‘Sorry I … I thought you were someone else.’
‘Yes, I guessed that. The Razzman, right? Remember him well from your Year Eleven Formal. Pretty smooth debater too – and a wild drummer. I saw you guys play at the Battle of the Bands. So cool. Didn’t know you had all these hidden talents, Ishmael.’
‘Raychell?’
‘Got it in one.’
I had no idea why Raychell Taylor would be ringing me.
‘Hope you don’t think I’m stalking you or anything. You know, debating final, Battle of the Bands and now this. I’m not. I’ve given that sort of thing away. Found it too time-consuming. All that hiding behind bushes, phone-tapping, setting up the telescope on your bedroom every night – it just became too much.’
‘Yeah, good idea to cut back, what with exams coming up and everything,’ I said with a bit of a laugh. ‘I saw you at the Battle of the Bands with Gary Horsham.’
‘Ugh! Don’t talk to me about that creep. As of two weeks ago, as far as I’m concerned, he is totally like a non-person.’
‘Sorry about that.’
‘Not a problem. Glad to get rid of him. And anyway, it’s sort of why I’m ringing you. I was wondering if you wanted to come along to a bit of a party at my place.’
Two invitations in five minutes! It had to be a dream. I looked carefully around the room. Any second I expected a runaway freight train like the one in that Inception movie to come ploughing through my bedroom wall. I guess I must have been taking a bit too long to reply, because Raychell went on.
‘Look, I realise this is a bit out of the blue and I know we didn’t get to spend that much time together at your Formal, which was my fault entirely, but if you come to the party maybe I can make it up to you. It’s not going to be a big thing. Just me and some friends from school and a few guys they know. There’ll be plenty of supplies too. And we’ll have the whole house to ourselves because my parents are going interstate for a few days. It’s a big house. Lots of quiet, private spots and plenty of opportunity for you and me to get to know each other better. So … are you interested?’
All sorts of things were racing through my mind.
‘I … um … Yeah … Sounds good … When is it?’
‘The Saturday night after this one.’
‘Not the twentieth?’
‘Ah, let me just see … Yep, the twentieth. Is that a problem?’
‘It could be … I might have something on … some … aaah … family thing … I can probably get out of it … just not sure at the moment. I’ll have to check. Can I ring you back and let you know?’
‘Well, I suppose so, but don’t keep me waiting too long, Ishmael. I can guarantee you’ll have a lot more fun at my place than at your “family thing”. I’ll make it my personal mission.’
After I took down Raychell’s address and mobile number and promised I’d ring her back sometime before the end of the week, I flopped back on my bed. My head was spinning with possibilities. A minute ago everything had been simple and straightforward. I’d been so happy to go to the play with Kelly. But now …
My mobile rang a third time.
Phone call No 3:
Theme to Mission Impossible plays. I snatch up the phone. This time I check for a name first. Unknown number.
‘Hello. Leseur residence. Ishmael speaking.’
‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! What’re you doing, man? Trying out for the job as butler or something? You crack me up, dude!’
‘Very funny. How come you came up as an Unknown Number?’
‘Using Mum’s phone. Took mine to the beach and forgot I had it in the back pocket of my boardies when I went for a surf. Totally stuffed. Mum’s not too happy. Also not happy about the hubcaps I scraped practising my reverse park.’
Then I heard all about Uncle Sasha’s place. Razz reckoned it was ‘totally awesome’, although apparently Mrs Zorzotto rated it ‘just fit for near-human habitation’. It sounded perfect. When Razz finished his usual raving on I told him all about Kelly’s and Raychell’s phone calls.
‘Man, it’s raining chicks!’
That was his first comment. Then I was expecting him to say something like:
‘So what’s the problemo, man? You got a choice between sitting in a crappy theatre watching the Chocoholic Dane with Kelly “Let’s-just-be-friends” Faulkner or spending a wild night alone with Raychell “You-and-me-and-a-big-empty-house” Taylor. What’s wrong with you? It’s a no-brainer, dude!’
But Razz didn’t say that. What he actually said was, ‘Man, that’s a tough one. I guess you’d be mad not to pick Raychell. But then I keep thinking, what if it was me doing the picking and what if that other chick I left sitting alone in that theatre ended up being someone like Sally and I never knew? Wouldn’t that be a bummer?’
I’d been sort of hoping that Razz would come to my rescue and just tell me what I should do. But it looked as if the Lifesaver of Love was having some down time. It was all up to me. I had a decision to make. A big one.
To party with Raychell or to Hamlet with Kelly?
That was the question.
32.
PLAY OR PARTY?
‘Emergency Operation Tarango meeting? What are you on about, Prindabel?’
The rest of us were wondering the same thing. As well as our first and second placings in the Battle of the Bands, we’d also had good success in the inter-house soccer comp as Razz predicted and we’d picked up points in a few of the smaller Arts Week competitions.
‘We’ve been going great. What are you calling an emergency meeting for, dude? We must be getting pretty close to Creswell by now.’
‘I’ve just factored in all the outstanding points and we are officially nine points behind them,’ Ignatius replied calmly.
‘Only nine points behind! Well, geez, P-bud, if that’s your idea of an emergency, never volunteer for Cyclone Watch, dude.’
‘The problem is, Orazio, we have only one event left in which to get those nine points and that’s the Talent Quest. ‘
The annual house Talent Quest was for acts of one or two people only. It was always held on the Friday afternoon of the very last day of classes for the Year Twelves. Anyone could enter, but there was a limit of two acts from each house. At the end of it the rest of the school formed a guard of honour and the Seniors were cheered from the college before the pressure of two weeks of final exams began.
‘Well, that’s OK, isn’t it? We usually do pretty good in that and I’m doing my drum solo again. Last year I came second and I’ve ramped it up a lot and added some new stuff.’
‘That’s good to hear, Orazio. Because if we don’t win the Talent Quest, we don’t win the College Cup.’
Razz eyed Ignatius suspiciously.
‘You’re not jiggling the figures, are you, Prindabuddy, just to get an exciting finish?’
‘See for yourself. At the moment we’re nine points behind Creswell. In the Talent Quest they give thirty points for first place, fifteen for the runner-up and five for third. So to make up the points needed we have to either win the Talent Quest outright or come second behind either Franklin or Radley. Whatever happens, if Creswell wins, we’re sunk. And therein lies the real emergency. Because Creswell’s entrant in the Talent Quest is going to be … Slobo Bugslag.’
There were blank expressions all around the tight circle of faces as our hopes commenced shutdown procedures. It was like making it right to the brink of Mount Doom only to hear someone say, ‘I thought you had the Ring.’
‘Slobo Bugslag,’ Razz repeated like a death knell.
Way back, Slobo Bugslag and I were at Moorfield Primary together. He was a grade below me. He was the most popular kid in school, which just goes to show that some people at least do rise above their names. After primary, Slobo went to another school but he’d turned up at St Daniel’s this year. True to form, he was already one of the most popular kids in school and a strong tip for the next school captain. Some people were saying that Slobo was the ne
w Scobie.
Our problem was that Slobo had one thing Scobie definitely didn’t have – musical talent. Lots of it. He sang, he played the piano, he wrote his own stuff and he had a personality the size of a supertanker. Last year he made the finals of that Search for a Star show on TV. So if Slobo Bugslag entered our piddly little Talent Quest, he wasn’t just going to win it, he was going to chew it up and spit it out.
It had now gone pretty quiet for an emergency situation. It felt like the emergency had passed because the patient had died and we were all attending the funeral.
‘Well,’ Razz said, trying to prod our enthusiasm back to life, ‘we’ve still got a couple of weeks. I can work more on my drum solo, I guess, and try to find something else to add.’
‘And we’ve still got the house auditions to do,’ Scobie added in support. ‘Who knows what that’s going to turn up? All is not lost.’
No, not lost. Maybe misplaced – like a contact lens left on a sand dune in the middle of the Gobi Desert.
That night in my room I tried to come up with a solution to our Talent Quest problem. I failed. So I decided to man up and at least do something about Kelly and Raychell. I’d made my decision and now it was time to make two phone calls – an easy one and a hard one. One to say ‘Yes’ and one to say ‘No’.
My mum reckons that whenever you’re faced with a number of things you have to do, always do the hardest one first while you’re fresh, to get it out of the way. I held my mobile in my hand.
I scrolled down to Kelly’s name and pushed Call.
33.
LINES 116 TO 119
It was Saturday the twentieth. I got off a bus to walk the short distance to 72 Norwood Road. That was the address written on a slip of paper in my pocket. She was waiting for me at the front of the house. My heart jumped like it had suddenly remembered why it was beating. Those ice-blue eyes did it to me every time.
My mum’s pretty smart, but I didn’t always agree with her. Personally, I think it’s better sometimes to do the easy things first, you know, to sort of help you build up some momentum for the hard ones.
Watching Hamlet with Kelly was great. Razz always complained about it being too long, but for me the night just rocketed by. Before I knew it, the lights were going up and everyone was filing from the theatre and spilling out into the courtyard area just off the street. Ms Entwhistle told all the Lourdes girls to wait beside the road while she went and brought the minibus around.
‘Make sure you’re all ready to go,’ she warned them. ‘I don’t want to be chasing anyone up’.
Kelly and I moved a little away from the main group and found a quiet place to ourselves.
‘You survive the night all right then?’ Kelly said.
‘I thought it was great. I had a great night.’
Stick around – I promise I’ll come up with another word besides ‘great’ shortly.
‘Really? Me too.’
‘Great.’
Maybe not.
Then Kelly glanced at me a few times like she was trying to make her mind up about something.
‘So … you don’t wish … that you’d gone to the party at Raychell Taylor’s house instead?’
For a moment my brain struggled to work out exactly why those words didn’t seem right. Then it knew.
‘But … how did … Who …’
I didn’t take long to figure it out.
‘Razz has got a big mouth,’ I said.
‘The biggest,’ Kelly said with a smile. ‘And Sally’s not too far behind. You’re not angry, are you?’
I shook my head. ‘No, I’m used to it by now.’
Kelly bit her bottom lip and said, ‘It sounded like you could have had quite an … interesting … night over there.’
‘Still rather be here.’
Kelly was looking straight at me now.
‘You must really love Hamlet, huh?’
I was looking straight back at her.
‘Yes. I do,’ I said. ‘Always have.’
Just then a sharp beep made Kelly jump and a white minibus flashed past and parked a little way down the street. She glanced over her shoulder. The other Lourdes boarders were already saying goodbye to friends and moving off.
‘Um well … I better go. Thanks again for coming. I’m really glad you did. Otherwise it could have been ugly. You know, with me turning up at Raychell Taylor’s and scratching her eyes out and everything. But before I go, I just wanted …’
There was another beep. Kelly glanced around again. The last of the Lourdes girls were getting on the bus. A whole bunch of faces were looking at us through the rear window. They were smiling and laughing. Kelly turned back and shook her head.
‘Great,’ she said, pulling one of her beautiful daggy faces. ‘Look, this is probably the wrong time and definitely the wrong place … but I just wanted to say …’
Horn again. Two blasts this time.
Kelly’s shoulders slumped. Behind her the girls at the back of the bus laughed and waved. A couple of heads poked out the side windows. A beaten smile crept on to Kelly’s lips.
‘I better go. I …’ she said.
And that’s when I kissed her.
I didn’t really know if she wanted me to or not. But like Hamlet had just pointed out, thinking about something too much can often be ‘one part wisdom’ and ‘three parts coward’. I decided I’d been a coward long enough. The sound of cheering and whooping filled my ears. I wasn’t sure if it was coming from the girls in the bus or from inside me. Almost immediately a horn began blaring in one long continuous BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. It didn’t stop until Kelly’s lips left mine. Then she stared at me for a second before hurrying off down the street to a rowdy reception.
As soon as Kelly climbed inside, the Lourdes bus pulled away from the curb, did a U-turn and headed back my way. I could see Ms Entwhistle in the driver’s seat. She looked like she wanted to aim the bus at me and stamp on the accelerator. I waved as it shot past, but further down the road it veered to the kerb and jerked to a halt. A side window slid open. Kelly stuck her head out.
‘Ishmael!’ she called. ‘Hamlet. Act Two. Scene Two. Lines 116 to 119. Got it?’
I could only just make out what she was saying above the tinny minibus motor and the noise of the other traffic.
‘Um yeah, right. Act Two. Scene Two,’ I called back. ‘lines … um …’
The bus began to move away.
The other girls were laughing and waving. I waved back.
‘Lines 116 to 119!’ Kelly shouted. ‘Don’t forget!’
‘One hundred and sixteen to 119,’ I shouted back. ‘I won’t!’
Kelly fell back giggling into the bus and was caught by the other girls as Ms Entwhistle put her foot to the floor and sped off into the night.
I spent the entire trip home trying to work out what the quote could be. By the time I was back in my room, I was pretty sure I’d worked it out. It had to be the old ‘hoops of steel’ bit about friendship. Kelly told me that was one of her favourite parts.
When I found my copy of Hamlet I flicked through to Act Two, Scene Two. I ran my finger down the pages to line 116 and read to line 119. It wasn’t about hoops of steel at all. Instead, Kelly had found me that poem she promised.
Being wrong had never felt so good.
34.
A SHOW TUNES SUPERMAN
The weeks leading up to exams came with a rush of ‘lasts’. Last assignments, last house meeting, last school assembly, last regular school day, last Homeroom (where we all put in and bought Mr Guthrie a new backpack for his upcoming holiday trip to Nepal), last lessons for each of our subjects and then, last lesson altogether. Finally, the only thing that remained was the St Daniel’s Talent Quest and with it, our very last chance to make Operation Tarango a success.
The two acts representing Charlton House were Razz and a couple of guys from Year Ten who did comedy routines. They were pretty funny but I couldn’t see them getting anywhere near topping Slobo Bu
gslag. As for Razz, he’d been staying back after school in one of the music rooms and working on a ‘new dimension’ to his drum solo. We all wanted to know what it was, but he said it was a secret and we’d just have to wait to see ‘how it all came out on the day’.
The gym was packed and noisy. The Seniors were all up the front in the best seats. Scobie, Ignatius and I were sitting together. Bill had gone with Razz to help carry his drum equipment and get it set up backstage. Brother Jerome was the sole judge.
The first act was a magician from Franklin House. Not exactly mind-blowing. Our Year Ten boys were second. They went down well because they took off some of the teachers, but after Slobo Bugslag performed it was depressingly obvious that whoever wanted to win the Talent Quest would need to push him into second place. A few more mediocre acts followed and then it was Razz’s turn.
After a year of trying, a year where we’d dragged ourselves from laughing stock to within a handful of points of being college champions, all of Charlton House’s hopes were now riding on this one performance. If ever we needed the Razzman to be a real superhero, now was the time.
After he was introduced to a wild reception from Charlton, Razz did his regular clicking of the drumsticks then launched himself into his performance.
Right from the first clattering, pulsating drum roll, Razz was on fire. He was leaving nothing in the tank. But it still needed that ‘something extra’ to top Slobo. That ‘something extra’ came after Razz completed a thundering pass on the drums and changed into a steady, repetitive tribal beat. It didn’t take long for the audience to become a little restless.
Then Bill Kingsley walked on to the stage.
The reaction to Bill was deafening – a wild mixture of laughter, whistles and jeers. It wasn’t that surprising. As well as having his hair greased back and wearing heavy eyeliner, Bill had on a pair of white tights and a three-quarter length jacket that was covered in tassels and sparkles with a mass of coloured feathers exploding from each shoulder. I picked it right away as an Uncle Georgiou special. I think Bill might have finally had that talk with his father.
Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel Page 26