Spurt

by Chris Miles

  The spring breeze made the flowering bushes on the nature strip sway like hula dancers as Jack turned the corner into Peppertree Drive. He was only a few steps down the road when he saw Reese vault one-handed over the low gate at the end of his driveway onto the footpath.

  Jack checked his watch. 8.15 a.m. Kind of early to be leaving for school, he thought.

  One of Reese’s earbuds had popped out in the jump over the gate. Jack went to call out, hoping to get Reese’s attention before he put the earbud back in, when he noticed someone waving at Reese from the other side of the street.

  It was Darylyn.

  Without knowing exactly why, Jack instinctively slunk back the way he’d come. Darylyn hadn’t seen him yet. In fact, as she and Reese stared at each other across the street, they seemed to be suspended in a world of their own.

  Jack ducked back behind the wonky wooden fence that ran alongside the house on the corner of the street. He watched as Darylyn checked for traffic. It was almost like they were doing a drugs drop-off or something.

  Darylyn crossed the street to where Reese was waiting for her, holding out the spare earbud. And Darylyn smiled. Jack couldn’t believe it. It was basically like looking at a completely different person. Then this quasi-imposter version of Darylyn let herself be joined to Reese via earbud cable, and together they walked to school.

  Jack crept out from behind the fence. It wasn’t a drugs drop-off, he realised grimly. What it looks like, thought Jack, is a lovey-dovey drop-in.

  He took a few steps after his friends, then saw Reese reach for Darylyn’s hand.

  Then Darylyn reached for Reese’s hand. Their hands touched, and the two of them leant in towards each other –

  And then, at the last moment, Reese stopped, as if he’d sensed something. He turned to look over his shoulder …

  And that was when Jack – quick-thinking, problem-solving, reality-TV-show contestant Jack Sprigley – made the split-second decision to dive into a lavender bush.

  Jack waited outside his classroom for first period alone.

  Reese and Darylyn had apparently been so caught up in their private hand-holding, earbud-sharing love-zone that they hadn’t even waited at the school gate for him.

  Meanwhile, Vivi had been a no-show in home room that morning.

  Where are you? Jack texted. He switched his phone off silent so he’d be sure to get her reply as soon as she sent it.

  How long has this Reese and Darylyn thing been going on? he wondered. They’d been friends since primary school, before Jack even knew them, so it wasn’t weird that they’d walked to school together. But the hand-holding and the almost-kissing was definitely weird.

  He wondered if Vivi knew. Maybe she did. Maybe Jack was doomed to be the last one to find out – possibly because he’d been the last one to join the gang, but more likely because he was the only one who hadn’t sprouted functioning sex parts yet.

  The rest of 8C milled about the corridor. Jack picked out some of the faces he’d known since Upland West Primary: people he’d sat next to in class, people he’d played sport with, people he’d been friends with, even. But then there’d been Bigwigs, and the start of high school, and meeting Vivi and Reese and Darylyn. Everyone had outgrown the old bonds from primary school.

  He wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, turning away from his Bigwigs semi-fame. He should have cashed it in as a kind of popularity insurance policy. Maybe then it wouldn’t have been so easy for everyone to leave him behind. As it was, he felt like an embarrassing leftover from another time.

  A time before pubes.

  ‘Jack!’ said a voice behind him. Jack turned to see Philo standing in the corridor, grinning eagerly. ‘Hi! You’ve got lavender in your hair!’

  Jack tipped his head forward and finger-combed the purple flowers out of his fringe. ‘Hi, Philo.’

  ‘Speaking of hair …’ Philo reached into his satchel.

  Jack glanced at Philo warily. Speaking of hair? This did not sound good.

  ‘That’s right: I think I might have the solution to your problem!’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I don’t have a –’

  ‘Ta-da!’

  Philo handed Jack a flap of beige-coloured cloth with a dense mass of black, wiry strands stitched to it. Underneath the cloth were several strips of carefully positioned double-sided tape.

  Jack stared at it for a moment. Then he stared at it a moment longer.

  ‘Is this what I think it is?’ he whispered, wide-eyed with horror. He looked up at Philo in a panic. ‘Is this … holy crap, is this a merkin?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Philo whispered back. ‘What’s a merkin?’

  Jack took Philo aside and shook the wiry thatch at him. ‘It’s this!’ he hissed, keeping his voice low so no-one else would hear. ‘It’s what this is. This is a merkin. This pube wig is a merkin!’

  In Year 7, Jack had mistyped the word ‘Merlin’ in an English essay and became curious when the spellchecker didn’t pick it up. One image search later, and a whole new world of pubic fashion had been laid bare – or not – before him.

  ‘Oh,’ said Philo, looking annoyed. ‘I didn’t realise that was already a thing.’

  ‘You mean … you came up with the idea of a merkin by yourself?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so. Wow, now I feel stupid. I could’ve just bought one on the internet or something. Anyway, it’s just so you don’t have to feel so out of place in the changing room.’

  ‘No, this wouldn’t make me look out of place at all,’ Jack said, rolling his eyes. Then he stopped. ‘Wait, if you didn’t buy this …’

  ‘I made it.’

  ‘You made it?’

  ‘With Mother’s sewing kit. It took me all night.’

  Jack turned the material over in his hands. Gross and creepy though it was, he had to admit Philo had put a lot of effort into it. ‘You know, it’s actually pretty solid work … What did you use for the – ?’ Then his eyes widened. ‘Wait … Oh my god, it’s not your hair, is it?’

  Philo went suddenly shifty-eyed. ‘What?’

  Jack held the homemade merkin as far away as possible without attracting attention from the rest of 8C. ‘Have you just given me a handful of your own pubes?’ he hissed.

  ‘Would that be bad?’

  ‘Yes, that would be bad!’

  ‘Even if they’d been shampooed first?’

  Jack’s eyes widened even further. ‘So they are your pubes!’

  Philo paused. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Whose are they, then?’

  ‘Whose are what?’

  ‘Whose pubes are they? What else would I be talking about when I’m holding a bunch of pubes? What were you expecting me to do with this thing, anyway?’ Jack whispered. ‘Wear it?’

  ‘Just until …’ Philo lowered his hands and made wafting motions upwards in an apparent attempt to mime the growth of pubic hair.

  ‘I don’t believe this!’

  ‘You’d be more like Oliver Sampson,’ said Philo.

  ‘Why? Does he have someone else’s pubes stuffed down his jocks as well?’

  ‘Sampson? I don’t know. You could ask him!’

  ‘Ask me what?’

  Jack turned to see Sampson standing behind him. And standing next to Sampson was homeroom no-show and recent non-replier-to-texts, Vivi Dink-Dawson.

  ‘Hey, cuz,’ she said to Philo. ‘Hey, Jack.’ She tried to see what Jack was holding. ‘Oh my god, what is that?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Jack, stuffing the merkin into his pocket. ‘And Philo was just leaving. Weren’t you, Philo?’

  ‘I sure was!’ said Philo. ‘If I don’t get a move on, I’ll be late for school!’

  Sampson frowned. ‘You’re … at school already?’

  Philo blinked. ‘Okay, that was pretty stupid, even for me. I guess I shouldn’t have stayed up so late making Jack that merk–’

  ‘Merkel!’ blurted Jack. ‘That … sculpture of Angela Merkel. You know.
The German prime minister or whatever. Oh man, she’s definitely my favourite world leader who’s a lady.’

  Philo now looked even more confused than normal. Jack gave him a little shove to send him on his way, then turned back to Vivi.

  Sampson was still hovering next to her. It was almost as though Vivi had temporarily forgotten what a massive brainless jerk he was.

  ‘I thought you must have been sick or something,’ said Jack, doing his best to ignore Sampson. ‘I mean, that Mayor for a Week thing is on today, right? I didn’t think you’d want to miss that.’

  ‘I think you’ll find Angela Merkel is the German chancellor,’ said Sampson, ‘not prime minister.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘Really?’

  Really? he thought. Sampson knows a three-syllable word?

  ‘That’s why we’re late,’ said Vivi. ‘We bumped into each other at the bus stop and just got fully into this conversation about whether I should apply or not. Oliver’s coming to the information session too.’

  ‘We got talking yesterday after PE,’ Sampson explained. He glanced down at Vivi. ‘You know, comparing notes on the soccer match. One captain to another!’

  ‘A meeting of equals!’ joked Vivi.

  Jack looked from Vivi to Sampson and back again. What the hell was going on? ‘I … thought we’d already agreed you should definitely go for it?’ he said.

  Vivi frowned. ‘I don’t think we had. Anyway, I figured it couldn’t hurt to get another opinion. Mix things up a little.’

  Jack couldn’t help thinking things seemed plenty mixed up already.

  ‘Oliver’s going to meet me outside the student centre, before the information session.’ Vivi caught Jack’s eye. ‘I thought you’d probably want to tag along too?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jack. ‘Sure.’ What could he do: say no? Risk getting Vivi offside? It wasn’t an option. Not with Sampson looking very much on-side. ‘Tag along. That sounds like my kind of thing …’

  Vivi brightened. ‘Awesome! I already have some ideas about what I’d like to do as Mayor for a Week –’

  (This came as no surprise to Jack.)

  ‘– but I was thinking you guys could help me out, maybe workshop some stuff, kick some other ideas around?’

  ‘Totally,’ said Jack. ‘I’m actually pretty good with that sort of thing.’ He glanced up at Sampson, suddenly feeling as though he was on surer ground. ‘You know, from being on Bigwigs. When you think about it, it’s pretty similar. Kids doing adult jobs. And Bigwigs was a competition, Mayor for a Week’s a competition … So, yeah – I’m totally qualified to help.’

  ‘Bigwigs,’ Sampson snorted. ‘Like anyone watches that show anymore. Just because it’s moved to Network Twelve and it’s running in prime time and has brand-new corporate sponsors and bigger prizes and …’ He stopped, seeming to notice the way Vivi and Jack were looking at him. ‘I mean, I don’t really keep up with it. That’s just what I heard. All I’m saying is, it’s still a stupid kids show.’

  The bell rang for first period.

  ‘So we’ll see you later, yeah?’ said Vivi, looking at Sampson.

  ‘Totes,’ said Sampson. He flashed a dark look at Jack, which went unnoticed by Vivi, then walked off down the corridor.

  ‘What are you doing getting him involved in this?’ hissed Jack.

  ‘In what?’ said Vivi.

  ‘In this! In … us.’

  ‘I … don’t think there is an “us”, Jack.’

  ‘Not us us. I mean all of us. Me and you and Reese and Darylyn.’ Again, Jack wondered if Vivi knew about Reese and Darylyn’s secret pairing. If she did, she didn’t show it.

  ‘Look, Jack,’ said Vivi, ‘things aren’t always going to stay the same …’

  (Jack wanted to mention that he had three terms’ worth of looking down his pyjama bottoms that suggested otherwise.)

  ‘… and anyway, Oliver actually seems like an okay guy when you get to know him. Plus the only reason we got talking yesterday after PE was because you disappeared on me.’

  Disappeared, thought Jack. That’s exactly what he felt was happening. He wondered how long it would be before nobody saw him at all.

  The tables in the student centre had been cleared to one side. Jack counted about twenty Year 7s and 8s sitting in two half-circle rows of chairs facing the guest speaker from Upland City Council. Jack deliberately sat in the row behind Vivi and Sampson, so he could eavesdrop on them without drawing attention to himself.

  He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear. Some accidental confession? Some careless hint confirming his suspicion that they’d become an oddly matched romantic couple overnight? (King Kong and the lady from King Kong, thought Jack.)

  All that actually happened was that for the whole first ten minutes of the session, Jack kept having to lean from side to side to see past Sampson’s ox-like shoulders.

  The other kids in the room were junior school’s best and brightest: the high achievers, the popular kids, the all-rounders, the online petition-makers and rally-marchers. For a moment Jack was reminded of the cast meetings for Bigwigs, when the contestants would all be crammed into a dingy production office and briefed on their workplace challenge for the week. An office like the one where Jack had been told the real reason he wouldn’t be making it any further in the finals.

  ‘We’re looking for someone with the maturity to represent their school in the community,’ the woman from the mayor’s office was saying, ‘but also someone who can learn from having the town’s top job for a week. If you think that person is you, I’d encourage you to find someone to nominate you and choose one of the essay topics listed on the application form. And I think that’s all I need to tell you, except to say: good luck!’

  Jack and Vivi’s home room teacher, Mr Jacobs, led the assembled students in applause.

  Vivi turn to Sampson. ‘Essay topics?’ Jack heard her say. She looked confused, as though she couldn’t work out whether to be annoyed or not. ‘They must have changed the rules. I guess it’s not just a popularity contest after all.’

  Meanwhile, the junior school deputy head Ms Liaw had stepped off into one of the offices adjoining the student centre to fetch the next speaker. It hadn’t even occurred to Jack who it would be, but suddenly there she was: Natsumi ‘Nats’ Distagio.

  There were murmurings of disapproval from some of the Year 7s and 8s. Jack half expected Vivi to turn around and make another joke about him marrying into the Distagio family. He almost wished she would. Any attention would be better than no attention at all.

  Nats glanced quickly down at the index cards in her hand, cleared her throat, then straightened her back and lifted her chin. ‘Imagine being able to walk a week in someone else’s shoes. To see the big picture.’ She gazed earnestly at the assembled Year 7s and 8s. ‘Imagine being given the opportunity to bring people together. To make a difference. That’s what it felt like the week I was Mayor for a Week for a week. It’s an experience I’ll always remember – even in five years’ time when I’ve got my dream job as a prime-time TV presenter.’

  More murmurings.

  Nats moved to the next card, and glanced up again. ‘I can see many familiar faces here today –’

  Jack felt a hot prickling sensation creep up his neck. It suddenly occurred to him: maybe Nats had watched Bigwigs. Maybe she recognised him from TV. Maybe she knew who he was.

  ‘– and I’m sure every one of you would be a great ambassador for the school. Of course, it’s not just what’s underneath that counts. The Mayor for a Week is the public face of Upland. For a week. That face is somewhere in this room. That face could be your face. For a week.’

  Nats was moving on to her next card when Jack’s phone buzzed and beeped in his pocket.

  Crap, he thought. He’d stupidly forgotten to switch it back to silent from before, when he’d been waiting for Vivi to text him back.

  Worse, it wasn’t just a message. Someone was trying to call him.

  He plunged his
hand into his pocket to silence the phone – and frowned. He didn’t remember packing a hankie in his pocket. And also, why was it covered in hairs?

  His eyes widened. Philo’s little homework project. Jack had jammed it into his pocket to hide it from Vivi and Sampson. It had been there ever since. A ticking time bomb of Philo Dawson’s pubes.

  And he’d just put his hand right onto it.

  Ms Liaw’s gaze swept around the student centre. ‘Whose phone is that?’

  People started shifting in their chairs and craning their necks.

  ‘Turn it off now unless you want it confiscated.’

  Jack’s phone was ringing properly now. Loudly. He reached further into his pocket, doing his best to avoid any contact with the merkin.

  ‘Come on,’ said Mr Jacobs. ‘Natsumi has taken time out from her classes to speak to you all. Show some respect.’

  The kids in the audience started looking in Jack’s direction. Jack sat dead still, eyes straight ahead. He fumbled for the ringer toggle on the phone – and felt the adhesive kiss of double-sided tape against the back of his hand.

  Goddamn it, thought Jack. He gave up trying to silence the phone. Instead he waggled his hand in his pocket, trying to shake Philo’s homemade pube wig free.

  Ms Liaw craned her neck. ‘Jack? Is that your phone?’

  The more Jack shook his hand, the tighter the merkin clung to it. ‘Er –’

  ‘Jack Sprigley,’ said Mr Jacobs. ‘You know better than this. Hand it over.’

  Everyone in the student centre swung around to face him. Vivi and Sampson stared at him like he was crazy.

  ‘Jack!’ hissed Vivi. ‘Turn it off!’

  The phone continued to ring. Jack couldn’t pull out his hand without revealing the merkin. One glimpse of the pube wig and everyone would a) know for sure that Jack had no pubes of his own, and b) think he was a total freaking weirdo. ‘Er –’

  Mr Jacobs clicked his fingers. ‘Give it to me.’

  He shook his hand in his pocket again, but the merkin was fully stuck to him. (Jack cursed Philo’s excellent workmanship – and then changed his mind and cursed the fact that Philo had given him a pube wig at all.)