mouth when I stopped. I thought of Leah. She liked cake. Maybe it would be nice to save it for her. Then again, she might think I was hitting on her. It was a problem.

  A shadow fell across my feet. I looked up. The shadow belonged to a boy. His eyes were brown. And hard.

  ‘This place is out of bounds,’ he said.

  ‘Is it?’ I said. ‘I didn’t know. I’m new.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. You think I wouldn’t have noticed you before? You’re a little difficult to miss, mate.’ He squatted down next to me. ‘You like cake, eh?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Figures,’ he said. ‘So how many of those do you have a day? I mean, to get to your size, you must get through, what . . . five or six?’

  I didn’t say anything, but I looked around for differences. It’s instinctive. I couldn’t see any, though. The boy sighed.

  ‘Listen, mate. When I ask a question, you answer. Is that clear?’ His voice was calm, as if explaining something simple to someone of limited intelligence. There wasn’t any anger or aggression in it. And that scared me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued. ‘You must eat plenty. Do you know what I think?’

  I didn’t know if that was a question I was supposed to answer, but he carried on without pause.

  ‘I think I would be doing you a favour if I took it off you. You know, one less cake a day. You might lose some weight. That would help, wouldn’t it? Like, I’m your local weight watchers. What do you think?’

  ‘You can have it,’ I said. I held out the cake. He seemed disgusted.

  ‘I don’t want to eat it,’ he said. ‘Not after it’s been in your fingers. Have you never learned elementary hygiene, my fat friend? No, this is what I want to do with it.’

  He took the cake from me and smashed it into my face, rubbing it around my nose and up into my eyes, forcing it into my hair. I kept still.

  ‘Look at me,’ he said.

  I scraped cake away from my eyes. He was still squatting and his face was a blank. There wasn’t any sign of enjoyment or the adrenalin rush I’d normally see. He wiped crumbs from his fingers onto my shirt.

  ‘For some reason, mate, I’ve taken a dislike to you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why. It happens like that sometimes, doesn’t it?’ His voice was quiet and reasonable.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. I knew an answer was required.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘it goes without saying that this was merely an unfortunate accident. Nor will you mention this.’ He flicked out a hand and it caught me across the nose. It wasn’t hard. Not a punch, but it stung. Blood gathered in my nostrils and dripped down into the brown sticky mess on my top lip. ‘Because that didn’t happen. I’m sure we understand each other.’ He sighed. ‘Well, I’d love to stay here chatting, but, like I said, this place is out of bounds and I wouldn’t want to get in trouble. I’ve a reputation to maintain. My name’s Martin, by the way.’ He held out his hand. I took it and he gave me a firm handshake. ‘Pleased to meet you. And welcome to Millways High.’

  I sat in the corner, my head tilted back, an icepack pressed to my nose. It didn’t seem to be doing much good. I could feel a trickle of blood down my throat.

  ‘What do you know about this, Jamie?’ asked Miss Palmer.

  I was glad I didn’t have to look at him. The rage was clear in his voice, though.

  ‘Nothin’,’ he said. ‘I told you. I had nothin’ to do with it. Why are you always pickin’ on me?’

  ‘I’m not accusing you of anything, Jamie,’ said Miss Palmer. Her voice was calm and reasonable. I could feel the effort it took. ‘The fact is that when Mr Atkins found Michael, you were with him. Laughing. I think it’s reasonable to ask you what happened.’

  ‘I told you. He comes in from the oval, with that crap all over him. Yeah, I laughed. Who wouldn’t? But it wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Michael?’

  I shifted the icepack a little.

  ‘I tripped over the tree roots, Miss. It was an accident.’

  ‘You see. You heard him. I had nothin’ to do with it. There’s two of us saying that. What does it take to make you believe me? I’m tired of this shit . . .’

  ‘Jamie, you can go. But a word of advice. Be very careful. Of your language, your attitude. Everything. Do you understand?’

  He grunted. I heard him leave, his rage loud in the slap of his footsteps and the slamming of the door. I knew I’d have to face that rage eventually. That’s the way it worked. I lowered my head and carefully removed the icepack. It was stained red and chocolate brown. Mr Atkins sat opposite me. He cupped his chin in his hands and raised his eyebrows at Miss Palmer. There was silence for a while and then he spoke.

  ‘Michael,’ he said. ‘Mr Archer has gone. What is said in this room will stay in this room. Do you understand?’

  I nodded.

  ‘What happened, Michael?’

  ‘I tripped over some tree roots, Sir. Got the cake all over me, banged my nose. Jamie had nothing to do with it. Honest.’

  Mr Atkins nodded slowly. He didn’t look at all surprised. Just sad.

  They sent me home. I didn’t want to go, but Miss Palmer gave me no choice. She said it was her duty of care when a head injury was involved. I couldn’t remember my phone number. It had only been connected a couple of days. So Miss Palmer rang Dad on his mobile – he’d given them that when he’d enrolled me – and he gave permission to send me home in a taxi. I’d hoped to keep all this between Mary and me. It was a dim hope and now it had been totally blown.

  ‘Fell over a tree, eh, Michael?’ Mary said after I had repeated the story I’d given Miss Palmer.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said.

  ‘Face first into a piece of chocolate cake?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Must have been funny.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Shocking waste of cake, though.’

  We both laughed then. That’s the thing with Mary. She doesn’t push me. She knew all right. But she also understood I wouldn’t talk about it and she respected that. Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without her.

  Dad, however, was not happy when he came home from work.

  ‘You’re there five bloody minutes! Jesus Christ, Michael. What happened? And don’t give me that crap about tree roots again, cos I don’t buy it. Someone picked on you because you’re fat, right? Did you fight back? Nah. Come on. Tell me.’

  I shrugg
ed, kept my head down and pushed lettuce around my plate. If I said nothing he’d get angrier. If I told the truth he’d be even worse. He’d go on for hours about how I was a coward and he was ashamed of me. Mary tried to help out.

  ‘Leave him alone, Joe. He doesn’t want to talk about it. It was his first day, for God’s sake, and he’s upset.’

  Dad flung down his knife and fork.

  ‘Will you bloody answer me?’

  ‘I told you. I fell,’ I said.

  ‘Drop it, Joe. Please?’ said Mary.

  Dad picked up his knife and fork again.

  ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you. I’ve tried to get you to do judo or karate lessons. I’ve taught you a bit of boxing. If you fight, you avoid trouble, that’s all I’m saying. With some of these bastards, a good hiding would solve a lot of their problems. They’d think twice about bullying then.’

  ‘I don’t want to fight, Dad.’

  Dad pointed his fork at me.

  ‘Then lose some weight. Sitting there like a whale. It’s disgusting. No wonder you get bullied. You can’t expect kids not to take the piss. I’m not saying it’s right, because it isn’t. I’m just saying you’ve got to expect it. And there are two answers to the problem. You gotta fight back or lose weight. It’s that simple.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, Joe,’ said Mary. ‘It’s not.’

  Dad flung his knife and fork down again.

  ‘I’m sick of this. Everywhere we go, it’s the same. I’m bloody ashamed of you.’

  ‘You don’t mean that Joe. And if you’re sick of it, how do you think he feels?’

  Dad pushed his plate away and got to his feet.

  ‘I don’t give a stuff. That’s it. Get bullied, but don’t whine to me.’

  I had never whined to him. I never would. But there was no point saying anything. So I sat, eyes on the lettuce, while he put his jacket on.

  ‘I’m going to the pub,’ he said. ‘And you can clean this dinner crap up. It’s all you’re good for, God knows.’

  After the door slammed, we sat there for a while. Mary reached over and ran her hand through my hair.

  ‘He doesn’t mean it, Michael. He’s had a bad first day at work. Makes two of you, doesn’t it? Hey, come on. Cheer up. Tell me more about that nice girl you met at school today. That’s good, isn’t it?’

  Yeah, I thought. A possible friend. And two definite enemies. When I added it up, the maths weren’t good.

  4 .

  ‘How did you get my number?’ I asked.

  ‘From Mr Atkins. I said it was an emergency. I promised I wouldn’t let anyone know what he’d done.’ Leah giggled. ‘He’s a good guy.’

  ‘He seems it,’ I said.

  ‘Anyway, sorry to be ringing so late. Hey, I’m glad it was you who picked up. I’m not sure what I would have done if it had been your mum or dad.’

  Dad wasn’t back from the pub and Mary must have gone to bed. She wasn’t around anyway. I was sitting in my favourite place – the laundry steps – listening to Leah on the cordless. I was amazed she’d gone to the trouble of ringing. It was the first phone call I’d had in . . . well, I couldn’t remember how long. I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice.

  ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I heard what happened today. That Martin is such a bastard. Are you okay, Michael?’

  I twisted the telephone cord between my fingers.

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘No big deal.’

  ‘I don’t want you thinking we’re all like him. There are plenty of kids who think what he did to you was shitty. I guess I wanted you to know that before you went to sleep. That you’re not alone.’

  Normally I’m so focused on looking for differences, they don’t take me by surprise. But occasionally, when they do sneak up on you, they’re the big ones. I knew something was wrong. When I realised what it was I nearly laughed. I twisted the cord some more.

  ‘Leah,’ I said. ‘Do you want a real experience, something that will blow your mind?’

  There was a pause and I knew she was sifting my words for the sinister or the unpleasant.

  ‘What do you mean, Michael?’ she said eventually.

  ‘Have you ever flown?’

  ‘Well, I’ve flown to Sydney a couple of times.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean flying. Like a bird.’

  There was an embarrassed laugh at the other end.

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s getting late, so I’d better let you get to bed. I’ll see you at school tomorrow . . .’

  ‘Put the phone down, Leah. I don’t mean hang up. Place the receiver on the floor next to you. And don’t be frightened. Whatever happens.’

  ‘Michael . . .’

  ‘Humour me, Leah. Please?’

  I heard a sigh. Under normal circumstances she would have hung up. But I knew she’d do as I asked. She didn’t have a choice. This was my world. I had control.

  I heard the dull thud as she placed the phone on the floor. I didn’t need to check, but it’s a habit. Sure enough, there were three laundry steps instead of two. The cordless phone was cordless again. I centred myself, found the calm at my core and willed it all to happen.

  My body dissolved around the edges, slowly at first, but gathering momentum. I watched myself from the outside. Within moments, I had become smoke, a faintly glowing cloud above the steps. And then I poured myself through the holes in the mouthpiece, a genie disappearing into a bottle, until all that was left was the phone rocking gently on the ground.

  I had never been inside a phone before. It was strange.

  My understanding of electronics is hazy at the best of times and I have no idea how a cordless phone works. But it’s all improvisation, I suppose.

  I found myself racing through a wire. It twisted and snaked as I sped down it at breathtaking speed. The colours – reds, yellows and greens – became tracks, continuous lines that appeared stationary only because of my relative speed. I was in a white plastic tunnel, the strips of colour an aurora over me.

  A bend loomed and then I was past it, hurtling down another straight. I was under the earth. There was soil around me and growing things, thick roots seeking water and life. Then I was travelling up, across streets, ignoring hundreds of intersections I knew weren’t right. No map needed. Pinpricks of light rushed towards me. I streamed through the receiver. The smoke that was my body drifted and solidified. I smiled at Leah.

  ‘Just thought I’d drop in,’ I said.

  She didn’t seem surprised. I must have wanted it that way, though I wasn’t aware of making it so. She tilted her head.

  ‘You mentioned something about flying?’ she said.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, taking her by the hand. ‘Seat belts on and turn off all electronic appliances. We have clearance.’

  I liked the way her hair curled under her chin. I liked the pyjamas she was wearing – silly kids’ sleepwear with bright embroidered teddy bears. She smelt freshly showered and her skin glowed. And her eyes. I felt I could fall into those eyes and never hit bottom.

  ‘Will you give me an explanation, Captain?’ she said.

  ‘Compliments of the airline,’ I said, as we lifted off the ground.

  It was a good flight. I didn’t try any fancy stuff, like diving towards the ground and stopping millimetres from impact, or flying into an electrical storm, riding the lightning. We just drifted, circling above the city. A full moon, impossibly large, bathed us in light. Stars sprinkled the sky, millions upon millions of points. We rode the breeze like birds, cushioned the air, floated as if in a pool. Our arms stretched out around us and we watched the blaze of other worlds. Leah’s hand was in mine. She wasn’t holding on too tight. In fact, sometimes she let her hand slip a little, so we were connected only by the slightest brushing of fingertips. All was calm.

  We flew over the coast and swooped over the boats moored in the bay. It might have been minutes, or hours. Eventually, we spiralled down towards the school. It seemed
as good a place as any to sit and talk. The security lights dotted around the outside walkway softened the harsh angles of the buildings.

  We landed on top of the science block, an expanse of dark asphalt bordered by a low wall no more than a metre in height.

  Leah and I sat on the edge, our feet dangling over the drop. For a few minutes we studied the city in silence. Lights sparkled in the distance and we could see the darkness where sea met land. It was quiet. A slight breeze brought the taste of salt and petrol. Leah sighed.

  ‘Incredible,’ she said.

  ‘It is,’ I replied. ‘And you know the best part? This is just the beginning. All your dreams laid out before you. No limits, unless there are limits on the imagination. It’s a miracle.’

  Leah reached out and took my hand.

  ‘You promised an explanation,’ she said.

  If I’d thought about it too much, I would have laughed. Locked in my own head, explaining to myself. Then again, I’d spent most of my life doing just that.

  ‘Have you heard of lucid dreaming?’ I said.

  Leah frowned. ‘I know what “lucid” means,’ she said. ‘It means clear or well-spoken. I’ve no idea what it has to do with dreaming.’

  ‘Clear dreaming. Controlled dreaming. That’s what it’s about. Knowing you are in a dream and being able to shape it.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  I swung my right leg over and straddled the wall, facing her.

  ‘Most people dream, but don’t remember much afterwards. Maybe the vivid ones, and the nightmares, stay with you for a while. But it’s like a tendril of smoke. You wake and the dreams fade. In moments, the details are gone, diluted by the rush of the real world. A drop of brilliant colour in a colourless sea. Swallowed. Gone.’

  Leah nodded.

  ‘I’m not like that,’ I continued. ‘I remember my dreams. Every detail. But more than that. I know when I’m in a dream. Have you ever known, while you were dreaming, that you were asleep?’

  She thought carefully. ‘I don’t think so. I can’t remember.’

  ‘Well, that’s where the power lies. When you know you’re actually dreaming, the shock often wakes you. But if you keep that knowledge and still hold the dream, then you can control it. You can do whatever you want. No limits.’