Head Spinners, page 4
In bare feet we slipped across to the common room. A radio was playing faintly in the nurses’ station, but no one noticed we were up.
Without a word, Jack pulled off his cap and turned his back to me.
I rubbed my face, wondering groggily why he still wore that cap at night. He was staring at the wall. Strange guy.
Then the creepiest sensation came over me. It was like when you realise someone is watching you, but you’re not sure how you know. Then you turn to see, and there really is someone watching you . . .
That was because I was being watched, by an eye in the back of Jack’s head. It was a light-brown eye complete with eyelashes and eyebrow, peering out from a bald patch at the back of his head. It was the most unnerving thing.
When the eye blinked, I gasped and covered my mouth with a hand. ‘Can you see me?’
I asked, even though I knew the answer. That eye was focused, staring right at me. I wanted to turn away.
‘Sure,’ said Jack to the wall. ‘Go on, hold up some fingers. Everyone wants to.’
Slowly, I raised my hand, holding up three fingers. ‘Wait, hold on,’ I said. Spreading them as wide as I could, I held up four fingers of my new hand, plus two on each of my others.
Jack snorted. ‘Two plus two, plus four makes eight. Very funny.’
He hooked his cap back on his head, and turned to face me. When our eyes met, I knew we were thinking the same thing. No one else in the world could have done what we just did.
‘So how . . .’ I started. ‘I mean, I don’t get . . .’
‘I’m not very good at seeing in three-sixty degrees. It’s hard and disorienting,’ he said.
‘I see behind me best when I have my other eyes closed.’ He glanced out the door, then back to me. ‘Or if I flick my focus: in front, behind, in front, behind. To be honest, I use it most at night. When I’m sleeping, my third eye can take stuff in.’
I nodded, not sure what to say. A new arm was pretty useful, but a new eye was out of this world.
‘Anyway,’ said Jack and adjusted his cap. ‘Come on. Follow me.’
It wasn’t until he was pushing numbers on a keypad at the end of the hall that I realised Jack’s eye wasn’t the reason he’d woken me. There was something else he wanted me to see.
The door clicked and swung open. Jack grinned.
‘We’re not meant to be doing this, are we?’ I said evenly.
He shrugged. ‘Being a freak has got to have some benefits, don’t you think?’
I looked past him into the darkness, unsure.
‘Are you coming in or not?’
I nodded.
Quietly Jack shut the door behind me and flicked on a light. We were in an office. Big desk, bookshelves, computer, swivel chair . . .
For a moment I thought about jumping on to check if anyone was online, but Jack was already pushing buttons on another lock.
‘How did you work out the codes?’ I whispered.
‘How do you think?’ When the second door clicked, Jack pushed it open and switched on another light. ‘Turn out that light, will you?’
Switch flicked, I followed him into the next room. It was the most amazing place.
The first thing I noticed was a shelf of jars with things floating in them. One looked like a snake, or was it a coiled tail? The next was a fleshy blob. I had no idea what it was. Smaller jars held fingers and toes. Up high, I could see a tiny hand and
I wondered if it belonged to an arm somewhere.
Jack was standing next to a light box mounted on the wall. It flickered a bit when he turned it on. Without a word he pulled an X-ray out of a drawer and hooked it up.
I tilted my head, trying to work out what I was looking at, then breathed in. ‘That . . . foot’s on backwards . . .’
‘I think it’s the knee that’s in reverse,’ said Jack. ‘See how the pelvis is facing that way?’
I nodded, not wanting to look away. But other parts of the room called out for my attention. A noticeboard was covered with all kinds of photos – a foot that looked more like a flipper, a shin with shiny hard skin like scales . . .
Some photos were faded and old, as if they’d been taken in the seventies or eighties.
‘Has this been happening, like, all the time?’ I breathed.
‘They’re mostly babies, did you notice?’ said Jack. ‘They amputate the extra limb before they even make it out of hospital.’ He opened a drawer, put back the X-ray and pulled another out. The fact that he knew where everything was made me think he’d spent a lot of time in here.
‘It’s just . . .’ I shook my head, looking down so that I could think for a bit. All these parts used to belong to someone . . . a kid who was out there in the world. What kind of life did they lead now?
The next X-ray showed a small shoulder, I think, with bone sticking out. It made me think of Erin and her wings, though this looked different.
‘Have you found any . . . eyes?’ I asked.
Jack looked away. ‘No,’ he said to the wall. Muscles clenched in his jaw. ‘I’ve looked through this whole room four times and never found a single eye.’
He put the last X-ray back in the drawer, and switched off the light box.
In silence, we made our way back outside. Without needing to be asked, I switched on the light in the office before Jack locked up the room.
The hall was quiet, empty and dark.
‘Thanks,’ I whispered, even though it seemed like a weird thing to say.
Jack responded with another shrug.
We tiptoed back down the hall and into our beds. It felt wrong not being able to talk about it all, but at the same time I wasn’t sure what I would have said.
I didn’t sleep very well for the rest of the night. I couldn’t stop thinking about those babies and kids. How did they feel after their operation? Where were they now? For all I knew, I could have been going to school with one of them.
Once they’d been fixed, how could you tell?
The next morning I was woken by the feeling of my blanket being lifted and the mattress moving slightly.
I opened my eyes to see a face duck under the covers.
‘Hi, Erin,’ I whispered.
The shape giggled before Erin’s face appeared. ‘It’s six forty-seven,’ she whispered, holding her wrist about two centimetres from my eyes.
I went cross-eyed trying to focus. ‘Not anymore.’
The wrist disappeared. Erin mouthed some words at her watch before saying, ‘Six forty-nine.’
‘What time does your mum get here?’
‘Eight o’clock.’
I yawned. ‘Well, that’s plenty of time.’
Erin was lying on her side and I could see the point of a wing over her shoulder. ‘I had the most wonderful dream.’
‘What did you dream?’
‘I dreamt that I could fly,’ she said.
‘Tell me all about it,’ I said softly.
She snuggled closer. Her feet were cold but the rest of her was toasty. ‘I’m running really fast. On top of a hill, or . . . it’s like I’m on top of the world. Then all of a sudden there’s no more ground, but I’m not scared. I just open my wings and it’s so easy. I’m so high . . .’ She sighed. ‘I just . . . fly.’
I shifted a little to look at her. All I could see was the top of her head. ‘So you’re not flapping like a bird . . . you’re gliding?’
‘Is that what it’s called?’
I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking. Erin’s dream sounded like the hang-gliders I’d seen once when I was bushwalking. Now that I was thinking about it, Erin’s wings looked a bit the same when they were open.
I looked at the top of her head again. ‘Want to try something before your mum gets here?’
Erin sat up. ‘What?’
‘Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the common room.’
Five minutes later I was pushing everything in the common room against one wall. Erin was trying to help, but was mostly getting in the way.
Jack had followed us, yawning and rubbing his neck, then plonked himself in an armchair.
‘You know, we could do with a bit of help,’ I panted, straining against a heavy couch.
‘Nah. You’re doing a great job.’
When everything except for Jack’s armchair had been moved, I stood behind the backrest, hooked my fingers under it and tipped . . .
‘Alright! Alright!’ Jack jumped up and slid his hands under the front part. Together we lifted it to one side before Jack sat in it again.
‘Now, start here, Erin,’ I said and went to a corner of the room. There would have been a better run-up in the hall but I didn’t want any nurses to see. ‘Run as fast as you can until you get here.’ I did a slow jog to the centre of the room. ‘Then just open your wings and see what happens.’
Erin nodded, her eyes bright.
‘On your marks, get set . . . go!’
Fists clenched and face squashed in concentration, Erin trotted to the middle of the room. She did a shallow leap but her wings stayed folded.
She ran back to the end of the room and tried again. This time her wings popped open but by then she’d lost all speed.
‘That wasn’t very good, was it,’ said Erin with a pout.
‘No no! It was great!’ I nodded encouragingly. ‘We’re just practising.’
‘Maybe she should start with her wings open,’ said Jack. He had his leg hooked over the armrest of his chair.
I nodded. ‘Okay. Try keeping your wings open the whole way.’
Chest puffed and wings wide, Erin stood in the corner. It was quite a sight.
‘Okay, Erin. Ready, set . . . go!’
Her run was completely different this time – more fluid and less up-and-down. Her leap was shallow but she seemed to glide a few centimetres.
‘I did it!’ she cried, then looked from me to Jack. ‘I did, didn’t I? I flew a little bit?’
Jack stood up. ‘Sure you did! Try again.’
The next time, Erin’s leap carried her forwards another half-metre. Not much, but enough for Jack to clap, legs apart like a coach on the sidelines of a football game.
‘Lift off!’ I yelled.
Erin beamed at me and I grinned back. ‘Again?’ she asked, though I don’t think I could have stopped her if I’d wanted to.
As Erin’s leaps carried her further and further, our mood grew brighter until we were cheering and laughing like we were at a party.
We were so deep inside our success that we lost all track of time.
That was, until eight o’clock…
‘What are you doing?’ snapped a voice from the doorway.
It was Erin’s mum, hands on hips and eyes narrow. Dr Drew stood next to her on one side and my mum was on the other, hugging a bag and frowning at me. Their mood was the exact opposite of ours. I might have expected that kind of reaction if we’d been caught hanging Erin head first out of a window.
As soon as he realised we were being watched, Jack stepped backwards and adjusted his cap. I hooked my hands together, out of sight and behind my back.
‘Mum! Look at me! Look what I can do!’ Erin bounded to the corner, wings open and started her run-up.
Erin’s mum stepped forward as if to stop her, but Erin was too fast. She ran into a low glide that carried her, feet off the ground, for a good metre and a half.
She landed and turned, jumping and clapping.
‘Oh darling . . .’ Erin’s mum nodded, then turned away, hand over mouth, and shot a look at Dr Drew.
‘Now I can keep my wings!’ sang Erin.
Mum rushed forward and placed her hands on my shoulders, trying to guide me out of the room. ‘Come on, back to the ward.’
‘But . . .’ I pulled away, confused.
‘Come on. This is none of our business,’ said Mum, her voice low. ‘Oh Brooke, I would have thought you of all people would understand. You shouldn’t give Erin false hope.’
Around then I stopped listening to Mum because I’d caught sight of Erin. Her wings were folded and her whole face had crumpled. Wet lines trickled down her red cheeks. Dr Drew and her mum were crouched down to her height.
I felt a rush of anger that was immediately chased by a rush of guilt. I’d been so excited by the idea of teaching her to glide that I hadn’t really thought beyond that.
Jack had disappeared somewhere. He wasn’t in our room when we got there.
Mum sat on the end of my bed and patted a space next to her, but I sat up near the pillow.
‘Listen, Brooke, I know what Erin was doing was exciting. Sure. I get that . . .’ She trailed off and sighed. ‘I’ve been talking to Erin’s mum. Erin’s not growing like she should. It’s really best for her to have her wings removed.’
I had my legs crossed on the bed, two hands in my lap, the third resting on my knee.
‘Think what it would be like if she kept them,’ Mum pushed gently. ‘They’d grow too big to hide. She’d be teased at school. Everywhere she went, people would stare.’
I kept my head down, looking at my three arms and trying to block out what she was saying. Maybe she was right, but that didn’t mean I wanted to hear it.
‘Brooke . . . look . . .’ Mum checked over her shoulder at Jack’s empty bed. ‘Think of it this way, Erin’s parents are going to do the best thing for her, even if Erin doesn’t understand that right now. The thing is, the decision’s not up to her.’
Mum leaned close as she said the last part, wanting me to look at her. I kept my head down. She was talking about Erin but I knew she was also talking about me.
I know you don’t like being here, but you have no choice.
A loud crash from outside the ward made both of us look up. Mum dashed into the hallway.
I followed. Another crash came from the common room.
An alarm sounded and two men in white coats flashed past. I heard a fainter thud then a moment of quiet before another thud. It sounded like rocks being thrown against a wall.
When we reached the common room door, Jack was standing beside the bookcase, which was lying face-down on the floor. The books had spilled out across the carpet, making ready ammunition for Jack to pick up and hurl, discus-style, across the room.
The two orderlies who had rushed past were advancing towards Jack. Dr Drew was standing with his arms folded. ‘Drop it,’ he snapped.
Jack lifted a book in his hand. His face was almost without expression but his eyes were fierce with defiance.
‘Jack, I mean it!’
With his eyes fixed on Dr Drew, Jack leaned back and flung the book. It missed the doctor’s head only because he ducked.
‘Don’t make this worse than it has to be . . .’ said one of the orderlies.
‘Stay back,’ said Mum with a hand on my back. But I pulled away from her. ‘Brooke, stay back,’ she said again, this time holding my shoulders and forcing me to turn.
I was scared so I let her pull me away.
The last thing I saw was Jack backing into a corner.
That was a long day, a dot-to-dot of visits to specialists followed by a talk with Dr Drew. He spoke about physio, diet, the amount of rest I’d need after the operation, and lots more. I barely listened to any of it. He said nothing about Erin learning to glide.
I didn’t see Jack until Mum had gone home and I was back in the ward for dinner. Erin had gone out with her mum, and a curtain had been pulled around Jack’s bed. Hushed voices made it seem private and secretive in there.
I sipped my tomato soup as quietly as possible, straining to hear what they were saying. There were three voices, I decided, but I couldn’t make out any words. I was surprised at how calm they all sounded. Halfway through my rice pudding, the curtains were pushed back with a jerk and Jack’s parents emerged. They walked past with straight backs and didn’t look my way.
Jack did, just for a moment. Then he lay with his back to me, facing the window, knees pulled up to his chest.
It was raining gently, the streetlights picking up every falling drop. I slipped out of bed, feeling Jack’s eye on me, and stepped across the cold floor. For a moment I paused at the foot of his bed then I hitched myself up to sit on it.
‘So . . . what was that all about?’
Jack didn’t move. ‘Do you really need me to spell it out?’
I sighed. Not really. As the day had gone past, I’d realised something was different for me too. Teaching Erin to fly had been about much more than just her.
‘Do you have any idea how many kids I’ve seen come through here?’ asked Jack, still without moving. He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Seven . . . all around Erin’s age. They come in, chuck a tantrum or two, get fixed up, and disappear.’
I stayed quiet, waiting for Jack to keep going.
‘You know why I’ve seen so many?’ He glanced at me, then away. ‘Dr Drew doesn’t know what to do with me. I’ve been in and out of this place for nearly three years while he works out how to operate . . . they don’t want to leave me brain-damaged.’
The last two words hung in the air. I needed to wash them away. ‘At least he won’t do anything until he’s sure . . .’
‘You think?’ Jack sat up. I wasn’t used to seeing him without his cap. His pupils were huge. ‘Things can go wrong with any operation and I’m facing brain surgery. Next month, Dr Drew wants to go ahead.’
I swallowed and looked down at my small arm. ‘Can’t you say you don’t want to do it?’
Jack snorted and shook his head. ‘It’s not up to me, is it.’ I didn’t like Jack’s glare. It was as if he hated the whole world, me included.
He lay down facing the window again. I stayed on his bed for a while, not saying anything.
