Head Spinners, page 7
Now here it was in my hands, alive again.
Splash turned in the bucket and jumped like a dolphin, trying to see out, I guessed.
When she saw Monty’s old collar hooked on the end of my bed, she stopped jumping and swished in the water again. It looked as if she was working up to something.
With another jump and a clever flick of her tail, Splash sprinkled water over the collar.
I watched with one hand over my mouth, almost too amazed to breathe.
For a moment, I thought the collar had disappeared. I peered close, trying to see what was going on.
The collar had disappeared. At the end of my bed stood something dark-brown and tiny. It looked up at me and said, ‘Mooooer.’
‘A cow!’ I yelled. ‘A cow!’
A teensy weensy tiny little cow stood in front of me! I wanted to kiss the fish and hug the cow. It was all so amazing. Splash was bringing life to things that were already dead!
She jumped proudly and landed back in the bucket.
I knelt beside my bed and peered at the cow. ‘You’re so small!’ I whispered. It sniffed the quilt and tried to nibble. Then it looked up at me and blinked.
When I turned to Splash, she was low in the water, curled around the side of the bucket. She looked as if she was resting.
The cow was wandering around my bed. I didn’t want it to fall off, so I arranged some pillows along the edge. Then I found my old farm set at the back of my wardrobe and set up the fence under my bed. If Connor came snooping in here, or worse, Mum . . .
As I worked, I thought about the things that Splash had done. New leaves and roots on an apple-tree branch were amazing. But a real live cow? Monty’s collar had turned into a cow.
I leaned back on my heels, thinking and watching the cow.
The collar had been made of leather, and leather came from cows . . . It wasn’t just any cow in front of me, it must have been the same cow that had been used to make Monty’s collar. The same, except smaller.
Years ago, a normal-sized version of that cow had been wandering through a paddock, just like this tiny one in front of me.
It was a strange feeling.
I didn’t feel sad about the cow, or angry at the people who had killed it. But I did feel weird, as we had been connected to the cow all this time and didn’t know it – like a neighbour who you live next to for years and never find out their name.
I herded the cow into a box with my hand, and released it under my bed. Then I found a plastic lid and filled it with water from the bathroom for the cow to drink. Perfect.
Now that the cow was safe, I looked around my room as though seeing it with new eyes. What other things could Splash bring back to life? I had feathers in my quilt, sheepskin boots – there were so many things. But I didn’t have time for that yet.
Splash needed worms. The stick needed soil. And the cow needed grass. I had jobs to do.
Morning sun was shining through the window in the kitchen when I walked in.
‘Jamie?’ Mum looked up from beside the coffee maker.
Connor was standing at the bench, yawning and pouring rice bubbles into a bowl.
‘Morning!’ I called, and kept going. There wasn’t much point talking to Mum these days. I was tired of her watching me with worried eyes.
In the backyard I found the ice-cream container Connor used to collect worms and filled it with fresh soil. Through the kitchen window, I could see Mum watching me work. I ignored her as I pulled up a clump of grass for the cow and dug up worms for Splash, placing them on top of the soil.
Instead of going back into the kitchen I headed inside through the laundry.
The door had just slammed behind me when Mum appeared. She was playing madly with her earring again.
‘Jamie, what were you doing out in the garden?’ she asked, frowning at my ice-cream container.
I looked down at the worms curling up on the soil. ‘Just . . . something for a school project.’ I didn’t like lying, but there was no way I was going to tell her about Splash.
‘Digging up worms?’ asked Mum, peering into my bowl. She leaned close, trying to look me in the eye. ‘Exactly what is this project about?’
‘Why do I have to tell you?’ I snapped. ‘Why can’t you just trust me for once?’
Mum’s whole face flushed. ‘Jamie, I don’t think you’ve been telling the truth,’ she said. ‘I want you to tell me what’s going on.’
We stood in the laundry – me and Mum – glaring at each other. She put her hands on her hips; I shifted my feet, trying to think what to say. I just wanted everyone to leave me alone to look after Splash.
‘There’s nothing to worry about, Mum,’ I said softly.
‘That’s just it,’ Mum said. ‘I am worried. You’ve been acting so strangely.’
I didn’t know what else to say, but Connor did. He stood in the doorway behind me. ‘Listen, Mum,’ he said. ‘It’s just a dumb school project, nothing to worry about.’ The faintest smile flickered on his lips. ‘Jamie told me all about it,’ he said. ‘They’re doing fish projects in science. That’s all that was going on yesterday too. It’s really boring.’
Connor was good at this!
Mum was fiddling with her earring again. ‘But why the secret? Why steal the sandwich?’ she said.
‘I needed the trout in the sandwich for the project,’ I said quickly. ‘I just kept it all secret because I didn’t want anyone to copy.’
Connor glanced at me and smiled. ‘Jamie the square,’ he said. ‘That’s our Jamie!’
We were doing a great job; at least I thought so. But Mum wasn’t convinced.
‘So you admit you took the sandwich?’ she said slowly. Then she held out her hands and shook her head. ‘But you told me you didn’t! And it’s not like you, Jamie.’
Mum was right. It wasn’t like me to steal and lie. Yesterday I would have been glad to hear her say that. But it didn’t make me glad now; it made me angry. I took a step towards her.
‘I wouldn’t steal a sandwich?’ I said. ‘That’s a bit late, Mum.’ My voice was loud, but I didn’t care. ‘Why didn’t you say that in the cafe yesterday? Why didn’t you stick up for me?’
Mum stopped fiddling with her earring and looked at Connor. He was quiet too, for once.
They both stared at me. I didn’t get angry very often. But I didn’t let up. I wanted to make Mum feel bad.
‘Why didn’t you stick up for me, Mum? And why are you so worried now?’
For a while we were quiet, but I could feel the answer hovering in the air around us. I imagined them thinking it, but not being able to say it.
It was Monty. That was why Mum hadn’t stuck up for me in the Big Cow Cafe. And that was why she was so worried now.
I wanted to keep yelling, to force Mum to say it: Since you let Monty get killed, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.
But Mum didn’t say it. ‘I don’t know, Jamie,’ she said quietly. She let her hand drop. ‘I just don’t know anymore.’
You mean you don’t know ME anymore, I wanted to say. But I pushed past them both and walked straight to my room.
I just wanted to lie on my bed and feel sad about Monty. And angry at Mum. But I had to check Splash first, and the cow.
I pulled the bucket from under my desk and sighed. Splash jiggled her tail. She snapped at the worms happily.
I was just about to check the cow when Connor poked his head into my room. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Just shut the door, okay?’ I said. I didn’t bother to hide Splash.
Connor shut the door. Then he slapped his hand over his mouth. ‘Geez, how come you have a fish?’ He shot me that curious, impressed look again. ‘Where did you get it from?’
Splash swished in the bucket at our feet.
‘Um, the cafe . . .’ I looked sideways at Connor.
But he didn’t seem worried about Splash. He was frowning and clutching his hands together. ‘Jamie, are you okay?’ he asked seriously.
I nodded. ‘Thanks for helping me with Mum,’ I said. ‘She’s really crazy at the moment.’
‘She’s worried about you, Jamie,’ Connor said, and shuffled his feet.
I wondered if I should show Connor what Splash could do. The apple-tree stick was still lying on my desk, complete with its tiny leaves.
‘Do you miss Monty?’ Connor said, looking down.
I frowned and swallowed. This was the first time Connor had mentioned Monty since he died. It felt good to hear his name. But the question surprised me. I wasn’t allowed to miss Monty. It was my fault he was dead. When I thought of Monty now, all I could feel was pain and regret. I wasn’t allowed to miss him.
I stared down at Splash. ‘I feel so bad for what I did,’ I said. ‘I wish I could . . . you know . . . fix it. Make it alright again. But there’s nothing I can do.’
‘Jamie, you don’t have to—’ Connor started to say.
But something I had just said echoed in my mind. How can I fix what I did? How can I . . .
‘Oh WOW!’ I yelled. ‘THAT’S IT!’
I was delighted and terrified all at once. Why hadn’t I thought of it straight away?
I grabbed Connor’s arm.
‘Monty! Monty!’ I cried. ‘I know how to fix Monty!’
I jumped up and down, yelling and laughing about Monty. Of course! Splash had brought the cow and the stick back to life. Why couldn’t she bring Monty back to life too?
Connor was watching me carefully, as if he thought I was mad.
Fair enough. He could think I was mad for now. But I was too excited to explain.
‘Come and watch this!’ I said to Connor. This was going to be brilliant! I was so glad that Splash had jumped into my bag. It was so worth being called a thief.
I grabbed her bucket and headed the back way out to Monty’s grave in the backyard. Connor followed.
I put the bucket down on the grass near the grave and stood back. I imagined Monty lying down there. Waiting.
‘Okay, Splash, do your stuff!’ I said happily. But then I thought of something. We didn’t want Monty coming back to life while he was buried under all that dirt. ‘Wait! We need a spade,’ I said to Connor. My heart was pounding.
Connor’s face went white. His mouth dropped open.
‘It’s okay, Connor,’ I said. ‘Just wait until you see.’
But he turned and ran inside.
I grabbed the spade from where I had been digging up worms. I knew it seemed crazy to be digging up a pet dog that had been dead for two weeks, but everyone would understand once Monty came back to life.
Digging was harder than I expected. Even though the ground had been softened by rain, I had to jump up and down on the spade to force it into the dirt.
I had only managed one spadeful when Connor came back with Mum and Dad.
‘Jamie, what are you doing?’ Dad’s voice was quiet.
I stopped digging. ‘It’s okay, Dad,’ I said. ‘Just trust me with this.’
Mum had her hands over her mouth. She looked as if she wanted to cry.
‘Put the spade down, Jamie,’ Dad said. ‘We need to talk.’
‘No, Dad! I have to do this.’ I jumped on the spade to dig it into the ground. Then I levered the handle down to push up the dirt.
Dad put his hands on the spade.
‘No!’ I yelled.
Slowly and forcefully, Dad pulled the spade out of my hands.
‘Okay, I know this seems crazy,’ I said. ‘But this trout is magic. She can bring Monty back to life.’
‘Where did you get that fish?’ Dad said carefully, pointing at Splash.
‘It’s a trout!’ I yelled. ‘It’s from the Big Cow Cafe. It’s the one from the sandwich.’ It sounded crazy, even to me.
Dad watched me with wide eyes. Mum had her hands over her face, sobbing. Even Connor looked scared.
‘Alright, follow me,’ I said. I picked up Splash in her bucket and headed back to my room. I just had to show them the cow. Maybe I could get Splash to do some more magic and turn a feather into a duck. Once my family saw that, they would all help me dig up Monty.
We all crowded into my room. No more secrets. No more hiding. Everything was going to be alright.
But as I put down Splash’s bucket, I let out a gasp. Everything was not alright.
Lying in the shadow of my bed was Monty’s old collar. No cow. Just a lifeless piece of leather.
I pulled out the collar and stared at it in my hands. What did this mean?
‘This can’t be happening!’ I cried. It had all been so perfect. Splash was the only one who could help Monty come back to life. I helped Splash, and Splash would help Monty. It all made sense.
‘Splash?’ I said, gripping the rim of the bucket.
I gasped again. She was curled around the side of the bucket, resting on the bottom. Some of her scales had fallen off and her pinky-orange skin looked blotchy and raw.
She didn’t even move. Was something wrong with her? Did she need to go back to the river?
‘What’s going on, Jamie?’ Mum asked. She looked down at Splash with her nose scrunched up.
But I wasn’t giving up yet.
I stood up and grabbed the apple stick on my desk. Luckily, it was still covered in leaves. ‘There!’ I said, holding out the stick. ‘See? It’s Monty’s old stick. Splash brought it back to life!’
Mum and Dad muttered something to each other, but Connor tilted his head.
I held it out in two hands, but Connor shrugged. ‘It just looks like you broke it off a tree this morning.’
‘Jamie, you have to let us help you,’ Dad said.
‘Just let me dig up Monty,’ I pleaded. ‘Please. It doesn’t hurt anyone. Just let me try.’
But from the looks on my parents’ faces, I realised that they would send me to the loony bin before they let me dig up Monty.
I felt like screaming. Nothing made sense anymore. The pieces of trout, the branch, the tiny cow . . . it had been magic . . .
But not magic enough.
Mum stepped forward and tried to hold my hands. ‘Jamie, this business with Monty . . . It’s making you sick.’
I shook my head.
‘We’re going to call a doctor who can help you.’
‘A doctor?’ I said quietly. I didn’t need a doctor. I needed . . .
‘I killed Monty,’ I said slowly.
‘Sweetheart.’ Mum tried to hug me, but I was clear now.
I stood in front of my parents with my back straight, and looked them in the eye. I felt calm. The time had come. Ever since I had left the gate open, I had been moving towards this moment.
‘I killed Monty,’ I said. ‘Why aren’t you mad at me? Why haven’t you yelled at me?’
Mum and Dad just stared.
I said it again, slowly, so they’d have to respond: ‘I. Killed. Monty.’
‘It was an accident, sweetheart,’ Mum said.
‘What do you want us to do?’ Dad asked and held his hands out helplessly.
‘You’re my parents! Yell at me! Make me pay for what I did.’
‘You want us to punish you?’ said Dad.
I deserved to be punished. I had to make up for what I had done to Monty. If Splash wasn’t going to bring Monty back to life, I had to find another way to pay for what I did.
‘Okay, we’ll think of something,’ Dad said. Mum patted my shoulder and they both left the room.
I sat on my bed with Connor.
‘Do you believe me about the trout?’ I asked.
Connor shrugged. ‘I suppose so,’ he said. ‘You don’t usually make up crazy things.’ But he didn’t look so sure of himself.
I started talking then. I told Connor everything – about the jumping sandwich and the pieces of trout. I told him about Splash doing magic on the apple stick and Monty’s old collar. Through it all, he listened quietly. He didn’t laugh or even shake his head.
At the end, all he said was, ‘Jamie, you didn’t kill Monty.’
‘Yes I did.’ I knew exactly what I had done. I would have to live with it for the rest of my life.
‘You didn’t kill Monty,’ Connor said again. ‘You left the gate open and Monty ran onto the road.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s the same thing.’
‘No it’s not,’ Connor said. He spoke slowly, as though he was saying something very important. ‘You made a mistake, but you didn’t kill Monty.’
I sighed. ‘It was my fault, Connor.’
Connor didn’t say anything to that. He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.
We sat there, waiting for Mum and Dad to come back with my punishment. And I didn’t even feel silly getting a hug from my brother.
The punishment my parents thought up was typical of them. At first it sounded silly, but after a while it made sense.
Remember Monty.
That was it – they wanted me to learn how to feel happy about Monty’s life. No more feeling sad and guilty when I thought of him. I had to forgive myself for leaving the gate open, and I had to honour Monty’s life.
All afternoon, we pulled out photos of Monty and talked about the funny things he used to do, like climb up the woodpile and through the shed window during a thunderstorm. Or the way he could snap up a piece of cheese that we rested on the tip of his nose.
It felt good to be with my family again. No more silent looks or worried sighs. I didn’t have to feel scared about what they were thinking or worry that they hated me for what I had done.
