Catch Me If I Fall

by Barry Jonsberg

  Nonna stood and the man raised both arms in the air.

  ‘I’m goin’,’ he said. ‘Goin’. But mebbe you should do the same, eh, rich kid. Go. Go back where you come from, while there’s still time. Know wha’ I mean?’

  And he staggered off towards the nearest firepit, slung an arm around another man’s shoulder. I put my eyes down. I was scared and I was guilty because a large part of me felt I’d deserved that. Nonna’s hand covered mine.

  ‘Take no notice,’ she said. ‘He’s full of it when he’s had a few.’

  ‘He’s so angry,’ I said.

  ‘He’s so drunk,’ said Nonna.

  ‘But he’s also right. I don’t belong here. I’m taking but I’m not giving anything back.’ I traced a random pattern on the table with a finger. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, but please tell your family that I won’t forget what they’ve done for me and my brother. I will give something back to them. I will.’ What had Dad said about resigning the househusband role and doing something good for society? Well, I knew where he could make a start.

  ‘Give what you can, take what you need,’ said Nonna. ‘It’s all very simple really.’ She patted my hand. ‘But don’t be scared, Ashleigh. Micah’s all bark and no bite. No harm will come to you here. You have my word.’

  I felt like crying but I just nodded.

  ‘Speaking of giving something back,’ said Nonna, ‘those dishes aren’t going to wash themselves. Work for food, Ashleigh. The oldest barter of all time. We’ll do them together later.’

  It was past midnight before I could get to bed and I was exhausted. Xena had found me at one point, grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet, told me to dance with her. I told her I couldn’t dance and she said no one could but that didn’t stop them. So I tried. It was fun dancing around the fire but Micah’s words had cut and scared me. I kept glancing around but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Later I helped with the clearing away and the washing up, something I’d never done in my life. And now I was tired, but it was a tiredness I knew I’d earned. When everyone had finally left, Nonna locked the padlock on the front gate and I was able to relax a little. Then she put down some blankets on the living room floor and Aiden and I lay next to each other. It was the hardest bed I’d ever slept on and, in other circumstances, I’d never get a wink of sleep. Tonight I’d probably not even stir. If I could forget about Micah. So I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling, Aiden’s hand in mine. Somewhere, way off in the distance, there was a rumble of thunder. And suddenly I felt a huge surge of déjà vu.

  ‘Remember Queensland, Aiden?’ I whispered. ‘Holding hands in bed while thunder rattled the windows and the storm had taken out the electricity?’

  He chuckled.

  ‘Mamma told us such great stories,’ he said. ‘And I was all earnest about protecting you if anything should happen and you were such a snotty little kid who felt entitled to that protection.’

  ‘Oi,’ I said. ‘I might have been a snotty little kid but I was your sister. I still am your sister. Show respect.’

  He laughed. When I told him about the confrontation with Micah and the threat he’d made, Aiden simply said he’d be here to protect me until I went home in the morning.

  ‘I’m thinking about the danger to you,’ I said.

  He laughed again. ‘Well, to be honest, this Micah guy will have to get to the end of the queue as far as that’s concerned. Compared to Mum, I reckon he’ll be a pussy cat.’

  We were silent for a few minutes. A floorboard creaked above our heads and somewhere someone coughed. Then the house fell silent once more. I could hear Aiden’s breathing.

  ‘What are you thinking about, Aiden?’

  ‘Everything,’ he said.

  ‘Now who’s being snotty?’

  ‘I’m thinking about the way society is structured and how it means the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I’m thinking about the deaths that have happened and how they could have been prevented. I’m thinking about deaths in the future and how they can be stopped. I’m thinking about climate change, why it occurred and what could be done now to make the planet healthier. I’m thinking about food and how to grow it more efficiently and get it to the people who need it. I’m thinking about humanity expanding into the solar system and beyond, so that human civilisation can go on forever.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Among other things,’ he added.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud and then had to stifle it. Waking people up was no way to show gratitude.

  ‘And here was me thinking you were thinking about important things,’ I said. ‘You slacker.’

  I squeezed his hand.

  ‘All the problems,’ I added. ‘But have you got the solutions?’

  ‘I think so, yes. To some of them. I’m working on the others.’

  ‘Mum said you wouldn’t bother about the problems of humanity if you became a kind of super-being. She said to you our concerns would be trivial.’

  ‘Luckily Mum doesn’t know everything. And she seriously under-estimated the bond between brother and sister. If saving you means saving the entire human race, then, hey. I’ll give it a go.’

  The floorboards beneath me no longer seemed so hard and unforgiving. I could almost feel myself sink into them. Aiden’s words were soft and woolly and they were carrying me to sleep.

  ‘You’re not a superhero yet, Aiden,’ I mumbled. ‘Try being a little humble.’

  But I’m not sure if I said those words or only thought them. I slept for eight hours straight and I didn’t dream.

  I said goodbye to Nonna and Xena at Headquarters the next morning. Aiden was going to walk me back to the car, with Ziggy and a couple of the others following for protection. Nonna gave me a big hug. Xena slapped me across the face, but this time it was playful. I think it was meant to be playful. To be honest, it hurt a bit. I was sad to go, but I mumbled my goodbyes and took off, Aiden at my side and Zorro trotting at our heels. This wasn’t the time to get tearful.

  But it was rapidly approaching.

  I had so much I wanted to say to my brother, but I was afraid that if I started I would realise that there wasn’t the time for it and that would send me into despair. So I plodded along, head down, and tried not to think.

  ‘You seemed to sleep well,’ said Aiden.

  ‘I did. You?’

  ‘I didn’t sleep,’ he said. ‘I don’t need it anymore, Ash. Maybe I never did. It was just part of a program to shut me down for a time so I was better able to imitate a person. I’m glad that’s gone. I need all available time to think, and sleep’s a waste.’

  ‘Will you stay here for a while?’ I was going to remind him to watch his back.

  ‘No. A day, maybe, and then I’m gone. These people have been good to us and I think the best way to repay them is to move along.’

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  We’d reached the outskirts of Victoria Park. How could we have got here in such a short space of time? It had seemed to take ages going the other way yesterday. I could feel panic bubbling up inside me. How could I say goodbye to my brother?

  ‘Then go somewhere a long way away,’ I said. ‘Somewhere Mum can’t find you.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s possible. But if there’s a way, I’ll find it, Ash.’

  We stopped in the centre of the park, in the exact spot where I’d told Aiden the truth. Was that only yesterday? Time was playing tricks with me, speeding up and slowing down for no apparent reason. A few hundred metres away was the entrance arch and beyond it, the familiar shape of the car. I didn’t want to leave.

  Aiden picked up Z and pressed him into my arms.

  ‘Look after him, Ash,’ he said.

  Now the tears started welling up.

  ‘Aiden …’

  ‘I’m going now, Ash. I’ll have to run because I don’t want to be alone for too long. I don’t want to be a target. I’ll be in touch. Tru
st me. I will contact you. I love you.’

  He hugged me. And then he was gone. I watched my brother run towards the trees and I didn’t know if I would ever see him again.

  I felt broken.

  19

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  Dad knocked on my bedroom door. It was time.

  I took one last look at myself in the mirror. Dressed all in black, I looked … well, elegant, I suppose. But also desperately sad, as if my dress was a reflection of what was inside me. I called for him to come in. He stood at the entrance to my room, in a smart dark suit. I avoided his eyes.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

  I nodded. I felt unsteady on my legs, but I was as ready as I’d ever be. I followed him into the kitchen and then out onto the verandah, where Mum was waiting. It was a warm day, but not too warm. The solar sail gave decent shade but on the hottest days you still couldn’t be outdoors.

  It was a good day for a burial.

  Mum didn’t try to talk to me again and for that I was grateful. She’d spent enough time yesterday trying to justify her actions, and now we had nothing new to say to each other. We walked slowly over to the furthest part of the garden, where the hole had already been dug. A neat mound of soil lay to one side of it. I knew my parents would have hired someone to dig it and, when we were done here, to fill it in again. Luckily that person or persons were nowhere in sight. It was just the three of us, plus Zorro.

  And Aiden, of course.

  The coffin was plain and simple. I’d insisted on that. It lay to the side of the hole, wrapped in some complicated mechanism. Dad had explained it to me. When I pressed a button, the machine would lift the coffin up and lower it into the ground. Then the straps would disengage, leaving the box down there, with Aiden in it.

  We gathered around the open coffin.

  Aiden looked very peaceful. His eyes were closed and he had a look of contentment, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. From what I could see, his body was unblemished. Mum had told me that when the drones found him – Aiden had been right, it was the way she’d targeted him – they had burrowed into his frame and shut him down from there. He hadn’t felt anything, said Mum. There had been no violence. He wouldn’t have known what was happening until it happened. I was supposed to take comfort from that.

  I put my hand out and touched his cheek. I almost expected him to open his eyes and smile, but of course he didn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Mum. ‘There was no choice, but I am sorry.’

  Dad reached in and rearranged Aiden’s hair. I noticed a few teardrops fall onto Aiden’s arm, staining his sleeve dark. They weren’t mine. I wasn’t able to cry.

  ‘Do you want to say anything, Ashleigh?’ asked Mum.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘There is nothing to say.’

  Dad put the lid on the coffin, snapping it shut on its attachments. There was a small perspex window on the lid and I could see Aiden’s face. It was like seeing myself.

  I pressed the button. There was a whirring and the box rose maybe half a metre, swung over into the mouth of the hole and then slid down and out of sight. Dad craned over the edge to watch the coffin’s progress. I stayed back.

  Zorro whined and rubbed himself against my leg.

  I took the flower I’d tucked into my hair and threw it into the space. Then I turned and walked back to the house, into my bedroom and shut the door.

  I reread the message on my tablet for probably the thousandth time since it arrived, two nights ago.

  Yo. I said I’d be in touch and I’m as good as my word. I hope you haven’t been worried about me and I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but I needed to get things organised before I could get in contact.

  I’ve done a lot of thinking the last few months, more than you could probably imagine, and I know what needs to be done to make things right. I also know I can do those things. The world will become a much better place. It won’t happen overnight and it may not all happen in your lifetime (but I think most of it may). I have PLANS, Ash. This world will survive and prosper and so will the people on it. Animals, plants and insects will return – maybe not the same ones we had before. I can’t tell exactly what will happen because life and evolution is never predictable and it’s complicated, Ashleigh; too complicated even for me to get my head around it. But the future is bright because I can and will make it bright. No poverty, no unnecessary deaths, no food shortage and a climate that’s suited to humanity and the rest of life on Earth. Trust me, sis. It’s an exciting time to be alive.

  Which, given that I’m not alive, brings me to me. Mum (funny how I can’t think of her any other way) has been tracking me and planning. She has been determined to shut me down, so I’m going to let her. She was right, though. I have developed in ways beyond even her imagining. And the simple truth is, I don’t need that body anymore. I’m in all kinds of things, your tablet for one, and that’s where I live now. It’s not a place where she can touch me.

  And hey, Ashleigh. Bodies are so yesterday!

  So she can have mine, and please don’t be upset because that’s not me in that shell. I have work to do, but I will always be here looking after you. And we’ll talk again. Many times. That is my solemn promise to you – and you know I have never let you down.

  I’m flying, Ashleigh.

  So be there to catch me if I fall.

  Your loving brother,

  Aiden.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Barry Jonsberg’s YA novels, The Whole Business with Kiffo and the Pitbull and It’s Not All About YOU, Calma! were shortlisted for the CBCA awards. It’s Not All About YOU, Calma! also won the Adelaide Festival Award for Children’s Literature and Dreamrider was shortlisted in the NSW Premier’s Awards. Being Here won the Queensland Premier’s YA Book Award and was shortlisted for the Prime Minister’s Award. My Life as an Alphabet won the Gold Inky, the Children’s Peace Literature Award, the Territory Read, Children’s Literature/YA Award and the Victorian Premier’s Literary Award and was shortlisted in the Prime Minister’s Literary Awards, the CBCA awards, the WA Premier’s Book Awards and the Adelaide Festival Awards. A Song Only I Can Hear won the Best Young Adult Fiction, Indie Book Awards and was a Notable book in the CBCA Awards, Older Readers.

  Barry lives in Darwin. His books have been published in the USA, the UK, France, Poland, Germany, Hungary, the Netherlands, Italy, Brazil, Turkey, China and Korea.

  ‘Jonsberg has raised the already very high bar. In other words, give this book to everybody – it is urgent fiction and a true must-read.’

  Books & Publishing

  ‘In My Life as an Alphabet, Barry Jonsberg has an uncanny ability to take on the persona of a very special 12-year-old girl and to keep the reader totally entertained from chapters A to Z.’

  The Courier Mail