by Chris Miles
Jack glanced up apologetically. ‘Um, maybe don’t do the head-patting thing when we’re on camera for real?’
‘Sorry.’ Nats closed her eyes and went very zen for a moment, as though collecting herself for a Shakespeare debut. With the hand she’d used to pat Jack on the head, she grabbed Jack’s left hand and placed it around her waist. His hand came to rest on her left hip.
Jack’s instinct was to lift his hand away and run. Just run. Instead, he kept it frozen where it was, not moving a muscle, worried a sudden spasm might cause him to accidentally goose Nats and break the spell.
Nats shook her head in response to an imaginary question. ‘No, the age gap isn’t a problem. Jack’s very mature. He’s not like other boys his age. Most Year 7 boys –’
‘Um, Year 8?’
Nats blinked. ‘Most Year 8 boys would be too embarrassed to be in a relationship like this. They wouldn’t know what to do, or wouldn’t respect certain boundaries.’
‘I … definitely respect your boundaries,’ said Jack. He looked up at Nats, wondering if she was likely to notice the damp, sweaty handprint he was almost certainly leaving on her leggings.
‘That’s why we’re so good together,’ she finished.
Wow, thought Jack. Nats was really getting into character. Maybe she did have talent as a performer. And maybe, just maybe, this whole ‘older girlfriend’ ploy had a chance of succeeding. Maybe he was going to be able to keep up with the Amit Gondras of the world after all.
‘You’re a really good actress,’ said Jack.
Nats shrugged. She picked up her bags from where she’d left them on the ground.
‘Or … maybe there really is something between us?’ Jack gulped.
Nats locked eyes with him.
‘No. I was acting.’ She glanced down at her shopping bags and then looked up at Jack again. ‘People like me? We’re always acting.’
Jack frowned. What did she mean by that? And people like what? Popular people who everyone wanted to be friends with, and who had everything they wanted?
‘So it’s a deal then? You’ll come up on stage with me at the festival? You’ll pretend to be my girlfriend for the cameras?’
Nats passed her phone to Jack. ‘We should swap numbers. So I know where to be on the night.’
That sounds like a yes, thought Jack. He handed Nats his phone, hoping she wouldn’t notice the sweaty residue he’d left on it.
They entered their numbers and passed the phones back to each other. Jack still couldn’t quite believe what had happened. He now had a little part of Nats to carry around with him, and Nats had a little part of Jack to carry around with her too.
At least until after the balloon festival, when Jack was ninety-nine per cent sure she’d delete his number and never speak to him again.
Or maybe the TV cameras would show just how well-matched they were, and they’d become a celebrity power couple for real and forever.
Nats slipped her phone back into her bag. ‘Bye, Jack. Enjoy the rest of your time at the top.’ She smiled weakly. ‘I’ll see you on the weekend.’
‘Y-yeah,’ said Jack, his grip tightening around his phone out of fear of it slipping from his hands. ‘See you then. B-babe.’
‘What?’
Jack shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He stood and watched his newly minted fake girlfriend walk off into the distance. As soon as she was out of sight, he jabbed at his phone, making sure her number really was in there.
It was. It really was. She’d even put a smiley after her name.
A. Smiley.
It was almost enough to make him forget about the other new entry in his list of recently added contacts. But there it was, directly under Nats.
Oliver Sampson.
Jack stared at the name. He was starting to realise he’d been carrying a little part of Sampson around with him for way too long. The part that made Jack feel like the smallest kid in school. Now he was the biggest man in town – and he actually felt like it. Not only that, but he had his own bachelor pad, and his very own mega-hottie to go with it. Bigwigs was sure to want him back. He was a completely different person now. Jack Sprigley: bigger and better. It almost didn’t matter that he didn’t have pubes yet. Everything else had fallen into place.
He’d faked the big time.
Flushed with these strange new feelings of conquest and triumph, Jack hit ‘Dial’.
Sampson sounded confused when he answered. ‘Um, yeah? Who’s this?’
Jack cleared his throat. ‘It’s Jack. Jack Sprigley.’
There was a pause. ‘What do you want? Aren’t you busy being Upland’s Incredibly Junior Mayor?’
Jack ignored Sampson’s jibe. He wanted to strike the right balance between victorious and generous. Magnanimous, he thought. That was the word he was after. Like a tennis champion shaking hands with a crushed and broken rival. ‘I just wanted to see if you were coming to the balloon festival on Friday night. It’s the last bit of filming before I fly down for the live show, and –’
‘And you just wanted to remind me how great you are?’
‘No, I just thought you might want to be part of it. The whole Bigwigs thing. You know, get yourself on camera a bit more –’
‘So, basically hang around in the background like a Jack Sprigley fanboy?’
‘It doesn’t have to be that. You could help unveil this balloon I’m racing in –’
‘Nah, thanks.’ Sampson’s tone changed completely. He sounded weirdly casual. Almost friendly – but with an undertone that Jack couldn’t quite figure out. ‘I’m good.’
Jack didn’t want Vivi thinking he hadn’t tried hard enough. ‘I just thought, since everyone else is going to be at the festival, you might as well be there too. Part of the gang.’ He hoped Vivi appreciated how much it pained him to say that.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Sampson. ‘I’ll definitely be there.’ He paused, and the silence on the other end of the line was as bad as any embarrassing changing room put-down. ‘Catch you later, Sprogless.’
Jack’s phone beeped three times.
Call ended.
Delilah unclipped her seat belt and leant across to Jack. ‘Here we are, Mr Mayor for a Week. Your big moment.’
They’d pulled up in the VIP area behind the grandstand at the Upland Showgrounds. Jack, Delilah, Todd and Brett piled out of the minivan. On the other side of the grandstand, the 14th Annual Upland Hot-Air Balloon Festival was bobbing into action. Food stalls and sideshows ringed the edge of the Number 1 Oval. Hundreds of people milled about, and more were arriving every minute. In centre of the oval, Jack counted twenty or thirty hot-air balloons floating ten feet above the grass, tethered to the ground by thick white ropes. Festival-goers took rides in the baskets, posing for selfies or waving to their friends and families below. Occasionally a jet of flame lit up a balloon from within, accompanied by a roar like that of a caged animal straining to be set loose.
Over on the Number 2 Oval, festival staff in fluoro vests checked wind direction and communicated with each other via walkie-talkie as they cordoned off an area for the Mayor’s Balloon Race. Jack had discovered it was more of a timed flight than an actual race. The challenging team – chosen by lottery, and this year flying in a balloon sponsored by Avocado World – would make a short flight from one side of the oval to the other, where they had to land as close as possible to a painted ‘X’ on the grass. The mayor’s team, also chosen by lottery, had to make the same flight and beat the time the challenger had set.
‘Okay,’ said Delilah. ‘We’re going to go and film some local colour. We’ll meet you back here in half an hour. The limousine should have arrived by then. Then we’ll get you into your robes and chains and film your big entrance.’ Delilah looked Jack in the eye. ‘With Natsumi.’
‘With Natsumi,’ said Jack. He should have been sounding confident. It was all sorted. And he’d done it on his own. He’d made Nats his pretend girlfriend all by himself. But it wasn’t Nats he was w
orried about.
Jack watched Delilah and her crew head through one of the gates and out into the festival, then scanned the oval for any sign of Oliver Sampson. He’d said he was coming. He’d said he was definitely going to be there.
And he’d sounded like he was up to something.
‘Someone’s looking jittery,’ said a voice behind him.
Jack turned to see Vivi standing there, armed with an access pass and clipboard. She was supposed to spend the opening night stationed at the marquee, helping Jack get organised for his speech. It was the only job anyone had been able to think to give her. Jack saw the woman from the council stationed at the organisers’ marquee as well, keeping an eye on things.
‘You’re not nervous, are you?’ said Vivi. ‘Didn’t you tell me you’ve done this kind of thing before? Isn’t that why you’re so much more qualified to be Mayor for a Week than I am?’
Jack wasn’t nervous about his launch speech. Public speaking had never bothered him, he knew where he had to be, and he’d memorised his script. He’d make his grand entrance (arm-in-arm with Nats, if everything went to plan), then get up on the grandstand to declare the festival open (again, ideally arm-in-arm with Nats), then pose for the news cameras and Bigwigs camera as his hot-air balloon design for the Mayor’s Balloon Race was unveiled.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. He’d woken up with faint red spots – some sort of weird stress rash, he guessed – creeping up his neck. ‘Have you seen Sampson?’ he asked.
Vivi looked him in the eye. ‘No. I haven’t.’
‘I called him,’ Jack insisted. ‘I spoke to him.’
‘And?’
And ever since then I’ve had a very bad feeling about this whole thing, thought Jack.
Jack’s phone buzzed before he could describe his conversation with Sampson to Vivi. Vivi peered over his shoulder as he checked the message. ‘Oliver?’ she asked.
Jack said nothing. Instead, he looked up from his phone and scanned the area near the gate. There she was, in an expensive-looking black dress and gold jewellery. The crowning detail in Jack’s plan to out-Bigwig the other Bigwigs.
Natsumi saw Jack and waved. Jack couldn’t help noticing the dark look on Vivi’s face. ‘I’m giving Nats her big break,’ he explained with a shrug.
‘And you get a trophy wife for the cameras.’ Vivi clasped her hands to her chest. ‘Or – wait, could it be true love? A love that transcends year levels! A love that transcends her being a ditz and you being –’
‘Me being what?’
Vivi unclasped her hands and scowled, but didn’t answer. She focused intently on her clipboard for a moment.
Jack went over to meet Nats at the gate, waving his access pass at the security guards so they’d let her through. When Jack realised that Vivi had followed him over, he instinctively reached out towards Nats as if to put his arm around her.
Nats shrank away slightly. ‘Um, only for the cameras, remember?’
‘Yeah, right. I get it. I was just … practising.’
‘Ugh,’ said Vivi.
‘Speaking of cameras, I guess we should go and find Delilah.’ Jack leant closer to Nats. ‘She’s my producer.’
‘She’s the Bigwigs segment producer,’ Vivi corrected him.
Jack ignored her. ‘They’re going to film us arriving together in a limousine.’
Nats looked confused. ‘But we’re already here!’
‘They’re going to fake it,’ said Vivi, putting on a sarcastically sympathetic smile. ‘Like everything Jack does.’
‘That’s how it works in TV.’ Jack held his hands out in a ‘what can you do about it?’ gesture. ‘That’s showbiz, babe.’
Vivi looked unwell. ‘You did not just call her “babe”.’
In the nick of time, Jack spotted Darylyn, Philo and Reese heading across the oval towards them. ‘Hey, there’s my team!’ He waved them over, then turned to Nats. ‘Before we find Delilah, let’s see if we can go and check out Hot-Air Force One. I’ve been wanting to see this all week!’
‘That’s Natsumi Distagio,’ Darylyn observed, as she and Reese and Philo arrived at the gate where Jack and the others were.
‘Correct,’ said Vivi.
‘Can we see the balloon?’ asked Jack.
Darylyn nodded, with an ever-so-slightly concerned look on her face. ‘They’re doing a test inflation now.’
Reese threw Jack a look. ‘It’s not the only thing that’s getting inflated around here.’ He nodded towards Vivi. ‘Hey, dude, how’s Mayor for a Week treating you?’
‘Reese, you know I’m deputy.’
‘I know who should have been mayor.’
Darylyn glanced at Reese, then Vivi, then Jack. ‘I suggest we go look at the balloon.’
Darylyn and Reese led the way through the gate and past the organisers’ marquee, with Vivi and Nats making an awkward second pairing. A crew in fluoro vests was busy laying out a nylon envelope on the grass. A wicker basket lay on its side nearby.
Philo hung back and gave Jack a nudge. ‘So I never asked: did you find that stuff I left for you?’
Jack frowned. ‘What stuff?’
‘The stuff!’
Jack shook his head, frowning. ‘But I asked you about it, remember? You said you didn’t leave anything in the bachelor pad.’
‘I didn’t leave anything in the bachelor pad.’
‘Okay. So …’
‘I left it in your room.’
Jack stopped. ‘Wait, what? The bachelor pad is my room.’
‘Is it?’
‘I swapped rooms with my gran. You helped me move my things!’
‘Oh. Right.’ Philo paused. ‘So I guess that means I left it in your old room.’
‘My old room? But that’s …’ Jack stopped and grabbed Philo by the shoulders. ‘Okay Philo, listen to me carefully. This is important. What did you leave in my gran’s room?’
Philo looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe it doesn’t work on ladies.’
‘Philo!’
‘Okey-doke. So you know how people always seem to do what my family tells them to do? Well, I went to the doctor and made him give me this cream I found out about. Except here’s the brilliant part. It’s not for me. It’s for you.’
‘Cream? What sort of cream?’
‘It’s a … wait a minute, I always have trouble with this … It’s a tes-toster-own cream.’
Jack’s eyes widened. ‘A what?’
‘It makes your pubes grow! Anyway, I put it right on that little table next to your bed.’
‘Gran’s bed! Gran’s little table!’
Philo paused. ‘I did wonder why you had a photo of yourself there.’
Jack tried to calm down. Maybe Marlene hadn’t seen it. She kept all sorts of junk on her bedside table. It was possible that Philo’s well-meaning but wildly misdirected gift had gone unnoticed. ‘Okay. Let’s think for a moment. What else was on the table?’
‘Well, it’s funny you should say that, because there were a whole bunch of other creams there too.’
Oh god, thought Jack. Other creams. Moisturisers. Cleansers. Face creams.
‘I think it’ll be fine,’ said Philo, noticing Jack’s panicked expression. ‘I mean, your gran is very old and probably has a lot of pubes already, so she might not even notice.’
Jack did his best to ignore the mental image Philo had just conjured. ‘It’s testosterone cream, Philo. It has to do more than just give you pubes. I mean, are there any side effects?’
Before Philo could answer, Jack heard someone shout his name from across the showgrounds. Hallie was tearing towards him with the Shieling twins in tow. The security guards at the gate didn’t even stop them to check for access passes, so intense was the look on Hallie’s face. At first Jack was worried she was about to yell at him for stealing Nats away from her – but then he realised she looked more freaked out than furious.
‘What’s wrong? What are you doing here?’
Yasmine cr
ossed her arms over her chest. ‘We’re here because we wanted to see Natsumi make a spectacle of herself.’
Hallie didn’t seem to be relishing Nats’s fall from grace the way the Shieling twins were. ‘Jack, I got a call from Mum. It’s Gran. Something weird’s happened.’
Jack glanced sideways at Philo. ‘Yeah, I think –’
‘Jack, she’s in hospital.’
There were gasps. Nats clamped her hand to her mouth.
Jack blinked. ‘What? What happened?’
‘Okay, this is the weird part. Mum reckons she attacked a taxi driver.’
‘What?
’ ‘Like, actually pinned him down and nearly broke his arm.’
‘Wait, so it’s the taxi driver who got injured?’
‘Both,’ said Hallie. ‘Mum says Gran slipped and cut her head open. She’s okay, but there’s cops at the hospital. She reckons the taxi driver’s going to press charges.’
‘Against Gran?’ Jack gave a nervous laugh. ‘Nah, Mum must be pranking you.’ He checked his phone. ‘Look, no messages.’
‘Yeah, I guess she figured you were too busy to bother with boring family stuff like your gran committing assault.’ Hallie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘But let’s forget about that. I don’t care about that Bigwigs stuff anymore. This is more important. Remember Gran going all Exorcist the other night? I think she might have stopped taking her hormone tablets.’
‘What hormone tablets?’
Hallie rolled her eyes. ‘The pills you pick up from the chemists for her every month?’
‘They’re hormone tablets?’ Jack’s brow crinkled. ‘I’ve been buying lady hormone tablets?’
‘It’s not just tablets,’ said Philo. ‘You can get creams as well. Like the tes-toster-own cream I bought for Jack and accidentally left in his gran’s room.’
Everyone turned and stared at Philo.
Hallie blinked. ‘Did he just say he gave testosterone cream to Gran?’
Jack put a hand to his brow and groaned. Surely this wasn’t happening. Not now. Not when his audition for the Bigwigs Board was at stake.
‘You know what?’ said Hallie. ‘It doesn’t even matter at this point. Jack, we’ve got to go to the hospital. Mum’s probably stressed out of her head.’