Million Dollar Gift

by Ian Somers

  I put my earphones on, played some music and pumped my fist in the air as I skated along the middle of the street. People on the pavements watched in amazement as I rolled down the street faster than most cars can travel and roaring, ‘Living the dream!’

  All afternoon my voice echoed through the streets of Dullbrook.

  ‘Living the dream! Living the dream!’

  CHAPTER SIX -

  The Journey

  It was late in the evening and the adrenalin rush of the day had faded from my body. I’d spent much of the evening on the net checking bus timetables, both British and Irish, and departure times for the ferries. There was a boat leaving Dublin port the next day at noon, which meant I’d have to be on my way early the next morning. The ferry would take me to Wales where I could catch a coach that would bring me into the heart of London. I had it all planned to perfection. I’d even cleared it with Dad. Amazingly.

  When Dad had gotten home from his job hunting he called me downstairs to the sitting room. I sat beside him on the couch and he talked about the video I’d shown him that morning. He understood why I wanted to enter The Million Dollar Gift, after all, the prize money was immense, but he was also worried, mostly because I had insisted on travelling alone.

  ‘I just don’t feel right about it all, Ross. You’re only seventeen years old!’

  ‘But I told you, it’s only gonna be for a couple of days. What’s the harm in that? I’ll be back before you know it.’

  ‘I still think you’re too young and inexperienced to go alone. London is very different to Maybrook. There are a lot of dangerous people in big cities like that who are on the lookout for a kid travelling without an adult.’

  ‘You remember what I told you about the pillar?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you drive past it on the way home today?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It looked like a missile had hit it.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said, ‘I can look after myself. Anyone who looks for trouble from me will wish they were never born by the time I’m finished with them.’

  ‘That frightens me just as much! I don’t want you losing your temper on some mugger. They’ll be picking up pieces of him for weeks and you’ll be languishing in a prison cell!’

  ‘That’s not going to happen. I’ll be going straight to that B&B I found online when I get off the bus. The next day I’ll be rolling to the Royal Gold Hotel. Once I’m there, I’ll win that contest and I’ll be on my way home, I swear I will.’

  ‘I’m still worried.’

  ‘There’s no need to be. I’ll have my phone and I’ll call you every day. I promise.’

  ‘You better. Or else they’ll be picking up pieces of you for weeks.’

  He left the couch and took an envelope from coffee table on the opposite side of the room.

  ‘I’ve been putting some money away for the last few months, enough to pay the bills through the winter.’ He dropped it onto my lap and smiled. ‘It’s not much but just enough for you to catch a flight back if there’s an emergency.’

  ‘I can’t take this, Dad. How are you going to pay the bills without it?’

  ‘My son is going to win The Million Dollar Gift.’

  I reached out and we shook hands. I don’t know why I did it; it just seemed like the thing to do. I don’t think we’d ever shook hands before, except when I was really young and we shook hands in church … I don’t think that counts though.

  ‘Don’t go buying a new skateboard with that,’ he warned me. ‘I’m out of touch but I’d recognise your board anywhere because of that strange cartoon character you have printed on it (There was an image of Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas on the underside of the board) and I’ll know if you’ve bought a new one.’

  ‘I’m not going there to buy a new board, Dad. I’m going there to prove something to myself… and to win a million dollars.’

  ‘Don’t get too obsessed with money, lad. It’s not a healthy way to be.’

  ‘I won’t. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a million quid.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure you’d come up with a few crazy ideas on how to spend it.’

  ‘Just a few,’ I grinned. ‘I better start getting ready.’

  After our chat I busied myself with picking some appropriate clothes for the trip. ‘Looking good is always half the battle,’ my mother once told me, and I did like to wear quality stuff. I ironed everything I’d be bringing, then ironed them again (I hadn’t quite mastered the art of ironing). When I’d banished enough creases I filled my back-pack with everything I needed.

  More important than clothes was music. I’d go nuts on the way over if I hadn’t got enough good tunes to listen to so I connected my phone to the laptop and transferred a heap of albums to it.

  I’d barely finished uploading all the music when a text message made my phone buzz across the keyboard of the laptop. It was Gemma.

  ‘What came over you today? I went in after lunch to find the supermarket full of people laughing at Reynolds!’

  I hadn’t any credit to text her back and made a note to buy some before I got on the boat the next day. I logged onto to Facebook hoping she’d be online. She was, and none too pleased with me.

  ‘There you are! What happened today?’

  ‘I’d just had enough of not doing what I wanted to do.’

  ‘Not doing what you wanted to do … Lord, you’re cryptic at times.’

  ‘I was sick of being someone I’m not! I wanted to walk out of Delaney’s since the day I started, but was afraid to. I’m not afraid anymore.’

  ‘What’s changed?’

  ‘Everything. I’m leaving the country tomorrow.’

  ‘What? You’re having a really weird week, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am and it’s all your fault.’

  ‘How did you come to that conclusion?’

  ‘You told me about The Million Dollar Gift.’

  ‘The X-factor for freaks?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘But why would you be entering that?’

  Suddenly my phone started to ring. It was Gemma and I took my time to answer, she seemed in a really bad mood.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, ‘how’s things?’

  ‘Things are starting to make sense, Ross.’

  ‘They are?’

  ‘I couldn’t quite understand how the rubbish in the yard was moving like that today, but now it makes sense. It was you, wasn’t it? You made it happen?’

  ‘It was me.’

  ‘How did you do it?’

  ‘I just did. I don’t know how or why. I can just move things around without touching them. I’ve had this ability for years but I’ve always kept it to myself.’

  ‘And now you’re going to reveal it to the world?’

  ‘No! The winner’s identity won’t be announced.’

  ‘Don’t be so naïve, Ross. Every newspaper in the western world has a reporter following the contest.’

  ‘But nothing is being announced. They even had to blur the faces of the contestants in the photos they’ve published.’

  ‘It’ll be different if someone wins it.’

  ‘I don’t care, Gemma. I’ve made up my mind.’

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘First thing in the morning.’

  ‘So soon…’

  ‘I can’t wait. There’s only a couple of days left to enter.’

  ‘And if you win… will you be coming back?’

  ‘I don’t want to live in Maybrook anymore, Gemma.’

  ‘You’re full of surprises this week. I never knew you had actual feelings, you usually act like a caveman.’

  ‘I’m more than a caveman.’

  ‘I know, Ross. I wouldn’t be friends with a caveman.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘You really are crazy, Ross Bentley. You make sure you stay safe over there and keep in touch!’


  ‘I will. See you soon.’

  ‘Good luck, Ross.’

  The line went dead. Nothing more needed to be said though. I locked the phone, powered off the laptop and climbed into bed. There was a big day ahead of me and I’d need a good night’s sleep. I winked at the light and the room plunged into darkness.

  The alarm clock buzzed at 8am and I pulled off the duvet and jumped from bed. The big day had arrived and my entire body was tingling with anticipation. I pointed a finger at the clock and it went silent. Then I dragged my bag into the middle of the floor and checked that I had everything I’d need for the journey. The phone was fully charged, my best clothes were all packed and there was a roll of twenties in my pocket. I was almost ready; all that I needed was breakfast and a hot cup of tea.

  I heard Dad in the kitchen and the familiar clank of the tea spoon.

  ‘Pour me a cup!’ I shouted down the stairs. I went to the bathroom and dragged a glob of Brylcreem through my hair then slid down the banister into the hall.

  ‘Before it goes cold,’ Dad called to me as he pulled a chair from under the kitchen table and sat.

  I took a large gulp of the freshly poured tea and Dad grimaced at me.

  ‘How can you drink tea like that? You’ll burn your tongue and have a mouthful of blisters for the trip.’

  ‘I drink the way live,’ I joked. I put on a funny voice, ‘fast and without fear.’

  Dad rolled his eyes and snorted into his cup. ‘A little too fast for my liking.’

  I splashed some milk onto a bowl of cornflakes and started crunching, all the while I kept looking at the clock above the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t miss the bus. I’ll drive you to the stop.’

  ‘No need. My board can go faster than that old banger you drive.’

  ‘That might be true, but I want to drive you anyway.’

  ‘If you insist,’ I sighed. ‘But you’re only contributing to climate change. My board is pure green energy, 100 per cent environmentally-friendly.’

  ‘I didn’t know you cared so much about the environment.’

  I raised a V-sign. ‘Respect Mother Nature, dude.’

  ‘Maybe you’ll keep that in mind in the evenings when you’ve got your phone charging, and your laptop, TV, Playstation and lord knows what else on. Bloody electricity bill was bigger than my bank balance last month.’

  ‘Soon you won’t have to worry about the bills, Dad.’

  ‘You’re very confident.’ He took his cup to the sink and washed it out. ‘I guess you have good reason to be, but have you considered that you might not be the only one who can prove they have a superhuman gift?’

  I hadn’t contemplated this scenario; it hadn’t once entered my mind. ‘I don’t mind sharing. Five hundred thousand dollars will still be enough.’

  The thought lingered in my mind. What if there were others like me at the contest? Maybe if I could find them I would get the answers I’d sought for so long.

  ‘Ross?’ my father said, clicking his fingers. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I replied with a smile, ‘nothing to worry about.’

  Twenty minutes later I was getting out of the car at the bus stop and saying farewell to Dad.

  ‘I’ll keep in touch,’ I assured him. ‘Promise I will.’

  ‘See that you do … and be careful!’

  ‘Will do. Now get out of here, you’re cramping my style. I’ll never hear the end of it if anyone sees me near this car.’

  Dad laughed and saluted me before slowly driving off. I suddenly had an ominous sensation for the second time that morning. It was as if something was telling me that I’d never see Dad again. It was disturbing and doubts about what I was doing plagued my mind.

  ‘Nonsense,’ I whispered to myself. ‘I’ll be back before I know it.’

  I leaned against the bus stop with my bag over my shoulder and my board under foot. My real journey had just begun, a journey that I would undertake alone. There were one or two butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but all in all I was still excited and bursting with confidence.

  It only took a few minutes for the bus to arrive and I flipped up my board and climbed up the step. I moved to the back of the bus and gazed out the window as the quiet streets of Dullbrook faded into the distance. I was finally doing it. I was leaving home. A surge of enthusiasm coursed through me and I smiled and took a deep breath of freedom. I was finally doing it!

  I took one last look out the back window and that strange sensation took me again. For some reason I believed this was the last time I’d lay eyes on Dullbrook. I shrugged and made myself comfortable. My eyes would be better off without having to look at Dullbrook.

  It was a clear morning in Dublin city centre and the streets were bustling with people trying to get to work on time. I smiled at them as they streamed past me on the pavements; I’d usually be hurrying to reach Delaney’s at that time of the morning. Boy, was I glad that I’d made the decision to leave. It didn’t take very long to reach Dublin port and I soon boarded the ferry and found a seat in the corner of the bar. I sat there for a while, but boredom got the better of me so I went strolling around. There wasn’t much to see or do and I quickly ended up on the outer deck.

  It was beautiful and calm, the waters glittered in the strong sunlight and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. I felt so good as I rested my elbows on the side rail and sucked the salty air into my nostrils.

  ‘The scent of freedom!’ I said with a smile.

  I spent the most of the journey on deck watching for signs of land. It first appeared as a faint grey shape on the eastern horizon before it grew into a dark coastline. My sense of freedom was suddenly tinged with fear. There was something ominous looking about the Welsh coast and for the first time I felt anxiety about the journey, and the contest. I couldn’t quite explain my feelings, but I didn’t have long to dwell on them; I was soon queuing to disembark.

  Holyhead was a nice place, but rain was starting to drift from the darkening sky so I couldn’t hang around and sought out the bus shelter. I couldn’t wait to reach the bright lights of the big city; it was something I’d been dreaming about for years. I spent an hour on the bench before the coach to London squealed to a halt in front of me.

  I climbed the steps and nodded to the driver and paid him a few pounds.

  The journey was an uneventful one. The landscape was monotonous and the sky had dimmed an hour after we left Holyhead. The only thing that kept me entertained were the signposts. I was fascinated by the Welsh place names such as Caergeiliog. Trewalchmai. But the one he was most amazed by was Llanfairyneubwll. I couldn’t quite comprehend how anyone could pronounce such a word. It was kinda like I’d entered Middle Earth or something.

  After the second hour I was dozing off, but was snapped out of it by a text that made my pocket vibrate. It was from Gemma.

  ‘Good luck, Ross. I’ll have all my fingers and toes crossed for you!’

  I’d gotten some credit in Dublin that morning and replied, ‘Thanks! Just the fingers will do. You’ll probably get a bad cramp if you keep your toes crossed for too long.’

  She replied with a smiley face.

  I slipped the phone back into my pocket but a few minutes later another text came through. This one was from Dad, which amazed me because I didn’t know my old man could operate a mobile phone.

  ‘I know I said I was worried about you going to London, but I’m also very proud of you. I always have been. Your mother would be too if she were still with us.’

  It took a lot of effort not to cry. Dad and I had finally built a bridge, and we were talking about Mam. I missed her so much. I wished she was still alive to see me win the contest. The world was a greyer place without her.

  I plucked my wallet from my pocket and opened it. There was a photograph of her inside; it had been taken ten years before. She was smiling and her long red hair was slightly disturbed by a friendly breeze. I rubbed my thumb
over the picture then rested my head against the window. I put the wallet away. I knew if I dwelled on thoughts of her that I’d burst out crying; it happened from time to time.

  I wiped away a single tear that had crept down my cheek and took some deep breaths to free the weight that was gathering at the bottom of my throat.

  Tiredness soon overcame me.

  ‘Hey, you!’

  I opened my eyes and found an old man with massive nose and beady eyes only an inch from my face. I jerked back and almost whacked the stranger.

  ‘Get off,’ I hissed, ‘I’ve nothing for you.’

  ‘Nothin’ for me? Wha’ you on about?’

  ‘You’re trying to mug me!’

  ‘No, I’m not. The driver asked me to wake you up. We’re in London.’

  I looked out the window and we were moving slowly through the big city.

  ‘So we are,’ I muttered.

  The old man stood up and moved back to his seat. ‘Weird kid,’ he whispered.

  It took about thirty minutes for the coach to reach Lewisham where I thanked the driver and reluctantly nodded to the old man who grunted at me.

  I stood on the side of the road and tried to get my bearings. I’d studied the area on Google Maps the night before and figured I ought to be moving west.

  I travelled up and down the street for a while before finally spotting the small B&B, The King’s Rest. It was a rundown building and I figured there wouldn’t be many kings wanting to rest in such a hovel.

  It was a three-storey Georgian place that had probably been a grand home for some wealthy family in the distant past, but now it was only home to people like me who couldn’t afford a decent hotel.

  I leaped up the tall stone steps and lifted the brass knocker on the front door. I hadn’t let it fall when the door swung inward to reveal a small old woman with a harsh face and purple hair. This was Mrs Pilkington, who I’d spoken to on the phone the previous evening. She leaned through the doorway and squinted at me.

  ‘You must be Bentley.’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘I imagined you’d be older … and earlier; don’t usually have people arriving this late.’