Conrad Cooper's Last Stand ePub (14 page)

Eyes open.

People, lots of white … white clothes. Can't see properly and the white dresses keep saying, ‘Hello, Conrad. Keep your eyes open. Stay awake.'

Shuddup.

I'm trying to sleep.

Stupid voices, yak, yak, yak. My eyes close but,
oww
. Fingers pull them open. Faces float and wobble, like I'm underwater. Maybe I'm in a pool … ugh! Someone quit shining that torch in my eyes.

‘Hello, Conrad. Stay awake.'

‘Sweetie?'

Mum … that you? Now I try to open my eyes, but the darkness feels heavy and my eyelids are like blankets, tucking me in for the night.

Her voice mixes up with others saying, ‘Nasty concussion … Keep him awake in case of swelling … Hello, Conrad. Keep your eyes open.'

Mixed up, everything jumbles together; voices, lights
and colours. I'm bouncing on a wave, seasick one second, then swallowed up and disappearing under the water, sinking into darkness. But the poking fingers won't let me rest.

More people come; lots of white clothes and white faces. ‘Hello, Conrad. Stay awake. Hello. Hello.'

Something … something bad happened. Gaz? Did he tell them what I did? What did I do, exactly? My head hurts and there's pills sliding into my mouth.

Yep. I. Dunno. Nothing.

Shadows grow across the room, creeping up the walls and along the bed railings. Darker and darker, they sink into my eyes and the sun's going down. Soon the whole world will be dark … so very dark.

And then the voices say, ‘Hello, Conrad. Fancy a rest? Get yourself some sleep.'

So I do.

When I wake up there's darkness inside the room instead of my head. Light shines through an open doorway and everything glows – white sheets, white walls, silver beds.

Am I in a hospital?

Hope so. When Jasper got his tonsils out, his parents bought him a new skateboard. That'd be cool.

I look around. Mum's sitting on a chair by the bed, staring out the window. My thoughts work better but I can't find words and I don't know what to say. I can't
remember what happened. How'd I get here?

Pictures flash in my head. A blue and white wall of police. Singing, staring eyes and hands digging each person out, like roots from clay soil. And I remember … Gaz.

My fingers tighten on the pillows. ‘Mum – Mum!'

Her head bounces up. ‘What? What is it, honey?'

I've got to tell her. He chased me but what really sticks, what I can't forget, is the look on his face. She needs to know what I've done.

‘Mum …' The words melt on my tongue, slipping out. ‘He knows.'

‘Yes, honey.'

‘He
knows
.'

She doesn't get it. He really saw me, for the first time, and he didn't like what he saw, not one little bit. Only, I don't think he can go back to not seeing, now he knows …
something
. What? My thoughts run away, laughing and pointing at me in the distance. What does he know?

Mum pats the blanket and says words like ‘Okay, okay', which shouldn't make things all right, but somehow does.

My eyes feel heavy and they close, leaving me in the darkness for a long time. I don't know how long. Voices come back and move around in the darkness saying, ‘Strong pain medication. It'll make him woozy. Cup of tea?'

‘Thanks,' says Mum.

‘Your husband's still in Emergency, Mrs Cooper. No worries there. He's got a broken ankle and a few bruised ribs. He'll be on his feet tomorrow.'

Mum says, ‘Right. Good.'

It gets darker, quieter.

Next time I open my eyes, I've got a visitor. Mr Kelly stands at the end of my bed, looking at Mum. She's got her thumb in her mouth and her legs point at the wall, away from Mr Kelly. I close my eyes, but they don't notice. They're too busy talking.

Mum says, ‘You're saying he went up there regularly?'

‘Yeah … look, let's not get into it. I'm just here because Mum saw what happened. I thought I'd better check up on him.'

‘You let a ten-year-old boy wander around your camp?'

‘No.' His schoolteacher voice sounds calm. ‘You let him. It's not my job to worry about his whereabouts. I just kept an eye on him while he was there.'

‘But …'

‘Look, I just came to see how he was doing.'

‘They let you out for that?'

‘Nah, they couldn't keep us all. I've been processed. But I've gotta get back – some of my mates are being held … I said I'd check in on their whanau, let them know how they're going and stuff.'

His feet shuffle, moving away – he's leaving.

Mum's voice comes again, ‘Wait.'

The shuffling noise stops.

She sighs. ‘Mr Kelly, what was he doing up there?'

‘Dunno. He said he wanted to protest.'

‘It's just so strange. What was he
thinking
?' She shakes her head. ‘It's a good thing my husband spotted him.'

‘Right … Was he the one Mum saw, chasing Conrad?'

My eyes open, just a crack. Mum fiddles with the end of my blanket, but she looks up now and stares at Mr Kelly. ‘My husband – he tripped over a root and hurt his leg.' She sounds weird, like she's asking for something. ‘He worries about Conrad a lot.'

Maybe Mr Kelly's confused, 'cause he doesn't answer straight away. Finally he says, ‘Conrad visited quite a bit. He kept going on about protesting and something about Tane Mahuta. I don't know why, but he didn't seem very happy. Kind of intense for a kid, anxious even, you know?'

‘Look, I …' Mum bites hard on her thumb. ‘If … if my son had a problem,
any
kind of problem, I'd know. He'd tell me.' She chews. ‘He's not like other kids, he … he likes discipline. It makes him feel safe.'

‘You sure about that? No, don't answer.' He waves his hand and his shoulders drop, like he's been carrying them a long way. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘You can't come in here saying –'

‘I know, I know.' He shakes his head. ‘Look, it's been
a big night and the cells weren't a picnic … I'm beat. You're probably right. If something was wrong, he'd tell you.'

‘He
would
.'

‘Like I said, okay. I believe you.'

They stand there, staring at each other. I dunno what's going on but Mum says, ‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. What happened wasn't your fault. I just – I just don't know what to do.'

‘Yeah, well. I'd better go.'

‘Yes.'

‘I'll come back later, see how he's doing.'

‘Oh … I'd have to check. I mean, I don't know if my husband would like that … sorry.'

Mr Kelly shrugs. ‘I'll come anyway.'

They're still staring at each other. Mum pulls her thumb out of her mouth and says, ‘Okay, I guess.' Then she does something weird – she smiles. He blinks back at her and the edges of his mouth curl up, too.

I close my eyes tight, in case someone smiles at me. But I hear his feet padding away, towards the door and he's almost there, so I take a peek. He stops in the doorway, still looking at Mum, still half-smiling.

‘Thing is,' he says, shaking his head. ‘I don't get it. What'd you say he tripped over?'

‘What?'

‘Your husband. He fell over?'

‘Oh, a pohutukawa root poking straight up out of the ground. Gaz said it looked like a little noose.'

Mr Kelly shakes his head. ‘I know every inch of that field, used to mow it from time to time, and I never saw a loose root, not like that.'

Silence; and then she adds, ‘D'you think someone dug it up on purpose?'

‘Uh, I don't think you can do that. Not really. And you don't think Conrad would run his dad into a trap?'

‘No. No I don't.'

I close my eyes.

‘If anyone set a trap for your husband, it was the pohutukawa.' He gives a half laugh. ‘And I've never heard of someone being attacked by a tree.'

She laughs, too. ‘You're right, it sounds crazy.'

But I think of our school's pohutukawa, the roots cracking up the pavement. How far could they travel? Tane, did you send the root to save me?

All this thinking hurts. And you don't even really exist, not for me, so why am I talking to you? It's just a habit. But in case …

Thanks, Tane.

Darkness comes again and washes away my thoughts. But they come back like the creeping tide, wandering into my head, into the white room with its big window.

How long've I been asleep? It's still night time; I can
tell by the closed blinds and the electric lights, burning in the hallway. Mum's sitting next to me with my school bag on her lap, eyes shut.

And then they open.

I can't pretend to be asleep any more. She's seen me. ‘Hey, Mum.'

‘Hey, you.' She reaches over, stroking my fringe. ‘How're you feeling, honey?'

‘Okay … tired.'

We sit there, just looking at each other. At last she sighs, ‘Conrad? You know you weren't supposed to be up there, Gaz nearly had a heart attack …'

‘Mum?'

‘Hmm?'

‘I … I don't like Gaz.'

Her eyes widen. ‘You … what?'

‘I heard you saying I'd let you know, if there was a problem. So, I'm letting you know.'

‘Okay.' Mum nods to herself. ‘Well, that's normal. Not everyone gets on all the time. Sometimes it's natural –'

‘No, Mum, I really don't like him. He doesn't care if I'm hurt or anything. He wasn't worried about me being there, he was angry. Gaz wants me to do exactly what he says when he says it, all the time.'

Mum sucks in her bottom lip. ‘Conrad. You're being dramatic.'

But I'm not. ‘Mum, when I fell over –'

Mum snaps, ‘It was an accident.'

The truth comes out fast, spitting from the cracks inside me, the ones that split open when I told Gaz ‘no'.

‘He didn't mean to hurt me, but he wanted to. I don't like him. I don't care if you do, I don't and I'm not keeping quiet about it. I'll tell everyone I want. Mum … it's the truth, and telling the truth's a good thing. Isn't it?'

‘It is usually, but not when it's disrespectful or causes us trouble.' Mum's hand pulls away from my hair; she drops back into her chair. ‘You're tired. The medication's making you woozy …'

‘Mum?'

‘Hmm?'

‘How come telling the truth is a good thing, but only if I say what you want to hear?'

Mum's mouth opens, like she's having trouble getting enough air. Before she gets enough oxygen to speak, I say, ‘He's not even nice to you. You guys always fight. Why don't we go and live somewhere else?'

‘You don't understand. You're too young.'

‘But –'

‘It's not that simple. I'd be a single mum, I'm not trained for anything; we wouldn't have enough money.' She takes a deep breath, looking down at her fingers. ‘I'd be alone.'

‘You'd have me.'

‘Conrad … enough of this, okay? I need to think.'

Mum stuffs her thumb in her mouth, and we stop talking. What's the point? I could use all the words in my head and she still wouldn't understand. Her eyes move to my face and after a bit, she says, ‘How're you feeling?'

‘Hurts.'

‘I know.' She looks around like she's hoping for a nurse, but we're all alone. She bites her thumb harder. ‘I wanted to bring you something, but I didn't know what you'd like.'

‘No worries.' The words hurt, scraping against my throat.

‘You never were one for stuffed toys.' She looks down into my bag. ‘I know you like fish 'n' chips, but the nurses wouldn't let me bring any. So I brought one of your books.'

She takes it out, red and wrinkled around the edges: my
Rangi and Papa
library book. Mum tries to hand it to me, but I can't move my arm. There's a tube stuck in it like a tiny waterslide and it's linked to a clear bag, hanging from a metal pole.

‘Oh …' She pulls back. ‘Right, well. Let me read to you. Not much light, but we'll manage.'

Mum opens the book and I close my eyes. She hasn't read to me since I was little. I sit back and let the words ride over to me, floating around inside my head, getting lost.

The story moves in and out. I can't follow it all. But nearer the end, Mum gets into the story and her voice grows stronger. The words stop floating and start swimming straight towards me.

Her voice says:

At last, the brothers of Tane came to him and said, ‘You must try and separate our parents, Rangi and Papa.'

Tane felt sorry for his mother, who loved his father dearly. He said, ‘They will not like it.'

His brothers said to him, ‘They love each other, but do they care for us?'

And Tane said, ‘They must, for they are our parents.'

The gods shook their heads. ‘They hold each other too tight and we are trapped, locked in their embrace. Not even light can enter the space between them. Must we always crawl on our bellies? Must we suffer for their love and live in this eternal darkness?'

Mum stops reading. ‘So, this is the Tane you keep going on about, eh?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Hmm.' She frowns at the page, but her voice goes on.

Tane nodded his head. He too felt crushed and could no longer bear it. He longed to move and taste fresh air; his heart called out for freedom.

‘Very well,' he said. ‘I will try.'

And so, Tane stood on his head. Using his feet he pushed up at his father, the sky. He ignored the cries of his mother and pushed harder, for he needed the light. He could not live in cramped darkness.

Tane gave one almighty heave, and it was done. His parents split apart and, despite their cries, light entered the world.