Surfing Mr Petrovic

by Colin Bowles

  The dog-breathed little squirt.

  Michael received Barry’s adulation with blush-faced pleasure. Even Mum congratulated him. Traitor. Then it was Connie’s turn. Her test book was the result of solid graft, and while not as faultless as her younger brother’s, it was still the sort of thing that most parents hope to see.

  I tried to sneak up to my room. I thought I might pick my nose for a while and then play Nintendo.

  ‘Tao,’ Mum said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Have you got your test book with you?’

  ‘Can we do it later?’ Of course I knew what she was going to say, but it was worth a try.

  ‘Bring it down here, please. Now.’

  I walked back down the steps, very slowly, feeling like I was walking up to the hangman, only in reverse. Michael was making faces at me behind Mum’s back. I guess he already knew that someone who thought the answer to every mathematical problem was eight didn’t have much of a chance come the mid-term tests.

  Mum sat down and Connie vacated the hot seat. So I had to sit down in the middle of Barry and Mum. Mum turned to the other two. ‘Out,’ she said. Connie and Michael trailed out of the room. Somewhat reluctantly. I could understand that. I dragged my test book out of my bag and slapped it on the table. Mum pulled it towards her, a little anxiously it seemed to me. With good reason.

  She opened it up to see the math page. Eight per cent. What a coincidence. Eight. My favourite number.

  Then she turned to the English page. Twelve out of a hundred for spelling.

  I heard her take a quick breath, almost a gasp, as if she’d just dived into a pool of very cold water.

  ‘How on earth,’ she whispered, ‘could you manage to get eight per cent for maths and twelve per cent for English?’

  ‘I suppose I’ve just got more of a gift for English that I have for maths,’ I said.

  That was a joke. It didn’t work.

  ‘This is a disaster,’ Mum said.

  ‘I did my best,’ I said.

  ‘Please don’t say this is your best. Tell me anything but don’t say this is your best work.’

  Barry reached in front of me and patted Mum’s hand. ‘Take it easy, Chris. I’m sure Tao’s not all that rapt either. Are you?’

  Well, to be honest I didn’t care one way or another. Nothing really seemed to matter all that much any more, apart from getting out of the room, giving Michael a Chinese burn and losing myself in a Nintendo game.

  ‘He’s always struggled with maths, I understand that,’ Mum said. ‘But I know he can do well in English if he tries.’ She slammed the flat of her hand on the table, making me jump. ‘Why are you doing this to us?’

  Barry got up and put an arm around Mum’s shoulders. I hated it when he did that, hated it when he touched her. But I suppose someone had to do something because she was crying now.

  The door opened a fraction. A head peered around the door. It was Barry. ‘How are things?’ he said.

  ‘Okay.’

  He came in and sat on the edge of my desk. ‘You don’t have to sit up here on your own.’

  ‘I kind of like it.’

  He nodded and scratched his beard. ‘Chris … your mum … didn’t mean to shout at you just then. She’s been worried about you.’

  ‘What happens between me and Mum is no business of yours.’ Even as I said it, I knew it was unfair. I didn’t like myself for doing it, but all I could think of was that it should be Dad here doing this, not Barry. Why isn’t my dad here?

  But Barry just nodded. He didn’t look too upset. He rubbed the palms of his hands together, like he was thinking something and didn’t know how to say it. ‘I know I can’t be your dad, Tao. I don’t want to try and replace him … even if I could … but if you want to talk about anything …’

  ‘If it wasn’t for you, Dad would have come back.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘He couldn’t come back because you were here.’ There was a long silence, and then I said, ‘I don’t know what Mum sees in you. You’re nothing like Dad.’

  He stood up slowly. He seemed about to say something else but he didn’t. He tapped on the desk two or three times with his fingers and then he went out and shut the door behind him.

  I threw myself on the bed and put the pillow over my head.

  I’d never felt like such a rat in my whole life. I felt even worse than the time I Supa-glued Penny Wilson’s pigtails to her desk in grade one.

  12

  Ever since the day we had organised Mister Petrovic’s unexpected wood delivery we had again stopped going to school along Cantonment Street. But the next morning we decided to go that way again. We knew it would only get us into more trouble but Matt and Bluey couldn’t resist and I just didn’t care.

  Matt had been brooding about Mister Petrovic for a while. That morning as we passed his house we all stopped and stared. We hadn’t been surfing the Croat for a while now. The rosebushes had grown quite a bit in the last few weeks and the first roses were in bloom in the front garden.

  ‘We have to think of a way to get even,’ Matt said.

  ‘I think we should just leave it,’ Bluey said.

  ‘We can’t leave it,’ Matt said. ‘That would mean he’s won.’

  I wasn’t really listening to what they were saying. I was wondering why a war criminal would spend so much time planting rosebushes. ‘His rosebushes look nice,’ I said.

  ‘That’s it,’ Matt said.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Symo’s right. We’ll chop his rosebushes down.’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Great idea,’ Matt said.

  My idea. My idea?

  I felt bad, really bad. That wasn’t the reason I’d brought up those rosebushes. I didn’t think chopping them down was a good idea and I didn’t like Matt saying that I’d suggested it. It wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t even cool. It was just vandalism.

  ‘Not his roses,’ I said.

  ‘But you suggested it.’

  ‘I did not!’

  ‘You did,’ Matt said. ‘It’s the perfect way. Unless he catches us he can’t prove it was us that did it. And we’ll be even.’

  ‘Even for what? He hasn’t done anything to us.’

  ‘He got us all in a whole lot of trouble at school, didn’t he? And he stole Bluey’s skateboard. Didn’t he, Bluey?’

  Bluey nodded, but he didn’t look too sure either.

  ‘That’s decided then,’ Matt said.

  This time I knew we were really for it.

  And I was right.

  The next day was Saturday so I had all weekend to brood about it. I was going to go fishing down at South Beach but it was raining and I couldn’t be bothered. On the radio it said there were good waves down at Port Beach and I knew Barry would have given me a lift down there if I asked him, but after I’d said those rotten things to him I didn’t want him to be nice to me. Connie and Michael were playing on the Nintendo and they asked me if I wanted to join in but I decided I wanted to be on my own, so I got out one of my Dockers pro-grammes and started to memorise the birth dates, body weight and height in centimetres of the entire Dockers squad.

  I was halfway through when I heard a car pull up outside. I looked out of the window. It was my Dad’s red four-wheel drive. I saw him run up the path and heard Mum open the door. A minute or so later she came up the stairs and opened the door.

  ‘Your dad’s here to see you,’ she said.

  ‘Tell him I’m not here.’

  ‘I am not going to lie to him, Tao. If you’re not in, come downstairs and tell him yourself.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to him.’

  ‘What is wrong with you?’

  I didn’t answer that. I wasn’t all that sure myself.

  I heard her go back down the stairs and there was a long, whispered conversation. Then I heard footsteps on the path and a car door slamming. I watched through the window as Dad drove off. I felt relieved and
disappointed at the same time.

  ‘This has got to stop.’

  I turned around. Mum was standing in the doorway again. I threw myself back down on the bed. Another lecture coming.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Your dad has many faults,’ she said. ‘But I think he’s doing his best.’

  I didn’t want to talk about this. It just made my head hurt. I looked down at the program. Peter Mann was born on 7 September, 1970, weighed one hundred kilos and was one hundred and ninety four centimetres tall …

  ‘What did you say to Barry the other day?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘He came up here to talk to you that night you brought your mid-term test results home.’

  ‘What did he say I said?’

  ‘I don’t know, he won’t tell me. But you must have said something. He’s been pretty upset about it.’

  ‘How do you know he’s upset?’

  ‘I have superhuman powers. Answer the question, Tao.’

  ‘I don’t remember what I said.’

  I watched her hand. It was bunching the edge of my doona into a bigger and bigger ball. ‘Are you doing this to try and force your Dad and me back together again?’ she said.

  I didn’t know what to say. I really love my mum. But just then I didn’t want to be nice to anyone, not her, not Dad, not Barry, not anyone. You know what it’s like when you’ve hurt yourself. You can’t think of anything except getting rid of the pain. I suppose that was what it was like for me. My stomach had been hurting somehow ever since Dad left and I didn’t know what to do about it.

  ‘I wish everyone would just leave me alone,’ I said.

  Mum gave a long sigh. ‘All right,’ she said. She stood up. ‘I give up.’

  She went out, slamming the door. The vibration knocked my Scott Chisholm poster off the wall.

  She must have been mad. You’ve got to be really fierce to knock Scotty Chisholm over.

  We were right outside Mister Petrovic’s house and Matt had just pulled three pair of scissors out of his schoolbag.

  ‘These ought to do it,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ I said.

  Matt puffed out his cheeks and made the chicken noise.

  ‘I still don’t think it’s a good idea,’ I said.

  Matt handed a pair of scissors to me and another pair to Bluey. ‘All for one and one for all,’ he said.

  I gave him the scissors back. ‘I’m not going to do it,’ I said.

  Bluey took a step back. Matt was staring at me, hard. ‘If you don’t, you won’t be hanging out with me and Bluey any more.’

  I suppose there was nothing I was more afraid of than being chucked out of our gang. It was really all I had left at the moment. But there are some things you just know instinctively are wrong and this was one of those things. ‘I won’t do it,’ I said.

  Matt looked a bit surprised. I suppose he had been expecting me to cave in, like I always did. ‘But it was your idea,’ he said.

  ‘It was not my idea. It was your idea, and I reckon it sucks.’

  ‘Wuss,’ he said.

  ‘Call me names all you want,’ I told him. ‘I’m not going to do it.’ My voice sounded a bit thin and quavery, even to me, but I knew I meant what I said. I surprised even myself.

  Matt looked shaken. I think if Bluey had stood up to him too then he wouldn’t have done it. But Bluey had never stood up to Matt in his life and he didn’t look like he was going to start now.

  Matt lopped the first bush right down almost to the ground. He didn’t even bother with the branches. He just opened the scissors right round the main stem and closed the teeth. They weren’t sharp enough to cut all the way through but it was enough and the bush just sort of sagged and fell over. Matt cut his hand on one of the thorns and stood back sucking his thumb.

  ‘One for us,’ he said.

  I was standing on the other side of the wall, watching him. This was wrong, I thought. No matter how many ways you looked at it, this had to be wrong.

  I looked at Bluey. He was standing by the bush nearest the driveway, his hands shaking so hard he could hardly hold the scissors. He had managed to lop off a couple of blooms and that was about it.

  ‘If you don’t stop,’ I told Matt, ‘I’m going to get Mister Petrovic.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Matt said.

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I dare you.’

  I hesitated. I knew what Matt would do to me if I went against him. But then I realised I just didn’t care any more. Everyone else hated me, why not Matt and Bluey? I jumped over the wall, went up to Mister Petrovic’s front door and rang the bell.

  Matt froze. He couldn’t believe it.

  ‘I’m getting out of here,’ Bluey said, and he started to run.

  Matt dropped the scissors and ran towards me. He took a great swinging punch that hit me on the side of the head as I ducked and knocked me over.

  I could hear someone running up the hallway on the other side of the door. Mister Petrovic, the mad axeman, the war criminal. And look what we’d done to his roses.

  I scrambled to my feet and jumped over the wall. I grabbed my schoolbag and followed Matt and Bluey up the street.

  ‘What you do my roses, stupid thing!’

  I looked back. Mister Petrovic was standing in his front yard, staring at the remains of his rose garden. He didn’t come after us, or anything. Strange way for a war criminal to behave, I thought.

  I knew I should have turned and kept running. I knew he would look up and see me if I didn’t reach the corner in a hurry. But I suppose I must have wanted him to see me because I just stood there for what seemed like ages. And when he did see me he didn’t shake his fist or try and run after me with an axe or anything.

  He just sat on his front step and cried.

  13

  The cops arrived just after the mid-morning recess. I saw the dark-blue police car pull up from the window. I looked over at Bluey and Matt and I could see by the looks on their faces that they were thinking the same thing I was – now we’re really in for it.

  I wanted to die. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

  Half an hour into the social-science lesson, the door opened and Mister Watson strode in. His face was white – I’d never seen him looking so angry. He didn’t even say, ‘Excuse me,’ to the teacher, as he usually does when he has to interrupt a lesson.

  ‘Symonds,’ he said.

  Every head in the class turned my way.

  ‘Stand up,’ Mister Watson said.

  I stood up.

  ‘You know what this is about, don’t you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Was there anyone else with you on this morning’s little escapade?’

  I waited. I waited for Matt and Bluey to stand up and back me but they avoided my eyes.

  I knew it. I was on my own.

  Of course I could have dobbed them in. I could have said, ‘Matt was the one who did it, and Bluey helped him. I tried to stop them. But somehow I didn’t want to do that. For one thing, no one would have quite believed me, and it would have looked like I was just trying to worm out of it by blaming them.

  And, well, I’d sort of been with them when they did it, and I hadn’t really tried to stop them, except at the end when it was just about too late. Whatever was coming, I deserved. As Dad had told me, I was too easily led.

  ‘No sir,’ I said.

  ‘Come with me,’ Mister Watson said.

  I followed him out of the classroom. Matt was staring at me now, wide-eyed. Somehow I felt strangely calm.

  ‘Mister Petrovic has now involved the police,’ Mister Watson said.

  I stood on the other side of Mister Watson’s desk, staring so hard at the carpet I imagined that any minute my eyes would burn two little holes in the pile.

  ‘Fortunately the police would prefer that either myself or your parents deal with the matter. But if w
e cannot find some resolution then I’m afraid you’re going to find yourself in front of the Children’s Court.’

  I wondered what they did to kids in the Children’s Court. I desperately tried to remember if Australia still had capital punishment. Would they hang an eleven-year-old?

  ‘Have you anything to say, boy? Anything at all?’ His voice had changed, it was softer now, more mystified than angry.

  ‘I’m sorry about Mister Petrovic’s roses,’ I mumbled.

  ‘But why on earth did you do something like that?’

  I couldn’t answer him; I didn’t know myself why someone would want to do it. If he wanted the answer to that one, he’d have to ask Matt and Bluey.

  ‘This isn’t your style, Symonds. Are you still maintaining that you acted alone?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Who are you protecting?’

  I didn’t answer that one either. Because I wasn’t protecting Matt or Bluey. If they could live with their consciences, then that was their business. The fact was, I couldn’t. I was almost glad I’d been found out.

  Mister Watson picked up the phone. ‘I’m going to ring your mother now. I happen to know her, and I am sure she is going to be very distressed to hear this news. I shall ask her to fetch you from the school and not return you to classes until this whole sorry business has been resolved.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I took a deep breath. The police, I could handle. A trial in the Children’s Court, being hanged at dawn, I could deal with. But my mother; oh boy, I wasn’t looking forward to that.

  Mum did not say anything all the way home. You could have cooked toast on the hate waves coming out of her, but she still didn’t say anything. She just drove the car. The only clue a stranger might have had that my mother was just about ready to go ballistic was the way she tapped the steering wheel with her fingernail. She only ever did that when she was really stressed out, like just before Dad left.