“Sandy? Is that okay?”
“Of course, Wolf. They love you. Would you mind taking them into the front yard? Murphy isn’t an issue, but those greyhounds have too much energy. Maybe you can get them to run around and burn some of it off?”
“Sure!” Wolf said, turning and bolting into the house.
When Wolf arrived at the front door, the greyhounds and Murphy were already waiting, their tongues hanging out of their mouths.
“Are we going outside?” Murphy asked.
“Yep. Come on,” Wolf said, opening the door and letting all five dogs out into the fenced, front yard.
The greyhounds ran across the lawn, at times spinning in circles on the grass, while Murphy remained calm and sniffed around the yard, occasionally marking his territory.
Wolf sat down on an old stump, and Murphy sat next to him, his furry head as high as Wolf’s shoulders. “How are things with your dad?” the Irish wolfhound asked as Wolf stroked the fur along his backbone.
“He’s still bad when he drinks. And, I think he’s going to drink today, too,” Wolf responded sadly.
“Be strong, Wolf,” Murphy replied, lifting his chin high up in the air.
Wolf looked at the gum tree next to him and noticed a dark, moving line on the massive trunk. He moved closer to it. “Ants,” Wolf told Murphy, putting his face close to the tree. “G’day,” Wolf said.
The line of ants stopped abruptly, and a single bug turned and looked at Wolf. “G’day. Who are you?”
“I’m Wolf. I’m friends with Aaron over on Bateman street.”
“Ah, Aaron. Righto. Yeah, he’s our second cousin or something like that. He’s been doing a lot of special forces training, right? How’s he going?”
“He’s good,” Wolf said, now looking up the trunk and at the branches stretching wide above him.
“Climb up with us, mate. The view is amazing,” the ant said.
“I’m not supposed to climb trees. I’ll get in trouble if my mum sees me,” Wolf moaned.
“Where is she now?” the ant said, glancing around the yard.
“In the backyard.”
“Ah, come on, mate. She can’t see you from there. We’ll meet you at the top.”
Wolf looked around, figuring he could go up and back before anyone noticed, then studied the tree, determining the best route up.
“Okay, I’ll see you up there,” he smiled, his path to the treetop clear in his mind.
The dense line of ants moved up the tree as Wolf took off his red trainers and white socks and set them at the base of the trunk. He inserted the ball of his right foot onto a protruding part of the trunk, putting his fingers in two holes above him and pulling himself up onto the first branch. Then, he put his left foot onto another notch in the trunk and pulled and pushed himself up to the next highest branch. He performed these movements seven times until he was able to pull himself up and onto a high branch where he dangled for a moment, upside down, before wiggling and flipping himself upright, gripping the branch between his legs.
“Good job, mate,” he heard an ant squeal. “Keep going!”
Wolf looked up and knew this would be the highest tree he’d ever climbed, and he wished Korey could see him now. Adrenaline pumped through his body, and he grew even more motivated to reach the top. He continued to climb, resting on branches as he went, the pungent smell of the leaves intoxicating him and coaxing him upwards. When he finally reached the top of the eucalyptus tree, he adjusted his body on the branch, holding on with both hands and slowing his breathing as he sat upright, pressing his back against the thick trunk, looking over the roof of the Shields house and grinning as he watched everyone mingling on the deck and at least eight kangaroos in a nearby paddock, eating grass. As Wolf stared at the horizon, delighted in his achievement, he looked down and hadn’t realised how high he had climbed, or how far down the ground was, and he felt disoriented, his heart beating faster. As the warm breeze tousled his neck-length, black curls, he searched for the ant trail but couldn’t see them.
He looked back at the group in the backyard and watched as his mum got up from her chair, disappeared into the house, then came out of the front door. With her hand lifted above her eyebrows to protect her eyes from the sun, she searched for Wolf in the front yard as the greyhounds ran up and surrounded her. “Get away,” she commanded before yelling, “Wolf, come and eat.”
As his mother looked everywhere for him, Wolf didn’t respond because he knew he was in trouble for being so high up in a tree. Eventually, she turned and went back into the house, and Wolf hoped they’d eat without him. Instead, he watched her return to the deck where she said something to the group, using gestures like a game of charades, and Wolf knew that she was telling them he was missing. Next, everyone stood up and walked into the house.
Moments later, they all poured out of the front door. Mrs. Shields and his mother yelled Wolf’s name as Orville glanced around the yard, a smirk on his face, and Wolf’s father and Mr. Shields stood quietly, sipping beer from stubbies.
“Um…I’m up here,” Wolf finally hollered, his voice shaky.
They all looked up towards the top of the tree.
“Wolf, you get down from there right now!” his mum practically screamed.
“Well, ah, I can’t,” Wolf replied, distressed.
“Wolf, you get out of that tree,” his father demanded.
“Dad, I’m se-serious. I-I-I can’t g-get down.”
“If you could get up, you can get down. Figure it out. Come on everyone. Let’s eat. He’ll manage,” his father said, going back into the house with Mr. Shields at his side.
His mum wrapped her arms in front of her chest, reluctant to leave, but turned and followed the others back into the house. Orville was the last to go inside and looked up at Wolf in the tree, mouthing the word “Stupid” and spinning his forefinger near his temple.
Now Wolf panicked, his heart beating even faster. As he tried to figure out how to get down, he heard the squeaky voice of an ant. “Nice view, right?”
“Oh, there you are. No, not really. How do I get down?” implored Wolf, his face hot red.
“Okay, okay little guy, let’s all just stay calm,” the ant replied, holding his hands upright in front of him, his palms aimed towards Wolf. The ant put a claw on his chin as Wolf waited for his advice on how to get down, frozen in place and too scared to move. “Alright, try this; you’re gonna hang off this branch and put your feet on that branch below, and when you are lined up, let go and drop down. Easy, right?” the black ant said, smiling.
“No way! What if I miss? Or slip off,” Wolf said, gnawing on his lower lip.
“Hum, okay, let me see if I can come up with other options,” the ant replied.
Wolf felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw Polly sitting next to him with her legs clamped around each side of the branch, giggling, her laugh tinkling like sleigh bells.
Wolf was furious. “Don’t laugh, Polly. It’s not funny! Maybe I should just let myself fall. Dead wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Lighten up, scardy cat, and don’t be dumb and start your ‘I’d rather be dead’ thing,” Polly said, oozing like honey onto the branch below.
“I can’t float or fly like you, Polly,” he sneered. “How the heck am I supposed to get out of this tree?”
“Do you want me to help you or not?” Polly asked, her hands on her hips as she looked up at him on the branch above her.
Wolf gave in. “Yes, Polly, I need your help.”
“Okay, that’s better. It’s not my fault you got yourself into this mess, so don’t get mad at me.”
Polly outlined her plan which Wolf accepted hesitantly, and he began following her direction. First, he unzipped his long sleeve jacket and draped it over the tree branch, his empty sleeves hanging over the sides of the branch like stirrups on a saddle.
“Good. Now lay on your belly, lean over to one side of the branch, and use both of your hands and grab the sleeves that are hanging,” P
olly said. “When you have a sleeve in each hand, slide off to the side and use the sleeves to dangle until your toes find the branch below.”
Wolf laid down, the bark poking his chest through his shirt, and he leaned to his left side, reaching below and feeling for the cuffs of the jacket. When he found them, he gripped them in his sweaty hands, and he let himself slip off to the left, his fists gripping the fabric. He was soon hanging in the air, holding onto his jacket sleeves, and he stretched his long body until the tips of his shoes touched the branch below. “I feel it, Polly! I feel it!”
“That’s it, Wolf. It’s right there. Stretch just a bit more and flatten your feet and balance,” Polly said, suspending herself in midair with her face close to his ear as she coached him. “You still have a little more fabric, so let go of some more and put your feet flat on the branch.”
Wolf was hanging in the air when he heard the front door open and his mum screaming his name. Wolf continued to do as Polly said, placing his feet on the branch below and balancing himself, and he let go of his jacket sleeves.
“Wolf!” his mum shrieked.
“I’m okay, Mum,” he yelled down to her as he squatted on the branch before sitting down, hanging on to the limb with both hands. He felt relieved when he looked down the trunk and towards the ground because he saw a clear path out of the tree and could now safely climb down on his own. He looked up at his jacket, still hanging on the branch above him, and realised it was too high for him to reach. “Polly, toss down my jacket,” he told her.
“What did you say?” his mum yelled.
“Nothing, Mum. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Don’t worry about your jacket,” his mother said. “It’s too high up. Leave it. Just get down safely.”
Wolf looked back up, and Polly was on the branch above him. She turned bright white and lifted the jacket into the air like she was pulling a rabbit from a magician’s hat, and she dropped it into Wolf’s arms.
“Thanks,” Wolf said to Polly as he put on his jacket and zipped it up.
He carefully crawled down the tree, and when he was within the ground’s reach, his mum grabbed him around his hips and helped him out of the gum tree. “Don’t scare me like that again, Wolf! How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of trees?”
“Sorry, Mum. I didn’t know it would be so hard to get back down,” Wolf said.
His mum looked up and said, “I can’t believe how the wind picked up your jacket like that. It was like I witnessed a miracle when it lifted in the air and landed in your arms. You are lucky you didn’t get hurt.”
Wolf looked at his mum and tried not to laugh because Polly was standing next to her and forcing her bright jade eyes inward, pretending to be cross-eyed.
“Now go wash up, and come have lunch,” she told Wolf.
“I don’t want to, Mum. Dad will be so mad. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of everyone,” he finished, his voice cracking.
“Well, you should have thought of that before you climbed up that tree. Now get moving,” she said, giving him a firm pat on his butt and pushing him towards the house.
Once inside, Wolf went into the bathroom. As he washed his hands, Murphy came up behind him and he could see the dog’s reflection in the mirror. “I’m scared, Murphy. I don’t want to go out there with Dad. He’s been drinking grog,” he told the dog, twisting a hand towel with his fists.
“Wolf, if he tries to hurt you, I’ll bite him, I swear,” he replied, wagging his tail as he barked.
“He won’t do anything now because there are other people around, but I’m worried about what he’ll do later,” Wolf said, taking a deep breath, leaving the bathroom.
When Wolf entered the backyard, his father said loudly, “Wolf, come over here, son.”
Wolf stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the ground, afraid to look up. His heart was pumping fast, and his instinct was to go back into the house. However, he knew if he disobeyed his dad, especially in front of others, it would be worse later on.
As he was contemplating what to do, Murphy nudged his leg and Wolf heard him say, “I’m right here. Go ahead.”
Wolf walked forward, sweat beading on the back of his neck, and as he got closer to his dad, he saw his father smiling, holding a stubbie in his hand. “Sit here, Wolf,” he said.
With the Irish wolfhound at his side, Wolf approached his dad. His father reached out and put his empty hand around Wolf’s waist, pulling him closer, and Wolf felt the muscles in his body tighten. As much as he wanted to trust his father’s warmth, his dad’s affection always caused him to feel nervous.
“So, how was the view up there? Bloody good, I reckon,” his father said.
Though Wolf felt confused, expecting to be in trouble, he also felt a familiar feeling of hope that things might be changing with his father, which to date had still never happened. “Bloody good alright. You should try it yourself sometime,” Wolf joked timidly, wondering if his response was going to get him bashed in front of everyone.
“Wolf,” Mum scorned, “you watch how you speak to your father!”
“Oh, relax, Lizzy, for God’s sake,” his dad said. With sincerity, his father looked Wolf in the eyes and said, “You good? Did you hurt yourself?”
“I have a few scrapes, but I didn’t hurt myself,” he answered. “I’m as tough as a rusty nail.”
“You see Shieldy. I’m raising two fine boys,” his dad said, reaching out and rubbing his calloused palm on the top of Wolf’s black hair. “And this one’s a tough little bugger. Now go get some tucker, Wolf…and climb trees anytime you want. It’s good for ya,” he finished.
Wolf's mum gripped her paper plate with both hands, staring into her lap with her lips pressed together.
Wolf went to the food table and made himself a sausage sandwich with cheese, grilled onions, and sauce. He grabbed a Fanta and headed for a shady spot in the backyard. He sat on a big rock, and Murphy stretched out on a cool patch of grass next to him. Wolf cracked open the soft drink can, and just when he was about to take a sip, Polly jumped out from behind the tree. “Boo!” she shouted.
The can in Wolf’s hand shot upwards, launching a stream of syrupy liquid into the air, raining Fanta down onto his shoulder. “Very funny, stupid ghost,” he said, gazing at Polly swaying gently in the summer air.
Wolf knew that Polly hated it when he called her ghost. She had told him on numerous occasions that she wasn’t a ghost and that she was a nonphysical being and a soul.
“Want some?” Wolf asked, offering her a bite of his sausage sandwich.
“Ha-ha, very funny. You know I can’t eat,” she replied, sticking out her tongue. “And, don’t call me ghost.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
During school lunch, Wolf sat outside on a bench with Les. They were both dressed in the same outfit, a uniform of brown and tan, and the only difference was that Wolf was wearing red, canvas trainers, and Les was wearing brown leather shoes.
Now almost twelve years old, Wolf still only spoke to Les, and although other kids tried to be his friends, especially flirtatious, young girls, Wolf didn’t allow anyone else into his life. He had all the friends he needed, including Polly and Master Kelly.
“I’m going to play cricket with some of the guys on Saturday,” Les said to Wolf, taking a bite of an apple. “Want to come?”
“Nah,” Wolf said. “Not my thing.”
“Nothing is your thing, Wolf. I seriously have no idea what you do outside of school. What do you like to do?”
“None of your business,” Wolf replied.
As he had promised his mother years earlier, he never told anyone about karate except Polly and his friends in the yard, so Les had no idea that Wolf went to the dojo every day. Since Wolf began karate at the age of six, he had never missed a day of training, an accomplishment made possible because his family never went on holidays and stayed in town every day of the week, and also because Wolf had the soul of a samurai.
Over the years, karate came naturally to him, and Master Kelly often mentioned that Wolf had extraordinary talent. And now, at twelve years old and after years of training, Wolf had the strength and the moves he needed to protect himself in a fight.
“Well, see ya in class,” Les said, leaving the bench and joining another group of classmates huddling across the schoolyard.
While Wolf sat by himself, Bruce, the stout, chunky boy who was still the class bully after all these years, walked over to where Wolf sat, followed by his two cronies Paul and Dave. “Well, well, if it isn’t di-di-di-dickwit,” Bruce smirked. “Heard you stuttering in class today. Thought you’d grown up by now.”
Wolf clenched the front edge of the wooden bench with both hands, focusing his piercing, brown eyes on Bruce. “Piss off, Bruce, or I’ll throw you over the fence,” he said, his words controlled.
“What a joke,” Bruce laughed, placing his hands on his stomach for effect, then stepped towards Wolf.
“I warned you,” Wolf said, sliding off the wooden bench.
Behind where Wolf sat was a chain-link fence, the top reaching Wolf’s chest. As Bruce approached, Wolf slowed his breathing, curled his toes, and stood with his right foot forward. Bruce rushed at him with his arms straight out in front of him, and Wolf stood in place, preparing to use the boy’s momentum to his advantage. When Bruce’s hands almost touched Wolf’s chest, Wolf gripped Bruce’s left elbow with his right hand and clamped Bruce’s thick, right shoulder with the other, pulling Bruce towards him, pressing on his arm until his torso twisted and he lost his balance. Wolf straightened his right arm and slid it below Bruce’s right armpit, bending his elbow and creating a hook, and Wolf shot out his hip, hoisting Bruce off the ground and tossing him to the other side of the fence and into someone’s backyard.
Wolf brushed his hands together and turned to face the other two boys standing motionless, their mouths hanging open. “Unless you both want to join that dickhead over the fence, I’d suggest you bugger off,” he stated.
As the boys sprinted away, Wolf could hear the chain link rattling. He turned and saw Bruce’s cropped, white-blond hair and candy red face behind the fence, and Bruce didn’t make eye contact with Wolf as he lumbered back over the chain link and into the schoolyard.
She Named Me Wolf Page 20