He wrote ‘theft up more’ on the blackboard.
Angus waved his arm frantically. He could see Rindi outside the door, peering anxiously into the classroom.
‘Sergeant …’ he said.
‘Angus Solomon,’ barked Ms Lowry. ‘We do not interrupt visitors to the school in the middle of their talks.’
Russell Hinch sniggered. Several of his mates copied him.
‘That’s OK,’ said the sergeant. ‘I like audience feedback. What did you want to say, lad?’
Angus stood up.
‘I want to confess,’ he said.
The other kids stared. Ms Lowry gave him a warning look.
The sergeant grinned. ‘A confession, eh?’ he said. ‘I get a few of those. What did you do? Cross the road when the light was red? Chase a cat up a tree?’
The other kids chortled, Russell Hinch louder than any of them.
‘No,’ said Angus. ‘I stole Stacy Kruger’s Tamagotchi.’
He held it up.
The classroom fell silent. Everyone stared at the dangling Tamagotchi. Especially Russell Hinch, who looked to Angus as though he was having trouble breathing.
‘My baby,’ yelled Stacy. ‘You’ve killed it.’
She snatched the Tamagotchi from Angus and collapsed back into her seat in tears, hugging it. Other girls crowded round, comforting her.
‘Hang on,’ said Julie Cheng, taking the Tamagotchi and looking at it closely. ‘It’s not dead. It’s healthy. It’s been really well looked after.’
Some of the boys started jeering at Angus and the rest stared at Russell Hinch, who was going bright pink. The girls were chatting animatedly. Ms Lowry and the sergeant were deep in conversation.
‘Wait,’ yelled Angus. ‘I haven’t finished.’
People looked at him and slowly the noise died down.
‘I didn’t steal it for me,’ said Angus. He went over and opened the door. Rindi gave him a nervous smile as she came in. He took her hand and together they stood in front of the class.
Angus looked at each of the kids. They were all gaping. He could feel Rindi’s hand trembling, but her face was calm and determined.
Even though Angus was about to give the most important acting performance of his life, he was amazed to find that he felt calm and determined too.
‘I stole it for my girlfriend,’ he said. ‘She wanted it so I stole it for her.’
‘I asked him to,’ said Rindi.
Angus looked around the room again.
Every mouth was still open.
While Angus waited for the storm to break, he consoled himself with a thought.
At least Russell Hinch wasn’t making kissy lips.
Rindi’s parents didn’t make kissy lips either. Their lips stayed thin and angry and moved non-stop as they told Angus and Rindi off for what seemed like hours.
‘You’re as much of a thief as he is,’ said Rindi’s dad to Rindi.
‘You may well have ruined your life,’ said Rindi’s mum.
Or saved it, thought Angus.
He gave Rindi’s hand a squeeze. Things were looking good. When they’d got back to Rindi’s house the school had already phoned and Patel had already gone to his room to digest the news.
‘And you,’ said Rindi’s dad to Angus. ‘You seemed like such a grown-up boy.’
Angus tried to look miserable. It wasn’t easy because what he was feeling was anxious and hopeful. He did his best and slowly the telling off came to an end.
Then Mum arrived and it started all over again.
‘I’m really disappointed in you, Angus,’ she said. ‘Particularly tonight of all nights.’
Angus wondered what she meant, but before he could think about it much, Patel came into the room.
He looked grim.
Angus glanced at Rindi. She was looking at Patel without flinching.
Please, thought Angus. Please let him be disgusted with her for being a thief. Please let him be scared that his friends will have kittens if he marries her. Then, with a bit of luck, word will get round and all the other blokes in India will feel the same way.
Patel cleared his throat. Rindi’s parents stood up.
‘I have thought carefully about the incident,’ said Patel, ‘and I have decided that I will return to India tomorrow as planned and that the wedding will go ahead next month as planned.’
Angus felt Rindi stiffen next to him.
He wanted to grab Patel and yell ‘she’s a thief, you dope, what about your friends?’ but he was paralysed with dismay.
‘Rindi is a child,’ said Patel, ‘and childhood is the time for foolish pranks. Better she get that nonsense out of her system now because when we’re married she will be a grown-up and there will be no more games.’
Rindi was motionless next to Angus, but he could hear tiny sobs deep inside her.
‘Thank you for being so understanding, Patel,’ said Rindi’s dad. ‘You are your father’s son.’
Angus saw that Rindi’s mum was gripping the back of a chair so tightly her knuckles were white.
Patel smiled. He turned to Angus. ‘In my family,’ he said, ‘you would be punished severely for stealing. Australia is different, I understand that. But I will be asking Rindi’s parents to make sure she does not see you again.’
All the way home, Angus stared out of the car window into the dusk. He stared at shops. He stared at trees. He stared at traffic light control boxes. He stared so he wouldn’t have to remember the look Rindi gave him as he left.
Her eyes, dark and defeated.
It didn’t work, the staring. All he could think of was how when he’d first met Rindi she’d had more energy than Bumface and now, a week later, she had the look of a person who was drowning.
‘Poor Rindi,’ said Mum, but Angus could tell Mum’s mind was on other things. Shopping centres probably.
There must be something else I can do, thought Angus desperately. Something.
Then, as he was getting out of the car, an even more desperate thought hit him. ‘Leo and Imogen,’ he gasped in panic, grabbing Mum. ‘I forgot to pick them up.’
‘I did it,’ said Mum. ‘When the school rang, I left work early. We’d planned to finish early anyway, tonight being a special night.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Angus when he could speak again.
Mum smiled and opened the front door. A loud cheer rang out. Angus blinked. The house was full of people, drinking and laughing.
Mum led him into the noisy crowd. Number Four appeared, took a swig from a bottle of champagne and gave Mum a kiss. There was another big cheer.
‘What’s going on?’ said Angus.
‘It’s a party,’ said Mum. ‘An engagement party.’ She gave Number Four a kiss in return. ‘Me and Gavin are getting married.’
The rest of the evening was a blur for Angus.
Leo ate half a box of chocolates and was sick over Number Four’s shoes.
People from Mum’s TV family kept congratulating Angus and asking him when the wedding was. Angus was so dazed he didn’t always know if they meant Mum’s or Rindi’s.
Then, while Angus was in Imogen’s room changing her nappy and watching Number Four dance in the corner with a production assistant, Mum’s TV husband lurched in.
‘G’day, young Angus,’ he said. ‘Lookin’ forward to having a few more little brothers and sisters?’
Angus smiled weakly.
‘I love weddings,’ continued Mum’s TV husband. ‘There’d be less strife in the world if there were more weddings.’
That’s when Angus had the idea. It hit him so suddenly and so hard that he dropped the talc.
‘Oops,’ said Mum’s TV husband.
‘Oops,’ said Imogen.
Oops nothing, thought Angus, insides tingling with excitement and fear. Even Bumface would drop the talc if he had an idea like this.
18
‘Rindi,’ said Angus. ‘Will you marry me?’
Rindi stared at him, stu
nned.
Angus shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I know this is a bit sudden.’
A truck roared past, leaving them standing in a cloud of fumes.
He hoped Rindi would understand. Normally he’d have chosen somewhere a bit more romantic than a busy street corner on the way home from school. A beach at dawn, say, or a submarine at sunset.
Angus glanced down the street to the bus shelter where he’d made Leo and Imogen wait. He could see they’d almost finished their ice-creams. Then he peered anxiously down Rindi’s street, desperately hoping the corner he and Rindi were standing on wasn’t visible from her house.
He looked at Rindi. She still wasn’t saying anything.
Shock probably.
‘If I marry you,’ he said gently, ‘Patel won’t be able to.’
Her face lit up. Then it clouded over. ‘Angus,’ she said, ‘we’ve only known each other for eight days.’
‘You’ve only known Patel for one and a half days,’ said Angus. ‘Plus he’s old enough to be your much older brother. I reckon love could grow between us. We both like pirates.’
Rindi looked at him and suddenly her eyes were glowing like he hadn’t seen them do for days. ‘And each other,’ she said softly.
Angus suddenly felt an urgent need to look at his feet.
But only because she was right.
Rindi sighed. ‘We’re too young,’ she said. ‘People can’t get married in Australia at our age. It’s against the law.’
‘It doesn’t have to be legal,’ said Angus. ‘Your parents reckon Patel’s really religious. If we get married in the eyes of God, that’ll be enough to put him off.’
Rindi thought about this and nodded slowly. ‘But who’d marry us?’ she said.
Angus reached into his school bag and pulled out a TV magazine. He pointed to the article he’d been staring at most of the day at school.
‘There’s a TV show where people get married live on air,’ he said. ‘They broadcast it from the studio next to Mum’s on Thursday nights.’
‘My parents watch it sometimes,’ said Rindi, taking the magazine.
‘I can get us into the studio,’ said Angus. ‘If we stand where nobody can see us, and listen to the minister, and say “I do” at the right moment, and mean it, I reckon that’ll make us married in the eyes of God.’
Rindi stared at him, then back at the magazine.
While she read the article, Angus looked down the street at Leo and Imogen. They’d finished their ice-creams. Frantically he signalled to them to stay where they were and be patient.
When he turned back to Rindi, she was gazing at him, her face troubled.
‘Angus,’ she said. ‘You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, but do you really want to marry me?’
Angus took a deep breath. He’d been asking himself that question all day. The answer wasn’t simple. If they had different parents, he and Rindi would probably just stay best friends.
But they didn’t.
Rindi’s parents had forgotten she was just a kid.
His mum had forgotten how to have a proper marriage that lasted.
Plus there was more.
Angus couldn’t put it exactly into words. It was a feeling he had when he thought of Rindi giving a pirate yell or biting an intra-uterine device off a display board.
A feeling he’d never had before.
He realised Rindi was still looking at him, her face troubled.
He realised he was grinning.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I do want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?’
Rindi gave the biggest smile he’d ever seen her give.
‘Yes,’ she said.
Angus laid his wedding suit out on his bed and gave a satisfied sigh.
Mum’s bolero jacket was looking great now he’d painted over the skulls in silver and done the parrot poo in gold.
And Number Two’s old black jeans looked pretty good too, cut off at the knee with a yellow stripe sewn down each side and Number Three’s green silk scarf for a belt.
It was great having dads who left clothes behind when they moved on.
Angus gave a final polish to the purple boots that the production assistant had left in Imogen’s room. They’d cleaned up really well. A good rub with detergent and almost all of Imogen’s crayon marks had come off.
A pretty top wedding outfit, thought Angus happily, seeing that we only decided to get married twenty-seven hours ago.
The phone rang.
Angus assumed it would be Mum saying she’d be late, but it was Rindi.
‘I’ve got to be quick,’ she whispered. ‘Mum and Dad are watching the news. What sort of thing are you wearing tomorrow night?’
‘Pirate,’ said Angus.
There was a silence at the other end.
‘All right,’ said Rindi after a bit, ‘I will too.’
Angus grinned.
‘Except,’ continued Rindi, ‘I haven’t really got anything pirate.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Angus, ‘there’s a wardrobe department at the TV station. They’ve got heaps of stuff.’
There was another silence.
‘Angus,’ said Rindi. ‘Do you think we can do it?’
‘Yes,’ said Angus. ‘We both want to, so nothing can stop us.’
19
‘Just a minute,’ said the security guard at the TV station gate. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Angus looked up at him pleadingly and pointed to Imogen’s mouth, which looked a bit swollen due to the large number of jelly babies he’d squeezed into it.
‘My sister’s teething,’ he said. ‘Our mum works here.’
‘She’s a TV star,’ said Leo through his own mouthful of jelly babies.
The security guard looked hard at Angus. ‘Marlene Solomon’s kids,’ he said. ‘Haven’t seen you for yonks.’ He looked at Rindi. ‘Don’t remember you. Are you a member of the family?’
Angus said ‘yes’ before Leo could say anything about her being his future sister-in-law.
The security guard slapped a security sticker on the stroller. ‘I’ll ring your mum,’ he said.
‘It’s OK,’ said Angus hurriedly. ‘No need to disturb her. I know where to find her.’
The security guard looked doubtful, but at that moment three buses arrived carrying the studio audience for the wedding show.
‘Don’t get lost,’ said the security guard.
‘I won’t,’ said Angus as he pushed the stroller across the carpark.
He didn’t. He knew exactly where the wardrobe department was. When they got there, they all hid outside the door behind a big wooden hamburger from the morning cartoon show until Angus saw the wardrobe assistants hurrying off to the studio.
‘OK,’ he said to Rindi. ‘Be quick.’
Angus watched Rindi disappear among the racks of costumes and felt a stab of concern. Perhaps he should be going with her. Except he was pretty sure grooms weren’t meant to help brides get dressed for the wedding.
Angus took Mum’s video camera out of the stroller bag and handed it to Leo. ‘Do you remember what I told you?’ he said.
Leo nodded. ‘Lens cap off and don’t wobble,’ he recited, ‘because the tape’s going all the way to Indooroopilly.’
‘India,’ said Angus.
‘That’s what I meant,’ said Leo.
Angus glanced anxiously at the entrance to the wardrobe department. No sign of Rindi. Don’t panic, he thought, you haven’t got changed yourself yet.
Imogen swallowed the last of her mouthful of jelly babies just as Angus finished putting his pirate outfit on.
‘Bumface Gussy,’ she giggled.
‘Stop it,’ said Leo sternly. ‘He’s getting married.’
Imogen stopped giggling and Angus realised someone was standing behind him.
He turned.
It was Rindi. She was wearing a red dress that cascaded in layers all the way to the floor. From her ears hung silve
r earrings in the shape of cutlasses. On her head was a sparkling turban covered with plastic oranges, apples, lemons and bananas.
Angus blinked.
He didn’t know what to say.
He’d never seen a girl looking so beautiful, and he didn’t even particularly like fruit.
‘You look fantastic,’ he whispered.
‘Even our mum’s never looked that fantastic,’ said Leo.
‘Thanks,’ said Rindi. ‘I picked a long dress because I’ve got a big scab on one of my knees.’
Getting into the studio was a bit harder than Angus had planned.
He knew there was a door up near the roof that led onto the lighting walkway, and he knew it was never locked because it was also the fire escape for the studio control room. Mum had given him a tour of the studio once on his birthday.
But she hadn’t told him how to get up to the door.
‘I think we’re lost,’ said Rindi as they climbed yet another flight of stairs.
Angus was too puffed to answer. He shifted Imogen to his other shoulder and pointed. Up ahead was a door marked Do Not Open When Studio On Air.
Angus opened it and they went inside.
Far below Angus could see the faces of the studio audience bright under the lights. Camera operators slowly steered their big cameras across the studio floor. The set was made up of big flat painted panels propped up all over the place to make the studio look like a church.
A floor manager called for silence as a commercial break came to an end.
‘Are we going to do it up here?’ whispered Rindi.
‘No,’ replied Angus. ‘Too risky. If anyone looks up they can see us. We’ll go down there into that corner behind the set.’
It was a slow climb down. The metal stairs were so steep they were almost like a ladder and Angus’s hands were so sweaty he almost couldn’t grip the handrail.
Halfway down Leo nearly dropped the video camera and Angus nearly dropped Imogen as he grabbed it.
‘Bouncy Bumface,’ gurgled Imogen, and Angus had to quickly stuff some more jelly babies into her mouth. Luckily the studio organ was playing and nobody seemed to have heard. Angus gave silent thanks to God, who he assumed was in the studio somewhere for the wedding, that ‘Here Comes the Bride’ was such a noisy tune.
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