by Chris Miles
After everything that had happened, Jack wasn’t sure he deserved to have everyone looking out for him like that. He’d been the opposite of loyal to Vivi, but still they hadn’t ditched him.
Maybe there’d never been any danger of that in the first place.
Jack had imagined the take-off would be a slow and steady rise into the sky, but it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like they were suddenly launched into the atmosphere, either, though. What seemed to happen was that one moment they could feel the ground beneath them, and the next it was gone. When it happened, it took Jack a second to realise they were even airborne.
Jack joined the others at the edge of the basket. Dozens more balloons had lifted off from the ground, all at different altitudes, all sharing the same lifting urge, the same surrender to the wind.
Jack forgot himself for a moment. He wasn’t Jack the Mayor for a Week, or Jack the Bigwig, or even Jack the pubeless weirdo freak-boy. The world suddenly seemed vast and full of possibility. He felt, for that moment at least, the freedom not to be anything or anyone at all.
Just then, Jack remembered something. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out with a short laugh. Everyone turned to look at him.
‘Dude,’ said Reese. ‘Why did you bring that manky fake beard with you?’
Vivi and Darylyn looked disturbed. Sampson instinctively reached up and scratched his chin as if bothered by fleas.
‘It’s not a beard,’ said Philo. ‘It’s –’
‘It’s something I don’t need anymore,’ said Jack. Then he stopped, and looked serious for a moment. ‘Not that I ever did.’
In truth, with everything that had been going on, he realised he’d forgotten to do his usual pube check the past couple of mornings.
When he was sure the balloon operator wasn’t looking, Jack tossed the merkin over the side of the basket.
It seemed to hover in the air for a moment, like a particularly disgusting species of albatross, then disappeared from sight.
Delilah and her crew had driven around to the other side of the lake to film the landing. After the descent to the lake shore, Jack and the others climbed out, still buzzing from the flight.
Jack looked along the shore to where other balloons were starting to land. He blinked as a familiar balloon made its descent.
It was the Sultana World balloon, hanging in the sky like a giant pair of testicles.
As it landed on the shore, out of its basket climbed a party of men, young and old, whooping and high-fiving and bear-hugging each other, all ruggedly dressed in khakis and lumberjack shirts and other wilderness gear. It was only when Jack spotted Mr Trench among them, breaking free of a bear hug with another member of the group, that he realised these were the Lionheart Tigerwolves.
Jack laughed incredulously. The Lionheart Tigerwolves had somehow ended up flying over Lake Meridian suspended beneath an airborne scrotum. It was almost too good to be true.
‘Jack Sprigley!’ Mr Trench’s voice rang out across the lake as he spotted Jack and rushed over. He slapped Jack on the shoulders. ‘This is an unexpected rendezvous! What an experience, eh? Do you know, I’ve never actually flown before!’
‘In a hot-air balloon?’
‘In anything!’
Jack frowned. ‘Not even in, like, an army helicopter or something?’
‘Good heavens, no! But we all had such a great time up there, we’re going to fly straight back over the lake again!’
‘That balloon …’
Jack began. ‘It’s kind of –’ ‘Isn’t it marvellous! I can’t explain it, but as soon as we saw it, we all thought, “Yes, that’s the one for us!”’ Mr Trench waved back at the other Lionheart Tigerwolves.
With that, Mr Trench slapped Jack on the shoulders again and hurried back to the scrotum-shaped balloon formerly known as Hot-Air Force One.
‘Imagine not realising that you’re attached to a giant scrotum,’ Jack said to Vivi, shaking his head.
‘Yeah,’ said Vivi wryly. ‘Almost as embarrassing as telling everyone you’ve been masturbating for two weeks straight.’ She paused. ‘I think the word you’re looking for is “touché”.’
Jack smiled. ‘Touché,’ he said. He was relieved to see Vivi smile back.
Jack wandered over to where Delilah was standing next to the minivan. ‘You look happier than before,’ he said.
‘Just relieved you made a safe landing,’ said Delilah. ‘And so do you, by the way. Look happier, I mean.’
Jack glanced back at Sampson and the others. ‘I guess I’m just glad this Bigwigs thing is nearly over.’ He looked Delilah in the eye. ‘It didn’t turn out the way I thought it would.’
Delilah crossed her arms and stared down at her feet for a moment. ‘Listen, Jack. I shouldn’t have played Sampson against you. I’m sorry about that. But that’s what we do. We try to make stories out of ordinary life.’ She looked into the distance, then turned back to Jack. ‘I have friends who work on big shows, important shows. And here’s me, working on this kids thing. So I pitched the reunion idea. Get the past contestants back, add a bit of drama, make it feel older and cooler. And then, when I saw the weird vibe between you and Oliver, and found out he’d been rejected from the show … I guess I got carried away trying to make things out to be bigger than they were.’
‘I get it,’ said Jack. ‘It’s not like I’ve been totally upfront this whole time either. I’ve been meaning to ask about the Bigwigs Board thing, though. I didn’t get to have my big moment opening the festival on camera. Because of the whole storming off like a not-very-manly diva thing. Is that … going to be a problem?’
‘You still want to be in the running?’
Jack thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, finally. He wasn’t sure he was up for the competition anymore.
‘But you’ll still do the reunion, right? I mean, I don’t want to play hardball or anything, but you did sign a contract. You’re still technically required to appear on the reunion show.’
Jack didn’t answer straightaway. He still had to do the bit he was dreading most – stand up on stage with the other Bigwigs in front of a studio audience and try to look as though he’d grown up as much as the rest of them, when it was obvious that he hadn’t.
If puberty doesn’t happen soon, thought Jack, it’s probably time to go see a doctor or something. Or, failing that, dip into the half-used jar of testosterone cream he’d stashed in his ensuite after all the drama of the night before.
In the meantime, could he do it? Could he really stand on stage with the other Bigwigs?
He looked back at Vivi and Reese and Darylyn, at Philo and Sampson.
Reunions, he thought.
Reunions he was up for.
A week later …
‘Coming soon on the new season of Bigwigs …’
(Fade in to a dimly lit stage. Four spotlights beam down into empty space.)
‘It’s been two years since we crowned our first Bigwigs champion. We’ve seen scores of hopefuls take to this same stage, seeking glory. There have been challenges. There have been triumphs.’
(Dramatic music.)
‘There have been bitter defeats.’
(Quick montage of the new Bigwigs. The next generation.)
‘Soon, a brand-new cast joins us for our third year of ups and downs in the Bigwigs Mansion. And this year, Bigwigs gets even bigger. You’ve seen our contestants take on challenges in the grown-up world. You’ve seen them sent off to work for some of the toughest bosses in the country. But this year, the tables are turned. This time, the Bigwigs are calling the shots. This time, it could be your boss getting performance reviewed …’
(Dramatic boom)
‘… BY A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.’
(The words ‘twelve-year-old’ echo annoyingly in surround sound stereo.)
‘But that’s not all. We’ve got a special surprise in store for Bigwigs fans in our season premiere.’
(Another quick montage: Piers Blai
n, Hope Chanders, Amit Gondra, Jack Sprigley, Mickey Santini, Denny Trimble, Cassie Tau. Quick bursts of YouTube videos, chat show appearances, crowds screaming at in-store promotions – then a mysterious cut to a sky full of hot-air balloons …)
‘See which familiar faces we’ve brought back – and who we’re bringing back for good! – on the new season of Bigwigs. Next Sunday at 7. Network Twelve.’
(Fade out.)
Jack’s mum let the engine run. ‘You’re sure you don’t want me to pick you up?’ she asked.
Jack unbuckled his seatbelt. They were parked at the top of the long, winding driveway that climbed the hill above Doubleknee Bend. Rows of vines stretched out below them. ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Sampson’s going to call a taxi for us. Plus: getting picked up by your mum. It’s not very manly.’
His mum frowned.
‘I’m joking,’ said Jack.
‘Good. Because I was pretty sure we’d got over this stupid “man of the house” stuff. I’ve told you – there’s no one person who has to look after everything.’ His mum gripped the steering wheel tighter, as if the car were suddenly in danger of rolling back down the hill. ‘There might be a huge hole right in the middle of us, but we can do this together. Okay?’
Jack nodded. ‘So … about Gran and the mayor …’ he said after a moment. ‘How are you feeling about that?’
‘How do I feel? How do I feel? It’s as weird as f–’ She caught Jack staring wide-eyed at her and held the ‘f’ for five full seconds before concluding with a timid ‘–udge.’ ‘But I can’t pretend it’s not happening. It turns out that’s not such a great solution.’ She paused, then switched the ignition off. ‘You know, Hallie was pretty disappointed we’re not all going to be home watching the big show together.’
A week ago, Jack wouldn’t have believed that. Hallie had never watched Bigwigs, not even when Jack had been a contestant. Especially not then, actually. And now he could kind of understand why. Back during the excitement of that first series, Hallie had been the same age Jack was now. There’d been no TV cameras pointed at her, no spotlight or special attention. Instead, their mum had got swept up in twelve-year-old Jack’s Bigwigs success as the finals had got closer and closer.
And just like Jack, Hallie must have missed their dad like crazy. As much as she was the big sister, she was only ten when he died. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how crappy it would have felt, with Adele letting herself get too wrapped up in Jack’s stupid Bigwigs stuff to give Hallie the attention she needed.
Anyway, Hallie’s usual icy attitude towards Jack was showing signs of thawing. After he’d got home from the dawn balloon flight earlier in the week, he’d gone to apologise to her for the whole business with Nats. She hadn’t even slammed her door in his face, or hurled so much as a single bobby pin in his eyes.
‘Sorry?’ she’d said. ‘Why are you sorry?’
‘For getting in the way of you and Nats becoming besties,’ said Jack. ‘For luring her away with my promises of fame and stardom.’
Hallie had smirked. ‘Yeah, I think you might be giving yourself a little too much credit there, Mr Showbiz. Despite what I usually say, it’s not always about you. But in fact, I think you might actually have done some good for once. Now that Nats has given up on a TV career, she’s more like … I don’t know, a real person, I guess.’
‘Wait, Nats said she doesn’t want to be on TV anymore?’
Hallie nodded.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, exactly. Maybe you should ask her.’
‘Really?’ said Jack. ‘You’d be okay with that?’
Hallie had shrugged and pulled out her phone. ‘Need her number?’
Jack had tried to look nonchalant. ‘Already got it.’ Then he remembered wiping it after bailing on the festival. ‘Wait! I deleted it.’ He gave a knowing smile. ‘Lovers’ tiff.’
Hallie rolled her eyes. ‘Oh god.’
Jack had texted Nats later that day. To his surprise, she’d called him right back. ‘Jack! Don’t tell me I’m speaking to you live from the Bigwigs studio?’
When Jack had told her the filming for the reunion episode was still a few days away, Nats had asked him if he was feeling nervous. The truth was, he wasn’t sure what he felt. He hadn’t seen the footage Delilah had cut together at that point. Until he saw that, he wouldn’t know if he’d succeeded in turning himself into the man he’d wanted everyone to think he was.
Not that he was too worried about measuring up to the other Bigwigs anymore. Or anyone else. He was more worried about measuring up to the Jack he’d been before.
‘Anyway, it wasn’t Bigwigs I wanted to talk to you about,’ said Jack. ‘I wanted to apologise. For the whole “fake girlfriend” thing. Vivi was right. I was kind of treating you like a prize, instead of an actual person.’
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘Hallie says you’re giving up on the TV presenter dream?’ said Jack, wondering if she was still there.
‘Not giving it up, exactly,’ said Nats after a moment. ‘More like, giving it second thoughts. Actually, I’m kind of glad I never got my big moment on camera at the festival.’
‘Again,’ insisted Jack, ‘really sorry about that whole thing. I know how embarrassing it would have been, pretending to be going out with a Year 8 and having it recorded on film.’
‘No,’ said Nats. ‘It’s not that. I mean, yes, obviously that would have made me a total laughing stock –’
(Could have given that a little sugar-coating, thought Jack.)
‘But the thing is, Jack, once people see you a certain way, it turns out it’s pretty hard to convince them you’re actually something else. If I do end up on TV, I want to make sure it’s the real Nats that people are seeing. Not the fake one.’
The next day, when Delilah had skyped Jack to show him the package she was putting together, Nats’s words had still been echoing in his head.
Jack realised his mum was still talking to him.
‘You’d better get a move on,’ she said, getting ready to turn the keys again. ‘It’s nearly seven o’clock.’
Jack sat there for a moment, not moving. ‘It’s weird. He probably never thought I’d end up being on TV, like him.’
‘Your dad?’
Jack nodded. ‘He never got to see me turn into who I am now.’
‘No. But the Jack you are now isn’t so different from the Jack you were then. And I think you’ve already figured out that’s not such a bad thing.’
Jack collected himself, then slid out of the car with a snack-laden backpack slung over his shoulder and a large brown paper gift bag in his hand. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ he said. He shut the door, poked his head through the open window and, with a goofy look on his face, added, ‘Enjoy the big show!’
His mum narrowed her eyes. ‘You haven’t told them, have you?’
Jack didn’t answer.
Sampson had dragged an old couch and some beanbags into the garage and set them up in front of the big-screen TV. The garage had been his bedroom for the past two years. He’d been banished from the house when his early growth spurt had hit, like a monster locked away in a dungeon.
Vivi, Reese and Darylyn were on the couch, haggling over the pizza menu. Philo poured Sultana World Sparkling Soda into plastic cups.
‘That’s a Skyhawk Gladiator,’ said Sampson, pointing to a model fighter jet with a pair of giant torpedoes bolted beneath its wings. The model sat on a shelf in an old metal locker, along with dozens of other planes, cars and tanks, all painstakingly painted and assembled.
‘These are really good,’ said Jack.
‘Thanks,’ said Sampson. ‘That was what I wrote down on my Bigwigs application. “Model skills”. But I had to stop building them after … you know.’ He held up his hands. ‘Couldn’t get through a single kit without snapping a wing or busting an axle.’ He paused. ‘That’s why I never made it on to Bigwigs, I think. They must have taken one loo
k at my photos and decided I looked too old.’
Jack thought back to the start of Year 7, when all the guys in the changing room had gazed up at Sampson in awe. Except he was starting to understand that maybe it didn’t feel like that to Sampson. All Sampson would have felt was different.
‘I haven’t told anyone this,’ said Jack. ‘But when I got sent home from Bigwigs in the first week of the finals? It wasn’t because Hope Chanders got more ringtone downloads than I did. They flat-out told me. They said I wasn’t “right”.’
‘What does that mean?’
Jack shrugged. ‘I guess they already knew who they wanted. Because it wasn’t just about Bigwigs: it was about everything that comes after. They wanted someone who could be the face of Bigwigs forever. Someone not too old, but not too young, either. Someone who’d “grown” as a contestant, so they had a story to tell.’
Sampson shook his head. ‘Neither of us ever stood a chance.’ He checked his watch. ‘Okay, time to log on to the forum. Part of the whole pre-show ritual. By the way, thanks for not telling the others about those stupid posts I made. And, also, thanks for not getting too pissed about all those stupid posts I made.’
‘Didn’t take any notice,’ said Jack with a shrug. ‘Though if it wasn’t for those posts on the forum, I probably wouldn’t have found out you’d been rejected from Bigwigs, so I probably wouldn’t have signed on for the reunion show and been a jerk to lots of people and had a pair of giant testicles dangled in front of my face with the whole town watching. But whatever.’
Sampson nodded absent-mindedly. ‘Cool,’ he said, then went to find his laptop.
‘Look at you two, best of friends all of a sudden.’
Jack turned to see Vivi standing behind him. In her hands was a pair of plastic cups full of Philo’s fizzy purple liquid.
‘This stuff is gross, by the way,’ she said, handing him a cup.
‘Speaking of gross,’ said Jack, taking a sniff, ‘that’s pretty much how I’ve been acting lately. Especially to you. Which is why …’ Jack opened up the brown gift bag he’d been holding on to since he arrived, and reached inside. ‘Just some civic regalia. To say sorry.’