Head Spinners, page 5
Finally I went back to bed.
Everything was different after that.
Jack, Erin and I were still in the same room together, but we didn’t connect the way we had at first. We kept to ourselves, doing our stuff without talking. It was as if an invisible barrier had come down between us.
After another round of tests in the morning, I sat in bed and played with my third arm, twirling the wrist and moving the fingers, marvelling that it had grown.
I stopped as soon as Mum walked in. It wasn’t so much the look on her face as where she looked. Her eyes slid to the side, away from my arm – away from me. It wasn’t until I tucked my new arm neatly inside a sleeve that she looked at me and smiled. Even during tests that morning she’d kept her back turned, pretending to look out the window. I didn’t need to ask what she had been thinking.
Not long now until this will all be over.
Not long until we can forget . . .
That night, a cry woke me from a light sleep. I slipped out of bed and padded across to Erin.
‘Are you ok—’ I began, then stopped when Erin murmured something and rolled over, her face twitching in a dream. She had cried out in her sleep.
I sighed and looked out the window. It was raining again. I looked back at a lump of a wing under the sheet. Just two more days until her operation . . .
There was no way I could go back to sleep. For something to do, I tiptoed over to Jack’s bed and peered at him in the dim light.
‘Don’t think you can sneak up on me,’ he mumbled, turning over and looking at me properly.
‘If you could stop your operation, would you?’ I asked, straight out.
Jack sat up and breathed in slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said clearly. ‘I would.’
‘What if it meant showing everyone . . . showing the whole world?’
One of Jack’s eyebrows cocked. ‘What are you up to?’
I shrugged. I hadn’t really thought it through, but at the back of my mind, I did have an idea. Not a very good one, but it seemed better than nothing.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Help me get into that office again.’
Once Jack had worked his magic with the keypad and we were inside, I sat in the swivel chair and turned the computer on.
Jack sat on the edge of the desk, swinging one leg. ‘So . . . what? You’re going to set up an online freak show?’
‘If everyone knows what’s going on, it won’t be so easy for them to just . . .’ I trailed off, watching the screen going through its start-up. ‘Anyway, this thing is probably password protected.’
Miraculously it wasn’t. Maybe Dr Drew figured two locked doors would be enough to keep people out.
‘Freak show, here we come,’ said Jack.
The next thing I knew, my new hand was resting on the mouse and the online world was at my fingertips. If I’d been unsure how I felt about my new arm, I wasn’t wondering anymore. It felt so good to be doing things with it, to be using it, rather than holding it out to be poked and studied for the best way to have it removed.
It was easy to find some good photos saved in a file on the desktop – including a baby foot with seven toes and someone with a hand growing out of their shoulder. I cropped the photos carefully so that you couldn’t see any faces then saved them as a series of stills in a movie file so that it would work on YouTube.
‘You realise they’ll just think it’s a hoax,’ said Jack over my shoulder. ‘Half the stuff online is fake.’
‘Yeah, but if I can get the news networks interested . . .’ I searched for the contact details of all the major newspapers and TV stations around the country. Working fast, I typed a group email inviting them to come and interview us at the children’s hospital and added a link to the photos.
‘Do you think they’ll come?’ asked Jack when I’d finished.
‘Probably not,’ I said, but it still felt good to have done something.
On our way back to bed, our steps were lighter somehow.
The next morning, a hand shook my shoulder. I was awake in a flash.
‘Come listen to this,’ said Jack.
We snuck down the corridor and stopped behind a corner near the nurses’ station. Something was going on. Phones were ringing and people were talking over each other.
‘ . . . call security . . .’
‘I don’t know how it got out.’
‘. . . we’ll need someone to make a statement.’
I looked at Jack. ‘Reporters?’
He nodded, grinning. ‘They’ve been stopped at the ground floor.’
I peeked around the corner, not that I was worried we’d be caught. Everyone seemed too busy to care what we were doing.
‘They won’t let any reporters up here,’ I said, stating the obvious.
For a while we were quiet, listening and watching, enjoying the fact that we’d caused a commotion.
‘You know . . . there’s nothing stopping us from getting down to them,’ said Jack quietly. ‘Nothing except a keypad or two.’
I looked at him. ‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘Let’s do it.’
Erin watched me pull on jeans and a T-shirt. I tried to act as though nothing was going on.
‘Where are you going? Can I come too?’ she asked, once I was dressed.
So much for my acting. I shook my head. ‘Stay here, okay?’
‘No!’ She stamped a foot. ‘Tell me!’
‘Brooke, come on,’ called Jack from the doorway.
I looked back at Erin and knelt so I was her height. ‘We’re going to sneak down and show media people what’s . . . different about us. But you have to stay here.’
‘No! I’m coming too.’
I shook my head as Erin put her hands on her hips. ‘I want to show them my wings and you can’t stop me.’
‘Come on!’ called Jack again.
I sighed. ‘Okay.’
Holding Erin by the hand, we made our way down the corridor to the nurses’ station. It was quiet by now. One nurse was on the phone but everyone else had disappeared. When she turned away to look at a computer screen we snuck past, making straight for the keypad beside the sliding doors.
Jack had them open before the nurse had any idea what was going on.
‘Wait!’ she called. ‘What are you—’
But the doors had closed behind us.
An alarm whirred to life. It was so loud that it made my teeth ache. For a moment I was lost, disoriented.
‘The lift . . . this way!’ said Jack.
We started up the hall, holding Erin’s hands between us, and then slowed when a woman in a guard uniform came round the corner. She saw us, and began to run.
Jack swore and I turned to see what he already had: two more guards coming from the other way. We were trapped.
‘Quick,’ I said, pulling Erin with one hand and jabbing the other at the keypad. ‘Get us back in!’
‘What?’ Jack had no idea what I was thinking, but he did as I asked. The guards, too, pulled up and slowed as they watched us break back into Ward 5G.
Inside, the nurse had her back to us, phone to her ear.
I dashed up the hall, tugging Erin behind me. She opened her wings so that she half-ran half-glided to keep up.
Jack was still holding her other hand. ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled, panting. ‘That’s a dead end.’
Sure, it was a dead end in the real world but it was also a gateway to the CCTV network of the entire hospital.
Working fast, I brought up the closed circuit network of surveillance cameras for Ward 5G. I was glad to have my extra arm to speed things up. There were even more cameras than I’d realised. I found the camera at the nurses’ station and brought up that view.
‘Hey!’ cried Erin. ‘I know them.’
I couldn’t help a chuckle. The view showed the guards and nurse all huddled around a monitor. They were doing the same as us, looking through the CCTV network. For a while, we looked at them looking for us.
They had a problem, though. The office we were in didn’t have any cameras, so they had no idea where we were. They kept pointing at the screen and scratching their heads. After a while they began to search through the ward, looking in cupboards and under beds.
We didn’t have much time. In a new window I brought up a map of the hospital and worked out the nearest exit from the doorway to our ward – not a lift, but a stairwell.
‘Here,’ I said, pointing. ‘We have to get out of the ward again and bolt for the stairs.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ said Jack dryly. ‘But we have to get out again first . . .’ He pointed at a view of the nurses’ station. Two of the guards were still looking for us, but one was standing next to the exit.
Rats.
‘What now, Brooke?’ asked Erin. ‘What are we going to do?’ Her eyes were eager and
trusting.
‘We need a decoy,’ Jack said, looking at Erin.
I crouched down to Erin’s level, two hands on her shoulders and my third brushing a bit of hair behind her ear. ‘Erin,’ I said. ‘We need the guards to chase you. If you can get them to do that then Jack and I can make it to the exit.’
‘Why me?’ she pouted.
‘Because we’ll be faster without you,’ Jack said.
‘Even with your wings,’ I added, but I didn’t tell her what I was really thinking: this way I know you’ll be safe. ‘Once everyone knows about us, they won’t be able to hide you away. We’ll make sure you get to show them your wings.’
‘Promise?’
I didn’t want to say it, but Erin’s eyes gave me no choice. ‘Okay, I promise.’
It wasn’t easy watching Erin trot away. On the monitor, she looked so tiny.
Jack and I stayed in the office, watching her pass through each camera view as she ran the back way around to the other end of the hall leading to the exit doors. Just as we’d planned, the guard at the exit was the first to see her. He called out, and Erin turned and bolted.
I held my breath as the guard called out again. He looked up and down the hall, waiting for the others. Then he gave up and ran after Erin.
‘Good man,’ said Jack to the monitor.
Outside our door came the clatter of running feet, growing louder then fading as they passed.
Now was our time. Together we slipped out of the office and bolted straight to the sliding doors. I could hear shouting from the direction Erin had run but I couldn’t see what was happening.
We dashed through the doors and into the hall. This time the alarm didn’t even sound.
Without a word we raced for the stairwell, pausing only to make sure the door didn’t slam behind us. Jack was ahead of me, taking two stairs at a time. The first landing had a small window and a camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. I turned my face away from it. Would anyone still be watching the CCTV?
When I made it to the ground floor, Jack placed his hand on the doorknob. ‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘I . . . I guess,’ I stammered, but suddenly I wasn’t sure. Now that we were so close to showing ourselves, I couldn’t help thinking about Mum: I can’t stand to think how they’d treat her. The awful things they’d say.
What would she say once she realised I’d shown the whole world?
‘We don’t have to . . .’ Jack began.
Then, from outside at street level, came a scream followed by cries of alarm. We were at the window just in time to see something glide past. Bigger than a bird, with wings held wide.
It was Erin.
‘Oh . . . man!’ cried Jack, nudging me out of the way and straining to see out the window.
At the door I squashed an ear to the crack, trying to hear what was going on. I couldn’t hear a thing.
‘Now?’ I asked Jack. When he nodded, I pushed the door open.
Walking through the entrance to the foyer was Erin. Her wings were folded shut. Behind her trailed a bunch of reporters, camera lenses pointed at her.
It was almost eerie. They were all quiet . . . stunned by what they had seen, I guess. It was as if they were too shocked even to mob her. They just followed to see what she would do next.
Together we ran for Erin. I picked her up in a hug. ‘Erin? Are you okay?’
She smiled. ‘Those guards were about to catch me but I didn’t let them. I ran out onto the balcony and I did it, Brooke. I flew!’
I couldn’t help laughing. I’d been worried about keeping her safe, and she was braver than I had been. ‘Yes, Erin,’ I smiled. ‘You did it.’
Jack was beaming when I looked his way. ‘Come on, you two.’
Together we turned to face the reporters. To one side I could see Dr Drew walking towards us with a phone to his ear.
I looked at Jack.
He nodded at me and winked, so I clenched my fists – all three of them – and raised my right arms in the air. Look at this.
For a moment, the room stayed quiet. A camera flashed. Then another. And another. Suddenly, all was movement around us. Two reporters pushed closer. More seemed to come from nowhere.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Did you send the email?’
Microphones and other gadgets were shoved in our faces. Jack crouched, said something to Erin, then lifted her onto his shoulders. I was glad she wasn’t being smothered. A woman in a white coat asked the reporters to stand back before saying something to Jack. I didn’t hear what she said but then Jack nodded and pointed to the back of his head. The woman rubbed her chin, nodding. I wanted to ask who she was – some kind of scientist maybe – but a familiar voice to one side made me turn.
‘Brooke!’ Mum stood between two reporters,her mouth open and her forehead crinkled in confusion. She rushed forward as if ready to spring into action, to hide me away. As she came close, though, she must have realised that she couldn’t hide me now. She stopped and shook her head helplessly.
‘Mum . . .’ I stepped towards her, holding my arms out, palms up. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m sorry . . . I don’t—’ I shook my head. ‘It . . . it’s my arm.’ Flashes were still going off around us, but I barely noticed. All that mattered was Mum.
For a while she stared at me. Her eyes slid down to my new arm. They lingered as if looking at it for the first time. Then she stepped closer and took my new hand in hers, cupping it gently and stroking my small wrist with the backs of her fingers.
The feel of her touch ran up my arm and into my chest. It made me breathe in, tears in my eyes. This was the first time anyone had touched my arm like that.
Like she was touching me.
After a while Mum looked up and smiled, tears in her eyes too. ‘It reminds me of when you were a baby,’ she whispered.
I threw my arms around her and squeezed. More flashes went off.
When I pulled back to glance over at the others, Jack was still talking to the woman in the white coat. Erin grinned and waved at me from his shoulders.
When I turned back to Mum she shook her head but still managed a smile. ‘I hope you’re sure about this, Brooke.’
I nodded. Yes, I’m sure. More than anything I felt an enormous sense of relief. I wasn’t sure what to expect from here, but I was glad I didn’t have to hide my arm anymore.
As I waved back at Erin I felt something on the back of my left arm, halfway between my elbow and my shoulder.
The fingers of my right hand hovered over the spot . . .
Omigosh! I knew that sensation; I’d felt it before.
It wasn’t sore or itchy the way a bite might feel.
It was tingling and weirdly warm . . .
Let me make one thing clear: I didn’t steal anything from the Big Cow Cafe. Why would I? I don’t even like smoked-trout sandwiches, and I’d already had lunch – a steaming sausage roll with zigzag sauce.
I was only in the cafe because my older brother, Connor, was selling bait worms to the cafe owner. That guy sure used a lot of fish in his cafe.
The cafe owner paid Connor while I waited beside the sandwich counter, staring up at the ceiling fans and sniffing the air – fresh cakes, warm pies, even the coffee smelled good.
But as we headed for the door, the owner rushed around the counter yelling, ‘Stop! Stop, thief!’
I glanced around, looking for the thief.
The owner raced up to me, his fat cheeks wobbling. He grabbed something poking out of the top of my gym bag. It was a smoked-trout sandwich.
‘Why didn’t you pay for this?’ he asked gruffly. His breath smelled like stale coffee.
My neck burned and I barely managed to shake my head. I hadn’t taken the sandwich. How did it end up in my bag?
‘Jamie!’ hissed Connor behind me.
A lady with sunglasses whispered to her granddaughter and pointed at me.
‘How old are you, young man?’ asked the cafe owner and crossed his arms.
‘Eleven,’ I squeaked, looking around at all the faces. ‘But I didn’t take the sandwich. I promise! How could I have reached it?’
Everyone watched as I walked back to the counter and tried to reach over. There was no way! Somehow, I would have had to extend my arm over the counter and then back under the glass covering, like an elephant’s trunk curling under to reach its mouth. Even on tiptoes my hand barely made it to the other side.
‘See?’ I said, jerking a hand into thin air.
Everyone turned to the cafe owner. ‘But how did the sandwich get in your bag?’ he asked.
Everyone turned back to me. ‘I . . .’ My shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t know.’ My face burned mega-atomic-red.
