Don't Look Now 1

by Paul Jennings

  Yes, yes, yes.

  No man in his right mind would make a joke kangapoo key ring unless the key fitted something. Something important. The poppy’s secret was in a box. And I bet the box was still in the shed.

  I would have to try again.

  nce more I waited until Mum and Dad were asleep.

  Still in my pyjamas I crept downstairs.

  I heard a noise. It was Dad going to the loo. I nipped back up to my room. I heard the toilet flush and then voices in the lounge room. He’d turned the TV on. He probably couldn’t sleep.

  ‘Okay,’ I said to myself. ‘I’ll fly down to the shed.’

  I carefully put the key ring on the windowsill and took off my pyjamas. It was cold outside so I would have to put on my warmest clothes.

  I stood there totally naked trying to work out what to wear. That’s when I saw a scary sight.

  It was one of those moments when you know something terrible is going to happen. And it will happen so fast that you won’t be able to stop it. Your whole life hangs on that moment. Nothing will ever be the same again. And you just can’t do a thing about it.

  Time froze. The owl blinked. It only took a split second. But it seemed like an hour. An hour in which I was made of rock.

  It blinked again and then … oh, no. Oh, horror. No, no, no. The owl picked up the key ring in its beak, flapped its wings and flew off into the night. My body shivered. I was still naked. I hesitated.

  Then I did the only thing I could do.

  I was as naked as a plucked chook. And as cold as a frozen one. My fingers were already numb. I should have turned back. I should have flown home. But I couldn’t. I had to get that key ring back.

  Through the swirling mist I could just see the owl. Its wings flapped lazily. I had no wings. Only the force of my own mind to hold me aloft. I had never flown this fast before. Or this far.

  The owl was gliding, but every now and then it flapped and rose a metre or so. How high would it go? How high would I go?

  I realised I was in terrible danger. When I flew out of my window I had acted by instinct. I hadn’t stopped to think. What if the moon came out? What if someone saw my white skin glaring against the black night? Or what if the owl turned and looked at me? I would plunge to the ground and die.

  The owl was just a bird. And I was a bird brain.

  I didn’t want to die. Not before the whole world could see me fly high in the sky.

  High?

  Oh, no. Somewhere way below me was the ground.

  I was naked and the cold air was biting my fingers and toes and nipping at my… oh, no.

  I couldn’t see the owl. I couldn’t see anything. I was flying blind. Something scratched my bare stomach. Twigs. Leaves. There were trees beneath me. All around me.

  I heard the owl hoot. Its boo-book sound disturbed the silence of the forest. But I wasn’t interested.

  I forgot about the kangapoo key ring. I forgot about the black-petal poppy. All I could think about was getting to the ground safely. I was in deadly danger. A grey light was already washing the horizon. The sun was coming up. Distant clouds were turning pink. A car sounded in the distance. And then another.

  People. People were down there. People with eyes to see me. The ground was still a black nothingness beneath me. I lowered myself. Gently, gently, gently. The icy leaves of another tree brushed my naked skin. Then another and another. I could sense that I was approaching the earth. I was in free air. But what lay beneath me?

  Terrible visions filled my head.

  The clouds were beginning to glow. I had to get home before dawn. But I was naked and soon it would be light. Even if I flew through the gloom someone might see my pale, bare body. I could fly low to the ground and then if I fell, at least it wouldn’t be much of a fall. But I had another problem. An even bigger one.

  I was freezing cold. My body was covered in goosebumps. If didn’t find some clothes I could die of exposure.

  Two round discs appeared in the shadows of an unseen tree. Bright yellow discs. Eyes.

  The owl had seen me.

  ploosh. Down I went. It was only a small drop to the ground. I had landed safely.

  But my feet had plunged into something squishy. And stinky. Where was I?

  A low deep moan filled the night air. And filled me with terror. A loud groan sounded. And then another. The moans and groans were mournful, like foghorns in the ghostly night.

  A dark shape with horns loomed through the mist.

  A demon of the dark.

  ‘Aaagh,’ I screamed.

  The monster jumped back and ran off with an uneven gallop. Filthy wet goo squirted out of its backside. A cow. A stupid cow.

  The cold breeze made me shiver. The remains of my fear made me shake. Every part of me was freezing cold.

  Except my feet.

  My mind went into overdrive.

  Yes, yes, yes. The answer to all my problems.

  I bent down and picked up a handful of the warm, wet, stinking dung. I gagged at the stench, but the warmth seeped through my skin.

  ‘Oh, wonderful,’ I said to myself. ‘Happiness is warm cow dung.’

  I stared at the warm goo in my hand. Could I do it? No, no, no.

  I took a deep breath.

  Oh, it was wonderful.

  Oh, it was terrible.

  I covered my whole body in cow dung.

  I was now a lovely shade of brown – cow-poo brown. It was the perfect way to hide my skin. The ultimate camouflage. And it was warm. It would save my life.

  It was kangaroo poo that got me into this mess. And it was cow poo that was going to get me out of it.

  I rose a half a metre above the grassy paddock and flew forward. I swept over the field wearing my brown coat of many smells. No one would see me until the sun rose. But I had to hurry.

  Without warning a bright beam of light swept the paddock and disappeared. A car’s engine roared and then slowly faded in the distance.

  There was a road nearby. I could follow it home.

  I floated along the grassy verge. Every time a car approached I lowered myself to the ground. I must have looked like the statue of some ancient god standing guard at the side of the road. Or perhaps I just resembled a tree trunk. No one stopped.

  The sky grew lighter and I knew that I did not have long to go until curious eyes would put a stop to my flight.

  I increased speed and flew as fast as I could just above the grass. The ground sped by in a blur.

  I started to shiver again just as the first rays of sunlight peeped over the horizon. In the growing light I could see that I was in open farmland. Not a tree was in sight. But I could tell from the scattered farm houses that I was close to town. Not far from home.

  Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  My smelly brown cloak was still keeping out the worst of the cold and was great camouflage.

  Then the sky grew blacker. The rays of sun disappeared. A blustery wind arose. I had to work hard at staying on course.

  And then it began.

  At first just a few specks. Then heavy drops. Soon it was pelting down. Cow dung dribbled down my legs and ran off my shoulders. Desperately I tried to smear the dung over the white patches of skin that were appearing as the rain washed me clean.

  The wind was blowing me off course. I had to do something or I would be seen.

  Anyone coming along this road would notice me for sure. A naked, flying boy.

  I dropped to the ground and plastered the few remaining smears of cow dung over my most embarrassing parts.

  The sound of a car’s engine crept up on me.

  ‘Look, it’s him,’ screamed a woman’s voice.

  I tried to cover my nakedness.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the voice. ‘You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before.’

  ‘Mum,’ I shouted. I rushed over and hugged her. She had tears in her eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I said.

  She looked down at her wet, poo-
stained dressing gown. Her expression changed from relief to… something else.

  ‘Get in the car,’ Dad said quickly.

  I was saved.

  Or was I?

  ‘You smell of cow poo,’ said Mum. ‘Try not to get it on the seats.’

  On the way home I explained about chasing after the key ring. And how I found it, but it was ruined. I didn’t say anything about flying of course. Mum must never know. She grew frostier and frostier.

  ‘You were told not to touch that key ring,’ she said.

  I didn’t tell her about the kangaroo poo falling off it into the puddle in our garden. Now it was gone there was no point.

  ‘We’ll talk about this more when you are warm and dry,’ she said. ‘And you can tell me why you are naked.’

  I felt guilty. The key ring had gone the way of the black-petal poppy. Now Mum had nothing to remind her of Grandad.

  u m sure was mad about the lost key ring.

  ‘The only thing I had of Grandad’s,’ she said.

  ‘I was just trying to find the secret of the black-petal poppy,’ I said. ‘So that we could grow some more and buy a new microwave and computer.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dad. ‘That’s true. Maybe we’re being a bit harsh.’

  Mum shook her head and looked down at her shoes.

  I walked over to the window and stared at the rain that was still pelting down. Mum was looking at the worn sofa and the faded curtains. And the heater that was turned off because we couldn’t afford the electricity.

  ‘If only rabbits hadn’t eaten the poppy,’ said Mum. ‘Our troubles would be over. I know Grandad grew it as a gift for me. So that we could all have a better life.’

  Then I saw something outside in the garden. At first I didn’t believe it. But it was true.

  Yes, yes, yes. Amazing.

  ‘Are you sure it was rabbits that ate the black-petal poppy?’ I shouted.

  ‘What else would it be?’ said Mum.

  ‘A kangaroo,’ I yelled.

  Mum and Dad stared at me.

  ‘I dropped the kangaroo poo in that puddle,’ I said. ‘The poo must have had seeds from the poppy in it.’

  Life is strange. Who would have thought that a kangaroo had eaten the black-petal poppy? Who would have thought that Grandad would find a piece of kangaroo poo from the same animal? And glue it on the end of a key ring?

  The seeds inside the poo had grown in the puddle where I dropped it. I was a hero in my own home. Just by luck.

  Mum couldn’t stop kissing me which was a bit embarrassing. Dad flapped his arms like a bird and winked. I was off the hook.

  That night I took a big risk. I put on some shorts and a T-shirt and flew back to the tree where I had seen the owl. Its nest was empty except for a few rat bones and …

  I grabbed the key ring and flew quickly back home.

  I looked at the key ring. And the key. It must open something. But what?

  I did another search of the shed. I looked everywhere. And finally …

  Yes, yes, yes.

  I ran back to the house. ‘Dad,’ I screamed. ‘Look what I’ve found.’

  The Toenail Lisa. Grandad’s art.

  Dad sort of smiled.

  I think.