by James Roy
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Edsel asked.
‘Kids who don’t have brothers or sisters get to share, at least to begin with. And kids who ordinarily have to share with someone back at home get a room to themselves.’
‘I’ve always wondered what it would be like to share a bedroom with a brother,’ Edsel said.
‘Exactly.’
‘Hey, can I try the bed?’
‘Of course. It’s yours.’
Edsel kicked off his shoes and lay down on the left-hand bed. The mattress was impossibly comfortable, and on the wall near the foot of the bed hung a huge flat-screen TV. Expensive looking headphones were plugged into a small silver control panel in the bedhead. Edsel watched Ben feeling his way over to one of the walls and opening a cupboard door, to reveal a small fridge, and shelves of snacks.
‘Salt and vinegar?’ Ben asked, tossing a packet of chips in Edsel’s direction, and they landed beside him on the bed.
‘Aren’t they Toby’s? And do I have to pay for these?’
Ben laughed. ‘No, I keep telling you, it’s free. It’s all free.’ He spoke slowly. ‘It’s all free.’
Edsel opened the chips and walked to the window, which overlooked the park. It was so green and lush, like thick carpet. ‘They must use a lot of water on this lawn,’ he said.
‘It rains every night, between midnight and four,’ Ben explained. ‘Then it stops.’
‘Every night?’
‘Every single night.’
‘That’s pretty cool.’
He heard Ben laugh. Bob had jumped up onto his lap and was trying to lick his face.
‘He’s a friendly little guy,’ Ben said. His fingers scratched the dog under the chin, then fumbled around the collar, and the little plastic tag. ‘What’s it say?’
‘It doesn’t say anything. It’s one of those tags you can open up and put a bit of paper inside.’
‘My brother and I used to send secret messages back and forth like that with our dog,’ Ben said. ‘You’d write it, fold it up really small, then stick it in the tag. Our parents never suspected a thing.’
‘That’s a cool idea,’ Edsel said, smiling.
He turned back to the window. Down in the skate park, kids were pulling off complicated tricks, while others sat by, clapping and cheering. He smiled as he remembered how they’d all whooped when he did his first trick – a kick-flip that somehow he’d instinctively known how to do, and he smiled at the memory. Not only had he done something that he’d never thought possible, but no one had jeered or called him a loser or a weirdo. They’d clapped. They’d actually clapped.
And best of all, no one had told him to be careful.
Sitting on one of the silver benches to one side was the girl in the red helmet. She had her board under her right foot, and she was rolling it back and forth, back and forth as she looked on. Then, almost as if she’d sensed that Edsel was watching, she turned her head and looked up at the window. She held him in her gaze for some time, before going back to watching the other skaters.
Edsel sat under a tree, reading his copy of the Charter. He’d expected it to be a lot more complicated than it was turning out to be. Basically it repeated most of what Richard had told him: how he would be allowed a trial week; that once the decision to stay was made, it was permanent; that Verdada was forever but so were the fantastic experiences it offered. Then there was a section at the back, full of language that seemed a bit too technical for Edsel, after the big, exhausting day he’d already had.
‘Does it makes sense?’
He looked up. The girl in the red helmet was standing above him. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘The book,’ she said, pointing, and for some reason her voice surprised Edsel. It was light, and reminded him of a breeze through a grove of trees. ‘The Charter. Does it make any sense to you?’
‘Oh, that? Yeah, it makes as much sense as anything else here.’
‘So you don’t know whether to believe a word of it, then.’
Edsel smiled. ‘Something like that.’
‘You’re Robert, right?’
He hesitated. ‘Yeah, that’s what they call me.’
She sat on the ground, crossed her legs and held out her hand. ‘I’m Jacq. I saw you skating earlier. You were pretty good, considering it was your first time.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ Edsel replied shaking her hand. It felt strange, being paid a compliment. ‘It was fun. Scary, but fun.’
‘And you’ve never skated before?’
Edsel shook his head. ‘Nope. Never been allowed. My parents …’
‘Right, got it. I don’t think mine were quite as strict as that. Although something tells me they should have been.’
‘Why, what happened?’
Her eyes seemed to be focused on something in the distance. ‘I honestly don’t know, but I have a kind of suspicion – like a feeling – that if I’d been a bit more careful … I’ve had that feeling quite a bit lately. Look, something you will learn about Verdada is that things fade a bit after a while. It’s probably not a bad thing, though. So, you’ll have your first day tomorrow, I suppose.’
‘That’s if I decide to stay for the week.’
‘Who’s showing you the ropes?’
‘Ben.’
‘Ah, Ben.’ Her eyelids flickered slightly. ‘Well, he’ll teach you well, that’s for sure. He knows that book inside out.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll talk to you later, okay?’
‘Yeah, okay,’ he replied.
The food choices for dinner were just as plentiful and just as enticing as they had been earlier in the day, but there were more kids in the dining room this time. ‘Even though there’s food here most of the time, people still tend to eat at normal kinds of meal times,’ Ben told Edsel. ‘What are you going to have?’
‘I think … the pizza looks really good,’ Edsel said, and, unable to decide between the supreme, the Hawaiian and the margarita, he took one slice of each.
They found a spare table and sat down. ‘I met that Jacq girl this afternoon,’ Edsel said as they began to eat.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah. She seemed nice.’
‘She’s okay. How’s your pizza?’
‘Good, thanks,’ said Edsel. ‘How’s your spaghetti?’
Ben sighed and pushed his tray away. ‘I thought I was hungry, but I guess I was wrong.’
‘Can you keep it for later?’ Edsel asked.
‘Why bother?’ Ben said. ‘There’ll be more tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that.’
‘Are you new?’ asked a little voice, and Edsel looked down at a little girl of maybe seven or eight. Her blonde hair was tied up in two wavy pigtails.
‘Yes, I’m new,’ he replied. ‘I’m … Robert, or so they tell me.’
‘I’m Henrietta.’
‘Hello, Henrietta. Do you live here too?’
‘Yes.’
‘And do you like it?’
She shrugged. ‘Sure. I love it, I guess.’
It took Edsel a moment or two to take in her reply. ‘Don’t you miss your home?’
Her lips puckered as she thought. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t you think about your mum and dad?’
‘Not very much. I used to. But I don’t now.’
‘Isn’t that a bit sad, that you don’t think about your parents? Weren’t they very nice people?’
‘They were okay. I think I used to miss them.’
‘But now you don’t? How long have you been here?’
‘Since I was eight and a half.’
‘And how old are you now?’ Edsel asked.
‘Eight and a half. You don’t get any older in Verdada.’
‘I know that, but …’ Edsel stopped, before turning to Ben. ‘How do I explain what I mean?’
‘Sometimes you can’t,’ Ben replied. ‘There’s a lot about Verdada that doesn’t make sense. Sometimes you just have to accept it. You have, haven’t you, Henrietta?�
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‘Yup,’ the little girl replied. ‘Well, see ya!’
‘How long has she been here?’ Edsel asked Ben.
‘Longer than me,’ Ben said. ‘And before you ask, don’t. I don’t know either. What difference would it make? I live here now, and I’m happy. No need to look back at the past.’
Edsel thought about his copy of the Charter, which was up in his room. ‘These little kids – isn’t the Charter kind of hard for them?’ he asked Ben.
‘They get a simpler version. It says all the same sort of stuff, but in words they can understand. Hey, do you play chess?’
Edsel nodded.
‘Do you play chess?’ Ben asked again.
‘Sorry. Yes, I do. It’s hard to get injured playing chess,’ he explained.
‘Fancy a game?’
‘Okay.’
They went into the games room and sat down at one of the chess tables, with Bob lying down by Edsel’s foot, and while they played, Ben told Edsel more about the work he’d be doing if he chose to stay in Verdada. ‘One crate a day, that’s all,’ he said.
‘I read about that. But how big is this one crate per day?’
‘I don’t know – a cube about this big, I guess,’ Ben replied, holding his arms half-a-metre apart.
‘And that’s it? How long does that take?’
‘It all depends how fast you work, but usually an hour at the most.’
‘Then you can go?’
‘Of course. How long did you think you’d have to stay?’
‘Until three or something, like school,’ Edsel replied.
Ben laughed. ‘No! You finish, and you go. If you dawdle, or talk to much, it could take you half the day, but it shouldn’t.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘That’s it. Your move.’
‘Huh? Oh, right.’ Edsel moved one of his knights, and Ben reached out and felt the pieces, his fingers scurrying delicately over the tops of them.
‘Interesting move. Interesting, but impatient.’ He slid one of his bishops into position beside the knight. ‘That’s checkmate.’
‘Where’s Toby?’ Ben asked from the doorway.
‘Out.’
‘How do you get on with him?’
‘He seems nice,’ Edsel said. ‘He’s a pretty cool kid. Very friendly. He was only here for a little while, but we talked for a bit. He got that staring thing once or twice, but that was fine.’
‘And how’s your reading going?’
‘Good. I’ve almost finished, but it gets a bit heavy at the end.’
‘Oh yeah, all that equilibrium and balance stuff?’
‘Yeah, what’s all that about? Do I need to read that?’
‘When you get a chance, you probably should but it’s mostly technical information. The stuff before it is probably more important. So, do you think you’ll sleep okay?’
Edsel looked around the room. ‘I guess so.’
‘Do you usually have trouble sleeping in a new place?’
Edsel shrugged. ‘I don’t know – it doesn’t happen very often. Sleepovers have never really been my thing.’
‘Well, if you have any questions, just ask Toby, and I’m just down the hall as well if you need me,’ Ben said. ‘Room Fifteen.’
‘Thanks,’ Edsel said. ‘But before you go, how do I wake up in the morning? Is there an alarm clock or … something?’
‘You’ll wake up. Don’t worry about it. Goodnight, Robert,’ Ben said, and he gently closed the door behind himself, and Edsel heard the tip of his cane tap-tapping away down the hall.
Edsel went to the bar-less window and looked out. The ornate lamp posts in the park cast small islands of light onto the gravel paths and the lawns and the flowerbeds, and over beyond the first line of trees the roller-coaster was lit up with fairy lights.
He sighed, opened the fridge and took out a can of drink. He’d always wanted a bar fridge in his room, but his parents wouldn’t allow it. Never mind that his mother had one within an arm’s reach of her side of the bed. But now that he had his own fridge, and a cupboard loaded up with snacks, he felt an odd, gnawing feeling somewhere within himself. It wasn’t a stomach-ache, it wasn’t a headache, it wasn’t nausea or feverishness or hunger. No, it was just … an ickyness.
He heard a quiet, apologetic knock at the door, so quiet that for a moment he wondered if it was just some random night noise. But then he heard it again, so he stood up and opened the door.
Jacq was standing there, helmet in place. ‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Um … hi.’ He paused, but she didn’t say anything. Then, after an awkward pause: ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course. Why?’
‘Well, you’re … here.’
‘I’m just being friendly,’ Jacq said. ‘That’s okay, isn’t it?’
He felt silly then. ‘Of course. Sorry. And thanks. For being friendly, I mean.’
‘That’s all right.’ She tried to see past him into the room. ‘Is Toby here?’
Edsel shook his head. ‘He’s gone bowling, I think. Hey, is he all right?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He just … stares sometimes. Like his mind is somewhere else. Ben didn’t know much about it.’
‘Oh, well that’s just Toby. So, are you okay?’
‘Sure. Why?’
Jacq smiled. ‘You’re a very suspicious person, aren’t you?’
‘Not particularly. If I am, I guess I’d blame my parents.’
She narrowed her eyes at Bob, who was sitting by Edsel’s foot. ‘The dog’s still sticking close, I see.’
‘Yeah. I think we’re going to be good friends.’
‘That’s good. Make sure you look after him.’
‘I bet the kid who lost Bob wishes that he’d taken better care of him.’
‘Just because someone’s careful doesn’t mean they won’t ever lose anything,’ Jacq replied. ‘Things still get lost, even really precious things.’
Another long pause followed, and after a while, Edsel felt the need to change the subject. ‘Hey, can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘Is Jacq your real name?’
‘Jacqueline. But I prefer Jacq. So you’re not just suspicious – you’re also curious. I mean, if you weren’t, you probably wouldn’t be here, would you?’
‘I guess not.’
‘So listen, I wanted to talk to you, before you decide anything.’
‘All right. What is it?’
Jacq glanced up and down the hall, before leaning in a little. ‘You’re going to miss home,’ she said, as if this was some great and mysterious secret.
‘That’s it? I’m going to miss home?’
Jacq nodded.
‘Well thanks, but I seriously doubt it. I mean, everything I’ve seen so far has been great. A bit weird, but great, and I’m getting used to it already, so it’s getting less weird, but just as great.’
Jacq nodded impatiently. ‘All right, well you might not think you’re going to miss it, but you will. And it mightn’t be tonight, or the night after, or the night after that. But it will happen later on. You’ll think about something from home, and you’ll miss it like crazy, but then you’ll say to yourself, “I’m just a bit homesick; it’ll pass.” And you know what the worst bit is? Eventually it will.’
Edsel frowned. ‘So?’
‘Well, once homesickness passes, it might never come back.’
‘Which would also be good … wouldn’t it?’
Jacq shrugged. ‘Maybe. All I’m saying is, once you make that decision to stay, it might be hard to go back, even if the homesickness comes back, or doesn’t. Or if it’s just Heresickness.’
‘Okay,’ Edsel replied. More weirdness.
Jacq half turned away. ‘Well, all the best tomorrow.’
‘Thanks. Hey, can I ask you one more thing?’
‘Sure.’
‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘What do you mean?’ Jacq
asked, frowning.
‘Well, the little kid I met today had a leg that’s all wonky.’
‘Joe?’
‘Yeah, that’s him. And Toby has the weird thing he does with his eyes, and Ben is blind …’
‘And he said that no one here is normal. And he might be right.’
‘He is right,’ Jacq replied. ‘Seriously, what’s normal?’
‘So if that’s true, what’s wrong with me?’
‘Not everything is so obvious. Not everything is as plain as someone being blind, or having a broken leg, or whatever. I mean, look at me. Do you know what’s wrong with me?’
Edsel shook his head. ‘No, what?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’ll tell you another time, when we’re better friends.’
‘But what about me?’ he asked again. ‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘Do you want me to guess?’
‘No,’ Edsel replied. ‘I want to know.’
Smiling, Jacq stepped back from the door. ‘Just don’t … rush anything, all right? Goodnight, Robert.’
‘Goodnight,’ he said, and after he’d closed the door, he lay back on his bed. ‘It’s Edsel,’ he muttered. ‘I’m sure it’s Edsel.’
Toby came back from bowling an hour or so later, climbed into bed and fell asleep quickly. But it took Edsel a long time to go to sleep and he wasn’t sure why. His bed was comfortable, his pillow had the perfect amount of stuffing in it, his quilt kept him in that perfect cosy place between too hot and too cold. Plus he was tired – so very, very tired. But sleep refused to come, and eventually he sat up, threw back his covers and went to the window again. It was so different here from his bedroom, in his house, on his street. Which was where? When he was at school, he knew that his home was over in that direction, somewhere beyond the assembly hall. When he was standing out the front of Mr Waldon’s corner shop, he could reach home by turning left and heading down the gentle hill past the service station. And he knew that if he and his family ever took up one of the hot overseas deals his father dutifully wrote down at the end of each episode of Flyaway, he’d be vaguely aware of which direction he’d have to fly in order to get back home.
But here? Verdada was where? And if Verdada was Where, and Home was Somewhere Else, that meant that Home was Where as well. Left, right, east, west, up, down? Which of those? Or was it more a matter of In or Out?