I pressed myself back against a wall that had a great big map of the world hanging from it. I didn’t want to be seen by Gertag. And hear her calling me What’s His Name. I couldn’t think of anything worse.
Yes I could.
‘He’s around here somewhere,’ said a voice. ‘I’m sure I saw him coming this way.’
It was Metal Mouth. I would know the sound of those clicking teeth anywhere. And Maggot. And The Chief and Shark. They were still after me. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
I was filled with fear. I started to pant. I went cold. Then hot. It was like I was drowning. I couldn’t get enough air.
‘Please, not now,’ I said to myself. ‘Don’t change. I have to get Sandy out of the lock-up.’
I stood there and stared at the four tough men. They were looking for me. I was dead meat if they found me. They would never forgive me for touching their bikes. In the eyes of a bikie, it was the worst crime you could commit.
I stood there. But they didn’t see me. Even though I was right in front of their noses.
I could hear what they were saying.
‘Poor old Granny,’ said The Chief. ‘She bought me that bike. And now it’s wrecked. What are we going to tell her?’
No wonder they were so mad. Their grandmother had bought them their motorbikes. And I had knocked them over and ruined them. Their Granny would be unhappy and miserable. All because of me.
‘She doesn’t laugh anymore,’ said Shark.
‘Not even a smile,’ said Maggot.
‘It’s enough to make you cry,’ said Metal Mouth.
‘She looked after us for all those years,’ said Maggot.
‘Never complained once,’ said Shark.
‘Cooked all those meals,’ said The Chief.
‘And now she’s so upset,’ said Shark.
‘Just sits there all day,’ said Maggot.
‘Unhappy.’
‘Miserable.’
‘We have to put things right.’
I tried to make sense of it. How come they all cared about the same old lady?
Then it struck me.
They were brothers.
The four top men in the bikie gang had the same grandmother.
Maggot had tears in his eyes. So did Shark. They all did. They were really worried about her. She was probably in an old folks’ home. I could just picture her sitting there sadly in a wheelchair.
I started to feel a bit sorry for them. Even big bad bikies can have feelings. And I felt sorry for their poor old grandmother as well.
But if the brothers caught me I would be history. My legs began to tremble. How I wished that I had never touched one of their bikes.
That was when I noticed that Maggot was staring at me. With a strange look on his face.
‘Hey, look,’ he said. He pointed to me.
The brothers all screwed up their eyes and examined me.
‘It’s a person,’ said Shark.
‘A small kid,’ said Metal Mouth.
‘Painted all over like a map,’ said The Chief.
It was true. I had blended with the map on the wall. My shirt, shorts, arms and legs were all covered in lines and rivers and countries. I could see Tasmania on my pants. And New Zealand off to one side.
‘Is he real?’ said Metal Mouth. He gave me a poke just below King Island.
‘Ouch,’ I yelped.
They all jumped back.
‘It’s one of those street acts,’ said Maggot. ‘All painted up.’
They all laughed.
‘He’s good,’ said The Chief. ‘Real good. You’d swear he was a statue.’ He tossed fifty cents at my feet. Metal Mouth put down twenty cents and Shark gave a dollar.
‘He’s worth more than that,’ said Maggot. ‘Well done, kiddo,’ he said to me. He put a five-dollar note down at my feet.
This was amazing. They thought I was a street act. They liked me. Perhaps they weren’t so mean after all.
But I knew that they would soon change their tune if they knew who I was. The kid who had wrecked their bikes.
I stood still and tried not to blink.
Maggot got right up close. I seemed to make him a bit sad.
‘This kid’s face reminds me of something,’ he said.
‘Bali,’ said Metal Mouth.
‘Hong Kong,’ said Shark.
‘The Bungle Bungles,’ said The Chief.
They walked away laughing. They thought I was funny.
All except Maggot. He followed them slowly, sometimes taking a look back at me.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘He’s got a face like the plant in the zoo.’
I stood there for ages. A living map. A lot of people stopped and peered at me. Some threw coins at my feet.
How long would this go on for? I knew I would stay blended in for as long as I was scared. As long as people looked at me.
After a bit the crowd thinned out. I started to feel safer.
Then, without warning, things began to change. The map of King Island sank into the sea and was followed quickly by Tasmania. Finally even the pictures of oceans and rivers drained from my body. I was just a boy with normal skin and clothes.
I walked quietly out of the market and into the street.
I had to stay calm. Take my thoughts away from peering eyes. Or danger. Think of nice things. Banana Boy, Sandy, Bad Bear. Mum.
But it didn’t work for long. There on the side of the street was a line of motorbikes. Thirty black Harleys. And thirty big, bad bikies.
The bikies were sitting on their damaged bikes with their helmets on. Ready to go. They hadn’t seen me yet.
I was filled with fear. I started to pant. Oh, no. It was happening again. I went cold. Then hot. It was like I was drowning. I couldn’t get enough air.
Bearded faces turned. Sunglasses flashed in my direction.
I could feel my body trying to change. I fought it. I tried to calm down. But the sound of their rough voices made me shake. The thought of what they would do to the boy who knocked over their bikes was too much.
Something changed. Something had happened to me but I didn’t know what it was. It was different to before. It was more than just blending.
‘Look,’ said Maggot. ‘Look.’
They had found me. They could see me. Their eyes opened wide. Their mouths broke into smiles.
Smiles.
They started to laugh. Their big bellies shook. Tears rolled down their faces. The four brothers and the rest of the gang. They fell about wetting themselves.
What? What? What? What did they see?
‘He looks a bit like Maggot,’ said Metal Mouth.
‘Yeah, a dork,’ said The Chief.
What was so funny?
I examined myself. I was still me. A very small boy. But my own clothes had gone. My shoes. My pants. My jumper. All gone.
I had big leather boots. And jeans. And a bomber jacket with chains and studs.
My hands were covered in tattoos. Snakes and knives and a dragons. I had a silver skull on my collar.
I reached up and touched my face.
Whiskers.
I had a beard.
I was a bikie with all the equipment.
I touched my ear. An earring. Under my arm I held a small black motorbike helmet. I touched my head.
‘Aargh.’ I was bald.
I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window. I was a tiny bikie. I even had a tattoo of a spider on my forehead. I shivered. I hated spiders.
‘A shrimp,’ said Metal Mouth.
‘The smallest bikie in the world.’
The Chief and Shark laughed and laughed. Maggot didn’t laugh. He was friendlier than the others. But more dangerous. He was trying to figure out who I was.
The Chief stopped laughing. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ he said.
I couldn’t think of an answer. I couldn’t tell them I was the boy they were looking for. The one who had knocked over their motorbikes and damaged them.
�
��He’s just a kid,’ said Metal Mouth.
‘Kids don’t grow beards,’ said The Chief.
‘Could be a fake,’ said Metal Mouth.
Shark reached over and gave my beard a tug.
‘Ouch,’ I shouted. ‘That hurt.’
They all laughed again.
‘Go easy,’ said Maggot. ‘He’s only a little bloke.’
I had to do something. I had to make them forget about my real self.
I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind. Maybe it was something that had been inside me all along. Maybe I was born with the feeling. It was something I had never said before.
‘I want to join the gang,’ I whispered.
This time they really laughed. All except Maggot.
‘Buzz off,’ growled Metal Mouth. ‘We have unfinished business. And it’s not with you.’
‘Yeah, get lost,’ said Shark. ‘Who do you think you are?’
It was a good question. Who was I? Just a little kid. What’s His Name. That’s who I was. A boy so nervous that he blended in like a lizard whenever he was in the spotlight. They weren’t interested in a dork like me.
I turned and started to walk away slowly. I was getting away. And that was good.
But I was a nobody.
I had to face it. A dog in the pound. A monkey in a tree. And a giant-sized toy bear in a bed. These were my mates. I would never have a friend who was a boy. Or even human.
I was different to everyone else. There was no one in the world like me. There never had been and there never would be.
Suddenly one of them spoke.
‘Stop.’
It was Maggot.
‘Come back here, kiddo,’ he said.
I turned and walked back with a sinking heart.
‘He’s just what we need,’ Maggot said.
The other three looked puzzled.
‘Why would we want a little squirt like him?’ said Shark.
‘I get it,’ said The Chief.
‘A mascot,’ said Maggot. He smiled.
‘The very thing,’ said The Chief. ‘A little mascot. The last one has gone. And won’t be back.’
For a moment the bikies all looked sad at the mention of their old mascot.
They muttered and mumbled among themselves. Then they started to nod and smile.
‘Just the shot.’
‘It’s what we need.’
‘Granny will love him.’
‘Maybe she will. And maybe she won’t,’ said Metal Mouth.
The Chief held up a hand and all the other bikies looked his way. All twenty-nine of them. He pointed at me.
‘Our new mascot,’ he shouted. ‘Yes or no.’
There was a silence. They were thinking. No one moved.
Then Maggot held out a closed fist with his thumb pointing out to the side. They all did the same. Thirty clenched fists with thirty thumbs sticking out to the side like broken branches on dead trees.
Maggot slowly turned his thumb up, pointing at the sky. The Chief did the same. So did Shark. And finally Metal Mouth. And then, one by one, starting with the front bike, the gang members gave their response.
Yes, a turned-up thumb. And another and another. Finally, only one bikie was left to respond. He was busy looking at his own reflection in a shop window and stroking his red beard. He didn’t know what was going on. He turned his thumb down.
‘Loser,’ said Maggot.
Red Beard looked sheepish and quickly turned up his thumb.
‘Come with us,’ Maggot said to me.
This was unbelievable. I was their mascot. The smallest bikie in the world. If they knew I was a boy they wouldn’t have taken me. But the beard had fooled them. They thought I was a man.
I looked around. Maybe I could make a run for it. But I was surrounded. The four brothers walked to their battered bikes. Thirty motors exploded into life. Maggot pointed to the back seat of his Harley. I tried to throw a leg over but I couldn’t. It was too tall for me and I fell to the ground.
Maggot gave a friendly laugh and put his hands under my arms. He picked me up and dumped me onto the seat. Then he mounted the bike and let out the clutch.
We were off. We swept down the road. Thunder on wheels. Thirty bikes. Thirty bikies. And me.
As we roared down the road people stopped and stared. Kids pointed. Cars pulled over to let us pass.
I was scared. I wanted to be home in my nice little bedroom. But here I was. One of the gang. I was the same but different. I belonged. I was their mascot, and that was good. But I was afraid.
They liked me. They wanted me. But for how long? I shuddered and scratched my beard. It was itchy.
I knew that once I relaxed I would lose my beard and all the other bits. Then they would see that I was the boy who bent their bikes. And I would be scared all over again.
There was something else to worry about, too. A poor dog with no ears. In the City Pound. Whimpering and sad. Unwanted and unloved. What if someone awful adopted him? Or no one? What then?
And what about the monkeys? I was worried about them. Where were they? How would they survive?
After about half an hour the bikie convoy turned into a wide driveway. There was a sign that read:
KOROIT CARAVAN PARK
That’s when I realised what all this was about. The bikies expected me to cheer Granny up because she missed their old mascot. They thought I was funny. That’s why they wanted me.
I started to tremble. What was I supposed to do? Stand on my head? Pull a funny face? I could just imagine her. A little old grey-haired lady – in a wheelchair, probably. Or bent over with a walking stick.
The bikies would be angry if I failed to amuse their grandmother. Could I make her laugh?
I didn’t even have to try. I was funny as I was. A joke. Just a shrimp with a beard.
For some reason I didn’t worry about them all looking at me. Maybe it was the beard. It was sort of like wearing a mask. They couldn’t see the real me. But they would if I got too relaxed.
We swept through the caravan park. It was empty except for a few tents and a group of permanent rental vans up the back. There were a few chickens running around and T-shirts hanging off a line.
The bikies slowed and formed a big circle beside the vans.
That’s when I saw her. Granny.
And her machine.
She was standing next to a huge black three-wheeler motorbike. A tough-looking lady with tatts and earrings. And long black hair. She wore a leather bomber jacket with a drawing of a jet-powered three-wheeler with flames blasting out of the back.
She gave a smile as the thirty bikies killed their engines.
‘My boys,’ she said. ‘My lovely boys.’ All the bikies looked pleased. Especially her four grandsons.
She was big. But she didn’t look bad. She had a kind face and a twinkle in her eye. Like Bad Bear. He was big. But he wasn’t bad. And his eyes twinkled, even though they were made of glass.
‘Well, boys,’ said Granny, ‘what have you got for me?’
The smile fell from her lips. She seemed to be remembering something sad.
Maggot took his helmet off and stood by me proudly. The Chief grabbed me under the arms and lifted me out of the seat.
He dumped me on the grass.
‘A new mascot,’ he said.
A silence fell over the group. Thirty bikies waited to see what she thought. Would she like me? Would I cheer her up?
I started to shake.
She stared at my bald head and my tatts and my boy’s face with a beard.
Seconds ticked by. If she liked me I was in trouble because I would feel safe. Then I would turn back into a boy. And they would recognise me. Then I would be scared all over again and blend in with something else. I couldn’t win whichever way it went.
But in my heart I wanted her to like me. If she turned her thumb down I would be chased off. Or worse.
I looked up at her. Pleading with my eyes.
Finally she spoke.
‘He’s lovely,’ she said. ‘But shouldn’t he be in school?’
‘With a beard?’ said The Chief.
She looked at me without speaking for ages. Then she held out a fist with a thumb sticking out to the side. And gave me the thumbs-up, followed by a smile.
I was in. But my mind was swirling. There was another person to think about. Mum. I had to go back to her. She didn’t have anyone else.
I had to do something. Or say something, at least.
‘Where’s your old mascot?’ I said in a squeaky, trembling voice.
‘Fearless ran off,’ said The Chief. ‘And we can’t find him.’
I could see Fearless in my mind. A giant warrior. Scared of nothing. He probably rode a thumping big Harley that could thrash the pants off every bike on the road. And the new mascot was just a shy kid with a beard.
I saw tears forming in Granny’s eyes.
‘Dear Fearless,’ she said. ‘His hearing wasn’t too good. But he was a great mascot.’
Dear Fearless? Her words started to stir up thoughts. Fearless. Fearless. What did that remind me of?
Fearless, Fearless, think, think.
Yes, yes, yes.
Fearless.
Earless.
Sandy, the dog with no ears.
Fearless was their missing mascot. The bikies hadn’t been chasing me at all. It wasn’t me they were looking for. They were just chasing after their lost dog. Not the boy who bumped their bikes.
I had got it all wrong. Made a mistake.
I looked at thirty pairs of eyes staring at their new mascot.
I wasn’t as scared as before. But I was still worried. A bent bike is not something a bikie forgets too easily. I had to get out of this mess.
‘I know where Fearless is,’ I said.
There was a long silence.
‘Are you joking?’ said The Chief.
I shook my head.
‘Prove it,’ clicked Metal Mouth.
‘He is a sandy colour,’ I said. ‘No ears. And one eye is blue and the other brown.’
Granny’s eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s him,’ she said. ‘Fearless is alive.’
The Unforgettable What's His Name Page 3