Edsel Grizzler (5 page)

He was also thinking about Mr Sullivan's composition piece again.

M
s Finn held the classroom door open for Edsel and his parents, and as they entered, Edsel saw a man waiting over by the little circle of chairs in the middle of the room. He had longish sandy hair and a greying goatee, and was wearing a vest that looked like it had been made from a rug.

Ms Finn closed the door and followed them over to the chairs. ‘Mr and Mrs Grizzler, this is Graham Boyd. I hope you don't mind him sitting in on our chat.'

‘No, of course not,' Dad said cautiously, and Mr Boyd stepped forward and shook hands with Edsel's parents. Dad went on, ‘But I have to ask, Mr Boyd—'

‘Please, call me Graham.'

‘I have to ask, Graham, what's your role here?'

‘I'm the new school counsellor. It's late in the year, so I'm just trying to get a feel for the students.'

‘Please, have a seat, everyone,' Ms Finn said. ‘No point standing around.' Then she laughed self-consciously, which made Edsel feel embarrassed for her.

They sat down, and Graham picked up a large notepad from beside his chair, took a pen from his pocket and crossed his legs. He was wearing brown hiking boots and thick orange socks.

‘Thank you so much for seeing us,' Mum said, once she'd positioned herself on her chair.

‘That's … that's fine. It's just a regular parent-teacher night.'

‘Is there anything in particular you needed to talk to us about?' Dad asked, and Edsel saw his eyes flicker in Graham's direction. ‘The letter that came home was kind of … well, direct, I suppose.'

‘Was it?' said Ms Finn with a smile. ‘Oh, it wasn't meant to seem direct, as you put it. It's just that while we try to see as many students as we can, it's not always possible to give everyone as much time as they deserve. But in Edsel's case, we thought we should really encourage you to come in.'

‘Is … is something wrong?' Mum glanced at Dad, then at Graham, then back at Ms Finn. ‘Oh my, there is something wrong, isn't there?'

‘No, not at all,' Ms Finn was saying, but Edsel could see that his parents weren't convinced. ‘No, nothing's wrong, as such. I mean …' She licked her lips as she fumbled at the blue folder in her lap. She opened it and ran her finger down the page. Then the tip of her tongue darted out again. ‘I mean, Edsel's marks are good, and he's been doing all his homework.' She flashed a quick smile in his direction. ‘No, there's nothing wrong, except that … well, let's put it this way … Edsel, do you think anything is wrong?'

Edsel frowned. ‘Like what?'

‘Friends, for example?'

‘I don't understand.'

‘A few of the teachers have noticed that you spend a lot of time by yourself.'

Edsel shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess that's true. I don't mind.'

‘You like spending time by yourself?'

‘Sure. It's fine.'

‘Fine, or good?'

Edsel shrugged. ‘Fine, I suppose.'

‘I'm sorry, but what are you getting at?' Dad asked.

Ms Finn went on. ‘Edsel, we're just a little concerned that—'

‘Edsel – I can call you Edsel, can't I?' Graham interrupted, smiling and tipping his head slightly to one side.

‘Sure – it's my name.'

‘Edsel, how can I put this delicately? Is everything all right at home?'

‘That's hardly delicate!' said Dad.

‘Please.' Graham raised one hand. His eyes hadn't left Edsel's face for even a moment. ‘Edsel?'

‘Sure, everything's fine.'

‘So you're just a normal kid, then. You watch TV, play, read books?'

‘Sure. I mean, I don't watch a lot of TV, but all the other stuff. And I make money.'

Graham nodded and wrote in his notebook. ‘And how do you do that?'

‘I fix stuff up and sell it, mostly.'

‘And friends?'

‘Yeah, I've got a couple.'

‘Like who? Can you name them?'

‘Sure. Um … there's Pete.'

‘And who's Pete?'

‘This guy I know who runs this shop. I buy junk from there and fix it up.'

‘You fix junk. I see.' Graham wrote in his notebook some more. ‘Anyone else?'

‘Um … Hoagy.'

‘Hoagy?'

‘Yeah, he's this little kid who I see around sometimes.'

‘How about Kenny?' Mum suggested. ‘He's the boy who lives across the street from us,' she explained.

Edsel frowned at her. ‘Kenny? No! He's an idiot, Mum, and so's his friend, Mikey. Plus we hate each other.'

‘Edsel! That's a terrible thing to say!'

‘Yes, awful,' Dad agreed.

‘But they are. And we do.'

‘Hmm,' said Graham, scribbling away furiously.

‘Can I ask—' Dad began, but Graham raised his hand again, just until he'd finished writing. Then he put his pen down and raised his eyes to meet Dad's, with a serene kind of look on his face.

‘Mr Grizzler.'

‘Are you concerned?'

‘About …'

‘About Edsel, and his friends.'

‘Yes, that's right,' Mum said. ‘I mean, we keep him safe, and see to it that nothing happens to him, and we've always tried to make sure that his friends aren't going to lead him into any danger. But have we gone too far?' She bit her bottom lip.

Oh, don't cry, thought Edsel. Whatever you do,
please
don't cry. If you cry I'll run out.

Graham cleared his throat. ‘If I can ask you another question, Edsel: Do you ever feel lonely?'

‘I wouldn't if I had a dog,' he replied. ‘Just a pup.'

‘Now Edsel, we've talked about this,' his mother said, wiping her eyes. ‘Do you know how many children die each year from dog attacks and diseases?'

‘No,' he replied. ‘Do you?'

‘It's a lot,' Dad said, throwing a warning look at Edsel.

‘A cat, then?' Edsel suggested, even though a dog was what he really wanted.

Dad counted off on his fingers. ‘Cat scratch fever, campylobacter, lyme disease,
rabies
! And that's just a start.'

‘How about a bird, like a budgie, or a canary?'

His parents shook their heads. ‘Psittacosis,' Dad said. ‘Nasty stuff.'

‘A guinea pig, then. Or a mouse? Do mice carry disease? There's this kid in Year Four—'

‘Oh!' Mum's eyes opened wide, and Dad snorted with horrified amusement.

‘Two words, my boy: bubonic plague!'

‘How about a shark?'

Graham cleared his throat again. ‘Look, Mr and Mrs Grizzler, Ms Finn, I think what I might do, with your permission, is have a couple of short meetings with Edsel. Here, in school time. We can get him out of class so the sessions don't impact on his … social life. That's all right, isn't it?' he asked Ms Finn, who nodded.

‘Whatever you think is best, Graham,' she said.

‘And what would you be doing in these sessions?' Dad asked.

‘Oh, just getting to know one another, Edsel and I,' Graham replied, and he flickered a smile at Edsel. ‘We'll talk about strategies for creating friendships, and empowering him to become a stronger individual in a team setting. How does that sound, Edsel?'

‘Oh, that sounds great,' Edsel said, relieved to have been included in the discussion at last. ‘Then you can get Kenny and the others in, and we can tell each other how much we all want to be friends, and I'll have mates at school, and won't need a nasty, disease-carrying pet!'

Now Graham was practically grinning. ‘Yes! Exactly!'

I was being sarcastic, you twit, Edsel thought.

‘That sounds good,' Dad was saying. ‘What do you think, Tilda?'

‘Oh yes, wonderful, wonderful. Anything that helps our Edsel fit in better has to be good. We do worry about him sometimes, you see.'

‘Yes well, we'll do what we can,' Graham promised.

‘Excellent.' Ms Finn rubbed her hands together. She looked relieved that the interview was almost over. ‘So, was there anything else you wanted to ask?'

Not unless you know how to help someone disappear into thin air, Edsel thought bitterly.

‘No, no, I think that's all going to be terrific,' Dad replied.

Ms Finn stood up. ‘Good. Well, thanks for coming in. We'll let you know how it's going.'

‘That's right,' Graham agreed. He rested his hand on Edsel's shoulder. ‘And hey, you shouldn't be afraid to share your feelings with your parents.'

You really wouldn't want me to share the feelings I'm having right now, thought Edsel, but he didn't say it. He simply smiled and followed his parents out of the classroom. It had stopped raining, and the air was cool and fresh. A number of other families were standing under the cover of the awning, waiting for their appointments.

‘Well, that was good,' he heard his father saying, and his mother made some kind of sound of agreement. ‘Very encouraging indeed. It's so heartening to know that they're looking out for him.'

‘Hey, look who it is,' said Kenny, who was sitting outside on one of the lunch benches. He was alone. ‘How'd you go? Everything all right?'

‘Fine thanks.' Edsel put his head down and kept walking, hoping that his parents wouldn't hear Kenny, wouldn't notice him, wouldn't turn around and say …

‘Oh, hello there, Kenny!'

‘Mum …'

‘Look, Edsel, it's Kenny, from over the road! Are you waiting to see the teacher and that nice Graham chap as well, Kenny?' she asked.

Kenny shook his head dumbly. ‘Who? Who's Graham?'

‘No one's Graham,' Edsel said quickly. ‘Graham's no one. Mum, we should—'

But his mother wasn't listening. ‘The counsellor, Graham. He seems awfully nice.'

‘The …' Kenny laughed. ‘The counsellor? You're seeing a
counsellor?
Why, what's wrong?'

‘Nothing's wrong. Gee, thanks for that, Mum.'

‘What?'

‘What are you going to see a counsellor for?' Kenny was asking. ‘You feeling sad? You feeling upset? You wetting your bed?'

‘Be quiet,' Edsel said. ‘Please.'

‘Or … Oh, I know what it is!' Kenny said, brightening suddenly. Then he stood up, and started swaying his hips. ‘You're trying to get in touch with your feelings!'

‘Just shut up, all right?' Edsel snapped. ‘Just … just
shut up!'

‘Edsel! That's enough, son!' Dad said, his mouth gaping. ‘It's no wonder you can't make friends if that's how you talk to them!'

‘Oh, so it's about friends!' crowed Kenny. ‘Edsel doesn't have any friends. But that's not true, Edsel – you've got me and Mikey.'

‘There, see?' Mum said. ‘You
have
got friends, darling.'

Edsel had had enough. He pushed past his parents and began to stride across the damp quad. ‘I'll see you at home. Maybe.'

‘Edsel! Come back!' he heard his mother call.

‘Excuse me,' he said, pushing past a number of people who were standing in his way. All he wanted to do was go. To leave. To get out of there.

Then came the moment that he'd have been most dreading, had he even thought it could happen. His skinny, porridge-faced father was standing next to his huge, ruddy-faced mother, and was calling out. He was calling out loudly. And the words were heard by every person in that school quadrangle: ‘Edsel! There's nothing to be afraid of. He's just a counsellor! And he seems so nice! He'll help you make some friends, I'm sure he will.'

And his mother was just making it worse. ‘Go after him, Barry! Go after him! Oh! Oh! What if he gets lost, or wanders onto the road? Oh! Oh!'

And as the sound of stifled laughter from the families and guffaws from Kenny pressed in on him, Edsel ran.

E
dsel went home the long way, knowing that him being out there alone in the dark would upset his parents. He didn't care. They'd embarrassed him more than he'd thought anyone could ever be embarrassed, so it didn't bother him all that much if they got home and he wasn't there yet. Sure, they might worry a bit, but he was safe, walking home using the back streets. Besides, nothing bad ever happened in West Malaise. Nothing good happened there either. In fact, nothing much happened in West Malaise at all.

He walked slowly. If anyone had asked him why he was walking slowly, he'd probably have told them that he was just giving himself enough time to calm down. But if he'd been completely honest, he'd have admitted that he was enjoying the idea that his parents were almost certainly beside themselves with anxiety. Perhaps they've already contacted the police, he thought, and when that idea crossed his mind, he picked up the pace just a little.

The other thing that made him walk just a little quicker was the weight in his pocket of the funny white plug thing that Ms Finn had given him. Where it had come from was a mystery. What it would do once it was plugged into the Egg was an even greater mystery. But when he rounded the corner into his street and saw the family car parked in the driveway, and recognised the dark figure of his father pacing up and down on the footpath with his mobile phone held to his ear, he knew that one thing was not a mystery; he was about to be in a whole world of trouble.

‘I'm sorry to've bothered you – he's just arrived home,' Dad said into the phone as he looked up and saw Edsel approaching. ‘Yes, thank you very much. I'll be sure to tell him.' Slipping the phone into his pocket, he turned to face Edsel. ‘Do you have any idea—'

‘How frightening that was for your mother and I?' Edsel said. ‘A bit.'

‘A bit? A
bit?
Dear me, Edsel, it's terrifying!'

‘Well, do you have any idea how embarrassing that was, back at the school? Anyway, I was just walking home.' ‘We didn't know that! Besides, there are all kinds of dreadful people out there, especially the back streets. Gangs, and prowlers, and—'

‘In West Malaise? I doubt it.'

Dad's temper was fraying. ‘Now listen here—' he began.

The screen door rattled and opened, and Mum was standing there, lit by the porch light. ‘Is that him, Barry?' she called.

‘Yes, it's him, Tilda. He's fine.'

‘Oh, thank heavens!' Mum closed her eyes, leaned against the doorframe and placed a hand on her chest. ‘Oh, thank heavens!'

‘Seriously, what's the big deal here?' Edsel asked.

Dad had his fists on his hips. ‘The big deal, young man, is that we thought we'd lost you. And believe me, that's not a pleasant thought. You mightn't think that wandering home in the middle of the night—'

‘It's not even half past eight!' Edsel interrupted.

‘Even so, you just ran off and … Son, is there anything you need to say?'

‘Yes. Can we talk about this inside the house, instead of out here in the street?'

‘Of course.' Dad pointed up the driveway. ‘Inside, now!'

As Edsel passed Mum, she lifted her arms as if she was going to hug him, before thinking better of it, and took a backwards step to let him into the house.

The confrontation in the front room didn't last very long. Basically it amounted to Edsel saying that he was sorry his parents had worried about him – even though that was only partly true – and his parents accepting his apology before adding that he was grounded until further notice.

Edsel headed upstairs. He was still angry about how his parents had humiliated him at school, but for now, he figured he'd accept the punishment. That didn't stop him closing his door only a little less firmly than a slam and plopping himself into his chair. He winced as the strange white plug in the pocket of his jeans dug into his backside, and he rocked to one side so he could take it out.

It sat there on his desk, looking rather mysterious. The logo was facing him, taunting him, begging him to take it down to the Egg in the front yard, to see if it would fit into the socket in the dash.

And yet the ‘until further notice' part of his punishment concerned him. While ever that bit remained, his parents were still angry, and could increase the length of the punishment at any time. So tempting fate by sneaking downstairs probably wasn't wise.

Since bed seemed to be the only safe option he had left, he put on his pyjamas and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. It was while he was in there, with a mouthful of toothpaste, that he heard raised voices downstairs. They weren't angry raised voices, but calling-out raised voices.

‘No, I haven't seen them,' Mum was saying. ‘And is there any need to turn my kitchen upside down?'

‘They aren't expensive,' Dad replied, ‘but I'd still like to find them before the weekend. Edsel, have you seen my sunglasses?' he called. ‘You know, those ones I bought from the petrol station – have you seen them?'

‘No.'

‘Are you sure? You know the ones I mean, don't you?'

‘Of course I do, and I'm sure I haven't seen them,' Edsel answered, a little impatiently. Then, as he rinsed his mouth, he let himself have his recurrent little daydream about living in a house where his parents were roughly the same size as each other, didn't get cream all over their faces, didn't do all they could to embarrass their son, and didn't develop a heart condition over a pair of $15 sunnies. In other words, a
normal
kind of family.

He returned to his bedroom, saw the white plug-like object on his desk, and immediately had an idea that might, at any other time, have led him to feel very proud, even a little smug. But on this occasion it was more a matter of him feeling relieved. He had a way of getting outside.

‘Actually, Dad, I might have seen them,' he called as he pulled on his dressing-gown, and Dad came to the foot of the stairs.

‘You've seen them?'

‘Yeah, in your workshop, I think.'

‘In my
workshop?
What are they doing there?'

Edsel shrugged.

‘You're sure that's where you saw them?'

‘I think so.'

‘Where were they?'

‘Next to the thing,' Edsel replied.

‘What thing?'

‘You know, the … the thing with the stuff.' This was going much worse than Edsel had planned. In fact, had he known that he'd have to endure this kind of interrogation, he felt sure that he'd never have tried telling this particular lie to begin with.

‘I'll go and get them,' Edsel said. ‘I'll be back in a second.'

‘You're not letting him outside again, are you, Barry?' Mum asked. ‘It's been a big night already. Is he wearing something warm?'

‘Go on, be quick. And you're still grounded,' Dad said, as Edsel pushed the white plug deeper into his pocket and hurried downstairs and out the front door.

But he didn't make his way to the workshop at the back of the garage. There was no point since he'd never seen his father's sunnies out there anyway. Instead, he hurried to the Egg and lifted the dome. It took him barely a couple of seconds to slot the plug into place. Again, just as they had when he'd attached the dome, his fingers tingled.

‘Edsel!' Dad was calling from the just inside the front door. ‘Have you found them yet?'

Startled, Edsel spun around. His father was still inside the screen door, a dark shape against the light.

‘No, I couldn't find them,' he replied. ‘Weird – I was sure I'd seen them there.' He bounded up onto the front porch and went inside. ‘Sorry, Dad, I guess I made a mistake.'

‘Oh well, thanks for looking. Go on, upstairs you go. And think about what you did tonight.'

‘Yes, Dad,' Edsel answered, but he knew that he'd be thinking about a lot more than how badly he'd been treated. Added to the excitement of the Egg, and all the money he'd been making from it, was the new mystery of the white plug in the dash. But it wasn't all good. There was also the looming horror of tomorrow, and having to face Kenny, Mikey and whatever other kids were in that quadrangle when his parents stomped all over his sense of dignity.

Yes, he had a lot to think about as he climbed into bed and flicked off his lamp.

He was drifting into warm, cosy, dozy sleep when he was jerked back to full consciousness by a strange blueish flash of light, bright enough to see through his closed eyelids. He stirred and, getting out of bed, pulled back the curtains to look down into the front yard.

What he saw made his breath catch in his chest. The Egg still stood in position in the middle of the front yard, but within the dome was a kind of greenish-blue glow, like a very weak neon tube.

Edsel frowned and rubbed his eyes, and after pulling on his dressing-gown, he slipped silently downstairs. He could hear his parents in the living room. His father had given up on the search for the sunglasses, and having settled down to watch TV, was laughing in an annoying, snorty kind of a way, while his mother
tsked
away about something one of the actors had just said.

Grimacing as he eased the front door open, he slipped out onto the front porch, and from there down onto the lawn itself. He approached the Egg slowly. It was still glowing, although the light seemed to be dimming now.

Holding his breath, Edsel reached out with one hand and touched the outer shell. It was cold, so icy cold that Edsel immediately pulled his hand away. Odd, he thought as he absent-mindedly reached down to pick up the
SPACESHIP CLOSED
sign, which had fallen over. Even odder, he thought, as he noticed that one leg of the Egg was resting on the edge of the sign, as if the sign had been laid on the lawn and the Egg deliberately placed on top of it.

Especially odd, he thought next, as he noticed a small circle of flattened grass beside one of the Egg's little chrome feet. He bent down to have a closer look. It appeared as if the little flat circle had been made by the foot, and by the weight of the dozens of little kids playing in the Egg over the past few days. But this didn't explain why the circle was now
beside
the foot. It was almost as if the Egg had been moved sideways, just by a couple of centimetres. Moved and put down on top of a fallen plywood sign.

This is indeed strange, he thought.

By now the glow within the canopy had almost completely died away, and Edsel carefully reached out once more. The sharp iciness was gone, and as he slowly lifted the canopy, he heard a little hiss come out, a bit like the sound a can of soft drink makes when you first open it.

Edsel looked in. Nothing seemed at all different. He didn't climb into the seat, but he did give the little joystick a bit of a wiggle. Then he pressed the button in the centre of the dash. Nothing, and nothing.

He was starting to feel a little cold now, even though it hadn't been especially chilly when he'd first come out of the house, so he slid the sign out from under the foot of the Egg. Before propping it back up, however, he gave the Egg a bit of a nudge with his hip, just to get it back into place. And once he'd checked that the feet were back in their little circles of pressed-down lawn, he leaned the sign against the leg of the mysterious machine and turned to go inside.

‘Edsel? Edsel! Barry, he's not here!' he heard his mother shouting from inside the house. ‘Barry! Come quick, he's not here!'

‘What?' Heavy footsteps thudded through the house as his father ran to investigate, and blowing out a long, exasperated breath, Edsel reached into the cockpit, yanked out the plug, slipped it into his dressing-gown pocket, and lowered the dome.

As he pulled the front door shut behind him, his parents came rushing down the hall, his father mostly hidden by his frantic mother. ‘What were you doing outside?' she panted. ‘You can't just go out in the middle of the night! What were you thinking? And what were you doing?' ‘

Nothing, Mum,' he replied. ‘I thought I remembered where those sunglasses were.'

‘And did you find them?'

Edsel showed her his empty hands. ‘No, I was wrong again.'

‘Hmm,' Dad said, clearly unconvinced. ‘Go on, son, up to bed.'

‘Goodnight, Mum. Night, Dad.'

His father's thin, porridgy face was paler than usual. ‘You'll be the death of us, my boy,' he muttered.