by James Roy
‘So?’ Kenny replied. ‘I’ve been trying to forget about it. It was awful and freaky. I still think you tried to kill me.’
‘I didn’t, honestly. And I’m so sorry it happened. It was an accident, and it won’t happen again. The Egg’s safe now. And I’d like you to have it.’
‘Have what?’
‘The Egg, or the spaceship, or whatever it is. I want you to have it. The little kids love playing in it, and they’ll give you heaps of money. You might have some trouble getting Hoagy to have another go, but all the others will still want to.’
Kenny narrowed his eyes, just like Mum had done. ‘Are you trying to trick me?’ he asked.
Edsel shook his head. ‘No, honestly I’m not,’ he said. ‘It’s just that it looks like I might be a bit busy for a while, and I won’t have time to take all that money and sell drinks and all that. So I want you to have it.’
Kenny opened the door a little wider and peered out at the Egg, as if he expected it to explode or something. ‘All right, leave it there and I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘But if anything weird happens, I’ll deck you at school tomorrow.’
‘Cool,’ Edsel replied. ‘But good luck with that, since tomorrow’s Saturday.’
‘Monday, then.’
‘No worries. See you,’ said Edsel, and as he walked past the Egg, he reached into the cockpit and pulled the white plug from the dash.
Next he walked the short distance up the street to the Wendl house. He rang the front doorbell and waited. After a minute or so, Mrs Wendl opened the door and frowned down at him. ‘Yes?’
‘Could I talk to Hoagy?’ he asked.
Mrs Wendl folded her arms and shook her head. ‘He’s in the bath.’
‘Can you give him a message, then? Can you tell him that I’m really sorry about what happened?’
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘And tell him that the spaceship is at Kenny’s house now. I don’t have it anymore.’
‘All right. Is that everything?’
‘Yes, that’s everything. Just that I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you too. I didn’t mean to scare him.’
‘Okay. Thank you, Edsel. Goodbye.’ And before Edsel could say another word, the door had been closed in his face.
It was beginning to get dark now, and as Edsel reached the top of his driveway, he could see light coming through the crack under the garage roller-door. He lifted the door up just enough to slip underneath. His father was bent over the fender of the old car, and as he worked, he was humming along to the radio.
‘Hey, Dad,’ Edsel said, and his father turned to look at him.
‘What is it, son? What’s wrong? Is everything all right?’
‘Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to tell you that I found these,’ he said, holding out the sunglasses.
Straightening up, Dad took them. ‘Thanks! Where were they?’
‘Just lying around. Dad?’
‘What is it?’
‘Do you need any help? With the car, I mean.’
For the fifth time that afternoon, Edsel saw someone narrow their eyes and stare at him suspiciously. ‘You’re offering to help me fix up the old girl?’
‘Sure. If you want me to, that is. I’ll be careful not to hurt myself. I think I’m old enough to help you work on a car.’
Dad laid the sunglasses gently on the roof of the old car. Then, after a moment, he gave a quick nod. ‘Yeah, all right. I’ve put some bearings over there on the bench,’ he said, pointing. ‘If you really want to help, you can grab that can of solvent there and give them a good clean. There’s a brush on that shelf above your head. Just be careful of the—’
‘Of the fumes. I know.’
‘Son, this workshop is full of things that can hurt you.’
‘I know, Dad. I’m sorry.’
‘We don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘I know.’
‘Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe you should watch for a while, just until you start to learn some of the safety stuff—’
‘Dad. It’s fine. I’ll be all right.’
‘Okay. Okay. Have you got enough light over there?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
‘Because you can go blind from working in light that’s too dim.’
‘Are you sure about that, Dad?’
His father frowned at him. ‘How many blind people do you know, Edsel?’
‘Enough,’ Edsel replied, turning his body slightly so he had more light to work by. Then, with his father satisfied that he had sufficient light, he started cleaning the bearings.
And with the music turned down just a little, and stopping occasionally to eat the warm bread and butter and honey Mum had brought out to them, Edsel and his dad talked about school, and work, and riding unicycles, and about cars, and knicks and knacks, and whether the 1958 Ford Edsel Corsair was a better model than the 1959. ‘Because this one is a ’58,’ Dad said, patting his car affectionately. ‘And I still think it’s the best. I don’t know who owned this one first but I’m sure glad I found it.’
And when he thought about it, Edsel had to agree.
Edsel sat beneath his favourite tree in the school playground and watched Kenny go slouching past, a football tucked under his arm. It probably wasn’t his football – he’d almost certainly stolen it from some kindy kid who would, at that moment, be almost certainly trying to find the teacher on duty. But at least Kenny wasn’t picking on Edsel, so that was something.
In fact, ever since Edsel had donated the Egg to Kenny, a kind of uneasy truce had developed between them. Every afternoon Edsel would sneak a peek across the street and see the little kids queueing for their turn in what was now known as the ‘Supa-Sampson Space Masheen’, according to the new sign. It was a rather daggy and woefully pathetic name, but Kenny seemed happy, taking money from kids and shouting at them to wait their turn.
‘Edsel Grizzler, can you come to the front office?’ Mrs Dean’s voice came over the PA, interrupting Edsel’s thoughts. ‘Edsel Grizzler, front office please.’
Mrs Dean was on the phone as Edsel came in, and he stood to one side until she hung up. ‘Ah, Edsel, we’ve got your dog back here,’ she said. ‘He must have followed you to school.’
Edsel frowned. This was new. ‘My dog?’
‘Yeah, little Bob. He’s so cute!’
‘He sure … is,’ said Edsel. ‘Um … where is he?’
‘We’ve got him in the staff room. He’s had a couple of crackers and some cheese and a bowl of water – I hope that’s okay.’
‘Yeah, of course.’ Edsel frowned some more, and scratched his head. ‘But how did you know his name was Bob?’
Mrs Dean rolled her eyes and grinned. ‘Because you put it on his collar, silly boy! Now, he’ll have to stay here for the rest of the day but you can collect him at the end of school.’
‘Okay, that’s fine. Hey, Mrs Dean, do you think I could say hello to him, just to make sure he’s okay?’
Mrs Dean stood up. ‘Can’t bear to be without him, Edsel? I can’t blame you – he’s so cute! Come on, he’s out here.’
Edsel followed Mrs Dean into the staff room where a number of teachers were eating their lunch. They glanced up, saw that there was a student in their special, secret place, scowled and muttered under their breath, and got back to eating their sandwiches and tuna salads.
And there, by the door, was Bob, whose tail started wagging the moment he saw Edsel walk in.
Edsel got down on one knee and scratched Bob under the chin. ‘Hey, little guy, you remember me!’ he said. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I guess he must have escaped from your yard and run here to see you,’ Mrs Dean said. ‘I hope there weren’t any big roads he had to cross on the way.’
‘I think he had more to worry about than big roads,’ Edsel replied. He scratched Bob under the chin, and the little dog rolled onto his back to allow access to his belly.
‘Oh, he likes that,’ Mrs Dean said. ‘He seems very exci
ted to see you, Edsel.’
‘I haven’t seen him for a while.’
‘Since this morning at breakfast?’
‘A little bit longer than that.’
‘Well, try to make sure that he stays home.’ Mrs Dean leant closer and lowered her voice. ‘I don’t think Mr Sullivan will be too impressed if he keeps turning up at school.’
‘No, of course not.’ Edsel slipped his fingers under Bob’s collar and turned it until he found the red plastic tag. It was a folding key tag, the kind you open up and slip a piece of paper into, behind the clear window. Written on the piece of paper was: “BOB” – Edsel Grizzler’s dog. Please return.
He turned the tag over. On the other side he saw more writing, much smaller: Inside.
After glancing around to make sure that the teachers were all busy chatting over their lunch, Edsel opened the end of the tag, pulled out the paper and unfolded it. The words he read made his heart stop beating, just for a second.
Edsel, it’s bad, really BAD. They’ve all gone crazy. All the kids have decided to try your trick. It’s a mutiny, Richard’s gone, and I don’t know what to do next. Email me back on fractal.flames@verdada.
Oh, and don’t use my real name. You know who I am, but I don’t think the Mira do. Yet.
FF
First published 2009 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
www.uqp.com.au
© James Roy
This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any foram or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
Typeset by Post Pre-Press Group, Brisbane
Cataloguing in Publication Data
National Library of Australia
Roy, James
Edsel Grizzler – Voyage to Verdada
For secondary school age
I. Title.
A823.3
ISBN 978 0 7022 3718 8 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 4562 6 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 4565 7 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 4563 3 (kindle)