The History of Mischief

by Rebecca Higgie

  I run to my room and slam the door. I jump on my bed and scream and cry. After a while I feel tired. I just lie in the bed and feel sad.

  It’s raining. Raining really hard. The TV’s blaring. Kay hasn’t called me for dinner and it’s past midnight.

  I’m hungry. I’m embarrassed. I acted like a baby.

  I’m sad about the rain too. Kay used to love the rain. She’d get this look in her eyes, wild and excited. Sometimes she stood outside looking at the sky until someone asked her what she was doing. She’d say, ‘It’s going to rain today.’ And it would.

  She loved the sound of it most and would open every window so the house was full of noise. She’d close her eyes, smile and just listen. Mum and Dad never minded. We were a family who loved winter. Mum put us in stupid matching jumpers. On the weekends, Dad made hot chocolate with real chocolate and cream, and we’d watch movies up loud so we could hear them over the heaters. We all sat shoulder to shoulder, even if we’d had a grumpy day.

  Sometimes I wish the accident had happened in summer. When it rains now, Kay shuts the house up. She turns the TV on or puts her iPod up so loud I can hear it through her earphones. She doesn’t let us go out when it rains unless it’s school or work, and if it’s really bad she calls in sick and lies in her room all day. I don’t mind the rain so much. It never sounds like it did on that day. Maybe I should tell her that. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so sad.

  The TV goes off. Kay goes to the bathroom and then her bedroom. All the lights go out. The rain gets louder. I want to tell her I’m sorry, but I don’t.

  The next day, Kay wakes me up and says, ‘I’m sorry I hurt your arm. I was worried about you running onto the road. I’m still really disappointed with how you behaved. It really hurt when you said you hated me. I shouldn’t have said that thing about Mum, but neither should you. It’s not fun for me. I don’t want to do all the Mum and Dad things, but I have to.’

  I want to apologise but I don’t say anything. I can’t even look at her. Kay sighs.

  ‘I’ve got a day off today. Some tradies are coming to put bars on the windows and doors. They’re going to make our house really safe. And pretty too.’

  I don’t think I can say sorry now because she’s talking about something else.

  ‘Anyway, let’s get ready.’

  I get up without making a fuss.

  ‘What have you got on at school today?’ Kay asks as she gives me a bowl of cornflakes.

  I don’t answer. I don’t know how to say what I want to say. I just eat my breakfast, have a shower and get dressed. Kay walks me to school. When we get to the school gates, I run to the library.

  It’s Wednesday. Dance again. Mrs Lornazak makes everyone dance to ‘Poker Face’ by Lady Gaga.

  ‘You do realise what she’s talking about when she refers to her “muffin”, don’t you, Audrey?’ Mrs Armstrong says to Mrs Lornazak when she tries to make me join in.

  Mrs Lornazak goes red.

  ‘It’s interesting what kids learn from pop music these days,’ Mrs Armstrong continues. She takes a big sip of her coffee.

  Mrs Lornazak changes the song to something else. Everyone complains. Theodore asks if they can dance to it again. He asks eight times before she threatens to send him to the principal (he asks two more times but she doesn’t send him).

  Theodore sings the chorus all the way back to class, especially the na-na-na-naaaa! part. Miss Sparrow does send him to the principal’s office for disrupting silent reading.

  I still feel bad. I wish I’d apologised when Kay said sorry. I get funny with this stuff.

  At lunch, Theodore teaches me how to make an origami box, so I make two. Then I make two little cranes and put one in each box. I write the word SORRY on the box lids and FROM A. MISCHIEF on the bottom.

  When Kay picks me up, I give her one of the boxes. She smiles as she reads the lid. She doesn’t look on the bottom. Adults never look at things properly. Maybe she’ll find it later and it’ll be a nice surprise.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she says. Then she opens it. ‘This is … cute. Looks like the paper birds from Mrs Moran’s garden.’

  I don’t say anything.

  ‘Anyway, thank you.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I say. I look at the ground. ‘I don’t hate you.’

  She strokes my cat ears beanie. ‘I know.’

  She says it softly, just like Mum.

  ‘Can we go to the library so I can apologise to the librarian?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I made her a box too.’

  ‘Okay, sure.’

  We walk to Guildford Library and I go straight to the desk. I hand the librarian the box and say, ‘I’m sorry I was rude yesterday.’

  The librarian smiles. She also doesn’t look at the bottom. ‘This is very sweet. Did you make it?’

  ‘Yes. There’s a bird inside.’

  She opens it. ‘How charming! Thank you,’ she says, holding it up to her face. Then she looks at me. ‘I hope this means we won’t have another episode like yesterday.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No throwing books?’

  ‘No throwing books.’

  ‘Good,’ the librarian says. ‘By the way, I found something you might like. When you threw that book at me, I noticed you’d put a Post-it note on the page about the Dragon of Wawel Hill.’

  ‘Kay says it’s okay to put Post-it notes in books because they don’t leave a mark.’

  ‘You’re not in trouble!’ she says. She ducks under her desk and comes back with the Poland book and another small book with a picture of a dragon on it. ‘It just made me think that maybe you were interested in the dragon. And would you believe it, we have a book called The Dragon of Krakow and other Polish Stories right here at Guildford. Krakow is the city of Wawel Hill. It’s the same story.’

  She hands it to me. The dragon on the front is green and there’s a castle ablaze in the background.

  ‘I know you read lots of adult books but this one’s for kids.’

  I don’t know what to say. I flip through the book.

  ‘You can borrow it if you like,’ the librarian says. Then she goes behind her desk again and brings out a pile of books. ‘I also saved those inter-library loans you wanted to renew yesterday.’ The librarian looks at Kay. ‘If it’s okay with you.’

  Kay nods. The librarian takes my library card, scans all the books and puts them in my giant red library bag. There are so many it’s almost full.

  ‘There you go,’ she says. ‘The inter-library loans are due back sooner than the two Poland books, so make sure you keep your docket with the due dates.’

  I look at the dragon book and then at her and say, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’

  I want to say more. I want to say how I don’t deserve this, how I don’t deserve Kay, how I’ve been grumpy and mean and I’m so sorry. I just feel so angry and sad all the time, but I love the mischief, I love the books and I love the library.

  I can’t say any of this, but I do smile.

  She smiles right back.

  Jessie

  When we get home, there are black bars on all the doors and windows. They are like prison bars with pretty twists.

  ‘See? Look how strong they are,’ Kay says, pulling on the bars. ‘They’re made specially, just for our house.’

  They aren’t as nice as the fence with the roses but they look okay. ‘How do you open them?’

  ‘You don’t. We can still open the flyscreen and the glass window, but you can’t open the bars.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It keeps us safe. No one will ever break in again.’

  ‘What if there’s a fire?’

  ‘We go through the doors.’

  ‘But the doors have bars on them.’

  ‘We can open the doors. We have keys. You can swing them wide open.’

  ‘What if you get trapped in your room and you can’t get to the front door or there’s a fire in the way?�
��

  ‘Go to the backdoor.’

  ‘What if the backdoor has fire in front of it too?’

  Kay looks annoyed. ‘It won’t happen, so don’t worry about it!’

  I take the Dragon of Krakow book to school and read most of it at lunch. In this book, the king offers the shoemaker anything he wants, so he asks for the dead dragon’s scales and makes shoes with them! There’s a story about gingerbread bees that makes me think of Serafin. Some of the stories are sad because people or animals die and lots of princesses have to marry the heroes, even though no one asks if they want to.

  Theodore still bothers me, but after I tell him I want to read, he finds a book about dragons (copycat) and reads next to me.

  On Thursday, after school, Kay and I go to the park. I count out the graves again. I imagine the soldiers are like ghost Skarbniks or Smoks. Maybe they are counting along with me.

  Afterwards, we go to the bakery. I get a gingerbread man with Smarties for eyes.

  Then Theodore and a blonde lady come into the bakery.

  ‘Jessie!’ he yells. He puts his arms out for a hug. I don’t hug him. He wraps his arms around himself and smiles.

  ‘Hi,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, is this Jessie?’ the blonde lady asks. She looks about Kay’s age. She’s got curly hair, long eyelashes and a big smile. She looks like a Disney princess, but in jeans and a woolly jumper.

  ‘Yep!’ Theodore says. ‘Jessie, this is Stephanie. She bought the nice origami paper for us and got me that documentary on Greece! You remember!’

  I nod. I chew on my gingerbread.

  ‘It’s so nice to meet you,’ Stephanie says. ‘Theodore tells me about the things you read. You’ve taught him so much. You’re obviously a very smart young lady. And I love your cat ears beanie.’

  ‘Who’s this, Jessie?’ Kay asks.

  ‘Boy from school,’ I say. I chew my gingerbread some more.

  ‘You must be Kay! You’re Jessie’s sister, right?’ Stephanie says, holding out her hand to Kay. They shake hands. ‘I’m Stephanie, Theodore’s nanny. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while but I can never seem to catch you after school. Theodore talks about Jessie every day. I’m so grateful he has such a lovely friend. I love how they spend their lunchtimes in the library. Jessie’s very considerate to include Theodore in her reading and origami.’

  Kay nods. ‘Oh, good.’

  ‘Maybe we can organise a playdate,’ Stephanie says. Theodore goes ‘yay!’ and does that funny bouncing-on-the-toes thing he does all the time.

  ‘Maybe, yeah, but we’re really busy,’ Kay says. ‘Even the weekends are jam-packed, you know. Maybe another time. We really gotta get home.’

  ‘Sure, um …’

  We leave. Stephanie calls out, ‘We’ll catch up at school,’ and Theodore yells, ‘BYE JESSIE!’

  I think Kay hates meeting new people as much as I do.

  ‘So, you have a friend,’ she says as we get closer to home. ‘You didn’t tell me. That’s nice. Should I have organised a playdate?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay. But it’s good. What’s his name again?’

  ‘Theodore. And we’re not friends,’ I say. ‘He just taught me origami and sometimes we read together because he won’t leave me alone. He’s annoying.’

  ‘He seems nice though.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘It’s good you’re being nice to him.’

  I don’t think I’m that nice to him. I finish my gingerbread and don’t say anymore.

  The next day is a Friday, which means the school library isn’t open. Kay drops me off early and I sit in the courtyard so the ladies in the office can watch us. There are only a few other kids around. It’s cold.

  Theodore’s here early too. He does what he always does when the library’s closed: listens to his iPod and dances. He has it up so loud, I can hear it. He listens to the same songs over and over again. Today’s it’s one with English words like ‘fight till the end’ and ‘we ain’t playin’, no’ in between Korean words. There’s this part that keeps repeating – ‘Ready! Set! POW POW POW!’ – where he pretends to fire a gun.

  He dances up to me and wiggles his shoulders as he raps in Korean. I tell him to ‘GO AWAY THEODORE!’ He just wiggles somewhere else. During class, he gets told off four times for humming it.

  He sings it at recess and lunch, ‘POW POW POW!’ at everyone. That part is kinda fun. It gets stuck in my head. I get told off for humming it too. Mrs Armstrong points her fingers like a gun and goes ‘PEW PEW PEW!’ at Miss Sparrow. Theodore laughs so much I think he might wet himself. Miss Sparrow looks annoyed at Mrs Armstrong but doesn’t say anything.

  When Kay picks me up, she looks pleased but won’t tell me why. She smiles like she knows something I don’t.

  When we get home, I find a piece of paper on my bed. It says: A jousting knight shows the way. Pointiest regards, A. Mischief.

  I run to Kay, who’s making dinner and listening to one of her podcasts. ‘What’s this?’

  Kay pulls one earphone out. ‘What?’

  I show her the paper.

  ‘Dunno,’ she says. She puts her earphone back in.

  I read the paper again and remember all the weird figurines in the garden. I go outside and search among the dead ferns. I find the jousting knight with its peeling paint. It points to a spot on the veranda where a white envelope is sticky-taped to a wooden pole. In the envelope is another piece of paper.

  Try to stay warm. Toastiest regards, A. Mischief.

  Stay warm? How do I stay warm? Maybe with a jumper? I go to my room and search through my clothes drawer. Nothing. Wait! The fireplace! I run to the fireplace and find another piece of paper.

  Needle in a haystack? Find the haystack of paper. Then find the needle. Most cryptic regards, A. Mischief.

  This one’s confusing. I can’t figure it out. At dinner, I quiz Kay.

  ‘What’s a haystack?’

  ‘A pile of hay.’

  ‘Why would a needle be in a pile of hay?’

  ‘It’s a saying. Imagine trying to find a needle in a stack of hay. It means something is really hard to do.’

  ‘Oh. Would it be easier to find a needle in a haystack of paper?’

  ‘I think A. Mischief wants you to consider what a haystack of paper would be. You’re trying to find another note, right? Where would you hide a piece of paper if you didn’t want it to be found?’

  I try to think. ‘Can’t you just tell me?’

  ‘Me? I’m not A. Mischief.’

  Kay thinks she’s so clever. I try to figure out what a haystack of paper would be. I go through the papers on my desk and my homework books, but don’t find anything.

  At 11:02 pm, I think THE STUDY! I run in and look at all the books, all that paper, and there it is, a piece of paper stuck to the spine of a book with a needle. This note sends me to the oven (Gingerbread for Serafin? Must face the dragon’s breath. Tasty regards, A. Mischief), then the back of the TV (Moving pictures and sounds, sure, but not as good as a moving forest. Regards from the couch, A. Mischief), and even to the freezer (Treats are only for the weekend? Frostily yours, A. Mischief). The last clue says Go to that night-time place you like best in the morning. Restful regards, A. Mischief. I go to my bed and look under the pillow, the sheets and then finally under the bed itself. In my banana box, I find a postage bag. Kay’s name and our address is crossed out and replaced with:

  JESSIE A.K.A. A. MISCHIEF THE TWO-HUNDRED AND SECOND

  GUILDFORD, AUSTRALIA

  I rip the postage bag open. It smells like orange soap and salt but inside is a large book, a DVD and a postage slip from KOPALNIA SOLI WIELICZKA/WIELICZKA SALT MINE. The book’s so big and heavy. It’s the biggest book I’ve ever had by far. There are pictures of the horses, the mills, the lakes, the mine shafts, the chapels, everything. I run to the loungeroom where Kay’s watching TV and hug her.

  ‘Thank you!’

  She laughs and says, ‘No worri
es, my little mischief.’

  We watch the DVD about the salt mine together. We have to pause it a lot because it’s in Polish and I’m not very quick reading the English subtitles. The DVD says the mine is still open and you can visit or stay there for health reasons, because salt air is good for you. It talks about Skarbnik. I feel so proud. I know where Skarbnik came from. No one else does.

  Kay tells me to go to bed, which I do. I wait till I hear her door close and then turn my bedside light on and read the book until 4:07 am. I dream of horses, ghosts and deep salt lakes. I wake up at 1 pm on Saturday feeling happy.

  On Monday, Kay lets me take my book about the mine to school. I plan to make notes at recess and lunch so I can finish my mischief report and we can read the next history. When I arrive, Theodore’s there but he isn’t singing or dancing. He sits in the corner near the hall, making paper cranes. He looks sad.

  I’ve never seen Theodore sad, and he looks really sad, like he might cry. I try to read my book but can’t help looking at him. Kay said it was good that I was nice to him. Maybe I should actually be nice to him.

  ‘What you doing?’ I ask.

  ‘Making paper cranes,’ he says. He sniffles loudly.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. I go away for a bit, but then come back and ask, ‘What’s wrong?’

  He shakes his head and tries to make the cranes even faster.

  ‘Can I help?’

  He nods. I sit down and we make cranes until the bell goes. At recess, he finds a corner in the undercover area and we make more. He’s quiet in class and doesn’t even smile when Mrs Armstrong tries to do the ‘Ready! Set! POW POW POW!’ thing again.

  At lunch, he asks me, ‘What does it feel like?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When your mum dies?’

  ‘It’s horrible. You die,’ I say quickly. ‘But you don’t stay dead. You just become another thing. And it’s not a nice thing. It’s a sad thing. And it’s angry. And lonely.’

  ‘I don’t want to be another thing,’ he says quietly.

  We don’t talk about it again. I cry when it’s Kay who picks me up and not Mum. I cry all the way home and all afternoon. I won’t go out, not even to the park or the bakery, where Kay says we can buy jam donuts and gingerbread cooked by dragons. I think that’s why she comes into my room with the History, strokes my hair and says, ‘Let’s read the next one, hey?’