Head Spinners, page 12
A new version? Now that the guy mentioned it, I remembered Nico saying something about new gear coming out. Imagine what he’d say if I was the first to get it! But at the same time, I’d waited so long for this. I was so, so close . . .
I looked at Dad.
He shrugged. ‘It’s your money, sonny-boy. Your decision,’ he said.
It’s my money. The wad of notes felt heavy in my hand. For a moment I thought about what I’d done to get them.
‘Okay, I’ll take it!’ I said quickly, so that I wouldn’t have to think it through anymore.
The next thing I knew, I was handing over the cash and picking up a big box with two games discs balanced on top. It almost felt too easy, as if I’d just swapped some paper for the solution to all the problems of the universe.
All the way home in the car I read the instruction manual. I couldn’t believe the console was really mine. My very own, that I’d be able to play whenever I wanted. Maybe I’d even get good enough to beat the guys!
‘Do you want any help setting it up?’ Dad asked when we got home. He looked relieved when I told him I’d be fine.
My cat Suki appeared as I was sorting out the colour-coded cords. She touched her nose to the console before rubbing against my arm.
Soon it was ready. Brilliant! I picked a disc, humming to myself while I inserted it into the console. I could hardly believe this was happening. The controller felt amazing in my hands.
‘Isn’t it beautiful, Suki,’ I whispered. ‘And it’s all mine. This is my console. This is my game. This is my controller.’
It was when the opening screen flashed up that I first noticed something strange: a weird kind of fizzy feeling in the air, like how it feels when a thunderstorm is looming. The hairs on my arms were standing on end and so was Suki’s white fur.
But I was too busy selecting ‘single player’ to worry about any of that. The console was flashing green, the screen was alive with colour and sound. I was playing! I was playing my very own—
Zap!
In a flash of something – not light, more like a sudden burst of electricity – the game switched off.
I was left staring at a screen showing nothing but snow. What was going on?
Suki looked at me. I looked at Suki. She sniffed the screen then wandered away.
I pushed the power button, but nothing happened.
I jiggled all the cords and pushed them in hard. Nothing.
There was still a fizz in the air around me. The hairs on my arms were standing on end. I looked slowly around the room. What could be doing that?
I pulled the connections apart then set the game up again. But no matter how slowly I went, how carefully I worked, I couldn’t get it to turn on.
I was still pushing buttons when Suki wandered up for another pat. She turned into a total fuzz ball as she stepped over the game console. It would have been funny except right then I felt like crying.
My new game was totally kaput. Blank. Dead.
‘Must be a faulty cord,’ said Dad and jiggled it in the power socket, squinting and nodding.
‘That must be it,’ I said, glad that the static electricity had disappeared.
Dad looked at his watch, then at his glass of cider bubbling quietly where he’d set it down on top of the TV. ‘Well, looks like we’re heading back to the shops, eh?’
My dad’s not all that bad really.
It was late in the day by the time we got home with the new cord.
Suki was asleep on the carpet near the TV. I lifted the console out of the box, and felt it straight away – that strange buzz in the air. Suki looked as though she’d stuck her paw in a power point, but she didn’t wake up.
All the hairs on my arms were standing up again. Freaky. It felt like a super-charge of static electricity. But I hadn’t plugged anything in yet, so where could it be coming from?
The sound of the front door slamming was followed by Mum’s voice. ‘Pizza’s here!’
Yum. I made straight for the door out of the rumpus room. As soon as I was a few steps from the console the hairs on my arms went down. So did Suki’s fur. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? It seemed too deliberate.
Just to see what would happen, I stepped closer to the console again. Suki’s fur stood on end again.
If I hadn’t known better I would have started thinking something, or someone, didn’t want me to set up this game . . .
I stepped away from the game console. Suki’s fur went back to normal.
I stepped closer again. Suki turned into a fuzz ball.
Double weird. It was almost like a game of hot and cold: warm, warmer . . . now you’re boiling hot. Except this was more like weird, weirder . . . stop being so weird and spooking me out!
‘Tony, dinner!’ came Mum’s voice, louder this time.
I was sort of glad to race out of the room.
In the kitchen, Mum was handing out pieces of pizza on plates. I always have margarita. I sat down and bit straight into the best part of the slice – the point of the triangle. Poppy was talking about her callisthenics exams.
‘Can you stop talking with your mouth full?’ Clio said. ‘It’s making me sick.’
Poppy swallowed. ‘Shut up, Clio. I’m allowed to be happy, alright?’
‘I didn’t say you weren’t,’ mumbled Poppy.
‘Girls, please!’ said Mum.
Dad raised his eyebrows at Mum, and she rolled her eyes. There’s always something going on between Clio and Poppy.
‘How’s the game going?’ Dad said to me.
‘Ah . . . getting there,’ I said slowly.
‘Good,’ said Dad and nodded. Poppy and Clio were both frowning at their plates and not looking at anyone.
I helped myself to a second piece. Something weird sure was going on with the game. It almost seemed as if it was happening for a reason. As if someone was doing it on purpose . . .
Someone who knew what I’d done to get the money . . .
I put my pizza down, feeling a bit queasy. ‘So ah . . . Dad, what was she like? Our great-grandmother, I mean,’ I asked.
‘What was she like?’ said Dad and wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘I don’t know. The last time I saw her I was a teenager.’
He took another bite as if he expected that to be enough of an answer. But Mum kept looking at him, and I did too. I really wanted to know. Even Poppy and Clio had stopped frowning at their plates and were waiting for Dad to keep going.
He looked at the pizza in his hand. ‘Well, she used to cook amazing food, but . . .’ He shook his head and his voice drifted off.
‘But what?’ I prodded.
‘Well, she was a bit . . . bossy, really,’ he said. ‘She was used to getting her own way. I was a bit scared of making her angry, you know?’
I swallowed and glanced down, feeling queasy. ‘Yeah . . . I think I know what you mean.’
If she was here right now, she’d have a pretty good reason to be angry.
Could this be happening because of what I’d done with my great-grandmother’s watch?
Surely not! It was all just a coincidence, right? The console stopped working because something was wrong with it, not because of where the money came from . . .
After dinner I went back to the rumpus room, feeling silly. I didn’t want to be disrespectful or anything, but my great-grandmother was dead and buried on the other side of the world. Maybe she had been a bit bossy while she was alive. But there was no way she could know what I had done with her watch. I didn’t need to worry. Right?
I gathered my courage, picked up the cord and plugged it in. Maybe our next-door neighbour had put up a new aerial or something. Maybe some kind of interference was the reason the hairs on my arms were standing on end.
Even my teeth had started to tingle. But I ignored it, plugged everything in and turned the console on.
When the first screen appeared, I hit single player. Then start game.
Zap!
Everything died. Again.
Everything, that was, except my heart – it was racing like never before. If someone was trying to freak me out, they were doing a pretty good job!
It was hard to put my finger on what it was, but I could feel something in the room. With me.
She was here. And something told me that my great-grandmother wasn’t the kind of person who liked electronic games. Especially not ones that had been bought using money earned from selling her stuff.
I cleared my throat. ‘Ah . . . hello?’ I whispered.
No floating great-grandmothers appeared.
Just to be sure, I added, ‘Yasou?’ which was about as much Greek as I could manage right then. There was no response, but the air felt clear and the hairs on my arms were flat.
If my great-grandmother was somehow here, if she could see what was going on, then I was pretty sure she didn’t like what she was seeing – her youngest great-grandson in the land of plenty in Australia, living it up on her precious jewellery . . .
Not that I felt as if I was exactly living it up. In fact, I was feeling a bit sick, as if that fuzzy electricity had zapped my gut. Bleugh.
And I had a feeling it wouldn’t go away until I fixed what I’d done.
I had to buy back the evil-eye watch, and that meant returning the game.
‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked Mum the next morning in the kitchen.
She yawned, leaning against the bench. ‘Your dad’s sick. Says he’s coming down with something. He’s going to try and sleep it off.’
‘Sick?’ I said. ‘Like . . . queasy?’
Mum frowned. ‘Do you have it too, Tony?’
‘No, no,’ I lied. Was my great-grandmother angry at Dad too?
The jug clicked and Mum poured water into her mug.
‘Can I get a lift into the shops?’ I asked. ‘There’s some stuff I need to do.’
The spoon clanked against the mug as Mum stirred. ‘Didn’t you spend all your money yesterday?’
‘Yeah . . . it’s just . . . I changed my mind.’
Mum stopped stirring and went to say something. Then she sighed. ‘Alright, I’m going to the supermarket later. Come with me then.’
Great. Operation keep-the-ghost-happy was on track.
The games shop was crowded. A new sign had been added to all the others:
$390.90!!! one week to go! the lastest gaming technology! only $390.90!!!
Whatever. I just wanted to hand over the game and get my money back. I was glad to see a different shop assistant. She didn’t stop chewing gum the whole time I was in there. At least she took the console and games back and didn’t ask any questions. Once I had the wad of money in my pocket, I started feeling better. Everything would be okay.
The jewellery shop was a bit of a walk up the hill and around the corner. I was panting by the time I reached the door.
Just like the day before, I went in and blinked in the dim lights, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
Then I saw it. The watch was sitting in a display case – a single, unblinking eye staring at me. The blue face glowed like a shimmering ocean. It had a shiny new gold plaited band. The price tag said $550.
‘Back so soon?’ asked the shop owner.
I hadn’t even seen him until he spoke.
‘I changed my mind. I need it back.’
‘Is that so?’ the old man said slowly. His keys rattled against the glass as he unlocked the display case. ‘I’m quite pleased with how it came up,’ he said, and placed the watch carefully on the counter.
‘Yeah, that’s great.’ I pushed the wad of money towards him. ‘Thanks.’
The old man licked his lips and started counting.
I tried to ignore the blue eye staring up at me.
‘There’s not enough here, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘You need five hundred and fifty if you want to buy that watch.’
My jaw dropped. ‘What? But I sold it to you for three hundred and fifty just yesterday!’
‘Sorry, young man,’ said the owner. ‘That’s commerce for you. It’s called “value adding”. I bought it from you, added value, and now I’m going to sell it for a profit.’ He squished his lips together, trying to hide a smile.
‘But . . . but . . .’ I looked at the eye, sitting there. Watching. ‘But I need it back!’
‘Then you need to find another two hundred dollars,’ he said. This time he did smile. ‘Maybe you could ask your parents.’
I sure didn’t like this guy. ‘Just give me some time. Okay?’
‘I can call you if someone else shows interest in the watch. How about that?’
‘Thanks,’ I said as I wrote down my number. Thanks for nothing.
As I walked down the hill to the supermarket, I felt a familiar queasiness in my gut. My heart was beating fast too, but not just from walking this time. This was a disaster!
I needed money. Lots of it. But I had no idea how to get it. I didn’t have anything worth selling, and I couldn’t tell my parents what I had done. How was I going to get the extra money to buy back the watch?
The only thing I knew for sure was that my great-grandmother wasn’t happy.
Please don’t be angry! I begged. Don’t make my family sick! I’ll get your watch back. I promise. I’ll get it back . . .
But how?
Back at home I sneaked a quick peek into Dad’s room. He was sitting up in bed, sipping lemonade and reading the newspaper. He didn’t seem too sick.
But that didn’t solve my big problem. How was I going to earn the extra money to buy back the watch? I had the three hundred and fifty dollars from returning the game, and twelve dollars seventy-five from the garage sale.
That made $362.75. I counted it all out just to be sure.
It was all there. But I was still $187.25 short. How could I make that kind of money without asking my parents?
I started thinking about selling my stuff online – even stuff that I still wanted. My cricket bat? My clock radio? My complete set of Monster Mayhem books? But what would I say to Mum and Dad when they realised all my things were missing?
Around lunchtime I wandered into the kitchen with an eye for valuable items. We had an old breadmaker in a cupboard somewhere that no one used anymore.
But I didn’t get around to opening any cupboards. Lying open on the bench was a worn-out recipe book. I recognised it straight away. It was the one Dad had inherited from my great-grandmother.
A shiver ran up my spine. Was she trying to give me another sign?
I didn’t even want to go near the thing, but at the same time it was hard not to take a look. The pages were all tattered and splashed with stains. It smelled ripe and sort of spicy. I looked closer . . .
‘Tony?’
I jumped, half-expecting it to be my great-grandmother. Thank goodness. It was just Mum.
‘Amazing, isn’t it,’ she said, and delicately turned a page. ‘There’s a whole lifetime of recipes in here.’
The next page was covered with a magazine cut-out, folded neatly to fit. It was in Greek, of course. One of the recipes had been crossed out and another had been double-ticked.
‘I’m thinking of making something from here for Easter lunch next week,’ said Mum. ‘What do you think? Your dad can help with the translation.’
I nodded, watching the book as Mum kept turning pages. ‘Yeah, good,’ I mumbled.
The paper crackled slightly as it was moved. ‘There’s meant to be a recipe in here that your great-grandmother invented,’ said Mum quietly. ‘I wonder which one it is.’
The next page had an old recipe card stuck on it, but half of the ingredients had been crossed out and others added.
Mum looked at me. ‘Don’t let on to your dad that I told you this,’ she said, ‘but this recipe book was meant to be for you, Tony. Your dad was worried that you’d be upset and swapped his watch for the recipe book.’
Right. No wonder Dad was feeling sick. My ghost great-grandmother was peeved with him too.
‘Maybe she thought you’d become a great cook just like her!’ said Mum. She squeezed my shoulders, then opened a cupboard and started pulling out pots.
I looked at the recipe book again. I was meant to inherit this?
The next page didn’t have anything stuck down. It was a recipe written out entirely in pencil. It was faded but still easy to see. My great-grandmother’s handwriting.
I couldn’t take my eyes off that page. Years ago, on the other side of the world, my great-grandmother had guided a pencil to form each of these letters. Had she been wearing the watch when she wrote them?
A strange feeling came over me then – not fizziness or anything spooky. It was more a kind of sadness. It made me think. Not so long ago, my great-grandmother was cooking, eating, living . . .
In some ways, I didn’t blame her for being angry about the watch. It made her seem, well, gutsy, to be standing up for herself.
‘See if you can find any cookie recipes,’ came Mum’s muffled voice from inside the cupboard. ‘Your dad says she used to sell them to the whole village.’
I flipped a page, then stopped. She used to sell them to the whole village . . .
Could I do that? Could I make cookies and then sell them?
I wasn’t a very good cook, but I knew how to follow a recipe. Would anyone want to buy something that I had cooked?
My mind ticked through the possibilities. Maybe I could do an order form and hand it out at school.
Mum had a pot on the stove and was looking at me funny. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked.
