The Goldfish Boy

by Lisa Thompson

Matthew

  He replied ten minutes later.

  To: Matthew Corbin

  From: Jake Bishop

  Re: Old Nina’s Tree

  I’ll go into her yard tonight after dark.

  Jake

  It was late and I was sitting at the computer, my hair still wet from the shower. There was another message from Melody, apologizing for missing my earlier email, as she’d been out. She said she hadn’t had any luck seeing what was in the tree. I hit Reply.

  To: Melody Bird

  From: Matthew Corbin

  Re: Quick!

  No problem. Jake is going to try and get the thing out of Old Nina’s tree TONIGHT. I know, I know, it’s Jake Bishop—but I think he could be useful?

  And hey, guess what? I followed Old Nina today! She went out and she never goes out on Thursdays. She bought balls of wool and she was staring weirdly at some diapers in the window of a pharmacy! She didn’t buy any but isn’t that a bit odd???!!!

  Matthew

  After I sent it I cringed. My so-called evidence looked completely ridiculous now. Melody quickly answered.

  To: Matthew Corbin

  From: Melody Bird

  Re: Quick!

  Jake Bishop? Are you mad?!!

  To: Melody Bird

  From: Matthew Corbin

  Re: Quick!

  I know, but let’s give him a chance, OK? I kind of owe him.

  Matthew

  I turned the computer off and went to bed.

  When I eventually drifted off I dreamed about Teddy …

  I was at the window again, watching him pick the petals, but when he reached up for a flower he stumbled forward and fell straight into the roses. The branches snaked around his little body, wrapping him up tightly like a spider wraps a fly. Within seconds the bush had swallowed him whole and Teddy had disappeared.

  My neighbors gathered, each of them calling out as if they were all playing a game of hide-and-seek.

  “Teddy! Where are you?” called Mr. Charles.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Old Nina cried.

  I ran into the road and shouted at them all.

  “It’s the rosebush! The rosebush has got him. Listen to me! You’ve got to check the rosebush!”

  Melody was there, and Penny and Gordon, Jake, Hannah with her swollen belly and Mr. Jenkins and Old Nina; as I ran around they started to laugh.

  “Quick, get back in your tank, Matty!” said Melody, laughing so much she was nearly crying. “You’re going to die out here!”

  I woke with a jolt at 3:22 a.m., wet with sweat. I lay there for a bit and tried to go back to sleep, but every time I shut my eyes I saw Teddy tangled in the branches. I got out of bed and crept to the office.

  Mr. Charles’s front yard was empty and I could just make out a few pastel flowers bobbing in the darkness. There was no little blond boy in the roses. Teddy wasn’t there.

  I turned to go back to bed, but then I spotted a figure in the shadows outside the Rectory. At first I thought it might be Jake on his mission, but this figure was too tall. It began to walk toward number three and I realized it was Mr. Jenkins. What was he doing out at this time of night? Wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, he clearly hadn’t been out of bed for long; his hair was sticking up in all directions. In his left hand was a tiny, orange glow. I couldn’t believe it: Mr. Jenkins, the fitness-crazy, know-it-all, bullying teacher, was smoking!

  He walked around the close, his eyes constantly on Mr. Charles’s house. When he got to Penny and Gordon’s house, he threw the cigarette onto the ground and left it there, burning, as he crossed over the road. He stood by the gate of number eleven and peered around the rosebushes and hedges, having a good look around. What was he doing? I stepped out of view as he turned toward home, and a few seconds later I heard his front door shut quietly. I went back to bed and took out my notebook.

  Teddy’s Disappearance: New Suspects List

  1. Old Nina

  2. Mr. Charles

  3. Casey

  4. Mr. Jenkins???

  Jake emailed first thing.

  To: Melody Bird; Matthew Corbin

  From: Jake Bishop

  Subject: The Case of the Mysterious White Thing Stuck in a Tree

  It’s a tea towel!!!!!

  Well done, Sherlock and Watson.

  Jake

  A few minutes later, Melody replied.

  To: Jake Bishop; Matthew Corbin

  From: Melody Bird

  Subject: MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!!!

  Look, Jake Bishop, I never asked you to get involved, so if you don’t have anything useful to say, I suggest you crawl back to your pathetic excuse for a life. OK?!

  To: Matthew Corbin

  From: Jake Bishop

  Subject: Melody

  Geez, she can’t take a joke, can she?!!

  J

  I didn’t want to get involved, so I switched the computer off and went to my room.

  I cleaned for most of the morning and it still didn’t feel right. I went over the back of my door for a fourth time and then I tackled the legs on my bed, the legs on my dresser, and the legs on my bedside cabinet. Cleaning these would mean that the germs would have less opportunity to travel upward and spread around.

  Dad was outside stacking up cans of paint, brushes, and dust sheets on the lawn as Mum came out of the conservatory carrying an armful of wet laundry. Hannah and Mr. Jenkins were out as well.

  “Oh hello, Hannah, love. How are you doing with all this stress going on? It can’t be good for you or the baby.”

  Hannah rubbed her football stomach as she joined Mum at the fence. She always walked like that now. It was as if it were the only way she could gain momentum. I avoided looking at her oversized belly and watched Dad get a stepladder out of the shed, which he propped up on the grass and leaned against. Mr. Jenkins came over to talk to him. He was dressed in a fluorescent yellow running vest and black shorts and a pair of sunglasses rested on top of his head. He looked like a wasp. He said something to Dad, and Dad turned and looked up at my window and then shook his head.

  “They’re talking about me, Lion,” I said. “What with everything going on, they still find time to talk about me.”

  Mr. Jenkins followed Dad’s gaze and stared at me.

  Mr. Jenkins was the worst teacher in our school, and for a while I’d managed to excuse myself from quite a few of his lessons (I felt sick, I’d pulled a muscle in my leg, I was getting over a chest infection, etc.). But he wasn’t fooled easily, and before long he was right on my case.

  “You can’t be bothered, that’s your problem, isn’t it, Corbin?” he said when I told him I had a migraine and couldn’t go swimming. “Any feeble excuse not to do any exercise. You’re bone-idle! That’s what you are. Now shut up, get your suit on, and get in that pool.”

  My anxieties weren’t too bad then, so I resigned myself to just having to get on with it, but I took my towel and trunks out of my bag as slowly as possible. I certainly wasn’t going to hurry.

  I thought I was the only one left in the changing room, but then I could hear a boy frantically searching for something behind the forest of school uniforms hanging on rows of hooks.

  “Where are you? You stupid letter! You’re in here somewhere, I know it!”

  It was Jake Bishop.

  “You all right, Jake?”

  He looked up at me, his red-rimmed eyes wet with tears.

  “I’ve lost the stupid letter. I’m not supposed to go swimming and my mum wrote a note and now I can’t find it.”

  He took a deep breath, then, like a scurrying animal, he scratched around again in the pockets of his backpack.

  “Can’t the school call your mum?”

  Jake snorted.

  “Yeah, right. I said that to Mr. Jenkins and he found that very funny. I’m Jake Bishop, remember? What do I matter?”

  He turned back, pulling out his scruffy schoolbooks and ink-stained pencil case, piling them onto the bench
.

  Mr. Jenkins appeared from the pool and threw a pair of purple trunks at Jake, which hit him in the face.

  “Get these on. You’ll have to borrow a towel.”

  He saw me standing there.

  “Why aren’t you dressed yet, Corbin? Come on!” He clapped his hands together rapidly like machine-gun fire. “You’re losers, the both of you! Especially you, Bishop. What are you?”

  “A loser, sir,” said Jake quickly. He’d clearly been in this position with Mr. Jenkins before and wasn’t bothering to put up a fight.

  “A pathetic excuse for mankind, that’s you. Now, hurry up!”

  I darted back to my bags. The echoing shouts of our classmates from the pool sounded sinister, like they were all being tortured. I watched Jake through the dangling coats as he wiped his eyes.

  “I can help look through your bag if you want,” I said.

  I didn’t know what I’d do if he agreed. There was no way I’d touch Jake’s bag.

  “What’s the point? Someone’s stolen it. Probably thought they’d get back at me. Well, this time they’ve won, but they won’t be winning when I get hold of them.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head without undoing the buttons and tugged at the sleeves. As he turned away, I saw raw patches of eczema all over his back. I’d never had eczema before, but I knew as soon as his skin hit that chlorine-filled water it was going to hurt like crazy.

  I never did find out if someone had taken Jake’s letter. He was probably right, it was very likely that someone did take it, just to get revenge on him. But on that particular day, there was only one bully in the changing room, and it certainly wasn’t Jake Bishop.

  Mr. Jenkins rested his hands on the low fence between our yards as he babbled on to Mum and Dad. Hannah now had her arm linked through her husband’s, the sunlight dazzling on her white teeth as she stared up at him. Mum shaded her eyes as she and Dad nodded, agreeing with whatever it was Mr. Jenkins was saying. They didn’t have a clue how different he was from this perfect image he projected. Bullying kids, sneaking around in the middle of the night, smoking cigarettes when he was supposed to be setting a healthy example. What else could he be up to? He’d run past Teddy on the day he went missing. Had he turned back when I wasn’t looking? Had he seen him crouching down by the roses after all?

  My PE teacher finished what he was saying and pulled his dark glasses down over his eyes, a mad grin on his face as Hannah began to talk. His head turned toward my window, and I had a strong suspicion he was staring right at me. When his grin twisted into a grimace, I knew I was right.

  I was back in the office making more observations. Melissa Dawson’s car was parked outside Mr. Charles’s house, and Officer Campen was standing on the step. He put the back of his hand over his mouth as he tried to hide a yawn. A second car was parked a bit farther up, which I’m sure belonged to Detective Bradley.

  I tried to sit at the computer but I couldn’t keep still, so I went to go back to my room. Nigel was sitting outside the door, blocking my way. He purred loudly and closed his eyes, his head rocking back and forth slightly.

  “Get out of the way, Nigel,” I said as I tried to find an angle to get into my room. The ginger cat opened his eyes and watched me dancing around in front of him. “Go away, you disgusting cat!” I reached forward and pushed my door open, intending to make a leap for it over his head, but as soon as I’d opened the door he was in. Sauntering across the carpet, he jumped up on my bed, where he padded his feet up and down, snatching at the duvet cover with his claws.

  I stood in front of him.

  “Nigel! Get off! Get off, you flea-ridden old bag!”

  The Wallpaper Lion snarled at me but I ignored him. I looked around the room for something to use to push Nigel off with, but there wasn’t anything I was prepared to get infected. The cat did three lazy turns and then curled into a furry circle, shutting his eyes. I wanted to cry. All of the cleaning I’d done that morning was ruined.

  “Nigel, I hate you! I HATE YOU!” I spat at him.

  The cat twitched an ear but didn’t move, so I pushed at the mattress with my knee, but he just wobbled a bit. I looked out the window and wondered whether to bang for Mum or Dad to help, but Mr. Jenkins and Hannah were still out there. It was far too embarrassing to ask in front of them.

  I ran into the office.

  To: Melody Bird

  From: Matthew Corbin

  Subject: CAT!

  Melody, I need your help! Can you come over? Right now?

  M

  I paced around, checking the street to make sure there was no sign of Melody, then I went back into my room. Nigel had stretched himself out like a long fuzzy sausage. I tensed my hands, but there was nothing I could do. I went back into the office, but there weren’t any emails.

  “Come on, Melody! Answer!”

  I looked out at number three. There was only one thing for it. I ran downstairs, pulled on my sneakers, and headed across the close.

  If you stand on Melody’s doorstep (number three), you can’t see the number on Penny and Gordon’s house (one), so for now, I was safe from the unlucky number. I rang her doorbell, wishing I’d put on some fresh gloves.

  Melody answered the door, and her eyes widened when she saw it was me. I took a breath and launched into what I had to say.

  “I need your help. The cat’s on my bed! Can you come over and just get him off?”

  I stopped, almost panting for breath.

  She leaned against the doorframe. Her hair was curled and hung down in dark waves onto her shoulders, and she was wearing the blue dress she’d worn when I’d met her in the graveyard.

  “What?” she said. My gloved hands fiddled by my sides. I didn’t have to hide them from her.

  “Can you help me? Can you come and get the cat off of my bed?”

  I knew I was fidgeting. Melody looked down at my feet, and I tried to make them stop moving. She tucked her hair behind an ear.

  “Matthew? Are you scared of your cat?”

  She held my gaze, and I felt the warmth spreading up my neck to my cheeks.

  “No!” I said, a little too loudly. “I just, I can’t touch him. You’re good with animals, aren’t you? What with Frankie …” I looked behind her, making sure the little dachshund wasn’t going to suddenly appear and hurtle toward me. I couldn’t bear this. I wanted to go back to my room where I could talk to the Wallpaper Lion. He’d understand. He knew how dangerous it was to have a cat on your bed.

  “I can’t, I’m going out with my mum now. You’ll have to ask your parents.”

  I shook my head.

  “No, they’re in the garden with Mr. Jenkins and Hannah. I can’t ask in front of them. Come on, Melody. Please?”

  Tears stung my eyes. All I could think about were the germs on Nigel’s paws now swarming, infesting every inch of my room.

  “Melody, we’re going now! Oh hello, Matthew.” Claudia was standing behind Melody in the hall. “I hear you’ve been doing some investigating, is that right?”

  I looked at Melody, but she was staring at the ground.

  “Erm. I’ve just been watching from the window a bit, that’s all,” I said.

  “I see. Come on, Melody, get your shoes on,” she said and she disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as she’d gone Melody pulled the door closed a little and began to whisper.

  “Matthew, Mum saw our emails! She wants me to go to the police station and tell them what I know about Old Nina: That you saw something in her house and saw her buying diapers.”

  “What? She wasn’t buying them though.”

  “I know! I tried to tell her, but she said we’ve got to be sure.”

  Melody looked at her watch.

  “Sorry, Matthew. I’ve got to go.”

  My heart was going so fast the beats felt like a blur and the dizziness was coming back. The glass door closed and I was faced with a brown-haired boy wearing a long-sleeved blue shirt, jeans, and white latex gloves. He looked c
lose to tears. I couldn’t bear to look at him, so I turned and walked toward the alleyway.

  I passed the horse chestnut tree with the hexagonal bench and then the patch of overgrown weeds where the mermaid slept with her head resting on her arms. I carried on along the dusty path where Melody and I had walked together and found myself at the front of the graveyard near the church. I hadn’t intended to come here. On my right, standing barefoot on top of a small plinth, was a brilliant white angel. Callum’s angel. Its hands were pressed lightly together in a prayer, its mouth almost smiling. Beneath its creamy, carved feet I read the inscription:

  Callum James Corbin

  A beloved son and brother

  A moment in our arms, forever in our hearts

  23rd March 2010

  I stood looking at the angel with its huge feathered wings and felt my face cooling in the light breeze as tears trickled onto my cheeks. The angel’s eyes were almost closed, its head tilted to one side, full of concern. I stared at the angel’s feet where I’d tucked the note a few months ago. There were dimples on the top of each foot showing that this angel was a child itself.

  “I didn’t mean for Callum to die,” I whispered. “I wish he was here now. I really do. I would have been the best brother to him, Angel. Honestly.”

  I wiped my face on my sleeve as I watched the statue praying, and then I turned and headed home.

  As soon as I got home and stepped through our front door and into the hallway, I realized something was terribly wrong. A thick, damp smell hit my nostrils, and I could hear tinny pop music being played through Dad’s old radio somewhere in the distance. Mum appeared from the kitchen, Nigel brushing up against her legs.

  “Matthew, where have you been? Dad wanted to talk to you about your room …”

  I didn’t let her finish.

  I ran up the stairs without taking my shoes off and came face-to-face with my mattress, which was propped up vertically against one wall. My bed linen was dumped in a pile, and beside that was my white bedside table, my clock and lamp still on top. Notebooks, a pot of pens, the box of gloves, and the few remaining cleaning things that had been hidden under my bed were all now on the floor next to the bathroom. The sound of the radio and Dad whistling along came from the other side of my closed bedroom door.