Stuff Happens (4 page)

After school, I lay on my bed and wondered how to bring up the note with my parents. Did I go up to them and talk about it? Or could I just leave it on their bed and hope they saw it after I fell asleep?

I really, really didn't want to talk about it and risk getting grounded.

‘Is everything all right?' Mum was standing in my doorway.

‘Yeah,' I lied. I sat up.

‘Dinner's ready in five. Wash your hands.'

I hopped up off my bed and reached into my bag. The note was a little crumpled. I stared at it. I was too scared to take it out.

I zipped my bag up instead.

The next day of school was hard. I couldn't text Eddie and Christian when something funny happened, and they couldn't text me. I had no idea what was happening in Bunbury, and even though I had Karlie and Angelo, it wasn't the same.

When I had a phone in my pocket, I could check back whenever I wanted to, but now my life was 100 per cent Monvale, and everything else felt so far away. And I missed it a lot.

Mr Johnson didn't say anything about the note, which was good. I didn't want to tell him I'd been too afraid to show my parents. The final bell rang and when Mr Johnson dismissed the class, he called me over.

Bummer. I thought maybe he'd forgotten.

‘Do you have something for me, Sean?'

I stuttered. ‘Uh, I forgot to get it signed.'

Mr Johnson blinked. ‘Are you sure?' He didn't believe me. ‘I know you probably don't want to tell your parents you got into trouble,' he added. ‘I remember being your age, I was exactly the same.'

‘You got in trouble?'

Mr Johnson nodded. ‘Not too often. But when I did, I was terrified of telling my dad.'

‘How did you do it then?'

‘It got easier,' he said. ‘Telling him was never as bad as I thought it'd be. Yes, he was disappointed, but he was always on my team. I just had to let him know.'

_____

I had started walking down Thomas Road when I heard my name. I looked up from my feet. Dad was resting against his car.

‘What are you doing here?' I asked.

Dad looked surprised. ‘I finished work early. Didn't you get my message?'

‘Oh . . .' He didn't know my phone had been confiscated. What Mr Johnson had said was fresh in my mind. Telling Dad wouldn't be as bad as I thought it'd be . . . I wanted to tell him. But it was scary. Too scary.

‘Yeah, I forgot,' I lied. I
lied
. I hadn't shown him the note, that was bad, but now, I was lying to cover up getting in trouble.

I felt worse when Dad believed me, like someone was tying my stomach into a knot. ‘Well, you're lucky I found you before you walked home.' He looked up at the school behind me. ‘It hasn't changed much.'

‘There's a new hall up the back, you can't see it from here,' I said.

Dad moved his head; yeah, like doing
that
would make the Monvale Primary building move out of the way. ‘I couldn't tell you the last time I was here.' He started counting years on his fingers until he ran out of fingers and gave up.

He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Come with me for a sec,' he said.

He led me across Thomas Road. He leaned against the fence and I just copied him. We both stared at the E. B. Watson Oval. My heart thumped. I shouldn't have lied. I should have just told him the truth, about the phone, the note . . . All of it.

‘See that toilet block?' Dad asked, pointing over at it. ‘The first time I spoke to your mum was over there.'

That sounded romantic, not.

‘Your grandpa ran the sausage sizzle on Saturdays, and I would help him out by giving people sauce. Your mum was there to watch her brother play footy, she came over to buy some food. I knew her name, but that was it, we were in different classes. The first thing I said to her was, “Tomato or barbecue?”'

‘And then you fell in love.' I made a smooching face.

‘I was so scared I didn't talk to her again for a year.' Dad laughed.

We just stood there, quietly. Dad was thinking about the past and I could hear Mr Johnson in my head again. Dad was on my team, I just had to let him . . . ‘Dad?'

‘Yeah?'

‘I . . . didn't forget your message,' I said. ‘I didn't get it.'

‘You sure? Maybe my phone's broken.' He went to check but I stopped him.

‘No, I . . . Mr Johnson caught me on my phone yesterday and confiscated it. He said I could have it back if you signed my note, but I didn't want you and Mum finding out.'

Dad didn't say anything. He just stared at the oval. I couldn't tell if he was mad or not.

‘I'm sorry,' I added.

He sighed and squeezed one of my shoulders. ‘It's all right.'

I was relieved. Mr Johnson was right. Admitting stuff wasn't so bad . . . I felt so much better.

‘Where's the note?' he asked.

I got it out of my bag and Dad signed it on the bonnet of his car. I ran back to 5J. Well, I ran as far as I could before a teacher in the hall told me to slow down. Mr Johnson was still in the classroom when I got there.

‘Did you forget something, Sean?'

I was out of breath and waving the note in front of me. ‘I got it . . . signed.'

Mr Johnson took it out of my hands. He blinked down at it. ‘Is this really your dad's signature?'

I nodded. ‘He's in the car outside, if you want me to –'

I stopped myself. Mr Johnson pulled open the top drawer of his desk and grabbed my phone. He handed it back. ‘You're not going to use it on the playground?'

I shook my head. ‘I'm not.'

It had only been a day since I'd spoken to Eddie and Christian, but it had felt like forever. I hurried back to the car and switched my phone on. I was putting on my seatbelt when Dad held out his hand.

‘Before you get it back, I want to talk to your mother.'

‘But Dad . . .'

‘No “buts”.'

I sighed and handed it over. And once again, Bunbury was a million kilometres away.

I reckon Mum and Dad were talking about my phone while they were getting dinner ready. I'm not sure, but they went quiet as soon as I entered the room, so . . . they probably were. Nobody brought it up until after dinner, though.

‘So, I heard about your phone,' Mum said.

‘Your mother and I have decided we should keep it for a little bit,' Dad added.

‘But . . .' I pleaded.

It was Mum's turn to speak. ‘Until you can prove that you're responsible enough for a phone, then it's staying with us.'

I sank back into my chair.

Great. Just great. I got my phone back only to lose it again. I hadn't even had a chance to check my messages from Eddie and Christian before Dad took it off me.

I tried asking, ‘Can I just –?'

‘Nope.' Mum shook her head.

How was I supposed to prove I was responsible?

I tried cleaning the dishes after dinner. Mum just said, ‘Thanks.'

I tried tidying my room, Mum didn't even look in when she walked past.

I went to school, listened in class, did all my homework early and read twice as much before bed. But my parents didn't notice.

What more did I have to do? Wash Dad's car?

On Saturday, that's what I did. I scrubbed the outside while he vacuumed the inside, and still, nothing.

‘Hi Sean.'

I looked away from the door I'd been wiping. Karlie and Angelo were standing on the footpath.

‘Hey guys. What's up?'

Karlie said, ‘We tried calling you because we thought maybe . . .'

I shook my head. ‘Nope. I still don't have my phone.'

‘Well, do you wanna come over for dinner?' she asked.

I looked at Dad. He was vacuuming under the driver's seat.

‘Dad!' I shouted.

He couldn't hear me over the roar of the vacuum cleaner. I walked over and switched it off.

‘Dad,' I repeated.

He turned back. ‘Yeah?'

‘Can I go to Karlie's for dinner?' I asked.

‘When will you be back?'

I looked over at Karlie.

‘Seven,' she said. ‘My mum can drive you.'

‘All right.' Dad turned around. ‘Switch the vacuum cleaner back on and tell your mother.'

I went inside, told Mum, kissed her goodbye and then hurried out to meet Karlie and Angelo with three icy poles from the freezer. Together, we walked to High Street. Karlie and her family lived on top of the café. There was an entrance between it and the laundromat next door. It opened to a narrow staircase up to their living room.

We went straight to Karlie's bedroom. Karlie hopped on her unmade bed – she was halfway through the crossword from today's newspaper. Angelo sat at the computer and resumed his game – he was commanding an army invasion.

I looked around the room. The walls were covered in posters torn out of magazines – mostly of boy bands and actors, girl stuff. She had her own noticeboard. There were photos pinned to it and a small newsletter.

I stepped up closer. It was called
The Year Five Times
. It reminded me of the school newspaper we had back home.

‘Hey, what's this?' I asked.

Karlie looked up.

‘Last term, we made a 5J newsletter for a project. Mr Johnson wanted us to keep going, but it was too much responsibility. We had too much classwork.'

I mouthed the words: ‘too much responsibility'.

‘I can show my parents I'm responsible by making a new issue of the newsletter,' I said. ‘Don't you think?'

Karlie hesitated. ‘I dunno,' she said. ‘It took six of us to do that one issue. I made the crossword on the back.'

I unpinned the newsletter and turned it around. Karlie had filled in the answers.

‘Then let's do it together,' I said. ‘Karlie, you could make another crossword. I'd just have to write a main story and maybe put some other stuff around it.'

‘And we could put a Captain Wondersmash comic strip in there,' Angelo said. He'd paused the game and swivelled around in his chair.

He had never shown anyone his finished comics. ‘Are you sure?' I asked.

He nodded. Karlie had already reached for a blank piece of paper and started drawing a grid.

If we could make a newsletter by ourselves, then there was no way Mum and Dad wouldn't think I was responsible enough to have my own phone. And the sooner we did it, the sooner I'd have Christian and Eddie back in my pocket again.

I looked down at the issue of
The Year Five Times
I was holding. There was a huge headline up the top:
STUDENTS DEMAND LONGER RECESS
.

If we were going to put together a great newsletter, I'd need a great news story.