Stay Well Soon

by Penny Tangey

  I sit on the floor and cry and cry. Mum comes running in. She sits beside me with her arm around me, while I rock back and forth. ‘I’m so sorry, Stevie,’ she says. ‘I didn’t want this to happen.’

  Mum thinks I’m upset about Lara, and I should be, but really I am just angry at the sheet.

  Morgan and I play handball at recess and lunchtime. It is my suggestion. I don’t want to just sit around. Rory, Brendan and Teegan come and play too. There is no time for talking when you’re playing handball, which suits me.

  Lara died last night. Mum told me this morning when I woke up. Mum said I didn’t have to go to school, but what would I do at home? At least at school I am busy even if I am just chasing a little green ball around.

  When I get home from school that afternoon Rhys is watching the television but he turns it off.

  ‘Hi, Stevie.’

  ‘Hi, Rhys.’

  I go to the kitchen to make myself some toast then I come back to the lounge room. I sit beside Rhys on the couch.

  ‘Are you watching the TV or what?’ I ask.

  ‘I was.’ He turns it back on, but then he turns it off again.

  ‘Mum told me your fried Lara died,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Well, it is kind of my fault. You wouldn’t have met her if it wasn’t for me. If I hadn’t got sick you would have been a normal kid instead of hanging out at the hospital all the time.’

  ‘But I’m glad that I met her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Okay then.’ Rhys turns the television back on.

  Rhys is worried about me but I should be the one who is worried about him. He’s the one with cancer. Rhys has cancer too. Suddenly, I am crying.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ says Rhys.

  It’s hard for me to talk because I’m crying so much. But I manage to say, ‘I . . . just . . . don’t want . . . anyone else to die.’

  Rhys puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘Me neither,’ he says.

  Today we are going to Lara’s funeral. I am wearing the earrings that Lara bought for me. When I look at them I remember how great Grandparents and Friends Day was. It was less than a month ago, but everything has changed.

  I haven’t been to school for the past two days. Dad Ben said I needed some downtime so I stayed home and helped him build a new fence for the backyard. Angel got through the hole in the old fence so it had to be done.

  When we arrive at the church it is full already and we have to stand outside. Rhys can’t stand up that long though, so Mum pushes inside with him to find a seat while Dad Ben and I stay outside. There is a big screen and speakers so we can see and hear what’s happening in the church. On the screen I can see the priest standing next to the coffin.

  After the priest talks for a while, Lara’s mum goes to the front. She reads from a piece of paper. She says lots of things I didn’t know, like how Lara sold some of her drawings before she got sick. And she says some things I did know: that Lara loved horses and loved her horse Finnigan. She talks about Lara as a baby. But she can’t keep reading because her voice gets all choked up, and her sister Louisa has to help her finish.

  Two girls wearing school uniforms read out a poem for Lara. They each take a turn reading a line. But they are crying and it is hard to hear what they are saying. Something about meeting again and flowers. Beside me a girl wearing a school uniform starts crying too. Her shoulders are shaking. Someone needs to give her a tissue, her face is getting messy.

  The priest is talking again. I keep shifting my weight from foot to foot. We are standing in the sun, and I am very hot. I think the back of my neck is getting sunburned.

  Music starts to play and six men go up to the front and, with three on each side, they wheel the coffin down the aisle. Lara’s dad Tim is one of the men. He is crying. The tears have rolled down his face into his beard and he wipes his beard with his other hand. They carry the coffin down the steps of the church past me.

  Behind the coffin come the rest of Lara’s family, walking in pairs with their arms around each other. Then everyone in the church follows them out.

  People stand around talking and some people are crying and hugging each other. Mum and Rhys come out of the church and join Dad Ben and me.

  I hear a voice say, ‘Stevie.’

  I turn around and see Morgan with her mum.

  Morgan thinks going to a funeral is fun. Like watching a movie. Well it’s not fun for me, and it’s not fun for Lara’s mum and dad and the girls from her school. We’re never going to see Lara again.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I say. I am the one who’s angry now.

  ‘Nothing,’ says Morgan.

  ‘I mean, why are you here?’

  ‘Because I’m your friend.’

  Morgan looks like she might cry. It’s not like when she talks about her funeral, or wants to play Murderers. She’s not having fun and she is my friend. Maybe I need to get over it.

  There is an afternoon tea at Lara’s house after the funeral. There are lots of Tim Tams. I tell Morgan that we have to have seven each. I don’t tell her why, and she doesn’t argue.

  When we get home from the funeral I ride my bike to visit Star. Mum doesn’t want me to go but Dad Ben says I’ll be fine. I want to see Star because I love horses and Lara loved them too.

  Star is in the middle of the paddock but he walks over to the fence because he knows I will have a treat for him. I have brought a carrot. I give it to him and pat him on the forehead. He shakes his head and I get a fright.

  I sit on the stump and get out my drawing journal and my good pencils, but I don’t want to draw. I look at the picture of the horse that Lara drew for me and the message ‘Stay Well Soon, Stevie’. She was so talented, she could draw my dream horse without even trying.

  Back at home, I sit on my bed looking at the empty photo frame on my chest of drawers. I was supposed to give it to Lara with the picture of Finnigan in it for Christmas. Maybe if I stare at it long enough the picture of Finnigan will appear. And if that happens, Lara won’t be dead anymore, it will have just been a dream.

  There’s a knock on my door.

  ‘Come in,’ I say.

  Mum comes in and sits on my bed. ‘That was Lara’s dad on the phone.’

  ‘Lara’s dad?’

  ‘Yes, you met him once, remember?’

  ‘Yeah. What did he want?’

  Mum tells me that Lara’s dad has offered to give me free horse-riding lessons. Mum is really excited for me. She says she’s checked with Sarah and she told Mum that Tim is one of the best horse-riding instructors in the country. It would normally cost thousands of dollars to have lessons with him. It’s pretty close to a dream come true.

  On the day of my first horse-riding lesson I wake up feeling nervous. I get dressed slowly and go out to the kitchen. Mum, Rhys and Dad Ben are all sitting at the kitchen table.

  ‘So today’s the big day!’ says Dad Ben.

  ‘I guess so,’ I say.

  ‘You are such a lucky girl,’ says Mum.

  I am too nervous to eat much breakfast. I pour myself a bowl of cereal but most of it just goes soggy and I throw it out.

  Mum drives me to Lara’s dad’s place. When we turn into the driveway and can see the red-brick house Mum says, ‘Wow, this place is something.’

  Tim is waiting for us in the driveway. Mum and Tim say hello and Tim offers Mum a cup of coffee, but she says no. Maybe because I warned her about the kitchen. Mum says she will go for a walk while I have the lesson, but she might not make it past the driveway given how long it is.

  ‘Have fun, Stevie!’ she says as she heads off.

  I am not sure.

  Tim goes to get But
tercup and when he comes back Buttercup is bigger than I remembered. She’s only a pony but I bet she could crush me to death if she rolled on me.

  I’ve already forgotten how to do most of the things Tim showed me last time, maybe because I wasn’t really concentrating then. He explains it all again and I try to remember what he is saying for next time.

  Tim asks me to hand him the currycomb and I walk over to get it.

  ‘Stevie, just make sure you never walk behind a horse like that,’ says Tim.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If she doesn’t realise you’re there and gets a surprise she might kick you.’

  Then Tim tells me to brush Buttercup all over with the currycomb. But he just told me never to walk behind a horse because she might kick me, so now I am nervous of brushing her back half. Buttercup flinches and I get a big fright and drop my currycomb.

  ‘You alright, Stevie?’ asks Tim.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  When I finally get on Buttercup I am a long way from the ground. Tim holds the rope and we go round in circles again while Tim shouts reminders at me. ‘Hands! Eyes! Feet!’ Tim decides it’s time to try trotting again and I’ve just got into the rhythm of going up and down when Buttercup suddenly stops. I’m thrown forward, my bum slips sideways out of the saddle and I just manage to stay on by grabbing Buttercup’s neck.

  Tim walks over to me. ‘You okay there, Stevie?’

  I nod. But I don’t understand why Buttercup just stopped like that. Why would she do that?

  ‘Buttercup saw a plastic bag blowing on the wind,’ says Tim. ‘She hates those. Let’s keep going.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Come on, Stevie. You have to get straight back on the horse, and you didn’t even fall off.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  When Mum gets back I am sitting on a rock. Tim has taken Buttercup back to her paddock and is standing beside me. We don’t have much to say to each other.

  ‘How did you go?’ Mum asks me and Tim.

  ‘Okay,’ says Tim. ‘She just needs to get her confidence up.’

  I think Mum expected me to be more excited. I’ve disappointed Tim, and Mum, and everyone.

  In the car on the way home Mum can tell I’m not happy.

  ‘What’s wrong, Stevie?’ she asks.

  I don’t say anything. I just keep staring out the window. But I know what’s wrong. I don’t love horses. I’m scared of them.

  I start to cry. Mum pulls over. Next to us is a paddock full of cows.

  Mum hands me a tissue. ‘What’s wrong?’ Mum asks again.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, but then I start to talk. ‘Lara will never see Finnigan again and she loved him so much. And it’s not fair because I can still see horses, but I don’t deserve to. Tim only gave me lessons to make up for not visiting Lara, because he couldn’t cope with her dying. He thinks I’m like Lara because we both love horses, but I’m not. I don’t like them.’

  ‘You don’t have to keep having riding lessons if you don’t want to.’

  ‘But it’s a dream come true!’

  ‘When I was your age I wanted to be a ballet dancer. And do you see me on the stage now? No.’

  ‘What happened?’ I ask.

  ‘I begged my mum to have dancing lessons. I had a lot of books about ballet and I used to dance around the house in a skirt I made from some old lace curtains. Finally, Mum let me have lessons. I was terrible at it and I didn’t even enjoy it. In the first concert I crashed into another dancer and fell off the stage.’

  Even though I’m still crying, that makes me laugh.

  ‘But at least I tried and found out,’ says Mum. ‘You’re only eleven. It’s okay to change your mind, but give it a proper chance.’

  It is hard to imagine Mum doing ballet. She never wants to dance unless Dad Ben makes her and even then she looks embarrassed.

  I have stopped crying so Mum starts the car.

  The cows are still eating grass. It must be very easy being a cow, doing the same thing every day. Although, the weather changes and the grass is yellow in summer and green in winter. And a cow can choose what part of the paddock to eat grass in, and what cows to stand with. Maybe that’s enough variety for a cow.

  We drive past a paddock with horses. Most of the horses are brown but one horse stands out because it’s grey with a silver mane, like my dream horse. I try to imagine riding the grey horse up a mountain, or along the beach, or bareback across Russia. But I don’t want to. I’d rather be doing something else. Like playing handball, or protesting for equal rights, or going to the tip.

  Lara has stopped, but I keep changing.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank Sophie Hamley, Ali Lavau and everyone at UQP, in particular Kristina Schulz and Meredene Hill, for their support, hard work and thoughtful suggestions.

  Thanks to Zoe Asher and Christina Adams for sharing their knowledge of medical, and horse related matters respectively, and to Mary-Anne Jess and Stacey Vale for their information on schools these days. Thanks to Tim Carruthers, Georgina Tangey, Mary-Anne Tangey and Bonnie Tangey for their feedback and encouragement. A particular thanks to Vaya Pashos for patiently reading and discussing many drafts.

  Finally, thank you to Lincoln Turner for enthusiastically reading drafts and then remaining enthusiastic during many conversations about the details.

  LOVING RICHARD FEYNMAN

  Penny Tangey

  Shortlisted for the CBCA Book of the Year Award for Older Readers

  Shortlisted for the Western Australian Premier’s Book Award for Young Adults

  Richard Feynman was a Nobel Prize–winning physicist. Catherine is a science-loving fifteen-year-old. Richard helped build the atom bomb. Catherine’s just trying to survive school.

  When your life is falling apart around you, is talking to a dead physicist normal? Catherine thinks so, but it isn’t until her life begins unravelling that she learns who she can really trust.

  I’ve been looking at you while I sit at my desk, and imagining what you were like as a person. In the poster you look like you’re concentrating hard on the machine you’re working on but having fun at the same time. I get that feeling when I’m working on a difficult Maths problem. In the picture your hair is a bit mad, really curly and there’s lots of it. I like it though. In fact, you were pretty cute in 1943. Of course, even then you were far too old for me, probably in your 20s.

  ‘A moving and funny story . . . Richard Feynman is one of my heroes!’ Dr Karl Kruszelnicki

  ‘A delight to read.’ Magpies

  ‘A lot of fun.’ Fiction Focus

  ‘This book is an excellent read and one for all teenagers.’ Gold Coast Bulletin

  ISBN 978 0 7022 3725 6

  First published 2013 by University of Queensland Press

  PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

  www.uqp.com.au

  uqp@uqp.uq.edu.au

  © Penny Tangey 2013

  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 form or by any means without prior

  written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  Cover design by Jo Hunt

  Cover photograph by Yolande de Kort, Trevillion Images

  Typeset in 12.5/16.5 Adobe Garamond by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane

  Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

  Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  National Library of Australia

  Tangey, Penny, 1981– author.

 
; Stay well soon / Penny Tangey.

  For primary school age.

  A823.4

  ISBN 978 0 7022 4994 5 (pbk)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 5195 5 (epdf)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 5196 2 (epub)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 5197 9 (kindle)

  University of Queensland Press uses papers that are natural, renewable

  and recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests.

  The logging and manufacturing processes conform to the environmental

  regulations of the country of origin.