Whippersnapper

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Whippersnapper Page 5

by Felice Arena


  Then I see that Lilly is looking at me. I smile. Lilly pulls an eewwww-that-was-creepy look and turns away.

  The priest begins to speak. I’m not really listening. I’m just staring at Coach Anderson’s coffin. I can’t believe his body is in there. It doesn’t seem real. Everything has been so crazy that I haven’t even had time to miss him. Suddenly I realise how lucky I am. My body is in a coma and my spirit is in the wrong place, but maybe I can make it right again. Coach Anderson didn’t get a second chance.

  People begin to sob, even Mrs Anderson, who oddly enough is the only one not dressed in black. She’s in bright yellow – she looks like a giant canary. I s’pose she did say that Coach’s Anderson’s death was a ‘moving-on-to-the-next-life celebration’ and not a funeral. Weird. I think of Coach Anderson and wonder where he is now – if I can end up in an old man’s body, then is his wacky wife right? Can she really still talk to him? Maybe he’s still here, floating about.

  Suddenly it hits me like a bolt from the sky. I can talk to Caroline Anderson! If anyone can help me, she can.

  It’s not long before the service is over. Sobs turn into uncontrollable crying as white balloons are released and shoot upwards into the sky.

  Everyone slowly makes their way back to their cars. Doris, Gayle, Hannah and Henry head over to console Mrs Anderson. This is obviously not a good time to ask her any questions, so I decide to talk to my friends.

  I walk stiffly towards them. I want to run, but my feet feel as if they’re made of lead. My kneecaps feel brittle, as if they might crumble like meringue cookies at any time. On top of that, George’s body is still beaten and bruised pretty badly from the accident. I settle for a fast shuffle.

  ‘Hey, s’up?’ I say, puffing as I approach them.

  ‘Sorry what?’ says Bobby.

  I’ve got this stupid grin on my face. I know I can’t tell them who I am, especially not here, now, but I’m so ridiculously happy to see them.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asks Charlie.

  ‘Yeah, its all good.’ I wince. ‘Apart from the funeral, of course.’

  ‘Aren’t you that guy who was in the accident with Gus?’ asks Will, elbowing Elliot in the ribs. Dwayne and Ryan stop talking and stare at me. ‘We saw you in the paper.’

  I nod. ‘I’m George Cavendish.’

  It’s harder than you’d expected to stand there and pretend to be someone else – and it’s really hard to lie to my friends. What am I going to say? Then I remember that there’s one thing that George and I both enjoy, and something I’m dying to find out. Gayle is waving at me, gesturing that its time to leave, but I just ignore her.

  ‘How did we – I mean, you – do in the elimination game?’ I ask. ‘Are you still in the playoffs?’

  ‘The elimination game is tonight,’ says Charlie. ‘Against Manning High.’

  ‘That’s great! I haven’t missed it then.’ I sigh. ‘So who’s replacing Coach Anderson? Who’s coaching you guys?’

  ‘Dad! Mum’s waiting!’

  I tell Gayle to go ahead and that I’ll meet her and Doris at the car. She’s doesn’t like the tone in my voice – but tough! She’ll just have to respect her old man and stop being a pain in my wrinkly flat butt.

  ‘So who’s replacing Coach Anderson?’ I ask again.

  ‘Principal Franklin.’

  ‘Franklin?’ I choke. ‘He doesn’t know a thing about basketball. How can he coach?’

  ‘He says he’ll have to fill in until they replace Coach Anderson,’ says Bobby. ‘There’s no other choice.’

  ‘But we need someone better than him,’ I complain, forgetting who and where I am. ‘Elliot, what about your dad? He could coach you guys. He plays in an amateur league, doesn’t he? Or, Will, what about your Uncle Stuart? He plays at uni, right? Or, Bobby, even your TV-sports-junkie dad knows more about the game than Principal Franklin.’

  ‘Well, the coach needs to be an employee of the school. That’s the competition rules,’ says Charlie suspiciously, as my friends exchange baffled looks.

  Okay, I’ve definitely said too much. Quick. Think of something to explain how I know this stuff! I cough a couple of times, trying to think of a reason. ‘I’ve been to every game you’ve played, boys – you’ve got to win this season.’

  ‘You have?’ says Bobby, screwing up his face. ‘I don’t remember seeing you.’

  ‘Well, why would you?’ I say defensively. ‘You can’t remember every single person in the crowd, can you?’

  Bobby shrugs. He knows I’m right. We don’t really pay much attention to adults, and old people are practically invisible.

  ‘Remember,’ I add. ‘I’ve known Coach Anderson since he was a kid. He told me everything about you guys.’

  Phew. I see my friends are happy with that.

  Bobby’s father calls for him and the others to leave. I wave goodbye and tell them I look forward to watching them play tonight – which makes me depressed because I can’t be a part of it.

  As I’m walking away, a voice calls out to me. ‘Hey, Mr Cavendish.’ I turn to see that Charlie has come back.

  ‘Yeah?’ I say.

  ‘I’m glad you’re okay and you came out of your coma.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Yeah, because that means Gus has a chance.’

  I gulp, but there’s still a lump in my throat. ‘You miss him?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, like crazy.’ Charlie nods, before turning and running off to join the others.

  ‘He misses you, too,’ I say, but Charlie doesn’t hear me.

  CHAPTER

  12

  ‘Home, sweet home,’ announces Gayle, pulling up outside a single-storey bungalow surrounded by a neatly cut lawn and a flower garden.

  For some reason it didn’t click that George lived so close to my house – a few blocks along. No wonder we were on the same bus.

  ‘Watch your step, Dad,’ Gayle says as she helps me out of the car.

  ‘Thanks, I can do this myself,’ I snap grumpily.

  The house smells of vanilla and almonds. Or is that oatmeal cookies? Either way it instantly feels and smells comforting as I step inside.

  ‘I’ll make us some tea,’ says Doris.

  ‘Not for me, thanks, Mum,’ says Gayle. ‘We’ve got to get going. But we’ll bring something back for dinner tonight.’

  ‘Oh, darling, you don’t need to do that,’ sighs Doris. ‘I can whip something up for us. Something simple. Maybe George’s favourite – sardines on toast.’

  Gross. I hate sardines. And I’m not a huge fan of tea or coffee either.

  ‘Mum, I insist. Besides, I know Kevin and CJ really want to see Dad. So we’ll get takeaway – our treat! Dad, is there anything you’d like?’

  ‘Um, yeah … I could go for a burger,’ I say.

  ‘Yes!’ squeals Hannah. ‘Can we, Mum?’

  ‘You sure, Dad?’ asks Gayle. ‘I thought you hated fast food.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I have a new outlook on life. And what’s life about if you can’t have a little junk food every once and a while,’ I say, congratulating myself for sounding so much like an old dude.

  ‘Okay, burgers it is then.’ Gayle shrugs as she kisses me on the cheek.

  She and Hannah leave. Doris pours me a cup of tea, but it only reminds me that I’m busting to go to the loo. I head towards the living room.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she calls out to me.

  ‘Toilet?’ I say.

  ‘The bathroom’s that way,’ says Doris, looking concerned. ‘Oh, you … come with me.’

  She leads me on a tour of the house, before I’m pointed to the toilet.

  Returning to the kitchen, I stop in the hallway to look at the photos on the wall. There’s a framed black-and-white picture of George and Doris when they were younger. Much younger! Maybe twenty-something. Dressed up as if they were going somewhere special. Doris is actually pretty hot, and George looks like one of those old Hollywood actors. I smile and turn to the other photos
. There’s a wedding shot of Gayle and, I’m guessing, her husband, Kevin. Kevin looks weirdly familiar – reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite figure out who. There’s a nice picture of Hannah blowing out some birthday candles. And that’s when I get the shock of my life – next to the picture of Hannah is a teenage boy holding a basketball, surrounded by Hannah, Gayle and Kevin. That’s funny. It looks like… I step in to take a closer look.

  ‘NO FRIGGIN’ WAY!’ I yell in complete shock.

  ‘George! What’s wrong?’ cries Doris, rushing to my side.

  ‘What’s Corey Barnes doing on your wall?’ I say angrily. ‘Don’t tell me you’re related to him?’

  ‘Of course I’m related to him.’ Doris smiles nervously. ‘And so are you. You’re his grandfather, George. Corey is Gayle’s eldest – Hannah’s brother.’

  This is the worst news ever. Corey Barnes is my grandson.

  ‘But what about CJ?’ I ask as we walk back to the kitchen.

  ‘Corey is CJ!’ Doris sighs. ‘He’s Corey-John. But we just call him CJ.’

  I sit down at the table and drop my head into my hands.

  ‘George, what’s wrong? Do you want to lie down?’

  I tell Doris that there’s nothing to worry about. I wonder if she knows that her grandson, our grandson, is one of the biggest jerks around. ‘Do I like Corey?’ I ask, finally.

  Doris sighs again. ‘Well, it’s complicated.’

  ‘I’m guessing I don’t,’ I say. ‘That’s because I think he’s a bad kid, right?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. Nor have you ever said that.’ Doris pours herself some tea. ‘Corey’s just a little misguided sometimes. He takes after his father, who, as you know, can be just as difficult.’

  So the meathead hasn’t fallen far from the meathead tree.

  ‘Doris …’ I take in a deep breath, worried that I’m going to upset her. It’s weird, but I’m actually starting to like the old lady and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. ‘Did you know that Corey caused the accident? He stole Gus’s bike, and dumped it in the middle of the road. All this is his fault.’

  ‘Corey admits that he stole the bike,’ Doris says, sounding defensive. ‘But he swears he didn’t put it on the road. He says he returned it to the boy’s house, and someone else did that.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  ‘Of course I believe him,’ snaps Doris, even though her face says the complete opposite. ‘He’s our grandson, George.’

  I shrug, shaking my head. ‘Either way, if he hadn’t stolen the bike this wouldn’t have happened, right?’

  Doris bites her bottom lip, before taking a huge gulp of tea from her cup. She doesn’t answer me. She knows I’m right. Maybe I should stop talking now. All this must be hard on her, too. But I can’t let it go. I’m seething. I’m totally off-my-head angry at Corey Barnes.

  ‘I hope he was punished for this,’ I say.

  Doris looks the other way. She gets up and takes her cup over to the sink.

  ‘He was punished, wasn’t he?’ I press.

  The way Doris is frantically drying her cup says it all.

  ‘You mean he got away with it?’ I say. ‘My dad would have grounded me forever if I did something that stupid.’

  ‘I know! I know!’ snaps Doris, raising her voice and catching me off guard. ‘But he’s not our child, George. And Kevin thinks Corey can do no wrong. I know you resent that, but you’ve always held your tongue so as not to hurt Gayle. Surely you can let this go, too?’

  Woah. This is way too much. My head is spinning from the emotional rollercoaster I’m on. This conversation is too … what’s the word I’m looking for? Adult. Yeah, this is way too adult for me. I nod just to keep her off my back.

  Doris says she’s feeling drained and leaves the room to lie down.

  ‘Um, where’s the computer?’ I call after her, thinking that I can at least start doing some research for ways to get out of this mess before I go and talk to Coach Anderson’s wife. I wonder how many people in the world have actually googled: boy spirit in old man’s body wants to return to his own body.

  ‘Oh, George – a computer, really?’ Doris says from the other room, as if I’ve just told her a silly joke.

  I shuffle around the house. No computer? How do these people live?

  There’s nothing else for it – need access to a computer. This is the perfect time for me to split and go home.

  CHAPTER

  13

  I’m standing in front of my house. I’ve been staring at it for five minutes – I so want to go in. There are no cars in the driveway. No one is home. I guess my family is at the hospital with my body.

  I look up and down the street. No one’s around. Right. Here goes. I’m going in. Just for a bit – to use my computer.

  I stroll down the path that leads to our front door, then turn right and make my way along the side of the house. The latch to Dad’s study window is broken, so I figure it won’t take much to force it open.

  Yes! I’m right! The window snaps open without any effort at all. Okay. Now I have a minor problem. How do I lift myself through the open window? It’s chest high and in this body I’ll be lucky to jump a centimetre off the ground. I try anyway. Can I be any weaker? That was pathetic! Here I go again. Nup! Can’t do it. I look around and see the garbage bin – perfect!

  I tip the bin on its side and climb onto it. Then I somehow slide through the window – falling onto the floor, which hurts a lot. I reckon I’ve jarred my wrist and popped a few stitches. I pull myself up and head upstairs to my bedroom.

  ‘Ah! Hello, room!’ I sigh and flop onto my bed. ‘Hello, bed.’ I look up at the posters on my wall. ‘Hello, my awesome rock band and basketball posters.’

  I lie on my bed for a few minutes. Oh, no. I feel more tears bubbling to the surface. ‘Come on, Gus!’ I say out loud. ‘Suck it in! Get a grip!’ Good. I think that worked. I pick up my beloved guitar and play a few chords. Random chords. Then I move to my desk and open up my laptop.

  I log onto my facebook page first. I’ll check out what my 704 friends are up to before I start seriously googling.

  There’s lots of chat about the Dante’s Page concert, and a ton of people hoping I’ll get better. People are thinking of me! Nice. I look at my last status. It’s from before the accident. It reads, R.I.P. Coach Anderson. Time for an update.

  Without thinking I type: Gus Delfino is feeling friggin’ ancient!

  Within seconds my wall is swamped with comments, and at least a dozen chat boxes pop up. Some are excited, but most are just really angry.

  What the???!!!

  GUS!?!?!?

  Is that u? U outta hospital?

  Who is this!!?

  You’re not Gus!! Gus is still in a coma!!

  GET OFF HACKER!

  I’m reporting you!! Who is this??

  Woah! I quickly delete my status. Part of me is touched that my mates are so concerned, but mainly I’m panicking. What have I done? Hang on. Breathe.

  Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe I can explain everything that’s happened to me – online – for the whole world to see.

  Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? Once they see me in person, they’ll lock me away and throw away the key. To the world I’m an old man who’s just broken into a house and is using a kid’s laptop. I’ve got to get out of here.

  Ding-dong!

  Was that the doorbell? It was! Someone’s at the front door. I slam my laptop shut and peek through the blinds. Oh no! What are they doing here?

  It’s the police.

  CHAPTER

  14

  The doorbell rings again. I don’t know what to do. Maybe if I stay very still, they’ll go away. Why are they here? Could one of my facebook friends have reported me already? Or did someone in the neighbourhood see me and think I was a burglar?

  Oh crap! The cops are walking around to the back of the house. I’ve got to get out of here. When they see the garbage bin and the study win
dow open, they’ll come inside and catch me red-handed, unless …

  I have to beat them.

  I limp down the stairs, shuffle-run to Dad’s study, open the door that leads to the backyard, and, pulling the garbage can upright, I drag it indoors. Well, that’s my plan anyway. What actually happens is that the bin wheels catch on the step and I struggle to keep it standing. It topples over with a crash and knocks me to the ground. The two officers catch me desperately trying to get the bin off me. How humiliating!

  ‘Here, let me get that,’ one of them says, stepping in to help.

  ‘Um, thanks,’ I say, expecting to be cuffed any second.

  ‘We rang the doorbell,’ says the other officer. ‘But maybe you didn’t hear us from out here.’

  Huh? The police think I live here. I mean, they think George lives here. ‘Yeah, yeah, that’s it,’ I stutter. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Our precinct dealt with the accident involving your, urn … grandson?’

  ‘Yes, grandson.’ I lie like a professional conman. ‘My grandson, Gus.’

  ‘Well, one of the boys back at the station recovered your grandson’s mobile from the scene. We happened to be in the area and thought we’d drop it off.’ The policeman hands me my phone.

  I thank them and as they leave, I collapse onto the back step. That was close.

  ‘Who are you? And what are you doing breaking into the Delfinos’ house?’

  I know that voice! I turn to see Annie – and her dog, Macy. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

  ‘You better tell me the truth,’ she says, giving me a look. ‘Or I’ll call those police officers back and tell them that you don’t live here.’

  ‘Relax, Annie,’ I say. ‘What’s with the grilling?’

  Macy races over to me and starts panting and wagging her tail like I’m one giant doggie biscuit. I give her a big scratch behind the ears.

  I can see Anne is totally weirded-out, probably by what I’ve said. ‘I mean, calm down, young lady. No need to be rude,’ I say. ‘Besides, it looks as if your dog likes me.’

  But Annie still looks freaked out and suddenly I realise why. Macy usually goes absolutely berserk at strangers – barking at them like she did with Corey and his mates. She shouldn’t be licking me and trying to roll over.

 

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