Bird and Sugar Boy

by Sofie Laguna

  ‘Excuse me.’ I walked over to a lady with thick dark hair and a fringe, and a big orange pack on her back. There was a sleeping bag rolled into the top of the pack. If anyone knew where they were going, this lady did. She was a travelling camper and she wore hiking boots like Mr Kemp’s, except without the mud.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said again. ‘Do you know where the Blue Mountains are?’

  The lady shook her head at me like I scared her because I asked her a question. Then she said something in a language I’d never heard before. She walked away from me shaking her head and looking down at a book she was holding. I watched the orange pack with the sleeping bag heading for the ticket checker. Again it was as if the lady was my friend and she was leaving me, instead of just a person that I’d never met before. We didn’t even speak the same language.

  A man covered from head to toe in silver paint was standing still as a statue, on a wooden box. People were watching him and putting money in a hat that was sitting on the ground in front of him. I thought he might be the best person to ask, since he was the only one not going anywhere. I walked up to him. ‘Excuse me, do you know where the Blue Mountains are?’ The silver statue didn’t say anything. He didn’t even blink. I could see he wasn’t a real statue because the silver paint had rubbed off the skin around his eyes and I could see skin-coloured wrinkles underneath. It was obvious. ‘Excuse me, I really need to get to the Blue Mountains. Could you tell me where they are?’ I asked again. The silver statue didn’t answer me. I looked in his hat. There were a lot of two-dollar coins and one five dollar note lying at the bottom. Why wouldn’t the silver statue answer me? He wasn’t doing anything except standing on a box. He could at least say, I’ve never heard of those Blue Mountains. Why couldn’t he be polite? I shouted up at the man’s face, ‘Where are the Blue Mountains?’

  ‘Piss off, kid!’ the statue hissed, hardly moving his mouth. He was still trying to trick the world into believing he was a statue so he could get more of the two dollar coins. I walked away.

  Don’t give up, Bird. It’s like waiting to see the masked owl. You have to be persistent.

  I looked slowly around Central-Main Station. In one corner was a big blue I and under that, the word Information. Information! That’s what I needed. A place where my questions could get answered. Maybe I should ask, Why the smell of wool when it’s wet?

  I walked over to the Information counter. A woman was sitting at the desk wearing the same green uniform as the ticket collector, only with a skirt, pink lipstick and circle earrings. ‘Excuse me,’ I said. The woman was on the telephone and she looked mad when I said ‘excuse me’.

  I couldn’t hear what she was saying because the telephone bit was behind glass, but while she was talking she was looking at me like she wanted me to go back to Denham and not to bother her again. But the sign said Information and that’s what I needed. At last she got off the telephone. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Um … I need some … I need information.’

  The lady shook her head and looked disgusted, as if I’d just made the joke about sweeping in Broome. ‘What information?’

  My plan rushed out like water from a tap being turned on too hard. ‘I’m looking for the Blue Mountains. I have a friend there. His name is AP Davies. He wrote a book and I’m going to visit him. He doesn’t know I’m coming, but I think he’ll be very glad to see me – when I get there, I mean. I’m going to build a sanctuary …’ I’d just told the information lady more of my plan than I’d told anyone.

  ‘Listen kid, why don’t you go back home?’ she said. Behind me, a woman holding a baby was waiting to ask the information lady a question. The baby in her arms was starting to cry.

  ‘But I need to get to the Blue Mountains. I’m going to find out if they’re really blue and if–’

  ‘What are you talking about? The Blue Mountains? There’s no train to the Blue Mountains here. I think you should go back home. You’ll make your mother worried.’ The information lady turned to the woman behind me and said, ‘Can I help you, madam?’

  I’ll make my mother worried. People talked a lot about mothers. What they liked to do, what they were bringing to the school fete, how they managed to fit in a job and picking up the kids, and what they cooked. Everyone had one. I was used to that. I have the smell of wool when its wet and that’s the way things actually are.

  I went back to the bench to come up with plan B. Plan B is what you turn to if there’s a problem with your plan A. No train to the Blue Mountains. If the information lady was right, there was definitely a problem with my plan A. She didn’t look like she’d really thought about it very long, though – she didn’t look it up on a list or a chart or a map or anything.

  Central-Main was speeding up. People were walking faster, lights were flashing on and off more quickly, gates were opening and closing, more and more trains were coming and going, and loudspeaker announcements were being made one after the other. If only there’d be an announcement saying, Bird! Your train leaves for the Blue Mountains in ten minutes. Go to platform one. It is very easy to find. The stationmaster will give you a coke and a meat pie when you get on the train. AP Davies is waiting for you. He’s excited about the sanctuary.

  My stomach gave a loud growl. I hadn’t eaten since lunch when I had a chip sandwich. On Mondays Dad said I could order. ‘You can order, Jamie, because it’s Monday, but make it healthy, huh? Make it a roll with meat and salad and cheese – no chips, no lollies, okay?’

  ‘Sure, Dad,’ I always said, but every Monday I had a chip sandwich on white bread. Now I was starving.

  I pulled a can of three-bean mix out of my backpack. I’d only eaten three-bean mix a couple of times before. Dad cooked real beans, but this was emergency food. I shook the can and heard the beans moving round inside. They sounded like mud. I didn’t have a can opener. What was I going to do without a can opener? I wasn’t going to ask the information lady where I might find one. She’d probably tell me to get my worried mother to open it. I put the can back in my pack. I’d have to stay hungry a bit longer, or spend some of my twenty-two dollars seventy. But if the information lady hadn’t heard of the Blue Mountains they must be far away, which meant a ticket might be expensive. And if there were no trains I’d have to catch a bus and I didn’t know how much a long bus ride might cost. Suddenly I felt as though I didn’t know much at all, and the whole time the people in Central-Main seemed to be moving faster and faster. If I hadn’t been holding onto Birds: A Field Guide maybe I’d have felt a bit sick from how fast everything was going and how hungry I was.

  A woman with grey hair all in thick knots came up to me. You could hardly see her eyes through so many lines on her face. She was pushing a trolley that was filled with plastic bags, leaves and shoes. In the baby seat, at the front of the trolley, a doll without hair was hanging through the bars. The old woman looked at me and started to laugh. I didn’t know what was so funny. Did I look funny? She had a lot of dirt on her clothes and when she laughed I saw she didn’t have teeth. ‘Ha ha ha!’ she laughed. ‘Why not, hey? Just why not! Did God say not?’ Then she stopped laughing and she said, ‘Where’s David? You’re not David!’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘You’re not him. You’re not David!’

  ‘I don’t know David,’ I said. ‘I don’t know him.’

  ‘You’re not David! You’re not David! What did you do to him?’

  I got up and ran back to the exit sign. The witch was still shouting behind me. ‘You’re not David! Where’s my David gone? Where’s he gone?’

  Don’t bother asking the silver statue.

  The ticket checker with dark hair and a moustache was still standing beside the PLEASE VALIDATE machines, making sure that nobody cheated. A girl with blue hair put her ticket in the slot, the sign went out, the metal arms of the machine opened and I pushed through as fast as I could, close behind her.

  ‘Oi, you! Kid! Stop!’ the ticket checker shouted, but I was Bird unriv
alled like the eagle. He wouldn’t catch me. I ran straight into more crowds of people crossing roads, driving cars, beeping horns – the roar out here was even louder than in Central-Main. I didn’t know where I was running, but I couldn’t stop because I was so scared I’d turn round and the ticket checker would grab me and put me in the juvenile delinquents’ jail for committing a crime. Or the witch would come after me and I’d end up in her trolley beside the doll without hair and nobody would see or notice because I didn’t have a mother to worry.

  I ran and I ran. I don’t know how many people I knocked with the cans of three-bean mix in my pack, and if I could’ve I would’ve stopped to say sorry, sorry, but there was no time for stopping.

  Everything I saw I’d never seen before. Every shop, person, car, building and road was new. The newness of everything made me feel sick. I saw a thin street off to the side of the big road I was on. There weren’t so many people down there, just parked cars and garbage bins. That’s the road I took. When I’d run down it a way, I turned round to see who was behind me. Nobody. I had escaped. I couldn’t get the air in I was puffing so hard, harder than I ever did on the football field. Maybe this was what it felt like to be Chris. I had to bend over so that the air might suck in more easily.

  When I could stand up straight again, I noticed that it was getting darker. I wished that the watch from the collection worked so I could know the time. But if the time said seven o’clock, how would that make it any different to if it said nine o’clock, eight-thirty or three in the afternoon? I’d still be standing here with my back against a wall beside big stinking bins.

  I closed my eyes and thought of the skylark’s white throat, the dark streaks across her grey-brown body and her bright dark eyes. I heard her song as she flew, chirrup chirrup chirrup, and soon I was there by Grenfell River, and my three babies were in their cup-shaped nest on the ground and I was looking for something for their dinner. This time it happened without me even drawing the skylark.

  A small yellow-and-green truck a bit like a ride-on mower came by, spraying water over the gutter. Mud splashed up, covering the road – I couldn’t stay here. When Mr Kemp set our science projects he said, ‘Give yourself an outline so you can refer to it to know the next necessary step.’ I needed to refer to my outline. I counted my money. Twenty-two dollars seventy – same as before. I walked slowly back up to the busy road. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want the roar and the rushing people, but I wasn’t going to find a bus to the Blue Mountains sitting beside bins with my eyes closed and my beak in a blossom.

  My stomach gave more loud growls as I walked. I had to get something to eat. My backpack felt wet against my leg. I opened it to find that the Worcestershire sauce bottle had leaked and spilt dark-brown sauce all over my things. Birds: A Field Guide didn’t get too wet, luckily, but my drawings were brown and smelled like burned sausage. Even though I don’t like three-bean mix, I don’t think I’d ever use Worcestershire sauce to make the beans taste better. I pulled out the leaking bottle and put it on top of a pile of garbage. The smell of the sauce was all over my fingers.

  I saw a café. It said: The Grill – Eat In or Takeaway. I was hungry and I needed to go to the toilet, so I went inside. The two men behind the counter saw my get-mad-with-Bird power and looked at me like they thought I’d vandalise wings into the tabletops. I took the money from my pack and held it out in my hand so they could see I wasn’t a thief, and I said, ‘Can I please have a can of coke and a meat pie with sauce, please, and could I please go to the toilet?’

  ‘Eat in or takeaway?’ one of the men asked me. He was wearing three gold necklaces and his shirt had red roses down the front. A lot of it was unbuttoned so that you could see his chest hair. He had more of it than Dad did.

  ‘Takeaway,’ I said.

  ‘Toilets are only for customers eating here.’ The man looked like he’d played a trick on me and was glad about it.

  ‘Eat in then,’ I said. Now the man looked like I’d played a trick on him.

  ‘Toilets are down there,’ he said, pointing to the back of the restaurant. ‘But you can pay first. Three dollars seventy.’ I handed him a five-dollar note and he gave me the change.

  I wasn’t sure whether I was meant to wait for my coke and pie with sauce, and then go to the toilet, or just go straight there while they got the coke out of the fridge and heated up the pie. In Denham I knew how things worked because I’d had so much practice at doing them, but here in the city I didn’t know how to do things in a way that looked normal.

  I smiled at the man. I don’t know why, it wasn’t like I wanted him to be my friend, but I smiled at him anyway – a really big happy one – and then I walked down to the back of the restaurant. I pushed through the double wooden doors and then I saw a door with a little drawing of a man on it that meant toilet.

  When I came back I sat at one of the booths. That booth could have fitted six people in it, but the restaurant was nearly empty so I didn’t think the two men would mind. It was a big booth with walls on three sides where I could hide away from the roar of the city and think about my next necessary step. The man with the necklaces and the red-rose shirt brought over my coke and pie with sauce. I drank the coke fast and it made my stomach as full as if I’d eaten a whole dinner.

  I didn’t want my pie with tomato sauce. I’d never in my life not wanted a pie with tomato sauce. The pie is the perfect food. It fills you up without bursting you. I like the way, with the pie, everything is wrapped inside the pastry, and I like the way the tomato sauce mixes in with the meat and the pastry at the same time. But now, that pie, staring back at me with his red-sauce face, was not my friend.

  I had to take a bite because otherwise I’d look suspicious – you don’t order a pie with tomato sauce, go to the toilet, sit in a booth, and not take a bite. Everybody knew that was a behavioural problem. I took a bite of the pie and it mixed with the sausagey smell of Worcestershire sauce still left on my fingers. My stomach was already full to bursting. What I wanted right now was to draw a pelican, but those two men were watching me; I could tell. I leaned back against the wall of the booth. I closed my eyes so that if I couldn’t draw the pelican I could at least think about her.

  A P Davies said that pelicans have long and beautiful wings and once airborne are strong fliers. I closed my eyes for just a tiny minute, just to get a feeling of my long beautiful wings taking me up into the air. I was so strong, I could fly all day and all through the night with my brother and sister pelicans flying beside me, all of us strong and airborne together …

  ‘Hey, you, this is no place to sleep!’ The man with the necklaces was shaking my shoulder. But I hadn’t been asleep, had I? And what was wrong with sleeping anyway? It was my get-mad-with-Bird power. I should have known. ‘You want to sleep, you go somewhere else. You don’t see any beds here, do you?’ That man shaking my shoulder with his rough hand was an enemy and The Grill – Eat In or Takeaway was enemy territory. If the Champions of Norron were here we would have slain him. Even though I wanted to get out of The Grill, I did it as slow as I could so my enemy couldn’t see my fear. I pulled myself out from the booth, walked out of the restaurant and stepped back onto the street into the roar of the city.

  The sky was nearly dark now, with lots of little lights coming on everywhere. The lights of car headlights, of a thousand tall-building windows, and big signs lit up the night sky. I saw a sign saying Every Bite is Paradise. I saw a sign saying Just Do It, with a giant red-and-white sneaker, and a sign saying Why Miss Out on Affordable Luxury? That one had a picture of a gold car with a lady holding a baby. I thought of my dad. I thought of how big he was and that if he was here and a man with necklaces and chest hair and a red-rose shirt asked, Eat in or takeaway? he’d say, Takeaway and I’ll go to the toilet too so move over!

  Even though everything was new, after a while I was seeing the same things over and over. I wasn’t sure if I was walking new streets or doing circles and walking old ones. I thought agai
n about being lost. Does knowing where you are on a map mean you are found? If you know where you are, but nobody else does, are you lost to the people who can’t find you but not lost to yourself?

  A bus drove past with a picture of a very big mobile phone down the side. A lady in a bikini was holding on to the phone as if it was a life raft. Even if that bus didn’t go all the way to the Blue Mountains, maybe the bus driver could tell me what to do next. My legs were so heavy now and I was walking so slowly that I was worried that the slow motion would turn into a stop. If I got on the bus I would keep moving. I would be getting somewhere with the wheels turning under me, doing some of the work. I caught up to the bus that had stopped to let some people out and jumped through the back doors. Off we went up the busy road. My heart was racing and I was having Chris’s problem with the air again.

  I sat down next to a lady with a basket full of fruit. It felt better to be sitting on the bus and getting the air in and letting that bus do some of the work for me. I wanted to watch things go by and know I was on my way. Maybe I could have a little look at Birds: A Field Guide before I went up the front of the bus for my talk with the driver about the Blue Mountains.

  I reached down to my feet for my pack. I couldn’t feel anything. I looked under the seat in front of me. My backpack wasn’t there. I felt around. I knocked the lady’s feet and her shopping basket of fruit, but I didn’t care. Everything was speeding up again and I felt hot. Where was my backpack? Didn’t I take it with me out of the restaurant? I was sure I did, but where was it? Maybe I didn’t take it with me. I couldn’t remember. Suddenly the ball bearings were back, pushing up from the bottom of me, to my throat.

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted. ‘Stop!’ I had to get off that bus. I had to get back to The Grill – Eat In or Takeaway. I had left my backpack in the booth! I didn’t care about the three-bean mix or my jumper or the nineteen dollars, but I couldn’t lose Birds: A Field Guide. I couldn’t. Sugar Boy was on the way to Broome and I needed AP. ‘Stop!’ I shouted again. Lots of the people in the bus turned round and looked at me as I pushed my way to the front. ‘Stop the bus!’