by James Roy
‘Hi, Ms Finn. Can I carry something for you?’ he offered.
‘I’m fine thanks, Edsel, but do you know what you can do? In the top of this box are my keys. The one with the red dot on it is the classroom key. Could you open the door for me?’
‘Sure,’ he said, finding the key and unlocking the classroom. He held the door open for her to go in, before standing in the doorway with the keys held out. ‘Where would you like me to put these?’
‘Just drop them on my desk,’ she said, setting down the box.
‘What’s in the box?’ Edsel asked.
‘Lost property,’ Ms Finn replied. She lifted out a green jumper, all pilled around the neck and the ends of the sleeves, and held it up. ‘Not quite your size, is it? Why don’t people write their names on their stuff?’
‘What else is in there?’
‘Um, let’s see … a pencil case, a lunchbox, a couple of books, some knitting needles, this lovely pair of football socks …’ She pulled out a pair of black and white striped socks, which had been folded together into a thick bunch. ‘Again, no name.’
‘Oh, they’d be Harry Musgrove’s,’ Edsel said. ‘He’s a mad Magpies supporter.’
‘You know, you’re probably right.’ Ms Finn placed the socks to one side. ‘I’ll ask him when he comes in tonight. Thanks, Edsel. Oh, and then there’s this,’ she said, and from the bottom of the box she took out a white, shiny object, about the size of a mobile phone.
‘What is it?’ Edsel asked.
‘If you can tell me, Edsel, I’d be really grateful,’ Ms Finn replied, handing it to him.
He turned the object over in his hands. It was smooth on all sides except one end, which had pins like a computer plug, and the opposite end, which had a logo set into the plastic. The logo was in the shape of a curvy V in an uneven circle.
‘This logo – I’ve seen it before. Ms Finn, where did you get this?’
‘I don’t really remember. In fact, I don’t remember even picking it up. Is it yours?’
Is it mine? he thought, turning the object over in his hands some more, and weighing up his possible answers. He’d never seen it before, so no, it probably wasn’t his. And yet it had a logo that matched the last unusual object he’d seen, which he did own, thanks to the generosity of Pete. And if this unique plug-like thing and that unique egg-like thing belonged together, which the logo suggested they did, then there was a very good chance this was, in fact, his.
Besides, he was curious.
‘Yes, it’s mine,’ he said.
Ms Finn looked surprised. ‘Oh, is it? Excellent! That’s one less thing in my box of missing stuff. Thanks, Edsel.’
‘That’s okay,’ Edsel said, jamming the plug into his pocket. ‘Well, I guess I’d better leave you to get ready.’ He stood up, and took a couple of steps toward the door.
‘You’re very keen, aren’t you?’ Ms Finn said.
Edsel stopped. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Being here so early.’
‘Oh, that. Yeah, well …’ He paused and thought before opening his mouth to speak again. ‘Ms Finn, I’m … I’m sorry about my parents.’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean? What have they done?’
‘Nothing yet. But I just know that they’re going to ask lots of questions.’
‘That’s what these interviews are for, Edsel.’
‘I know, but they’re going to be asking you stupid stuff. And I just wanted to say that I don’t think they should ask you those sorts of things.’
‘Like what? What sorts of things?’
‘You’ll know when they ask you. But just so you know, I don’t think there’s any way to make my parents be quiet.’
Ms Finn’s eyebrows tightened. ‘All right. So I shouldn’t hold anything they say against you?’
Edsel gave her a relieved smile. ‘Oh, that would be great. If you could just answer their questions and say whatever you have to say, then we can get this over with and go home.’
‘All right. It’s a deal, Edsel.’
Heavy rain drops were beginning to fall as he left Ms Finn in her classroom, so he pulled the collar of his shirt up high and ran across the quad to the benches beside the tuckshop. He had nothing to do, nothing to read, nowhere to go, but sitting here alone watching the empty playground seemed like a far better idea than sitting in the car with his parents and their lamb and mustard sandwiches and pointless reminiscences of parking spaces.
‘Edsy Baby! Look, it’s Edsy Baby!’
‘Yeah, it is! It’s Edsy Baby!’
Edsel’s heart sank. The gleeful voices were unmistakably Kenny’s and Mikey’s.
‘Hi, guys,’ he said, glancing up.
‘Sitting with all your friends as usual?’ Mikey asked, and Kenny giggled like an idiot.
‘That’s still funny,’ Edsel said.
‘Why, thank you,’ Mikey said, bowing.
‘So, why are you here?’ Kenny asked. ‘Did you fly your spaceship here?’
‘Yes I did, as a matter of fact. Did you come in your spaceship? Oh wait, that thing on your front lawn isn’t a spaceship – it’s a wheelbarrow.’
Mikey frowned stupidly. ‘What’s he talking about, Kenny?’
‘Nothing,’ Kenny muttered. ‘He’s talking garbage, as usual. So, you didn’t answer me, Edsy Baby. Why are you here?’
‘Oh, why do you think?’ Edsel retorted. ‘To paint the school with big pink spots, of course.’
‘You’re not here for the parent-teacher meetings?’ Mikey asked.
‘I think he is,’ said Kenny. ‘You are, aren’t you?’
If he hadn’t been so annoyed, Edsel would have laughed. ‘Yes, I am. Well done, you guys.’
‘With Ms Finn?’
‘She is my teacher, so yes.’
‘What do you think she’s going to say?’ Kenny asked.
‘I think she’s going to tell them that I’ve been hanging around with the wrong crowd.’
‘Who do you mean?’
‘He means us, Mikey,’ said Kenny. ‘You do mean us, don’t you?’
Edsel stood up. ‘Yes, I meant you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be … somewhere else.’ As much as the idea of being stuck in a car with his parents during a rainstorm was an unpleasant thought, it now seemed better than sitting around listening to these two idiots. Even with the car-space conversation.
He was nearing the end of the building when he heard a sound that sent a deep shudder of terror through his body. It was his mother, coming towards him.
‘Edsel! Edsel? Edsel!’
He increased his pace, hoping to get safely around the corner before his mother stepped into view.
He wasn’t fast enough, but it wasn’t Mum who appeared from around the end of the corner, but Dad, followed closely by Mum. ‘Edsel? Edsel! Oh! Oh, there you are!’ she was shrieking.
‘Yes, here he is, Tilda,’ Dad said. ‘I told you he wouldn’t have left the school grounds.’
‘Yes, I’m right here,’ Edsel replied quickly. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
‘Are you wet?’ his mother was asking, feeling his shoulders. ‘You are a little wet.’
‘Mum, can we—?’
She hadn’t finished yet. First she ran her hands through his hair, then rubbed his chest through his T-shirt. ‘I told you specifically not to get wet.’
‘I’m not all that we—’
‘Don’t talk back, son,’ his father snapped. ‘We don’t say these things because they’re fun to say.’
‘No,’ Edsel replied.
‘No, we say these things because we want to keep you safe.’
‘Look at you!’ his mother said. ‘Your shirt is actually quite damp.’
‘Mum, I’m fine. Please don’t … Oh, you are,’ he sighed as she slipped her hand up the front of his shirt and began to rub his chest with her palm.
‘You need to look after yourself better, and listen to your mummy and daddy,’ she scolded him.
He
closed his eyes and tried to shut out the sight of his parents’ concerned faces. He wished he could close his ears just as easily, so he wouldn’t have to hear Kenny and Mikey laughing so hard that they were beginning to wheeze. So he wouldn’t have to hear the footsteps of other kids and their parents arriving, to be greeted by the spectacle of a slightly damp boy with his parents fussing over him, with the father shaking his head with a fiercely concerned frown on his face, and the mother with her hands up the boy’s shirt, rubbing away any chance of catching his death.
He was also thinking about Mr Sullivan’s composition piece again.
Ms Finn held the classroom door open for Edsel and his parents, and as they entered, Edsel saw a man waiting over by the little circle of chairs in the middle of the room. He had longish sandy hair and a greying goatee, and was wearing a vest that looked like it had been made from a rug.
Ms Finn closed the door and followed them over to the chairs. ‘Mr and Mrs Grizzler, this is Graham Boyd. I hope you don’t mind him sitting in on our chat.’
‘No, of course not,’ Dad said cautiously, and Mr Boyd stepped forward and shook hands with Edsel’s parents. Dad went on, ‘But I have to ask, Mr Boyd—’
‘Please, call me Graham.’
‘I have to ask, Graham, what’s your role here?’
‘I’m the new school counsellor. It’s late in the year, so I’m just trying to get a feel for the students.’
‘Please, have a seat, everyone,’ Ms Finn said. ‘No point standing around.’ Then she laughed self-consciously, which made Edsel feel embarrassed for her.
They sat down, and Graham picked up a large notepad from beside his chair, took a pen from his pocket and crossed his legs. He was wearing brown hiking boots and thick orange socks.
‘Thank you so much for seeing us,’ Mum said, once she’d positioned herself on her chair.
‘That’s … that’s fine. It’s just a regular parent-teacher night.’
‘Is there anything in particular you needed to talk to us about?’ Dad asked, and Edsel saw his eyes flicker in Graham’s direction. ‘The letter that came home was kind of … well, direct, I suppose.’
‘Was it?’ said Ms Finn with a smile. ‘Oh, it wasn’t meant to seem direct, as you put it. It’s just that while we try to see as many students as we can, it’s not always possible to give everyone as much time as they deserve. But in Edsel’s case, we thought we should really encourage you to come in.’
‘Is … is something wrong?’ Mum glanced at Dad, then at Graham, then back at Ms Finn. ‘Oh my, there is something wrong, isn’t there?’
‘No, not at all,’ Ms Finn was saying, but Edsel could see that his parents weren’t convinced. ‘No, nothing’s wrong, as such. I mean …’ She licked her lips as she fumbled at the blue folder in her lap. She opened it and ran her finger down the page. Then the tip of her tongue darted out again. ‘I mean, Edsel’s marks are good, and he’s been doing all his homework.’ She flashed a quick smile in his direction. ‘No, there’s nothing wrong, except that … well, let’s put it this way … Edsel, do you think anything is wrong?’
Edsel frowned. ‘Like what?’
‘Friends, for example?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘A few of the teachers have noticed that you spend a lot of time by yourself.’
Edsel shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess that’s true. I don’t mind.’
‘You like spending time by yourself?’
‘Sure. It’s fine.’
‘Fine, or good?’
Edsel shrugged. ‘Fine, I suppose.’
‘I’m sorry, but what are you getting at?’ Dad asked.
Ms Finn went on. ‘Edsel, we’re just a little concerned that—’
‘Edsel – I can call you Edsel, can’t I?’ Graham interrupted, smiling and tipping his head slightly to one side.
‘Sure – it’s my name.’
‘Edsel, how can I put this delicately? Is everything all right at home?’
‘That’s hardly delicate!’ said Dad.
‘Please.’ Graham raised one hand. His eyes hadn’t left Edsel’s face for even a moment. ‘Edsel?’
‘Sure, everything’s fine.’
‘So you’re just a normal kid, then. You watch TV, play, read books?’
‘Sure. I mean, I don’t watch a lot of TV, but all the other stuff. And I make money.’
Graham nodded and wrote in his notebook. ‘And how do you do that?’
‘I fix stuff up and sell it, mostly.’
‘And friends?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got a couple.’
‘Like who? Can you name them?’
‘Sure. Um … there’s Pete.’
‘And who’s Pete?’
‘This guy I know who runs this shop. I buy junk from there and fix it up.’
‘You fix junk. I see.’ Graham wrote in his notebook some more. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Um … Hoagy.’
‘Hoagy?’
‘Yeah, he’s this little kid who I see around sometimes.’
‘How about Kenny?’ Mum suggested. ‘He’s the boy who lives across the street from us,’ she explained.
Edsel frowned at her. ‘Kenny? No! He’s an idiot, Mum, and so’s his friend, Mikey. Plus we hate each other.’
‘Edsel! That’s a terrible thing to say!’
‘Yes, awful,’ Dad agreed.
‘But they are. And we do.’
‘Hmm,’ said Graham, scribbling away furiously.
‘Can I ask—’ Dad began, but Graham raised his hand again, just until he’d finished writing. Then he put his pen down and raised his eyes to meet Dad’s, with a serene kind of look on his face.
‘Mr Grizzler.’
‘Are you concerned?’
‘About …’
‘About Edsel, and his friends.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Mum said. ‘I mean, we keep him safe, and see to it that nothing happens to him, and we’ve always tried to make sure that his friends aren’t going to lead him into any danger. But have we gone too far?’ She bit her bottom lip.
Oh, don’t cry, thought Edsel. Whatever you do, please don’t cry. If you cry I’ll run out.
Graham cleared his throat. ‘If I can ask you another question, Edsel: Do you ever feel lonely?’
‘I wouldn’t if I had a dog,’ he replied. ‘Just a pup.’
‘Now Edsel, we’ve talked about this,’ his mother said, wiping her eyes. ‘Do you know how many children die each year from dog attacks and diseases?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘Do you?’
‘It’s a lot,’ Dad said, throwing a warning look at Edsel.
‘A cat, then?’ Edsel suggested, even though a dog was what he really wanted.
Dad counted off on his fingers. ‘Cat scratch fever, campylobacter, lyme disease, rabies! And that’s just a start.’
‘How about a bird, like a budgie, or a canary?’
His parents shook their heads. ‘Psittacosis,’ Dad said. ‘Nasty stuff.’
‘A guinea pig, then. Or a mouse? Do mice carry disease? There’s this kid in Year Four—’
‘Oh!’ Mum’s eyes opened wide, and Dad snorted with horrified amusement.
‘Two words, my boy: bubonic plague!’
‘How about a shark?’
Graham cleared his throat again. ‘Look, Mr and Mrs Grizzler, Ms Finn, I think what I might do, with your permission, is have a couple of short meetings with Edsel. Here, in school time. We can get him out of class so the sessions don’t impact on his … social life. That’s all right, isn’t it?’ he asked Ms Finn, who nodded.
‘Whatever you think is best, Graham,’ she said.
‘And what would you be doing in these sessions?’ Dad asked.
‘Oh, just getting to know one another, Edsel and I,’ Graham replied, and he flickered a smile at Edsel. ‘We’ll talk about strategies for creating friendships, and empowering him to become a stronger individual in a team setting. How does that sound, Edsel
?’
‘Oh, that sounds great,’ Edsel said, relieved to have been included in the discussion at last. ‘Then you can get Kenny and the others in, and we can tell each other how much we all want to be friends, and I’ll have mates at school, and won’t need a nasty, disease-carrying pet!’
Now Graham was practically grinning. ‘Yes! Exactly!’
I was being sarcastic, you twit, Edsel thought.
‘That sounds good,’ Dad was saying. ‘What do you think, Tilda?’
‘Oh yes, wonderful, wonderful. Anything that helps our Edsel fit in better has to be good. We do worry about him sometimes, you see.’
‘Yes well, we’ll do what we can,’ Graham promised.
‘Excellent.’ Ms Finn rubbed her hands together. She looked relieved that the interview was almost over. ‘So, was there anything else you wanted to ask?’
Not unless you know how to help someone disappear into thin air, Edsel thought bitterly.
‘No, no, I think that’s all going to be terrific,’ Dad replied.
Ms Finn stood up. ‘Good. Well, thanks for coming in. We’ll let you know how it’s going.’
‘That’s right,’ Graham agreed. He rested his hand on Edsel’s shoulder. ‘And hey, you shouldn’t be afraid to share your feelings with your parents.’
You really wouldn’t want me to share the feelings I’m having right now, thought Edsel, but he didn’t say it. He simply smiled and followed his parents out of the classroom. It had stopped raining, and the air was cool and fresh. A number of other families were standing under the cover of the awning, waiting for their appointments.
‘Well, that was good,’ he heard his father saying, and his mother made some kind of sound of agreement. ‘Very encouraging indeed. It’s so heartening to know that they’re looking out for him.’
‘Hey, look who it is,’ said Kenny, who was sitting outside on one of the lunch benches. He was alone. ‘How’d you go? Everything all right?’
‘Fine thanks.’ Edsel put his head down and kept walking, hoping that his parents wouldn’t hear Kenny, wouldn’t notice him, wouldn’t turn around and say …
‘Oh, hello there, Kenny!’
‘Mum …’
‘Look, Edsel, it’s Kenny, from over the road! Are you waiting to see the teacher and that nice Graham chap as well, Kenny?’ she asked.