‘Hello, early bird,’ he whispered. ‘You sleep well?’
‘Sure,’ said Henry.
‘I’ve staked out the joint,’ said Dad. ‘I’ve been for a long bike ride already and there’s a stack to see. Stingrays, seals, Nugget Rock shining like fool’s gold and on the other side, the inlet so glassy and smooth, a fishing paradise . . .’
Reed slid out from the tent opposite in his pyjamas, bed-haired and bleary-eyed like he had just slithered from a cocoon. ‘Sunny!’ he whispered, looking up. ‘Yay!’ He tugged at his pyjama pants, pulling them up high. ‘Who wants a bowl of Coco Pops?’
The smell of burnt toast and bacon drifted in the air.
‘Nah,’ said Henry, jiggling on the spot. ‘No thanks.’
‘How about we tackle your bike?’ said Dad. ‘Get a quick lesson in before breakfast?’
Henry swallowed. No crafty thief had come in the night. There it was: the bike. He couldn’t escape it. He glanced at Reed.
‘Yeah!’ said Reed, licking his lips. ‘Whatcha waiting for, Hennie?’
Henry shook his head. ‘Not now,’ he mumbled.
‘I’d sure love to ride around with you to Nugget Rock,’ said Dad. ‘I saw a baby seal round there this morning, slapping a fish.’
‘Maybe later,’ said Henry. ‘I need to go to the bathroom now.’
‘I’ll go with you, Mr Hoobler,’ said Reed, with a smirk. ‘After I’ve gone for a fish first.’
‘Ah, well, maybe later then,’ said Dad, with a tiny sigh.
Henry slunk away quickly, the grass wet beneath his feet. Gosh, that Reed! What was wrong with him? He was into everything. Maybe he’d grow up to be like Mr Duffy from across the road, wandering the streets on council pick-up day, fossicking through the trash on everyone’s front lawn, searching for hidden treasure.
Because, after all, Henry wanted to do stuff with his dad. He did. But his dad was so . . . what did his mum always say? Exuberant. Yes, that was the word. His dad was exuberant, which meant enthusiastic and some other word, what was it again . . . buoyant. Yes, buoyant as a boat, as if nothing would ever sink him. Mostly, this was a good thing. Like when Henry first went to school and was scared he might never learn to read, his dad’s confidence gave Henry courage, even when the words in the readers jumped and blurred together.
But the bad thing about his dad’s exuberance for everything was that he was so loud. He was into celebrating and rejoicing, whoo-hooing and clapping every new little step, every tiny gain.
Learning to ride a bike was different from learning how to read.
Henry wanted to learn quietly, without any fuss, far away from all his friends and family, where no one he knew could see his mistakes or his fear.
Henry took the long way back from the bathroom. He cut between the ritzy-ditzy cabins, the ones his dad reckoned cost twelve arms and twelve legs to stay in. He trod carefully around the scaly roots of the pine trees and stepped out onto the footpath.
Early morning joggers rushed by, their feet pounding. Scruffy dogs tugged at their leads, sniffing the salty air. Bellbirds ting-tinged from across the water.
Everyone was happy and polite and said things like ‘Morning!’ and ‘Lovely day’ and smiled at him, as if it was not unusual to see a boy in his pyjamas taking a stroll on a public footpath.
Henry paused to gaze over the water. A flock of birds rose up suddenly from out near a tiny island. They flew so tightly and close it was like watching one big bird, rather than hundreds of small ones. They dipped and turned, rising up and then sweeping left, the flash of their wings creamy white. Then they skimmed the water and whizzed up again, as if they didn’t know how to settle.
Just then Henry heard a splash. A different bird popped its head out of the water and then flew up and struck down again. A school of fish sprang out in silvery arches – once, twice, three times – down towards the bridge.
Henry lunged forward, straining to see more. Ah, that poor bird! He was like a cartoon character, diving in and coming up empty every single time, those tiny fish sticking close together, quicker than a bunch of quavers.
‘Wow,’ he breathed, turning to see if anyone else had noticed.
The girl on the crimson dragster bike was perched right behind him. ‘Ha!’ she said, with a grin. ‘My Nan reckoned the best things always happen on the way to somewhere else.’
‘Is that right?’ said Henry.
‘Yep. For sure!’ said the crimson dragster girl. ‘Take last night – I was going for a ride after the storm when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. So I stopped to take a look and found this.’ She reached into her bike basket and pulled out a strawberry-pink pony.
Henry’s stomach flipped like a pancake. ‘That’s Peony.’
‘I thought it might be a member of your family.’ The crimson dragster girl lifted her eyebrows high. A small smile fizzed on her lips. ‘So tell your little sister I’m her knight on a shining bike!’ She tossed the pony to him and flicked her fingers up in a funny greeting that was both hello and goodbye all at once. Then she surged off down the grass and up the path, coasting from side to side, her crimson dragster moving like a dancer, curving left, then right.
Henry stood up straighter. He clutched the pony tight to his chest and watched her ride away, even though he wanted to tell her to stop. Where had she found Peony? How could he thank her? He wanted to ask her what made her so sure that best things always happen on the way to somewhere else – how could that be true?
But then he remembered that the girl had seen his pyjamas, the exploding rockets, shooting stars and planets, so now she would be thinking he was nothing but a baby. Good grief, why didn’t he get changed before going to the bathroom, or at the very least wear pyjamas without a pattern? Now he couldn’t get back to the tent quick enough.
‘Hey there.’ Reed ambled towards Henry. He wore bright blue board shorts and a surfie singlet. A fishing rod rested against his shoulder and he was swinging a red bucket. ‘So,’ he cried, scrunching up his nose. ‘Who’s the girl, Hennie? Is she your new girlfriend?’
‘Just zip it,’ said Henry.
‘You gonna kiss her, Hen?’ Reed clucked like a chicken.
Henry brushed past, shaking his head. He didn’t have any words handy that could express the fullness of his scorn.
Why couldn’t a boy and a girl just be friends? Why did everyone have to go like a stupid ninny-head the minute a boy and a girl talked for one tiny second? All that dreaming about fish, all that hoping about fish and all that babbling about fish had left Reed with fish flakes for brains.
‘Do you see the way she rides that bike?’ called Reed. ‘She’s no scaredy-cat.’
Scaredy-cat. That word sunk inside Henry like a stone. ‘What do you know?’ he muttered, stomping off up the path.
‘Ah, Henny,’ chirped Reed. ‘I know everything!’
TREASURE
‘But where did she find Peony?’ asked Lulu, hugging her pony close.
‘I don’t know,’ said Henry. ‘She didn’t say.’
Lulu kissed her pink pony’s nose. ‘It’s a miracle.’
‘She said to tell you she is your knight on a shining bike.’
‘When you see her again, Lulu,’ said Mum, looking up from her magazine, ‘make sure you say thank you.’
‘If I had a zillion billion gold dollars,’ said Lulu, ‘I would give them all to her!’
Henry gazed out at the bike path, looking for the girl on her crimson dragster, but all he could see were the nuggety rugrats from next door with their spiky helmets, whizzing up and down on their bikes, brazen and loud, shouting out to each other, ‘Look at me, no hands! NO HANDS! Whoop! Whoop!’
‘Henry,’ said Lulu. ‘Do you want to come to the pool with me and my ponies?’
‘Well,’ said Henry, swallowing.
‘Pretty please? Pretty please with cream and a cherry on top?’
‘Maybe.’ Henry kicked off his thongs and slipped into the tent. He had t
o get out of his pyjamas quick, just in case. He scrabbled through his crate, looking for his board shorts and rash shirt. He got dressed in a corner and then shoved his rocket pyjamas right to the bottom of his crate, beneath his jeans and long-sleeved shirts. When he came out of the tent, he snatched up a banana from the fruit bowl and peeled it fast. ‘I’m starving,’ he said.
‘There are some croissants in the bag on the table, if you want one,’ said Mum, sipping her coffee. ‘Fresh from the bakery.’
Henry fished out a buttery, flaky croissant. He sat down with his banana and took turns biting from both.
‘Your dad’s taken Patch for a quick surf at Joe’s Beach,’ said Mum, glancing up from her crossword. ‘Dylan’s headed over to the skate park and Reed’s going to try his hand fishing on the estuary. I think Jay and Carey might be building Bionicles with Kale in their tent, if that takes your fancy?’
‘Not really,’ said Henry.
‘Well, Lulu and I are going to the pool in a second, so feel welcome to join us.’
Henry nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Can we go now? Can we go now?’ chanted Lulu, running around in circles, galloping ponies in front.
‘Get your hat,’ said Mum.
‘Yeee–heeee,’ said Lulu. She put her ponies down on top of the camp fridge and began rummaging in a bucket. Hats flew everywhere, between her legs, over her shoulders, bouncing off the tent. ‘Got it!’ she cried, waving a sun hat covered with cherry blossoms.
Mum eased herself up from the table with a big sigh. ‘Oh, Lulu,’ she said. ‘You’re incorrigible!’
‘Is that good?’ asked Lulu.
‘That depends.’ Mum scooped up her magazine, beach bag and towels. ‘Now pack those other hats away.’
Lulu raced about snatching up hats and shoving them back into the bucket. ‘Ready!’ she cried.
‘Okay then,’ said Mum.
‘Let’s go,’ said Lulu with a grin, dragging Mum by the hand.
The three of them meandered up past the giant chess set and down the path towards the swimming pool. A big boy opened the gate and Henry darted past a clump of shivering coconut girls on their way out. ‘It’s freezing today,’ said one girl, her lips blue.
Lulu lined up her ponies on the edge of the big pool and jumped straight into the shallow end, while their mum sat nearby on a tan plastic lounge chair, her bare legs covered with a towel.
Henry flopped on the lawn. He plucked at blades of grass, watching ants tumble clumsily up and down, through a scratchy tangle of roots.
‘Watch me, watch me,’ Lulu shouted.
‘I am watching,’ said Mum.
Lulu dove just beneath the surface, her bottom wiggling like an unsinkable floatie. ‘Did you see?’ she asked, standing up, swiping her hair back. Her eyes were big behind their goggles. ‘Did you see? I put my whole head under!’
‘I saw!’ said Mum. ‘Well done, you clever girl.’
‘Heno,’ cried Lulu. ‘Come in and play with me. Please! Please! Please!’
Henry hesitated. There were no other big brothers playing with their little sisters in the pool.
‘Please, Heno. Please!’ Lulu clung to the side of the pool. She pushed out her bottom lip.
‘Stop staring at me like that,’ said Henry.
‘Please, Heno,’ she said, dipping her head and gazing up at him soulfully. ‘I promise to be good and to do exactly what you tell me.’
Henry bit his lip. He was good at playing pretend, and sometimes the stories he made up with Lulu were so real it almost felt as if they were happening. And the longer he played, the less likely it might be that he would have to learn how to ride his bike.
‘Okay.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the jumping pillow to check for bossy-boots Reed. ‘But only if you listen.’
‘Seahorse, seahorse,’ Lulu said. ‘Let’s play that!’
And so Henry spent the next hour at Lulu’s beck and call. He darted about the pool, pretending to be a magical sea pony, with Lulu perched on his back.
They fought the evil sea hag Mibena, who had cast a terrible spell across the whole of the underwater kingdom. They wrestled with her minions, the kraken and sea serpents and sea dragons. They rescued languishing mermaids from their cave prisons and freed selkies, seals, dugongs and turtles from dark underwater dungeons.
Then Lulu vanquished the evil sea hag above a coral meadow, with a simple spell, and peace came to the underwater kingdom again. Only then did Lulu get out of the pool. She sat shivering beside Mum, tired out, wrapped up tight in a My Little Pony towel, waiting to be warmed by the sun.
Palm trees rustled.
The pool was a dark sapphire blue. Henry took a deep breath and sank into the water like a crocodile, so only his eyes popped out.
There were lots of people swimming now. Babies drifted by in yellow ducky rings. In the middle of the pool, two short stubby men with tattooed stars on their backs were throwing children backwards and forwards like basketballs. At the deep end, an older grey-haired lady sat on a ledge, next to a younger lady in a tomato red T-shirt. ‘Isn’t this lovely, Moira?’ cried the grey-haired lady to the red T-shirt lady. ‘Aren’t we lucky!’
Moira nodded and sat closer to the grey-haired lady, closer than a shadow. Henry could tell Moira had Down Syndrome like Ellie in Year Six at his school.
Henry guessed the grey-haired lady was Moira’s mum. But there were two little girls with them too and they were throwing themselves against the grey-haired lady and wrapping their arms around her neck, taking turns to kiss her pale papery cheeks.
Henry wondered if these girls were the grey-haired lady’s grandchildren. She looked like a granny to Henry. She had the same sweetness of face, the same creamy, calm expression he recognised in his own Nonna.
‘Careful now!’ called the grey-haired lady to the little girls. ‘You’ll knock Aunty Moira off the step.’
Moira sat gazing up at the sky, like she hardly noticed those girls throwing themselves like salmon upstream.
Then the granny dove off the ledge, as if she had suddenly had enough. She swam out into the deep and the two little girls flung themselves after her. ‘Granny Apples!’ they called, snatching at her arms. ‘Apples! Wait! Wait!’ And they thrashed down the pool, wide as a three-headed monster. And just like that, Moira popped off the step too and swam after them, one small hand perched up on her head like a fin.
A fin! Henry laughed. He couldn’t help it.
Moira was swimming in the deep, with her head right under water. She was swimming down the pool as if she wasn’t afraid of anything. She was chasing after her mum and hunting down her two splashy nieces like some sneaky shark and nobody noticed but him! Henry held that funny moment like a small quiet treasure. Everything was shiny because of it, the whole wide world glittering with possibility, waiting to be discovered wherever he might look.
GENIUS
The next morning, rain came early. It stippled down gently at first. Then harder and harder, until it was drumming away, beating against the tarp.
‘I’m still going swimming,’ Lulu murmured right into Henry’s ear at breakfast, her morning breath apple-juice sweet. She was wearing her pyjamas and her goggles, the lenses all foggy.
‘Shhh,’ said Henry. ‘Go away.’
‘I don’t care if it’s freezing,’ muttered Lulu. ‘I don’t have much time. I’ve got to swim in the deep, in the DEEP, with my head under water. Before the holiday is over. Or Reed will call me scaredy-cat!’
Henry flicked a toast crumb off the table. He stared at Reed, who was wolfing down a bowl of cereal at the end of the table. How did he get so good at making everyone so darn scared of being scared?
‘Oh dear,’ cried Mrs Barone, hugging the sleeves of her jumper tight. She peered out from beneath the tarp, at the grey, grey sky and the falling rain. ‘Isn’t this miserable? What are we going to do?’
‘No bike-riding lessons today, champ,’ said Dad, grazing his fist gently against Henry’s cheek
.
Reed slurped his milk straight from the bowl. ‘Hope you’re not going to run out of days, Hennie.’
Sometimes Henry wished he had a wand or a paintbrush that could turn all annoying people invisible. He glared at Reed and then turned away and gazed out at the weather.
Something light and happy still popped up inside him, though. No bike riding today. One more day of freedom! Who knew that even in the midst of pouring rain there could be such a cheery ray of sunshine?
‘Well, I’m off to the laundry to dry the bath and beach towels,’ said Mum, ‘because every single one is damp or wet through.’
‘I’m still going swimming,’ said Lulu.
‘Are you, tadpole?’ said Dad. ‘It’s a bit wet for that, I’m thinking.’
‘I’ve got to go fishing at some point,’ said Reed. ‘I need to catch a big kingie. They’re out there, I know it, but they’re hiding.’
Jay leant on the camp table. ‘It’s a great day for reading in the tent. I have a stack of Asterix books here, if someone wants to read them. There’s a lot of good thumpings in them, and magic, and war—’
‘And don’t forget The Calvin and Hobbes Tenth Anniversary Book,’ said Carey.
Patch sat bolt upright. ‘I know! Let’s eat pancakes! Big golden pancakes. And then . . . let’s play games!’
‘Games!’ breathed Dylan. ‘Yes!’
‘A marathon of games!’ said Patch. ‘Against the . . . MEN!’
‘Pancakes,’ cried Jay. ‘With maple syrup.’
‘And cream!’ breathed Lulu.
‘Don’t forget Nutella!’ Carey pretended to karate chop the air.
‘Epic games!’ said Dylan. ‘Of a colossal nature! YES! Bring it on!’
‘I’m not playing,’ said Carey. ‘I’ve got to finish Calvin.’
The Grand, Genius Summer of Henry Hoobler Page 4