I Am Jack

by Susanne Gervay

  There’s silence on the other line. Then a voice. A man’s voice…

  Mum puts down the phone. ‘Jack. The Principal will see us today at eleven o’clock.’

  I don’t want to see the Principal.

  I can’t believe Mum took time off from work. She has never done that before, even when we’ve been sick. Nanna would come over then with her cookies and specials. Mum is taking me out for lunch today. Just Mum and me. How great is that? Mum’s wearing her long floral dress that kicks up when the wind catches the bottom. She’s got a bright yellow handmade sunflower in her hair. Mum looks beautiful.

  Last night was incredible. Mum kept repeating how grateful she was to the Napolis. ‘Anna is your real friend, Jack.’ ‘Mr and Mrs Napoli are your real friends.’ ‘Anna didn’t know what to do.’ ‘Mr Napoli wanted to go the police.’ ‘Anna…Mr Napoli…Mrs Napoli…’

  Then Mum said something that made the throbbing inside my head stop. ‘Jack, you have to know…paying off the mortgage, working, rushing to the shops, housekeeping, even my stupid gym mean nothing to me. It’s all nothing, if I can’t be there for you and Samantha.’

  She said she should have known there were real problems when my trousers were torn, or when I didn’t make jokes, or when Christopher and Paul stopped coming over, or when I told her that I went to the library every lunchtime. ‘I was a library assistant. I’ve seen those kids who hide in the library because the playground is terrible. There are George Hamels out there, and stupid sheep who copy them. I should have seen it, Jack.’

  There was a lot of crying and Samantha sat right next to me on the lounge. She lay her head against my shoulder. Rob kept saying he was going to the school and he would fix them. Mum held onto Rob’s arm. ‘Thank you, Rob. I mean that. I do, but I’ll go to the school with Jack. Just Jack and me.’

  Mum doesn’t speak in the car as we drive to school. She’s thinking and so am I. I don’t want to go to see the Principal. Everyone will know I’ve told on them. I’ll be in even worse trouble than before. I’m scared. My head is a bubbling mess. Mum said the school has to do something. Mum said George Hamel has to be expelled. As if he’d be expelled. Mum said I can leave this school. I want to leave. I have to leave.

  Usually Mum parks outside the gates, but not today. Mum drives right inside the school yard. ‘Jack. We’re here.’ I feel sweat drip down my neck and molten lava roll through my head. I look at Mum who doesn’t care that her hair is fluffed and that her yellow sunflower bobs around like in a field of wheat.

  She stamps up the stairs, stamps along the corridor, stamps into the secretary’s office with me tagging behind her. ‘I’m here to see the Principal.’

  The secretary says quietly. ‘He’s waiting.’

  The Principal and Mr Angelou stand up when we enter. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked Mr Angelou to join us. If there’s a problem, we’ll sort it out.’

  Mr Angelou hates me. My throat dries up and I try to swallow. Mum sits down and I sit next to her. Mum said I could leave school. I want to leave NOW.

  The Principal adjusts his reading glasses as he flicks through the school report on his desk. ‘Jack’s work has been deteriorating. We want to help Jack.’ The Principal coughs. ‘But from what I understand from Mr Angelou, he has been coming late to school and he hasn’t been concentrating on his studies this term.’

  Mum listens while the Principal rambles on about all the crimes I’ve committed—like being late, not participating in sport classes,

  failing to complete class work, absenteeism. When the Principal finishes, he looks at Mum. Like a warrior, Mum faces them. Her coloured dress is war paint and her sunflower is a headdress. ‘And whose fault is that?’ Surprised, the Principal jerks back a little. Mr Angelou looks surprised as well. Mum doesn’t give them time to answer. ‘Jack’s bright. Really bright.’ I didn’t know Mum thought that. Bright? ‘Do you know he’s a photographer? That he fixes cars? He reads books? He discovers plants and seashells? Jack’s responsible as well. I do double shifts at work because there’s no dad, but it’s all right because of Jack. He looks after his sister and cleans the unit and fixes washers and tries to be grown up. You don’t know him, do you? Why don’t you know my Jack? Why don’t you care?’

  The Principal starts. ‘We want to know Jack.’ He takes off his glasses. ‘We do care.’

  ‘Did you ever find out why he’s late to class? Why he can’t go to sport? Why he isn’t at school? Did you? Did you?’

  The Principal looks at Mr Angelou.

  ‘Well, you don’t know Jack and you don’t know what’s happening in your own school.’ Mum’s words target the Principal and Mr Angelou like arrows. Bull’s eyes. Bull’s eyes. Mum tells them about me being pushed at the bus stop, escaping into the library, tagged as Bum Head, being shoved and kicked, being spat at over cubicle walls. ‘And the teachers are too busy to see. Don’t want to see. Turn away.

  It’s easier to punish Jack, to show all those bullies that they’re right. Jack is nobody.’ Mum’s breathless and she puts her arms around me. ‘Jack’s somebody. Jack’s somebody and Jack won’t be coming to this school again.’

  Mr Angelou brings Mum a glass of water.

  The Principal waits for a while, then speaks to me. ‘Jack, we need to do some investigating. You are important to us. We will fix this up, but you have to give us some time.’

  Time? I don’t want to. I just want to leave.

  The Principal looks at Mum. ‘This school is here for Jack. Maybe it’s a good idea that Jack has a few days off until we find out what’s going on. Can we meet again? Say, two days.’

  Mum stares at me. I stare at the ground. My head is thunder.

  Mr Angelou’s rosy cheeks glow and his bald head shines. He walks Mum and me to the door. ‘I promise we’ll sort this out. Jack, you are somebody.’

  Somebody, Mr Angelou said. I don’t want to go back. Mum drives like she’s got chewing gum on the wheels. The car jerks and shudders. She scrapes the side of the gutter as we turn the corner. Our old car is clunking furiously as we head towards the beach. Only when we see the sea, sparkling under the summer sun, does the car stop clunking. There is a parking spot and Mum swerves into it, squealing the tyres.

  The restaurant is expensive, overlooking the surf and sand. Mum asks for a table right at the window so we can look out. A waiter in a black shirt and trousers hands Mum a menu, then me. ‘Would you like something to drink while you look over the menu?’

  I shake my head. Mum ignores me. ‘Yes, we’d like one pineapple juice and one watermelon and passionfruit juice. Both large, please.’ The waiter leaves and Mum takes my hand. ‘We’re going to have a good time, Jack. Smile.’ I turn up the sides of my mouth. ‘What a pathetic smile.’ Mum makes a ridiculous face and I do smile.

  Mum insists that I order a big T-bone steak, even though it costs too much. There are hot potato wedges with salad and tomatoes and mayonnaise sauce. Mum has salmon. The bread is hot and melts in your mouth. I feel better and have four slices. Mum has two.

  We watch the surfers paddle out into the waves. I like bodysurfing. The main thing is not getting too worried about being dumped by a wave. Samantha hates being dumped and always ends up on the beach making a sandcastle, but Anna likes surfing.

  ‘I’ve decided that I’m going to spend more time with you and Samantha. The mortgage is manageable these days, especially with Rob’s help. Life can’t be just about working.’

  The waiter arrives with two super-deluxe sundaes. Chocolate and lemon gelato swirl into a peak of nuts, hot chocolate sauce and pink marshmallows. Mum laughs. ‘Forget dieting forever.’

  ‘Nanna should be here. She’d love this.’

  ‘You’re right, Jack. Next time we’ll bring Nanna.’

  Sticky marshmallow slides deliciously down my throat. Mum gives me one of her marshmallows. I feel a bit better. A joke flashes into my mind.

  ‘What do you get when you cross a marshmallow with a mouth?’
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  ‘What do you get, Jack?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ve eaten it.’

  Mum laughs and I laugh. I don’t know why we think it is so funny, but it is. Everything seems funny. When I point to a lady in a spotted bikini we laugh. Mum points to a man with a floppy hat. That makes us really laugh. When I point to a dog with a waggly tail, we just go hysterical.

  Eventually we stop laughing but we can’t mention the waggly tail, otherwise we start again. Mum orders cappuccino with lots of white froth and chocolate sprinkles. She lets me eat the froth and sprinkles. ‘Jack, we need to talk about a few things. School. Rob. Bullying…You.’

  I don’t want to talk. I can’t think about those things right now.

  ‘But not today. We need a rest.’

  Mum understands everything. After the restaurant, we take off our shoes and walk along the sand. Mum’s sunflower looks golden. ‘Jack. It’ll be all right.’

  I don’t know if it will be all right. What I do know is that I have Mum and my family. Anna and Mr and Mrs Napoli are nearly family.

  9 Surf’s Up

  I wake up. No volcanoes. I’m NOT sick and I’m NOT going to school. Mum says Samantha has to go to school, which she thinks is unfair. But it’s not. I have to do a whole list of things today. I am going to be very busy and Samantha wouldn’t be useful. She’d just play around. Nanna is coming over. I have to admit that she’s not very useful either but she thinks she’s a great help, which makes her happy.

  My list of jobs:

  Change the light bulb in Mum’s side lamp. (Mum would live in the dark without me.)

  Fix the lounge chair. (It’s falling apart. I’ll have to nail the arm on. It nearly came off when Samantha jumped on it last week. I need my hammer for that.)

  Hang up Samantha’s photograph of Puss in her bedroom. (It is an excellent character photo. Everyone says Puss looks so smug. She’s lying in her favourite chair with her fur shining and her tail wrapped around her. There’s this contented look on her face.) I’ll need my drill.

  Fill in the crack in the bathroom tile. (That’s natural wear and tear. It’s a polyfilla job.)

  After all that, I’m doing a photo shoot of Nanna and Jack’s Ponto. I’m photographing every stage of the Ponto’s development for scientific records. I’m also photographing Nanna just because she is Nanna. She is a good character to do. Her green eyes are interesting because they are never still. She’s always investigating things, like what is in our fridge, or where is the pot plant she bought and it hasn’t been watered, or who is doing karate because she’s noticed my magazine. Her face is a lived-in face, with sun spots and lines and soft light hairs that sit on her top lip. But her cheeks are still pink and her eyes are like Samantha’s. I want my face to be lived in when I’m old.

  That is, if I ever get to be old with George Hamel around.

  Samantha grumps out of the unit and nearly falls over Puss. I call out goodbye to Mum and her from my bedroom window. Samantha gives a wave and Mum blows a kiss and does a twirl in her navy blue uniform. Right. Must get to work. Tools. Ah, everything is in order. On my birthdays and at Christmas I get another tool to add to my collection. Last Christmas Mum bought me my electric drill and Nanna bought the drill bits. I get nails, my excellent first-grade hammer, wood glue, and a chisel for fine work. The lounge chair is very broken. I turn it upside down, lay out my tools and get ready to begin when Nanna shuffles through the front door. Her face crinkles into a smile. ‘Jack, I’m just in time to help.’

  I roll my eyes. This means I’ll be slower. She puts her specials on the kitchen table. Three chocolate bars, a loaf of wholemeal bread and a T-shirt. ‘Come and try this on. I’ll buy another one if it fits. It was half price.’

  ‘Nanna. I’m busy.’

  ‘But I bought this for you. It’ll only take a minute.’

  Sure. If I know Nanna, it’ll take an hour, because we’ll have to discuss the T-shirt and if it fits, and if I like the colour or do I want another colour…and we’ll have to eat our chocolate bars and have a drink…and Nanna will have to do a wee because she says she’s got a weak bladder…and I’ll have to tell her all about what I’m fixing.

  I am right. I look at my watch. It’s been an hour. Nanna sits on the lounge so that she can get a good view of my work and give me advice.

  ‘Jack, that’s very good, but what about that bit sticking out of the leg.’ ‘Jack, be careful not to put glue on the carpet.’ ‘Jack, you need another nail there.’ ‘Jack, the other leg wobbles too.’ ‘Jack…’

  I’m going to kill Nanna. No, I had better not. I have a plan. I put on one of Samantha’s quiet, boring CDs. Then I hammer in time with the slow beat. It’s warm in the lounge room because we get the morning sun. Nanna’s head slowly bends forward. She lurches sideways for a second, then settles back into the lounge. Nanna’s asleep.

  I like hammering and fixing with the music playing and Nanna quietly snoring on our old lounge. I close Samantha’s bedroom door when I drill the hole to hang Puss’s picture. Nanna doesn’t wake up.

  I’m finished. I put my tools back in order and then get my camera. Puss has curled herself right next to Nanna. Puss is a people cat. When I look at them through the camera lens, I feel this funny warm feeling inside. Puss and Nanna look the same. Round and snuggled, with their whiskers drooping and their bodies moving in time with their breath. Puss’s paw is on Nanna’s lap and Nanna’s hand is on Puss’s stomach. I click.

  Nanna wakes up for lunch. She loves her food and afterwards we play cards until Samantha comes home with Anna. There is news from school.

  I don’t want Nanna to know about what has happened there. She’ll get upset. Anyway, I am not going back to school. Mum said I didn’t have to go back.

  Anna is excited. ‘The Principal called a school assembly in the hall. Mr Angelou stood up and talked about bullying and “how this school won’t tolerate it”. He didn’t mention Jack’s name. Kids are going to get suspended for sure.’ Anna stamps her foot. ‘No-one is allowed to push anyone around. No-one will push you around anymore, Jack.’

  I roll my eyes. I don’t believe that.

  Nanna gets this worried look and the crinkles around her green eyes get tight and small. ‘Was Jack pushed around by other children?’

  ‘No, no, Nanna. Anna’s joking.’ I stare at Anna to be quiet, but she’s not quiet.

  ‘A casual teacher is taking our class and Mr Angelou isn’t teaching us for the rest of the week. He’s carrying out a huge investigation.’ She takes a breath before she gives the major news. ‘George Hamel wasn’t in class all day. He’s in serious trouble.’

  ‘Who is this George Hamel?’ Nanna asks.

  ‘He’s the worst of the lot. He’s always threatening kids.’ Anna pushes back her black curls. ‘Now he’s the one who’s scared.’ Anna looks at me.

  I rub my prickly hair. I don’t want to say anything. ‘That’s good.’ I take out my camera and start clicking Anna.

  ‘Don’t do that, Jack.’ I click again. ‘Stop it. This is important. Aren’t you happy?’

  ‘Happy?’ I click Samantha poking her tongue out at me. ‘I’m happy I could fix up all the things Mum wanted. I’m happy Nanna is here and you’re here and Samantha.’ I put down the camera. ‘I’m happy Rob’s coming over. He’s taking me surfing.’ I tease a little bit. ‘I’m happy your dad was going to go to the police. It was crazy.’ I cough. ‘It was kind of nice that he wanted to do that.’

  Anna nods. ‘Dad does get emotional. People send him up because he’s Italian. I don’t like that, but he thinks it’s funny. They wave their hands around and around and joke about him being a fruitologist.’

  ‘Like I did. You got angry with me, but it was only a joke.’

  Nanna’s been listening, even though it is hard for her to catch all the words. She raises her finger to get our attention. ‘You have to laugh at yourself sometimes and the silliness of life. Anna, I like your father. He laughs because he knows it doesn’t
matter that he moves his hands around a lot. He’s Italian, what can you expect?’ Nanna smiles. ‘What’s important to him is his family, you, a successful business.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘We’ve just got to understand jokes. What they mean. What they’re used for. Sometimes people make jokes that hurt. They’re not meant to be funny. Some jokes blame people for problems, some make them into scapegoats.’ Nanna puts her hand over mine. ‘You’d never do that, would you Jack?’

  ‘No.’ I can’t tell Nanna that I was called Bum Head. It would hurt her.

  Rob’s home early. He decided we are all going to the beach for surfing, swimming and fish and chips on the grass slope above the beach. ‘Nanna can come, and Anna. Ask your parents, Anna, and get your costume.’

  Everything’s packed up by the time Mum opens the door. The car is loaded with towels, buckets and spades, picnic chairs, a fold-up table and a beach ball. ‘Get your swimmers on,’ we all shout at Mum.

  We’re off to the beach. Rob and I head for the surf. Anna and Samantha are collecting shells for the sandcastle. When I look back at Mum and Nanna, they’re talking.

  ‘Surf’s up,’ Rob shouts as he dives into a wave. I dive in after him.

  10 Mr Angelou’s Bald Head Shines

  Mr Angelou has phoned. We’ve got a meeting with him this afternoon. Mum is leaving work early. The manager of the supermarket said it was all right. He has cut Mum’s hours down so that she is not doing any extra shifts, or Saturdays. She is talking about going back to work in the library. She’d like that.

  I get this awful feeling walking into the school. As we pass the classroom windows, I see kids at their desks. Christopher looks out. That is not going to be me. Mum promised. I don’t have to come back. Mum has got a serious look on her face. She is wearing her serious cream blouse and her serious maroon cotton skirt. Well, the skirt is nearly serious, except for a huge white daisy printed on the front and two smaller daisies printed on the back.