One Foot Wrong Page 5

  I said, ‘The world is full of wickedness.’

  Mary said, ‘You’re my first friend here.’ We waited for the frog until the bell rang and Mary said, ‘Next time he’ll come, we just have to wait.’

  My teacher said, ‘Bring in something from your home that you’d like to share with the others, and tell us its story. Something that is important to you.’

  The next day Tim brought in two small men with hats and sticks. ‘They’re soldiers from my grandfather,’ he said. ‘My grandfather fought in the war. His brother Sam went too but Sam didn’t come back, only my grandfather did. Now my grandfather lives with us and sometimes he takes me to the movies. We eat whatever we like because he’s got a sweet tooth.’

  Sarah brought in a purple plum. ‘It grew on a tree in our garden,’ she said. ‘My father makes jam. He never cooks anything else, but every year he makes jam from these plums and it ends up everywhere – even on the walls – because he’s messy, but it’s not jam for bread, it’s jam for ice-cream.’

  Jane brought in a stone with circles and a hole. ‘It’s from the beach and if you put your ear to it you can hear it. We went to the beach last Christmas and I went out deep with my Uncle Peter and he showed me how to ride a wave all the way in. Uncle Peter used to be a lifesaver and he’s seen sharks. He said that a shark gave him such a fright that he was even scared to take a bath after that.’

  What story did I want to tell when it was my turn? Cat wrapped herself around my leg, but I couldn’t bring Cat because she moved and wriggled and did what she wanted. I lay on my bed and looked around the walls of my room. The paintings went crackle crackle beneath me when I moved. I pulled out a painting of God the Bird.

  The next day it was my turn. My teacher smiled at me, ‘What about you, Hester, what have you brought for us?’ I stood up slowly. Somebody said, dumb arse. I walked past the desks to the front of the class. I held up the painting of God the Bird. He was flying around my head where I hung. ‘He’ll talk to you when you’re hanging.’

  A cloud of quiet came down over the room. ‘Thank you, Hester.’ My teacher’s lips closed in a tight smile.

  ‘He comes to me when I am hanging for my punishment.’

  ‘Thank you, Hester, that is enough,’ my teacher said, no smile now.

  ‘He talks. He says, it will be alright, it will be alright.’ Nobody in the room spoke or moved. The cloud of quiet held them. ‘He has a black beak, he could peck out an eye if he wanted. He could put in his beak and pull out the eye and behind it there’d be nothing. Nothing! Peck peck peck! He comes when I hang. He says—’

  ‘Thank you, Hester, that’s enough!’ my teacher snapped.

  ‘He comes when Sack hangs me.’

  ‘Next please,’ said my teacher, as she turned away. ‘Christopher, have you got something to show us?’

  When I came home Sack was on her knees wiping out the shelves. A cup of tea, undrunk, sat on the table. ‘It’s never over,’ she said into the dark of the cupboard. She turned round to me. ‘Well? What happened?’

  The story of my day burst out of me in the devil’s language left unspoken too long. ‘My name did a dance.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘On a tree.’

  ‘What dance? What tree?’

  ‘A windy dance on a paper tree.’ I lifted my arms, pointed my toes and danced around the kitchen like the leaf with my name – around the table, over the chairs and past the window.

  Sack threw her tea at me. It burned but not much because Sack only liked her tea warm, not hot. I stood still as I dripped. My dance was finished. Sack poured another cup of warm tea.

  When I woke up today I was lying at the bottom of the stairs. I don’t know why I woke up at the bottom of the stairs. I had sore knees, sore elbows, and a sore neck. Stairs were for climbing up and down, stairs were for falling, stairs were punishment and the way to my room. Boot wanted Sack to let me be. ‘Kathy, can you let her be now?’

  ‘Are you telling me – her mother?’

  ‘I don’t think she understands.’

  ‘Then she has to learn. It’s not your business.’ He left us then and we went back to learning, me with a black bag over my eyes and the hard floor making cracks in my knees.

  Mary and me ate our lunch together under the tree. Mary only had an apple. She said, ‘Can I have some of yours?’ I gave her my bread. Mary tore some off and gave back the rest. We ate the bread then Mary climbed up to the first branch of the tree, hooked her knees over and hung down. ‘I’m a flying fruit bat!’ Her skirt fell over her head and a squeal mixed with laughter came out from under her skirt. She swung as she hung. ‘Come on, Hester!’ she said, pulling her skirt back down. Her face was red. I climbed slowly up. I was shaking. ‘Come on, fruit bat!’ said Mary. I shook in every part as I hooked my knees over. ‘Don’t be scared, little fruit bat,’ said Mary. Slowly I let myself down beside her until I hung. The world was upside down so that the floor was made of clouds. Mary bit into her apple then she took the apple piece from her laughing mouth and fed it to me as we swung. Sweet apple filled my mouth. An eternity of clouds spread at my feet.

  ‘Hester, there is a new chore for you to do now that you are bigger.’ Boot stood in the kitchen behind me while I dusted window ledges with the rag. ‘You are old enough to go outside now, and chop the wood for the wood stove.’ He opened the back door for me and I saw tree and the grass and around the corner the line for hanging clothes. It was the forbidden outside. Boot walked to where axe leaned, taking a rest against the wall, and lifted him high, then he let him fall into wood, who waited on the block. Wood said, ‘Don’t!’ and ‘No!’ but axe went down anyway. He had to; it was his chore.

  ‘It is the weight of the axe itself that chops the wood, it takes less strength than you think,’ Boot said. ‘See the cuts already there?’ He touched the black cuts with his finger. ‘That is where the axe should fall.’ I followed the cuts; I let the head of axe fall into them so that wood came apart around the block.

  ‘That’s right, Hester. And then you pile the wood up and bring enough inside to fill the wood box.’ Boot watched me chop. ‘What do they say to you at that place?’ he asked me. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what answer he wanted. ‘It doesn’t matter what they say, it is your mother and father you listen to.’

  ‘Why are you my father?’

  Boot shook his head at me and went inside.

  Axe and me went slow (I had to watch him or he missed the wood and tried for my foot). While we chopped axe sang a slow-chopping song into the cuts chop chop chop, yes yes yes, more more more, chop chop chop, yes yes yes, more more more. I carried the pieces chopped and ready, into the kitchen. They lived in a box. It was quiet and dark in the box for them. They slept and dreamed about Hester and axe and how much it hurt to be chopped.

  I opened the red door of the wood stove. Fire called out, ‘I’m hungry, Hester,’ while he did his leaping dance. I took a wood from the box and I put him in. The fire made my hands hot if I got too close. I watched the fire eat up the wood. Wood called out for me, ‘Hester, help, help! It hurts!’ but how could Hester help? It was my chore to keep that hungry fire hot and flaming.

  Mary and me waited for the frog at the puddle. Some days the puddle was bigger than others. There were always different things floating. I pointed with a stick and said, ‘What’s that, Mary?’

  She said, ‘A chip packet.’

  I said, ‘What’s that Mary?’

  She said, ‘A fizzy drink can.’ We bent down close to the puddle and I stirred with my stick as if the puddle was soup. Then Mary said, ‘I had no friends because when I came out the doctor had to cut my lip from my nose. He did it on purpose,’ she said, ‘so the air had a hole to come through and if I didn’t have the hole I’d be six feet under – but it means I don’t have any friends.’ She threw a stone into the puddle then looked at me. ‘Until now.’ The water moved out in circles getting bigger.

  The next day we came and
the puddle was gone. ‘Do you want to wait for the frog at a different place?’ I nodded a yes. ‘Follow me.’ I followed Mary behind the school. She held the wire in the fence up. ‘Crawl under.’ I crawled under and Mary said, ‘Now you hold it for me.’ I held the wire up and it cut a line of blood into my hand but I didn’t let the wire cut Mary. We were in the world outside the school. We crossed a road empty of chariots and buses and then we were on grass at the top of a hill. At the bottom were trees and bush. We started to run down the hill. Mary was laughing. She threw herself onto the grass. ‘I’m a ball!’ she shouted and rolled. My song sang, I lay down and made myself into a ball too. Mary and me were two balls rolling. The world was turning circles, full up with our laughing sounds. At the bottom Mary said, ‘Come on, we’re going to the creek.’

  ‘What’s a creek?’

  Mary shouted over her shoulder as she ran, ‘How come you don’t know anything?’ Branches whipped at our cheeks and knees as Mary and me ran along a winding trail through the bush. Faster and faster we ran, jumping over stones and fallen trees. The sky above us, the bush around us, the rocky ground under our feet all called, faster, Mary and Hester, faster, go go go!

  When the trail ended we stood breathing hard and looking at a rushing shining snake of water hissing its way between the trees. We went close to the water. ‘Does it bite like the serpent?’ I asked Mary, between breaths.

  ‘It doesn’t bite, it wets,’ she said, putting her hand in and splashing me. The water was cold on my cheek. ‘Come on froggy, come on froggy,’ she whispered to the water.

  ‘Come on froggy, come on froggy,’ I whispered too. We waited. I heard the snake of water moving, I heard birds and trees. I listened for the oldest song. Mary took off her shoes and put her toes into the water. I did too. Dark wet dirt came up between our toes. ‘Imagine if soap was made of dirt,’ said Mary, and washed up her legs with the dirt soap. I did too. It made my white legs brown. We ran along the creek in socks of mud. Mary kicked her feet in the water. Water sprayed up, I saw the world through water – loose, without edges.

  We sat on the cool grass beside the creek and waited for the frog. After a while of quiet waiting I said to Mary, ‘I don’t want the frog to come.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked me.

  ‘Because then you’ll say, “That’s the frog, now you’ve seen it, time to go back”.’

  ‘When we do see the frog, we’ll run away with him. We’ll ride on his back and he’ll sing us his song. But now it’s time to go. Lunch will be over soon.’ Mary put her shoes back on and stood up. I put my shoes on too, then I looked up at Mary. The sun was behind her head, and it hurt my eyes to see. In The Abridged Picture Bible the Angel Gabriel makes a visit with the sun behind his head just like Mary. ‘You are Gabriel,’ I told her.

  ‘You’re loonie.’ She grabbed my hand. We ran back to the wire fence and into school.

  If you didn’t tell Sack about a creek and a lip cut from a nose and two balls rolling and Mary’s laugh and my song, were you telling a lie? I didn’t know. I lay in my bed and looked up at the cracks in the shapes of wings. ‘Lord,’ I asked, ‘what is a lie? Is it if you don’t tell?’ The Lord said nothing; he only spoke to Sack.

  The next night Sack went to bed early with her bad back. Sack’s bad back sang her songs and told her stories of hope from the Bible when they lay together. I had to bring her white pills for pain and sleeping. Boot and me were downstairs. Boot was mixing boat glue in a little pot. The empty bottle was there, waiting. I lay on the floor with Cat. ‘Don’t you want a pencil and paper, Hester?’ Boot asked with a smile.

  ‘No,’ I said. Paint at the school desk was better then a pencil at Boot’s feet.

  ‘But you like to draw your funny little things – why don’t you want to?’

  ‘No,’ I said. Cat jumped over my tum, and did a roll. I laughed the devil’s language.

  ‘What are you doing at that place?’ Boot asked. Cat’s tail tickled my nose. ‘What are you doing there?’ I didn’t know what Boot wanted me to say, so I kept quiet as Boot’s eyes travelled from my toes up over the rest of me.

  That night I woke up, soft footsteps on the floor, my room a black blanket. ‘It’s only me,’ said the whispering voice of Boot.

  ‘Am I in trouble?’ I asked.

  ‘Hetty, shhhh,’ Boot said. He took quiet steps to my bed and then he sat on it making me tip into the middle. He patted my head the way I pat Cat. I went to my bird dream but Boot pulled me back. He reached his warm hand under the blanket, ‘Ssshhhh.’ His hand was between a tickle and a smack. It moved faster; it got under my nightie and then Boot got in my bed. My bed made a creak creak noise. I laughed and then I didn’t. ‘Don’t cry, Hetty, shshshsh.’ Boot’s hand sat on my mouth so my noises got stuck in between his fingers. He lay beside me filling up the whole bed. I closed my eyes tight as I could so I got smaller and smaller until I was a tiny mouse in a hidey hole. That way more room for Boot.

  Boot pulled down his pyjama pants like a man going to the toilet. Mouse went squeak squeak. ‘Don’t cry, Hester, be a good girl.’ I lay still as Lot’s wife. Boot rolled on top of me. ‘Creak creak,’ said the bed. ‘Bad bed!’ said Lot’s wife. Down in the middle of the bed grew a strong tree, stronger than tree in the garden, stronger than street tree, stronger than school tree with the bench. Boot pushed the tree into Hester. His breathing was fast and his hand was on my mouth and a bit on my nose to catch all the noises.

  The tree split my skin as its branches grew down my arms and legs. The branches grew out my fingers, out my ears and eyes, and burst out the top of my head. They spread over the bed and covered the ceiling so that all you could see was branches. The tree was cutting me in pieces like Sack cut the meat for dinner. Blood sprayed out where I’d been split. I made a noise big enough to get past Boot’s fingers and then God the Bird in the ceiling held out his wing with a song underneath and said, ‘Hide.’ I left Boot with the tree and Lot’s wife and I went to God the Bird and hid in the song of his wing.

  When I came back only the stinging was left in the bed and that took up as much of the room as Boot.

  My walk down the stairs the next morning was slow and stiff. Splinters stuck under my skin from the night before. Sack was scrubbing at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Dirt is caught in the corners, if you look close. Come and help.’ She dipped her brush in the bucket. Hot water spilled over the edges. I got on my hands and knees and scrubbed beside her. I watched the dirt come out of the corners and go into my brush.

  ‘Do you talk to boys at school, Hester? Do they look at you? Don’t let a boy touch you. What do they tell you there?’ Boot asked me while I chopped. He looked afraid of something. Chop chop chop, yes yes yes, more more more, sang axe. I could have said a boy didn’t touch me but one called me fatty boom sticks and Mary took my hand, but I kept quiet and let axe do the talking chop chop chop, yes yes yes, more more more.

  At school I painted Mary’s lip and nose. They joined the snake of water and took us all the way to the frog. My teacher said, ‘Would you like to give your painting a name?’

  ‘Angel Gabriel and the Oldest Song,’ I said.

  My teacher shook her head and smiled. ‘You’re a mystery, Hester.’

  Mary and me stood under the shelter with all the others who we were not the same as and waited for the bus to come. Will came over to me and said, ‘Why are you so stupid?’

  ‘Bugger off,’ said Mary.

  ‘Well, Mary, you tell me then, why is she so stupid?’ Will looked behind him at the other boys. They were laughing.

  ‘I said bugger off!’ Mary spoke louder this time.

  ‘Be polite and answer my question.’

  ‘I’m not answering your dumb question.’

  ‘Why, are you stupid too?’

  ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘Your dad’s a piss head, you fuck off,’ Will said, coming closer to Mary.

  Mary stepped in front of me and smacked him with her hand open across hi
s cheek. Will fell back, his eyes and mouth wide. ‘Fuck off,’ she said, breathing hard through her nose. Her face was redder than when we were fruit bats hanging from the branch. Will rubbed his cheek. There was fresh water in his eyes; it sprang from the source of his shame. He stepped back. Two boys came close to me and Mary. They were from the big class. One pushed Mary from behind so that she fell onto the other one.

  ‘Ooh, don’t touch me, Mary, I don’t want your germs, they’ll turn my face funny!’ A big boy pulled at his lip and pushed at his nose so his face was a twist. ‘Get away from me, funny face.’ He pushed her back to the other boy. Mary hit his chin. He hit her back, not too hard. If he wanted to he could have hit her harder. He was going to do that now.

  Birds flew over our heads. There was a circle of children that I was not the same as around Mary and the big boys. They were like the company I kept in the hanging room. I was in the circle and I was above the circle with the birds as they flew away. Mary ran at the big boy, she wrapped herself round his middle and tried to push him over. He knocked her very hard onto the ground. The circle watched. I was part of the company that I kept. The birds called to each other across the sky caw caw caw!

  ‘Fuck you, bastards!’ shouted Mary. A drop of blood came out her nose. The birds were black spots in the faraway when I ran at the big boy and knocked his big head hard into the back of the bus shelter. I heard it hit. The bus shelter shook. The boy didn’t get up. The bus came. I took Mary’s hand and we went on. Nobody said crazies this time. We sat side by side without speaking. The blood dried dark around the edge of Mary’s nose.

  A rope you couldn’t see grew from me to Mary. The pictures in my head of Mary ran down the rope like water down a pipe, and into her, and her pictures of me ran down the rope straight back and into me. The rope got tight and knotted around us. Mary said, ‘When you go home tonight, think of me. Choose what I’m doing and what I’m wearing and I’ll think of you and do the same. Then tomorrow we can tell each other if we got it right.’