The Adventures of Stunt Boy and His Amazing Wonder Dog Blindfold

by Lollie Barr

  ‘Stunt Boy, please, just do as the lady says,’ said Ginger Styles, who was supervising the interview. ‘Let’s just keep this positive, okay? Remember we’re trying to sell seats here.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go again,’ said Jennifer Pringle, sounding exasperated. ‘Lots of parents were concerned that children watching your show would try and re-enact your stunts at home. Do you think that is a possibility?’

  My mind met my mouth and went for it. ‘Kids aren’t dumb! Why do adults think kids would be stupid enough to try dangerous circus stunts at home? Adults are the ones doing the stupid stuff, like smoking and starting wars.’

  ‘This kid isn’t going to get on the news with that sort of attitude!’ said Jennifer Pringle. ‘Just close your helmet and shut your mouth.’

  After the interview everyone congratulated Jem on being articulate, which means being able to line up your thoughts so they come out of your mouth in the right order and you don’t look stupid. Nobody congratulated me as I just looked like her goofy mute brother, standing there saying nothing because I had been banned from talking and was wearing a helmet.

  That afternoon the posters for the show arrived in bundles covered in brown paper.

  ‘Cool!’ I said ripping open a packet. It had pictures of all the Stoked performers doing their tricks as a backdrop, with Caleb flying upside down through the air on his bike, superimposed over the top. I spotted myself just above the typography that read:

  ‘Life is a circus’ starring Caleb Calloway and Stoked Stunt Circus crew.

  If I’d seen that poster and was a normal person, not a circus person, I’d definitely have wanted to go to the show. It made the fact that Caleb was coming to our circus feel real, not just like some mad dream that I dreamt up in the middle of the night. It was actually going to happen.

  We broke up into four teams, ready to plaster the whole city in Stoked posters. I was teamed with Fat Fred, Dirk and Blindfold, who was with us for moral support because he had paws, which aren’t very helpful for pasting posters and slapping them up on walls, recycling bins and telegraph poles.

  Our team was allocated to put the posters up OverEast. We spent the whole afternoon cruising around with a big bucket of runny paste, sticking up posters in every available space until everywhere you looked was a Stoked poster. It felt great.

  We were driving up the road when I recognised the barbed-wire fortress ahead.

  ‘Hey look,’ I said as I sat in the back of the car, Blindfold laid out across my lap. ‘Chesterley’s Circus.’

  ‘Let’s put one up on his front fence,’ said Dirk, laughing.

  ‘Great idea!’ I said. ‘No, I’ll put one right on his front gate! Imagine his face!’

  ‘Come on, boys, let’s not antagonise the old fool,’ said Fat Fred, who, despite the fact he liked eating swords, swallowing fire and hanging from hooks, was pretty sensible.

  When we finished putting up our allocation of posters OverEast, Stoked’s presence was everywhere. Just as we were heading back home, I saw a familiar figure in green trousers and a yellow waistcoat ripping a poster of Caleb on his bike off a billboard.

  ‘Look! Chesterley is ripping down our posters!’ I said. ‘And his goon clown Biggsy is helping him.’

  ‘I’m not having that!’ said Fat Fred, definitely feeling antagonised now. He chucked a U-turn and stopped by the side of the road. He leant over towards Dirk in the passenger seat and called through the window, ‘Oi, you! What do you think you’re doing tearing down our posters?’

  Chesterley turned around, holding Caleb Calloway ripped in half. ‘You’ve been illegally postering. I was just helping out the OverEast Council by tearing them down,’ he said, scrunching the poster into a ball and throwing it at our car. ‘You should thank me. Once my mates on the council find out that you’ve being putting up your posters all over my borough, they’re going to take you to the cleaners for fly posting without a permit.’

  ‘Who says we don’t have permits?’ said Dirk. ‘We’re permitted up to the eyeballs.’

  ‘Your show isn’t going to take place, I’m going to see to that. Stoked is over. Do you want me to spell that for you? O-V-E-R,’ said Chesterley.

  I had to hold Blindfold back by the collar otherwise he would have leapt out of the window and gone for Chesterley. Blindfold has never bitten anyone in his entire life, but I reckon he would have made an exception for Chesterley. However, you don’t want your dog to bite anyone, even egg-sandwich farts like Chesterley, because dogs can be put to sleep for that and they never wake up.

  ‘Look at you covered in tattoos and piercings. Disgusting pieces of humanity, the sooner this city is rid of the scourge that is Stoked Stunt Circus, the better.’

  Disgusting! Now that was an insult. I felt the adrenaline in the car rise. Fat Fred and Dirk’s doors clicked open at exactly the same time as they simultaneously jumped out of the car. ‘Who are you calling disgusting?’

  ‘Yeah, come on skinny little man,’ said Biggsy to Fat Fred.

  ‘You’d better get out of here, Chesterley,’ said Fat Fred, who was shaking with rage. He was only a quarter of the size of Chesterley, but he was squaring up to him as Biggsy growled like a blocked drain.

  While I would like to have seen Dirk and Fat Fred have a huge punch-up with Chesterley and Biggsy, I also knew that all fighting did was get you into big, fat trouble. We couldn’t risk blowing the show.

  ‘Don’t let Chesterley wind you up,’ I yelled out of the window. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  When we got back to Stoked, word went around about our confrontation. Everyone was concerned that Chesterley would drive all over the city and pull down our posters. Ginger said that it didn’t matter as Jem had been doing such a great job marketing on the social networks, plus we had the TV interview on the news and a story in the newspaper. Caleb had also sent Jem his entire fan club’s email addresses and because of that tickets were already selling fast. At last, the tide was turning on Barry Chesterley’s efforts to close down our circus. I knew who would have the last laugh and it wasn’t him.

  18

  Grease monkeys don’t wear white

  I did something super weird this morning. I cleaned my room without Jem having to bug the hell out of me. It was pretty easy once I got started and made a dirty-washing Mount Everest, which I put in my laundry basket for a change, all ready for Jem to wash. She had refused to step foot inside my room for two weeks to ‘manhandle’ my dirty socks and undies because of the smell. I thought the odour was quite pleasant personally. Girls must have sensitive noses, which is why they have to wear so much perfume.

  Apart from wanting clean clothes for the arrival of our guest, I also needed Jem to do some washing because yesterday I had had to turn my underwear inside out because I’d run out, which technically means I wore the same pair of underpants twice. All boys do it, it’s not such a big deal. I bet you’ve done it. I have to wear underpants, dirty or otherwise, or else my knackers get all red and chafed when I wear my leathers to perform in the show.

  I made a big rubbish pile of dirty plates, chewing-gum wrappers, tissues, glasses, cups, drink bottles and takeaway containers. I could recount all the rubbish in my room but you’d get bored, besides something much more exciting than underpants and garbage was happening.

  Caleb was arriving today, three days earlier than expected. I was getting to spend four nights and three days hanging out with him before the official opening show. Ginger had decided the best strategy was not to have shows in the weekdays leading up to Caleb’s opening appearance.

  We had been publicising the show as the relaunch of Stoked Stunt Circus, the greatest human circus ever assembled. We weren’t lying either. It was brilliant, but it would have been even better if my dad had been able to perform.

  Everyone had been immersed in rehearsals, coming up with brand-new acts, and in between we
spent every spare moment sprucing up the circus and the grounds. We were all buzzing with excitement because the shows were selling out fast.

  As I cleaned my room, Jem tidied Dad’s bedroom for Caleb to sleep in. I felt a bit funny when Jem changed the sheets on Dad’s bed. While I wanted Caleb to have nice clean sheets, another part of me was all torn up that I wouldn’t be able to get into Dad’s bed, which still smelt of him.

  I loved the way my dad smelt. When I gave him a hug before the show, his aftershave would infuse into the skin on my face and neck and I’d imagine I was a grown-up who had to shave and wear aftershave. I was really looking forward to shaving. I wondered whether Caleb had started shaving yet.

  After Jem had made the bed, she placed a towel on the end, as if our caravan was a five-star hotel. Then she went outside and returned with a pink flower which she put on the pillow.

  ‘No way, Jem, that’s way too lame,’ I said, shaking my head in disapproval. ‘You can’t put a flower on his pillow!’

  ‘I like it, it’s classy,’ she said.

  ‘No way! It has to go!’ I replied.

  ‘Deal with it, Stunt, it’s only a flower,’ she said, pulling rank as usual. ‘Isn’t Benny supposed to be coming over this afternoon after we visit Dad? We could ask Sue if we can drop by and pick him up if you like. Save his mum the drive over.’

  ‘Nah, I told him that Caleb was coming and I had stuff to do,’ I replied. I hadn’t seen much of Benny as he had spent the past five days at an intensive training camp somewhere, where all the kids from the region went to wrestle each other as practise for the State championships. He’d told me where it was, but I couldn’t remember because I had too much on my mind.

  ‘But Caleb’s not getting here until after five, or maybe later,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d be busting to see Bennalicious.’

  ‘But what if Caleb gets here earlier?’ I said, not telling her that I wanted it to be just me and Caleb. Not me and Caleb and Benny. Not because I didn’t want Benny there, but because I wanted to get to know Caleb on my own. He was my hero, not Benny’s. ‘Jem, please, can you get rid of that flower?’

  She picked it up, put it behind her ear and disappeared out of the room without saying a word.

  We visited Dad in the hospital just after lunch. Mr Barnstable held up an x-ray from a CT scan to a fluorescent light and told us the cerebral oedema in Dad’s brain had reduced in size. ‘It’s very good news,’ Mr Barnstable said. ‘But we’re not out of the woods just yet.’

  Seeing Dad’s brain in 3D was amazing. All that grey matter contained everything that was so fantastic about him. I just hoped when he came out of the coma, he’d still be the same person.

  Between Caleb’s imminent arrival and Dad’s brain being smaller, things were looking up.

  When we got home, I kept a close watch on the road, cupping my hands and scanning the horizon, looking for Caleb’s truck. I hated waiting; the anticipation felt as if it was nibbling at the edges of my stomach.

  Blindfold and I went to the front gate at 4 pm and I spent an hour throwing a stick for him to retrieve, but eventually he got bored and had a little sleep. He slept on his back with all four legs straight up in the air. If you drove past you’d probably think Blindfold was dead with rigor mortis, which Benny told me happens when you die and your muscles go all stiff and frozen. But he wasn’t, he was just a dog with a strange way of sleeping. I lay my head down against Blindfold’s warm tummy and dropped off as well, as I still hadn’t been sleeping properly.

  An hour or so later, a big green ute appeared out of the late afternoon light, the sound of the engine and of pumping bass breaking the stillness. I stood up as the ute indicated that it was turning right into Stoked. I felt a rumble in my guts. It must have been a case of nerves.

  The truck was a deep green with red, orange and white flames licking its sides and across the bonnet. The chrome on the bumper bar and the spoiler was polished to a shine, displaying a P plate, while the huge black wheels had mudguards with motorbikes embossed into them.

  On the back of the ute were two motorbikes secured in a cage. I wondered if Caleb would be the kind of guy who would let you ride his bikes. I let Benny ride all my bikes, but some guys are weird about sharing their stuff.

  I stood just inside the gate and waved. I felt goofy, as if I was royalty or something, so I slowly put my hand behind my back. The truck’s horn blew, sounding as if it was an ocean liner leaving port, so I started waving again.

  The ute halted right next to me and the tinted black window wound down, revealing Caleb Calloway in a pair of reflective sunglasses with a white rim. I could see my whole self in them looking dorky, my hand suspended in the air, with Blindfold standing behind me.

  ‘Stunt Boy?’ said Caleb Calloway like it was a question, although he had met me once before.

  ‘Hey, Caleb!’ I said, hoping my mind would work out what to say next. It didn’t.

  ‘What’s happening, man?’ said Caleb, sticking out his hand for a high five.

  ‘Nothing much,’ I said, slapping his hand, and berating myself for saying ‘nothing much’ when there was so much happening. ‘Nothing much’ was my standard reply to a lot of questions, so it just popped out.

  ‘Nothing much?’ he said, smiling and taking off his sunglasses. His hazel eyes were shining, and a splatter of freckles dotted his nose and cheekbones. ‘Little man, we’re going to have to change that! I mean, aren’t we supposed to be putting on the greatest show on earth to save Stoked Stunt Circus?’

  ‘Yeah!’ I said, feeling embarrassed but making myself sound enthusiastic, even though I felt shy talking to him.

  ‘Awesome, dude, awesome,’ said Caleb, smiling a huge smile with heaps of big white teeth that reminded me of Jem’s. I wanted to count his teeth to see if he had more than you’re supposed to have, but I figured Caleb would think I was nuts if I asked him to open his mouth so I could do a tally. ‘I’m pumped for this show. I’m itching to have some fun for the sake of fun, without sponsors and managers on my case.’

  Blindfold must have recognised Caleb from the posters on my wall because he started barking and jumped up at the door, but the window was too high for his paws to reach.

  ‘Hey, dog, watch the paintwork,’ Caleb said, looking down at the door and brushing away the dust to see if there were any scratches.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said on Blindfold’s behalf, as Blindfold was looking a bit put out that he’d been called dog not Blindfold.

  ‘My truck is my baby, even though I hardly ever get to see my girl these days because I’m always on tour,’ said Caleb. ‘Jump in, Stunt, and check her out.’

  ‘Can Blindfold come in?’ I asked as I climbed up into the cab. Blindfold was waiting politely for the command to jump in as well.

  ‘Sorry, but I don’t want dog hair everywhere. These seats are leather.’

  I felt a bit bad making Blindfold chase after Caleb’s truck as we drove into the circus and up to the office, but he probably needed the exercise.

  ‘Can you blow the horn, Caleb, to let everyone know you’re here?’

  The toot brought Pikelet, Sue, Fat Fred and Ginger Styles out of the office. From high up in the cab of the truck I could see my sister coming out of the big top. She was wearing a flowery dress. When did Jem ever wear dresses?

  ‘Wow, cool. I love a freak show,’ said Caleb, laughing.

  I hoped he meant ‘freak show’ in a good way, not in a Barry Chesterley way.

  Caleb shut off the engine of his truck and we jumped out. He was wearing white jeans and a plain white T-shirt, despite the fact he was a grease monkey. That means he liked playing around with engines and stuff and getting dirty fingernails. Most grease monkeys don’t wear white. I never wear white because of grease and I also find it hard not to drop food on my clothes when I eat.

  Everyone broke into spontaneous appla
use and I swear I saw Caleb’s face turn as red as the flames licking the bonnet on his truck. Even though he was a famous international superstar motorbike rider, he still got embarrassed. Or it could have been because he caught the eye of my sister, whose face had turned a matching shade.

  ‘Jem, hey,’ said Caleb, brushing his hand through his sandy hair. His voice came out croaky and high like it was breaking. My voice had just started to do that. Benny’s voice had broken about eighteen months ago; now it was quite deep. ‘Nice to see you again.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Jem in a voice that didn’t sound like hers, then she gave this weird giggle. It made me feel embarrassed for her.

  ‘Caleb, welcome. I’m the manager, Ginger Styles,’ said Ginger Styles, who liked saying she was the manager of the circus, even though it was only temporarily until my dad was better. I really felt like saying ‘temporarily’ but I didn’t think it was a good idea, as we had made peace with Ginger, even though I was still not entirely convinced of her motives. ‘I know I speak for everyone at Stoked when I say how excited we are that you’ve come here to perform. You don’t know how much we appreciate it.’

  ‘You’ve got your very own Stunt Boy to thank for that,’ said Caleb, ruffling my hair, which made it stick up because it is so thick.

  ‘So, Stunt, do you want to show Caleb where he’ll be sleeping?’ said Ginger.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, hoping Jem hadn’t put the flower back as I would be seriously upset if I took him to his bedroom and there was a pink flower sitting on his pillow, especially if he thought I had put it there. We drove up to our caravan in his truck and he parked outside.

  Jem had moved into Mellie Bellie and Zoe’s trailer, as I think she didn’t want Caleb to see her in her pyjamas or hear her do a poo. The walls are thin, so you can hear people on the toilet! I’m used to it. It didn’t bother me playing the bum trumpet in front of Caleb.

  While my dad is in hospital he can’t poo himself, so he has a device called a colostomy bag, which collects all your wastes from inside you and it goes into the bag. Sorry if I just made you feel sick, but that is the reality of being in a coma. You can’t just jump up out of bed and go to the toilet.