Cassie clutched suddenly at Henry’s elbow. ‘Look! Out there! It’s Heathcliff.’
‘What?’ asked Henry. ‘Where?’
‘See the ripple,’ said Cassie. ‘Near the wharf!’
Henry made binoculars out of his hands.
‘He’s gone for a cruise around the edge of the dock but he’ll be here in a minute,’ said Cassie. She pulled out a little plastic bag from the pocket of her backpack. ‘The charter boats came back early because it was so rough out at the island. Everyone was gutting fish and there were so many birds and so many stingrays, so much snatching and grabbing. You know, sometimes the birds steal a scrap right out of another bird’s beak and poo in the water with happiness at exactly the same time.’
‘Holy Wamoley!’ said Henry, dropping his hands.
‘I know,’ said Cassie. ‘It’s so gross. Just wham bam squirt – big white cloud.’
‘Oh, geez!’ said Henry.
‘Now take Heathcliff. He has very good manners. Mostly he prefers a pat to a feed. So sometimes he misses out on eating. So I like to hang around to give him a little bit extra. Here he comes!’
‘Holy Guacamole!’ cried Henry, as the stingray swam towards them. He shuffled backwards. ‘He’s almost as big as a coffee table.’
Cassie grinned. ‘My Pop reckons he’s like a gigantic fishy pool cleaner.’
‘He’s much bigger than I expected,’ said Henry, shivering. He tucked his legs up tight.
‘I know,’ said Cassie, opening up the plastic bag and scooping out another sliver of squid. She dropped it into the water. ‘But remember, he’s not dangerous and he’s very friendly.’
The sun went behind a long tuft of cloud.
‘He looks a lot like the Millennium Falcon.’
‘The what?’
‘You know, like Han Solo’s ship in Star Wars.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Cassie. She dropped another scrap of squid in and then ducked down and rolled over onto her stomach. Her eyes followed Heathcliff as he swooped past.
‘It must be hard,’ said Henry. ‘Without his whole tail.’
‘I know. It’s not good. He doesn’t have any protection now because he doesn’t have a barb. Sometimes I worry about that at night.’ Cassie splashed her hands in the water. Heathcliff drifted back towards them and she bent right down and stroked her hand along his skin. ‘Do you want me to tell you something?’ Henry could see a tiny scar on her cheek, like a small crescent moon.
‘Sure,’ he said.
‘I tell Heathcliff everything!’
A small spark of sadness flared in Henry. ‘What sort of things?’
Heathcliff nudged Cassie’s hand. She laughed and reached out again to pat him. ‘Oh, well . . . all sorts of stuff. Sometimes I talk to him about my Pop and the arthritis in his fingers that aches so bad in the winter that his fingers curl over and how it makes him crankier than a cut snake. And sometimes I talk to Heathcliff about my mum and the things I remember from when I was little. Like the marshmallow smell of her hair and the sound of her singing me to sleep. And sometimes I make wishes.’
‘What sort of wishes?’
‘Sometimes I wish for my mum’s cruise ship to stay afloat and not get hit by bad storms. And sometimes I wish my Nan would send a big shooting star, so I know she’s still thinking of me, even in heaven. And sometimes I wish my Pop would tell jokes like he used to, even the bad old ones he’s told a million times before and sometimes I wish people never went away. I wish that the most. I wish people stayed forever and there was no more missing anywhere. No more pinching just here.’ She pressed a hand against her chest.
Henry nodded. He watched Heathcliff swirl towards them again. ‘You know what I wish?’ he said.
‘No.’
Heathcliff whirled past and Henry gazed at his missing tail. ‘I wish every sad thing would come untrue.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Cassie. ‘Me too! I wish that too.’
Heathcliff wheeled by again like a superhero with a rippling black cape.
‘You can pat him,’ said Cassie softly. ‘If you want.’
Henry swallowed. He could. He could reach out with his hand and touch Heathcliff, just one tiny little stroke with the tips of his fingers. But then again, Heathcliff wasn’t a cat or a dog or a guinea pig or a budgie. He wasn’t tame like that. He was still a wild creature, even without most of his tail.
There was a fluttering feeling in Henry’s chest, a tiny buzzing frenzy. He inched closer to the edge. It was normal to be nervous. He had to remember that. He hunched over and gazed into the water.
‘Heathcliff’s making a circuit,’ said Cassie. ‘He’ll come round again in a sec. Get ready!’ She dug into her plastic bag and dropped in another piece of squid. ‘Won’t be long now!’
Henry rubbed the palms of his hands against his shorts. The bravest people were the ones who were scared and did brave things anyway. They were more brave than the people who did daring things without a second thought. It looped in Henry’s head like a catchy chorus from a song.
‘It’s okay,’ said Cassie. She was grinning at him. Her eyes were trophy gold and gleaming. And he knew it didn’t matter that his legs were shaky and his tummy was gurgling loudly. It didn’t matter if he got it right or wrong.
‘Here he comes!’ Heathcliff flew like a bird above the reeds, rising higher and higher, swift as a shadow.
Henry wriggled forward on his knees and then lunged out, dipping his hand into the water. With one long flap of his wings, Heathcliff swooped by, his blunt snout breaking the surface. And Henry stretched out and stroked his speckled back, the skin sandpapery as a kitten’s tongue. ‘Holy Raymoley!’ he whispered.
Heathcliff rolled and spun and flapped. He ducked and dived and circled back, rising up, alive and playful, funny as a puppy and yet the fiercest and wildest animal Henry had ever touched.
The sun burst out. The whole sea blazed with spangles of light. Henry gazed down, bedazzled and silent, his fingertips tingling.
‘I did it,’ he breathed.
‘You did!’ cried Cassie.
Heathcliff turned and coasted away with one creamy flutter of his wings, out towards the catamaran.
‘Hey!’ called Henry. ‘Come back!’
‘He will,’ said Cassie. ‘Don’t worry. He likes you. He’s not playful like that with everyone.’
Henry clutched his dripping hand to his chest. It came to him that he hadn’t fallen off the stone ledge and landed on top of Heathcliff and been carried out into the deep and slipped off and ended up being swallowed by a whale shark! It dawned on him that his Worst Case Scenario had not happened at all. He started to chuckle.
‘What?’ asked Cassie, smiling.
‘I don’t know,’ said Henry. It was impossible for him to put it into words. How he could sense some kind of fierce, trembling wildness rise up in him too. Some determination not to let the worry about the terrible things that might happen stop him from enjoying the grand, genius good things right before him.
‘Here he comes again!’ said Cassie.
Henry dunked both hands in the water. When Heathcliff swirled past and rose up, he and Cassie patted him together.
Then Henry closed his eyes and made some big wishes about calm seas and shooting stars and bad old jokes, hoping Heathcliff might carry them out to sea, through the shallow patches of turquoise and teal, through the shimmering splashes of kingfisher blue, through the pools of sapphire and indigo, right out into the listening deep.
MAGIC
Henry and Cassie whizzed along the bike path, side by side, past the fishing boats, their front wheels spinning in time. ‘Your bike is very flash,’ called Cassie, grinning.
‘Whoah-hoah!’ Henry was concentrating super hard to keep it in a straight line. He didn’t want to suddenly wobble and plough into Cassie and make them both fall off in a tangled heap.
‘It’s a super streaky, flashety-flash lightning bolt.’
‘Yeah.’
�
�Does it have a name?’
Henry jerked the handlebars to straighten them up. ‘Nope.’
‘You should give it one.’
‘I should?’
‘For sure!’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe Thunder,’ said Cassie. She stood up and pedalled harder past the Olympic pool. ‘Or Tinkerbell or Uncle Steve or the Breezer or the Flying Banana or Merlin or Hi-Ho Silver Away?’
‘Is that right?’ Henry pedalled furiously to catch up.
Cassie glanced at Henry as they coasted along. ‘My Nan always used to say that everything works better with a name. Fridges. Washing machines. Cars. Bikes. Teapots.’
‘Does your bike have a name?’
Cassie swerved around a chalk-drawn mermaid on the path. ‘Sure thing! My bike is called Blinter. It’s a Scottish word for the special way stars dazzle on a winter’s night. My Nan helped me choose it.’
‘What if I named my bike after some stars or something?’ asked Henry.
‘Whoah-yeah!’ Cassie veered across the path and onto the grass for a second. ‘Yeeee-ess!’ she puffed, darting back. ‘A constellation! I like it! You could call it Pegasus the flying horse or Hercules or Lynx – or Orion the Hunter! He is massive and has a belt of three stars that you can see in the sky! What do you reckon?’
‘Hmmmm.’ Henry dodged around a toddler riding a skateboard down the path on his tummy.
‘What about Sirius? That’s the brightest star in the sky and Chinese people call it the Celestial Wolf!’
Celestial Wolf! Henry’s front wheel wobbled. Holy Chamoley! That was a little bit too close to werewolves for his liking.
All the names Cassie was suggesting were grander and more genius than he could ever live up to! But then again, maybe it was a good idea to have something a little out of the ordinary, sort of as an encouragement? One of his friends from school was called Tom Desmond Tutu Wilson because Tom’s parents believed in aspirational middle names as well as plain, ordinary first ones.
When Henry first heard Tom’s middle name, he had to go home and ask his Mum what an aspirational name meant. She said she guessed Tom’s parents wanted him to have a middle name that gave him something juicy to aim for with his life because Desmond Tutu was famous for being an extraordinary man of peace and laughter. Which seemed kind of funny to Henry given that Tom Desmond Tutu Wilson did not even really like to smile, ever.
‘You know a lot about stars!’ said Henry.
‘I know!’
They each overtook a pack of nuggety rugrats in spiky bike helmets, even though their small legs were spinning in fast-forward. Henry felt a tiny spurt of triumph as he sailed past them.
Cassie slid back across the grass to his side. ‘Well, that’s because of my mum! She has a different name when she sings on stage because she thinks her real name is too boring for someone who wants to be a famous singer. When she sings on stage, everyone calls her Ursa Major. She named herself after a bear constellation that you can see pretty much everywhere in the world. That’s how she signs her autographs too, for all her fans on the cruise ships, even though her real name is Deirdre Evans.’
‘Ursa Major,’ said Henry, tasting the words.
‘Uh-huh! It’s very dramatic! That’s what my Nan always said.’ Cassie clicked her tongue. ‘But very crazy things are always happening to my mum, so it probably suits her.’ They cycled down past the cabins under the pines, their front verandahs brimming with bikes.
Henry pondered the names. He liked the idea of Orion. It sounded strong and brilliant. But he wasn’t really a hunter, not at heart, not in the true sense. He wasn’t sure that seeking out small funny moments counted, even though that was treasure to him and made the whole world shine. He darted around an abandoned trike. It would be a grand, genius thing to have a winged horse, though. And wasn’t that the very thing Patch said he loved about riding, how it was like flying? If he called his bike Pegasus, he would always remember Patch teaching him how to ride and summer and the smell of rosemary and trying hard to keep on going, even when he most wanted to give up.
‘Pegasus,’ said Henry. ‘That’s it! Maybe Peg for short.’
Cassie rang her bell. It chimed out loud and clear. ‘Welcome, oh, mighty Peg, to the bike paths of Yelonga. May they bring you magic, oh magnificent one.’
Henry laughed. Magnificent one! He couldn’t help thinking Cassie had caught a little bit of her mum’s crazy.
‘Now come on!’ she called, tossing her head. ‘Let’s race because I want to show you everything there is to see!’
Cassie took Henry to all her favourite spots.
While they were cycling along the boardwalk, they saw a snow-white eagle hover on a breeze above the inlet. They watched the Yelonga Bridge rise up slowly for a single sailboat. They slurped a strawberry milkshake at the Old Palace Café and hand-fed a school of fish off the front jetty.
‘Let’s go to one more place,’ said Cassie. ‘Please! They’ll be there now. I know you’ll like it.’
And Cassie took Henry back out to Nugget Rock, where he had been earlier with his dad. They slipped and slithered over sandstone blocks, on shaky tired legs, creeping down close to the water.
‘Holy Flubbamoley!’ breathed Henry.
Five big seals were soaking up the sun on the rocks, lazing about like fat brown slugs.
Cassie nodded. ‘Amazing, huh?’
‘I’ve never seen anything like this! Well, only at the zoo.’
‘I know,’ said Cassie, her eyes sparkling. ‘When I first saw them, I thought they were fake. But these ones come from the colony that live out at Lorelle Island, where the lighthouse is. My Nan reckoned these are the party-pooper seals, who would prefer a good book in an armchair to a night dancing up a storm.’
Henry hunched down, waiting for one of these seals to move. ‘Do they have names?’ he asked.
‘Now you’re getting it.’ Cassie nudged him with her elbow. ‘When my Nan was little, she lived on a farm and so she named all those seals after her favourite cows because she thought their eyes were so similar, all warm and chocolatey. And all they do is sleep and eat. So the one with the bird poo on her back is Bluebell. And the one with the chunk out of her tail is Hazel.’ She nodded. ‘And that one over there, lying on her back, is Buttercup and the one getting splashed by the water is Daisy. And that huge one over there with the reddish coat is Myrtle, who is always grumpy, especially if she gets woken up.’
‘Their noses are so pointy,’ said Henry.
Cassie lifted her eyebrows. ‘Uh-huh!’
‘They look like dogs without legs, don’t you reckon?’ said Henry.
‘I never thought of that,’ said Cassie.
‘Log dogs,’ said Henry.
Cassie laughed. ‘Log dogs! I like that!’
Henry felt a thrill. He liked the way Cassie’s laugh burst out, so loud and free, like a person busting out of a birthday cake. Myrtle rolled over and opened one cranky eye.
‘Do they ever dive in and swim?’ Henry whispered.
‘I don’t think they’re going to move today,’ murmured Cassie. ‘I’m telling you, they’re just too stubbornly comfortable!’
‘Oh, bummer,’ breathed Henry, glancing sideways. ‘That’s a shame.’
Cassie jumped up. ‘But we can still ride to the end of the breakwater.’
So Cassie and Henry clambered back over the rocks and snatched up their bikes and rode down the sandy path, right to the end of the breakwater. They perched on the point and gazed for ages at the motorboats zooming out across the bar as if they were in an action movie, foam spraying behind them.
Then just before it was time to go, Henry stroked the fool’s gold of Nugget Rock like a lucky charm and only a few seconds later, he saw Myrtle roll off and speed by in the water, swift as a rocket. It hardly seemed possible that only a moment before, she was lolling about as if sleep was the only thing on her mind.
‘Look,’ said Cassie. She dragged Hen
ry up onto her rock and pointed to the entrance. A school of dolphins rose up in a wave, their grey bodies sleek and glistening.
‘Holy Dolphamoley!’ whispered Henry.
It was magic.
Patting Heathcliff. Riding Peg. Spotting the snow-white eagle. Waiting for the rising bridge. Feeding the fish. Seeing Myrtle swim. Watching the dolphins surf. Exploring a whole world he didn’t even know was out there. But as Henry and Cassie rode back through clouds of sea salt, he knew the best magic of all was finding a straight-up and true friend. He knew there was nothing more magic than that!
At HOME in the WORLD
Henry checked the tables again. They were decked out for the party, with plastic red-checked tablecloths, shells from the beach and small white candles. He counted the chairs. ‘Are you sure you’ve got enough? For everybody?’ His tummy was churning. He wanted everything to be perfect.
‘I am,’ said Mum. ‘Enough for everyone. All of us. Hooblers. Carsons and Barones. I also borrowed two extra chairs from the recreation room for Cassie and her grandfather.’
‘Second-last night,’ said Dad. He chumped Henry in the arm. ‘It’ll be back to school before you know it. Year Three. You’ll be up with the big kids. How do you feel about that?’
Henry shrugged his dad’s hand away. He didn’t want to think about the second-last night. He didn’t want to think about going back to school or moving up to Year Three. He didn’t want to think about big kids with their grazed knees and fierce eyes and handball playing. He didn’t want to think about saying goodbye to Yelonga. He didn’t want to think about saying goodbye to Cassie.
He counted the cups and the serviettes again. ‘Are you sure they’re coming?’
‘Her grandfather said they would,’ said Mum.
‘Did you tell him it was a hat party?’
‘I did,’ said Mum. She was wearing a lime green witch’s hat with foamy black netting, sprinkled with spiders and bugs.
‘What did he say?’
‘Well, he said he thought he could hunt something up and that it wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Did he seem grumpy?’
The Grand, Genius Summer of Henry Hoobler Page 11