I took the camera from Razz and pushed Rewind. On the screen, a towel flew off the bed and snaked itself around Jess’s waist. Then she frantically messed up her hair with a brush, jiggled around a bit (accompanied by groaning from Razz) and scuttled backwards out of view. I pushed Stop, put the lens cap on the camera and pressed Record.
Beside me Razz picked up a ruler from the desk and clasped it in two hands like a samurai sword. He turned one end towards himself, jabbed it in his side and drew it swiftly across his stomach. As his eyes rolled back into his head he collapsed in a silent heap on the floor. The only sound left in the room was the low hum of the video camera and the words that floated up from the crumpled form on the carpet.
‘What is wrong with you, man?’
14.
A KILLER-DRIVEN, MOTORISED HAMBURGER
That was the second time Razz had asked what was wrong with me. First because of Cindy. And now because of Jess. That night I lay in bed with all sorts of questions squirming around inside my brain.
Was I really that different from other guys my age? Would every other sixteen-year-old male have jumped at the chance to go out with Cindy Sexton again? Would they all have happily pushed the Play button on Jess Hambleton? Those questions kept me awake for ages. Or maybe I’d just eaten a bit too much of the takeaway we’d had for dinner.
Anyway, it felt like I’d been awake for hours when I rolled over to check the time on the clock radio. That’s when I found myself staring at a big heart monitor machine. A green line ran across a black screen. It was jumping up in sharp peaks in time with my heartbeat. On the top of every peak a little image of Kelly Faulkner’s face appeared for a moment then popped liked a bubble.
OK, I thought to myself, maybe I did finally get to sleep, and this could be a dream.
I checked out the room more carefully. It looked like a hospital and my bed was now suspiciously like an operating table. On closer examination I found that I was wearing pink pyjamas. They were covered in lots of little white whales. A doctor entered. Or to be slightly more accurate, it was Ronald McDonald in a white coat. There was an oversized badge on his chest. It had Ronald McDoctor – Surgeon to the Clowns printed on it in bubbly rainbow letters. He had a hamburger in one hand and a chainsaw in the other.
Yep, I was almost 100 per cent certain now that I was dreaming.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘I have some very McSad news to tell you,’ Ronny said. ‘I’m afraid you have the worst case of Ishmael Leseur’s Syndrome I’ve ever encountered and it’s mutating out of control. I’ll have to operate immediately – otherwise you’re a goner.’
I jumped off the table and yelled, ‘I’m not going to let some clown who can’t buy the right-sized shoes operate on me!’ (I think I might also have suggested that he should go for a more natural hair colour and apply a lighter touch with the make-up.)
He began chasing me around the table. I shouted over my shoulder, ‘Ishmael Leseur’s Syndrome’s not real! It’s just some stupid thing I made up when I was a little kid as an excuse for all the times I stuffed up! There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m perfectly normal!’
Ronny stopped in his tracks and smiled (It’s painted on. What else can he do?). ‘Oh, well, that’s all right then,’ he said, chucking away the chainsaw.
How easy was that? What a pushover. I was feeling pretty proud of myself, but then RM held out his hamburger. It was huge. It also had a strange cord hanging from it that I hadn’t noticed before. Ronny grabbed it and yanked down. Deadly blood-covered blades shot out and rotated in a blur. Only looking back, I think those deadly blood-covered blades might have actually been beetroot slices. That was the clincher for me – a killer, petrol-driven, motorised hamburger. No way! This was definitely a dream and I wanted out!
I tried to wake myself up but I might as well have been sleeping inside a block of cement. Next thing I knew, the killer hamburger was gone and in its place Ronny Mac was holding up Prue’s old Ringo peg person and cooing, ‘Remember what happened with this way back in Year Nine? Was that normal?’ Then he pointed to a plastic bottle of cordial on the floor. He jumped on it and squished it flat. Yellow liquid sprayed all over me. ‘Last year?’ he said, ‘Sally’s pool party? You haven’t forgotten that, have you? Are you telling me that was normal?’ Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out … Wait, was that what I thought it was? He held out his hand. There was a tongue the size of a baby elephant’s trunk thrashing about on his palm. ‘And this? Do you honestly believe this kind of thing happens to normal people?’
Now Ranga Ronny was standing right over me and I was cowering in a corner. From that angle, with his crazy hair and that maniac smile, he looked just like a more colourful version of Razz. It was quite a comforting thought. Except for the giant, glinting knife he had in his hand.
‘Dude,’ he said McScarily, ‘there’s nothing to worry about, dude. I’m just gonna slice you open, dude and see what’s wrong with you, dude. We think you might be a dud dude. Hey, dud dude. That’s McAwesome!’
Then the room was crammed with all these weird people with three eyes or their heads on backwards or bodies like fish or toads or something. It was like a mutants’ convention. They pushed in beside Ronny and began poking me with sticks and spears and sesame seed buns and quarter pounders and chanting, ‘WHAT’S wrong with you, man! what’s wrong with you, man! what’s wrong with you, man! ‘
I lurched awake. I was back in my normal room. Hey, what do you know? It was all just a dream! (Please don’t tell Miss Tarango I wrote that. She’d kill me.) But right then I didn’t care. I was just so happy. There was nothing wrong with me after all. I was the same as everyone else. I was completely normal. I didn’t have Ishmael Leseur’s Syndrome. How could I? It never even existed in the first place!
Of course I was wrong.
Ishmael Leseur’s Syndrome certainly does exist. And just to illustrate the point, soon I’d be hearing the ‘What’s wrong with you?’ question directed my way again in real life. Only next time, the person asking the question wouldn’t be Razz.
It would be me.
15.
TALKING ABOUT TALK TALK
Our second-round debate was now less than two weeks away and with Bill and Razz rushing to get their Film and Television assignment completed in time it was decided that Ignatius, Scobie and I would make up the team. It was also decided that Razz and Bill wouldn’t need to be involved in the preparation.
With just the three of us attending meetings, they seemed to run more smoothly and we achieved a lot in a short space of time. Of course, without Razz they were nowhere near as much fun. I was on my way home from our final after-school meeting when I spotted Razz sitting under a tree down by the Fields. He’d been to soccer training but it was all over now and he was the only one left. As I got closer to him I could see that he didn’t look happy. I figured it had something to do with the sun safe assignment.
‘Hey, Razz, here’s a tip for you. When they take down the nets and everyone packs up and goes home, that’s usually a subtle sign that soccer training is over for the day.’
He glanced up half-heartedly.
‘What? Oh yeah … Yeah, I guess so.’
Then he returned to picking at grass shoots and staring at his hands.
‘Razz, it was a joke. You remember jokes, don’t you? One person says something hilarious and the other laughs his guts up.’
This time he couldn’t even manage a half-hearted glance.
‘Yeah … Yeah, right … Sorry.’
Now I was worried. I plonked myself down beside him.
‘Are you OK? Something up with the assignment?’
He flicked a bit of twig away with his finger and pushed his hand through his hair.
‘Nah, it’s not that … It’s Sally.’
‘What about her?’
‘Something she said.’
‘What?’
‘She told me we had to … talk.’
&nbs
p; I waited for more. Razz stared back at me with desperate eyes.
‘Talk,’ he repeated as if Sally had asked him to base jump into an active volcano.
‘So? You’ve never had any trouble with that before.’
‘No, you don’t get it, man. She wasn’t just talking about normal talk talk. She was talking about talk talk.’
‘Oh yeah, right, I get it now. It’s obvious when you put it that way. Talk talk as opposed to talk talk. Good job of clearing that up, Razz. Ever thought of writing your own dictionary?’
But something had stolen all Razz’s funny bones and left him a lifeless blob of seriousness.
‘It’s bad, man. She wasn’t kidding around. She didn’t sound happy at all. Just kept saying we had to … talk … like it was super-important or something.’
As I listened to Razz an uneasy question was uncurling in my mind.
‘Razz, you don’t think … I mean, Sally wouldn’t be … you know … like, have you guys …’
Razz looked across at me blankly for a second before a light switched on in his eyes.
‘No … No way, man … No, she couldn’t be. Sally’s been pretty straight with me from the start. She doesn’t want anything too heavy before she finishes Year Twelve. School and study come first. She told me that. I don’t mind, I guess, ’cause she’s worth it. ‘Cept sometimes it gets pretty hard.’
‘Geez, Razz, too much information!’
When even that didn’t register a smile, I gave up.
‘OK, so what do you think she wants to talk about?’
Razz drew in a breath.
‘Can only be one thing, man. She wants to dump me. I knew she was too smart for me. Too good for me.’ Razz picked up a stone and hurled it out of sight. ‘Too everything for me.’
I hadn’t seen him this miserable since last year when he made a stupid joke and accidentally hurt Sally’s feelings. It was weird. He was so thick-skinned he could take every insult, every put-down that Barry Bagsley or anyone else hurled at him, and laugh it off. But with Sally just a look or a word could slice him to pieces.
‘I really like her, man … more than like.’
Razz turned his head away and blinked up at the sky.
‘But I don’t get it. Why would she want to break up anyway? Have you said or done anything bad?’
‘I haven’t had time to do anything.’
‘What about the last time you saw her?’
‘That was when Bill and me did that filming at her place. She was great all day – laughing and joking around. After that she was flat out with exams, then she was away on a camp for a week. We were going to do something together as soon as she got home. She was really keen. So I rang her straight after my soccer game on Saturday, to see what she wanted to do. But she sounded really down. Reckoned she was just tired. Then I said what about next weekend and that’s when she said it. First we had to … talk. Said we couldn’t discuss it over the phone – we had to do it face to face.’
Face to face? Razz was right. This was sounding bad.
‘So when’s it going to happen? When are you two going to … talk?’
‘She’s coming to the debate tomorrow night. I’m seeing her there. That’s when I’ll get the flick.’
‘But if you two were getting on great a couple of weeks ago and nothing’s happened since, why would she suddenly want to dump you?’
‘Well, I think I figured that out too. Something must have happened on the camp.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like she met someone else.’
‘On a school camp with a bunch of other girls? Who could she meet?’
‘Sometimes there are other schools there as well – boys’ schools. They’re supposed to stay in separate areas but you can’t trust some of those scumbags. Remember that camp we went on in Year Eight and some guys got busted for trying to sneak around to the girls’ showers?’
‘Yeah, I do … Weren’t you one of them?’
‘That’s totally beside the point, Ishmael. The thing is, it shows that Sally could have easily met up with some guy on camp. And now she’s dumping me.’
‘Well, it just doesn’t sound like Sally to me. You’re probably worrying about nothing.’
That’s what I said to Razz anyway, but I wasn’t sure if I really believed it myself.
‘Hey, man, do me a favour and sort of hang around after the debate when I have to talk to Sally? You know, just in case I need you.’
‘Need me? But what can I do?’
‘Don’t know. Just … be there, I guess.’
I had no idea what kind of help I could be, but I said yes anyway. When your best mate was going head to head in a serious talk talk, the least you could do was be in his corner and try to patch him up when it was all over.
16.
A PRAIRIE DOG ON A CAFFEINE HIGH
All the next day Razz wasn’t quite himself. That meant he was sort of quiet and serious and merged into the background. A bit like a normal person. It was scary. But by the time our second-round debate was due to get under way that night, Razz had gone from ‘sort of quiet’ to hyper-jumpy.
He was sitting in the audience on the lookout for Sally. From out the front I could see his head bobbing around like a prairie dog on a caffeine high. Sally didn’t arrive till after the debate had started. Jess was with her. They slipped in quietly between speakers and grabbed a seat right by the door. Sally shot a tight smile at Razz and then a not-so-tight smile at Scobie, Ignatius and me out the front. My hopes for Razz were fading fast.
Just for the record, we ended up winning. That made it two from two. At the end there was the usual congratulating and commiserating and everyone milled around chatting for a while before heading off. When Scobie, Bill and Ignatius left to support our Year Eight team there was just me, Razz, Sally and Jess in the room.
Sally’s eyes were a bit puffy, like she’d stayed up all night. Both girls looked tense. Razz struggled to get the conversation going, but he was fighting a losing battle.
‘Great debate, hey? Don’t know how the boys did it without my help.’
The girls pushed out a couple of weak smiles.
‘Of course, it’s a little known fact that I write most of Scobie’s stuff for him. He’d be nothing without me.’
The girls’ weak smiles weakened.
‘On his own this time though. I’ve been too busy editing the sun safe epic to make you two look even hotter.’
The girls’ smiles died stone dead. Sally levelled her serious dark eyes at Razz.
‘Can we talk now?’
Razz tried to stay upbeat, but his upbeat looked like it had been beaten to a pulp.
‘Talk … Sure, right … Yeah … no problem. In there OK?’
Razz pointed to the next classroom. Sally nodded and went through the connecting door with Razz tagging along behind. If his shoulders had been slumped any lower he’d be sliding along the floor. They closed the door behind them and I was left alone in an empty room with Jess. I stood there feeling stupid until she sat down and patted the chair beside her.
‘Have a seat. Might be a bit of a wait.’
It crossed my mind that being seen sitting next to Jess Hambleton might do wonders for my shattered post-’extensions’ reputation. I was hoping someone from my Homeroom might wander down the corridor.
‘Great debate,’ she said. ‘I could never do that. I can talk all right. Mum says I can talk under wet cement. I just can’t say anything smart enough, that’s the problem. Scobie was awesome. I’m listening to him speak and I’m like “Wow!” You were great too.’
‘Thanks. It helps a lot when I don’t pass out.’
Jess’s mouth opened in a big ‘O’. ‘That’s right! It was you that time, wasn’t it? You ended up on top of Kelly. We heard all about it back at school and I’m like, Oh my god, that is soooooo funny! Not for you, of course. Or Kelly.’ Jess’s smile turned down. ‘Gosh, I miss her.’
‘Me too!’ I wanted to say,
but didn’t. Then Jess bit her bottom lip and went quiet. She sat staring ahead at the whiteboard as if she had X-ray vision and could see through it into the next room.
I followed her gaze. ‘Wonder what’s going on in there.’
Jess didn’t answer, but when I looked across at her, she had her head down and was wiping dampness from under her eyes.
‘Jess? What’s up? You OK?’
Her face just crumpled up.
‘I’ve wrecked everything for Sal. It’s all my fault. I should have kept my big mouth shut.’
‘What do you mean? What did you do? What happened?’
Jess shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
‘I wasn’t going to say anything. I totally wasn’t. But we were on camp and Sal’s like “What’s wrong? You don’t seem happy.” And I’m like, “No, it’s nothing. I’m fine, really.” And she’s like, “No, you’re not. You have to tell me what’s wrong. I’m your friend.” And she’s right but I don’t want to tell her because she is my friend and I know it will just stuff everything up for her. But she keeps saying, “You have to tell me. I’m your friend. I can help.” And I’m still totally like, “No, really, I’ll be fine. It’s no big deal.” But she can tell it totally is and she won’t let up till I say what’s bugging me. So I do. I didn’t want to, I didn’t mean to, but I do. And now I wish I could take it back, because it’s going to ruin everything for Sal just like I knew it would. God, I’m such an idiot sometimes!’
Beside me Jess blinked up at the ceiling as big tears pooled in her eyes and overflowed down her cheeks. I know Razz would probably say that there was something wrong with me, but I couldn’t help thinking that Jess Hambleton didn’t really need a micro bikini to be beautiful.
‘But what was it? What did you tell her?’
Jess dug into her bag and wiped her nose with a big wad of tissues.
‘I told her …’
But just then Razz burst in on us and grabbed me by the arm.
‘Come on, dude! I need you!’
Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel Page 7