Things a Map Won't Show You

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Things a Map Won't Show You Page 8

by Pam Macintyre


  Maybe Dave hasn’t changed too much after all. Instead of collecting Pokémon cards, it’s mobile numbers. All his Facebook friends are random girls. Girls always ignore my requests. But it works the other way around too. Whenever girls want to hang out with us, I always make up excuses not to go. To save myself the embarrassment.

  Bryan checks his mobile. ‘Claire and Wendy will be there in ten minutes.’

  I grip the shoulder straps on my backpack. ‘See ya later, guys.’

  I run for the stairs but I don’t even make it to the front step. Dave tackles me and we hit the ground. He’s got me in some new grappling move that I’ve heard him brag about to his wrestling mates.

  ‘Stop being such a wuss,’ he says. ‘I never see you talk to girls.’

  ‘Girls never talk to me,’ I say, gasping for air.

  ‘Do this for your mates,’ he says.

  ‘No, get off me.’

  Dave releases me suddenly. ‘Fine, I won’t force you. I don’t want you to sook when we get there.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, just go.’

  Dave won’t look at me. Bryan shakes his head.

  I get up and turn away from them.

  ‘So you’re not even a little bit curious?’ Bryan shouts at my back.

  For a second I think I’ve lost all feeling in my right shoulder. I do want to catch a glimpse, even if it’s from the other side of the road. Will I ever get a chance like this again? Am I destined to spend every weekend getting lost in a virtual world? Will I lose my only friends because I don’t want to be a third wheel?

  I take a deep breath and turn. ‘Okay, let’s do this.’

  Dave leaps forward and punches my backpack. ‘Oh yeah, we’ve got a nibble! Now let’s reel her in.’

  We’re walking to Rashays. I squeeze myself between Dave and Bryan’s bulky shoulders. ‘So what do I say to her?’

  ‘Talk about your Lord of the Rings figurine collection,’ Dave says. ‘That’ll sweep her off her feet.’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  ‘I’m serious. She’s into that stuff. Just be yourself.’

  ‘And what if she doesn’t like me?’

  ‘Then you’ll get a full refund.’ Dave laughs. ‘Talk to her and watch the sparks fly.’

  Knowing my luck, there will be a short circuit and black smoke. If someone films our meeting and puts it up on YouTube, we’ll probably be right up there with other painful events like the Star Wars kid.

  I catch my reflection in a building window and freeze.

  ‘I’m not ready for this,’ I say. ‘I mean, my hair looks crap and look at these clothes … Can’t I meet her next week when I get my new glasses? Or maybe next year when I get a car? If you keep her away from me for five years, I might be a writer or have a job that pays well …’

  Dave and Bryan grab an arm each and drag me up the footpath. People walk by us as if abductions happened every day.

  ‘Seriously, guys, I want to give fate one last chance,’ I shout. ‘I could go to the library and meet the girl of my dreams accidentally. We’ll start to talk as she looks at my book …’

  Rashays is already packed and buzzing with kids. We cut through the crowd outside and up to a cute girl in a booth. I start to sweat bullets. Bryan gives her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Hey, babe.’

  Claire touches my arm. ‘So you want to be hooked up with Wendy?’

  I can feel my face turn red. It feels like I’m on a reality show, except this is for real.

  Claire turns and glares at Dave. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I’m a cupid. I like to admire my work,’ he says, adding an evil laugh.

  ‘Nah, you’re just stupid. Wendy’s just ducked out to the ATM.’ Claire points to a seat. ‘Sit down. I’ll go and get her.’

  Okay, I can deal with her if everyone is hanging out. I punch Bryan in the arm. ‘Let’s work out a system. If I say something wrong, touch the sugar shaker.’

  Claire shakes her head. ‘No way. We’re leaving you two to it. We don’t want it to be awkward.’

  ‘We’re being set up! Could things get more awkward?’

  ‘I’ll sit behind that plant,’ Dave says, waving his mobile at me. ‘Get Wendy to speak loud and clear so I can pick your voices up.’

  Claire pinches his ear. ‘We’re all going, you pervert.’

  ‘Good luck, man,’ Dave says. ‘Remember, if it doesn’t work out, you don’t have to pay for her drink.’

  I lean on the wonky table. It feels more like a doctor’s waiting room than a cafe now.

  A minute later, a girl sits down at the table in front of me. She’s hiding behind a thick book with a black cover.

  It’s got to be Wendy. She’s obviously too nervous to say anything. I straighten up my glasses and breathe into my palm. Man, why did I have to pig out on those prawn crackers? Okay, pull yourself together, Ben. You don’t want to tell your grandkids that you were having an anxiety attack before you met Grandma.

  I get up and stagger towards her like a lovesick zombie after her heart. ‘Hey, what are you reading?’

  ‘Vampire Wings,’ she says.

  I suddenly notice the hunky fanged creature on the cover and moan. Dave got it so wrong.

  ‘This isn’t going to work out,’ I say. ‘No offence, but I can’t hack girls who read that junk.’

  The girl goes all ninja, leaping up and thrusting her book in my face. ‘Get lost, you freak, no one asked for your opinion.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’m leaving.’

  ‘No, I’m outta here. I don’t need this crap.’ She pushes her chair in and bolts off quicker than I can stuff my sneaker in my mouth.

  I scan the room, looking for Dave or his phone attached to the plant recording this disaster. I can just make out his scruffy hair outside. I’m alone and I don’t care.

  I slump back into my chair and look at the menu. Bryan owes me a smoothie. Nah, stuff it. I can’t stomach anything now. I replay the scene in my head. Why did I bag her about her book? Maybe she was doing an assignment on vampires. Maybe she was reading it because her friends did. I should have sat down and talked to her. Got to know her more. Did I just lose the girl of my dreams? Is there a reset button for life?

  A voice like honey trickles into my ear. ‘Excuse me, have you seen Claire?’

  ‘Um, yeah, she went to the ATM.’

  ‘Uh, okay.’ A gorgeous girl with a killer smile sits down in front of me and we have an intense staring contest.

  She leans in. ‘By the way, I’m Wendy.’

  I smile back at her. ‘I know.’

  I’d lost my bag, my favourite bag,

  The one that wouldn’t close

  With all my cards and comic books

  (I hated losing those).

  And so I went to Lost and Found –

  The teacher there was new.

  He had a friendly face from which

  Enormous whiskers grew.

  ‘You’ve lost some property?’ he said.

  ‘Come rummage through my drawers,

  But cross your heart you’ll only take

  The items that are yours.’

  The place was full of odds and ends

  Too numerous to mention

  But something in the bottom drawer

  Attracted my attention.

  A tiny book of brightest green

  With purple on the spine.

  I stuffed it in my pocket

  Though I knew it wasn’t mine.

  ‘You’re certain that belongs to you?’

  The bearded teacher said.

  ‘Of course it does,’ I lied to him,

  And guiltily I fled.

  The book was but a memory

  That evening after sport

  When Dad and Mum read out to me

  My awful school report.

  ‘He’s very bad at English

  And he’s even worse at art

  He slipped up in the science lab

  And blew the place apart.
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  ‘He doesn’t know where China is

  Or Scotland or Brazil

  He can’t recall a single fact,

  We doubt he ever will.

  ‘We’ve tried to teach him everything

  And now, we tell you true –

  Your darling boy’s an idiot,

  There’s nothing we can do.’

  My parents weren’t at all impressed,

  They eyed me with disdain.

  ‘Go straight up to your bedroom, son

  And try to grow a brain.’

  Well, I was lying on my bed,

  My spirits extra low,

  When, deep inside my denim jeans

  That book began to glow.

  I held it out before me

  It was luminescent green,

  With pages full of diagrams

  Where writing once had been.

  And then I swear I heard a voice

  Mysterious and small,

  ‘I’ll grant you any wish,’ it said,

  ‘Most any wish at all.’

  Though startled by the talking book

  I answered, ‘Since you ask

  There’s something you could do for me,

  A rather special task.

  ‘If I believed in magic

  (And I don’t, for what it’s worth)

  I’d wish to be the smartest kid

  That ever walked the Earth.’

  ‘The deed is done,’ the book replied.

  ‘Now get yourself some rest.’

  (I figured I was dreaming –

  It’s the thing I do the best.)

  At six o’clock next morning

  I awoke to hear my dad

  Performing in the shower

  In that booming voice he had.

  And there he stood – not naked

  As the water pummelled down –

  For he was in his business suit

  And shoes of chocolate brown.

  It didn’t seem to bother him,

  His face was free of troubles.

  He sang like Elvis Presley

  As his briefcase filled with bubbles.

  My mother in the living room

  Had other things to do.

  She sat there sticking pickles

  To her petticoat with glue.

  I asked them what was going on.

  They simply ‘ummed’ and ‘erred’.

  I tuned my pocket radio

  And this is what I heard:

  ‘We now present the headlines

  For the forty-tenth of May.

  A hundred million citizens

  Forgot their names today.

  ‘New Zealanders have gone on strike

  Demanding lower wages.

  The keepers of the Melbourne zoo

  Have opened all the cages.

  ‘The whole Australian cricket team

  Is hiding in a tree

  The House of Representatives

  Has jumped into the sea.

  ‘And that concludes our bulletin

  The weather should be fine

  And if you find some marbles

  I’m prepared to bet they’re mine.’

  I realised, as my mother filled

  Her shoes with lemonade,

  The book had made it all come true –

  That stupid wish I’d made.

  The evidence was everywhere.

  It seemed that I’d become

  The smartest kid in all the world,

  For all the world was dumb.

  At school, the students everywhere

  Were brainless and subdued,

  Our teacher turned up late for class

  Completely in the nude.

  She cartwheeled all around the room

  As naked as could be,

  ‘Now make a note of this,’ she said,

  ‘That one plus one is three.

  ‘A triangle has seven sides

  An octopus has four

  A wombat is a type of fish

  That sells from door to door.

  ‘And cheese is made from parrot beaks

  And bread is made from dirt

  And if you need to blow your nose

  Then do so on your shirt.’

  The students smiled moronically

  And wrote down every word.

  I told them to snap out of it,

  But sadly, no one heard.

  With book in hand I hurried off

  To find the bearded man,

  I thought, ‘If he can’t help me then

  There’s nobody who can.’

  And there he sat in Lost and Found –

  As far as I could tell

  Completely unaffected

  By the dreaded stupid spell.

  He looked at me. ‘What’s wrong my child?’

  I said, ‘I’m worried sick.

  I took this book, and now I’ve made

  The world completely thick.

  ‘This book does not belong to me.’

  The man said, ‘Yes, I know.

  It’s mine, you thieving little brat,

  I bought it years ago.

  ‘But since you’re such a simple boy

  I must forgive your crime.

  The book will give you one more wish

  But get it right this time.’

  Those words so kind and gentle

  Were the final ones he spoke.

  He vanished right before me

  In a puff of purple smoke.

  And what would be my final wish?

  I took the book and swore

  With all my heart I wanted things

  The way they’d been before.

  The spell was spun, the book was gone,

  The world was smart as ever.

  The leaders and the teachers

  And the parents all were clever.

  While I went back to being me,

  Not wonderful or wise.

  The sort of kid that isn’t smart

  No matter how he tries.

  And when my teacher scolded,

  ‘You’re an idiot, my son.’

  Her insults didn’t bother me

  The way they once had done.

  I simply shrugged my shoulders

  And ignored her comments crude

  And thought of how I’d seen her

  Doing cartwheels in the nude.

  A solemn child, I never smiled.

  My face was long and scowling.

  The kids would cry when I walked by

  And dogs would all start howling.

  My dad was bleak, ‘Our son’s a freak.

  There’s nothing we can do.

  We’ll simply have to sell him

  To a circus or a zoo.’

  ‘We cannot sell our baby boy!’

  My mother told him flat.

  ‘You’d have to be an idiot

  To buy a kid like that.’

  They took me to a hypnotist,

  (They found her on the ‘net)

  She made a first impression

  That I never will forget.

  It didn’t make me confident,

  The costume that she wore –

  A dozen coloured tablecloths

  That almost reached the floor

  But naturally, I couldn’t smile

  Although she looked absurd

  I simply sat there frowning

  And I didn’t say a word.

  The hypnotist regarded me,

  A pouting, scowling kid.

  ‘His face could stop a clock,’ she said.

  My father said, ‘It did.

  ‘We’ll pay you anything,’ he said.

  ‘To fix his wretched state.’

  The hypnotist said, ‘Fifty bucks?’

  And Dad said, ‘Forty-eight.’

  She waved her hands before my eyes,

  ‘You’re feeling very sleepy.’

  I sat perplexed, and what came next

  Was curious and creepy.

  ‘Yay
boo!’ she cried, as if possessed

  ‘Yay boo a thousand times!’

  (I think it was a magic spell

  That came from foreign climes.)

  And as she spoke repeatedly

  Of yaying and of booing,

  I scarcely could believe the things

  My face had started doing.

  A blink, a twitch, a facial itch,

  A jerk, a smirk, a sneer.

  At last I wore a giant grin

  That stretched from ear to ear.

  My parents hugged the hypnotist,

  ‘A miracle!’ they cried.

  ‘However can we pay you back?’

  ‘With money,’ she replied.

  They paid the bill, then with a thrill

  My parents hit the mall.

  They jumped for joy, ‘Our darling boy

  Is human after all!

  ‘His rosy cheeks look lovely

  And his teeth are pearly white.

  Did anybody ever see

  A more enchanting sight?

  ‘We thought we would abandon him,

  Or send him far away

  But now he’s started smiling

  We’re prepared to let him stay.’

  But then a solemn funeral passed,

  The coffin piled with roses,

  I couldn’t stop my smiling

  As the mourners blew their noses.

  ‘You’d better stop your smiling, son.

  ‘That’s quite enough for now.

  ‘You should look sad,’ my father said,

  And I responded, ‘How?’

  ‘You mean, that grin is permanent?’

  My mother was appalled.

  (I blushed at all the naughty things

  The hypnotist was called.)

  The people saw my grinning face,

  They bellowed, ‘How unkind!’

  Then threw their soggy hankies

 

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