Tigers on the Beach (12 page)

I desperately want to tell Sam that I love her, but the phrase just won't come out. In the end, I panic and do something really stupid.

‘I heart you,' I say.

Sam is silent for a moment, then she says, ‘Sorry. I don't talk in emoticons.'

‘It's just something I heard on a TV show.'

‘Then watch better shows.'

‘I normally watch documentaries. I have quite adult tastes.'

The bedroom is silent. I can hear Xander breathing slowly and deeply. Eager not to wake him up, I climb into my bed as quietly as possible. There is a strange popping noise, then another. I gasp. Something is in my bed. Xander, who was only pretending to be asleep, bursts out laughing. I throw the blanket off my bed. It's too dark to see, but I can smell the sickly sweet aroma of bath beads. Xander has put Grandma's bath beads in my bed. I switch on the light and see the burst capsules oozing goo onto the sheet. By now Xander is killing himself with laughter. My shorts have damp sticky patches that smell like air freshener. This is too much. I yell at Xander about the various ways I will murder him. He just laughs harder. There is a hammering on the wall.

‘Some of us have to work tomorrow morning!' Dad yells. ‘Stop making so much noise.'

I protest, ‘But Xander –'

‘I don't want to hear about Xander,' says Dad. ‘I don't want to hear one more word.'

‘Calm down,' Mum says to Dad. ‘The guests might hear.'

‘What guests?' says Dad. ‘Your mother is doing a very good job of frightening them away.'

‘Why do you always drag my mother into it?' says Mum.

‘Because things were going perfectly well until she moved in.'

‘So, I suppose everything is her fault?'

‘Well, it certainly isn't mine.'

My parents have become completely unreasonable. It wasn't Grandma who put the bath beads in my bed. Why are they arguing about her when they should be disciplining Xander instead? Since they refuse to be good, firm parents I will have to murder Xander myself, only during daylight hours so as not to wake up the guests. I pull the sheet from my bed and take off my sticky pants. I toss them both in the corner. I'm too tired to shower or look for fresh pyjamas. Tonight I will have to be a nudist and sleep in the raw.

Sam, Oscar and Felix are busking in the Carlington Mall today. Naturally, I have found time in my busy schedule to hand out leaflets about the concert that
Il Gattopardo Pazzo
will be giving on the weekend. They will be performing at The Prehistoric Festival at the Carlington Dinosaur Park, the one day of the year when people flock to the park to celebrate dinosaurs. Sam, Oscar and Felix are dressed in green, which is the colour that people traditionally wear to the festival. I don't have any green clothes so Sam has lent me one of her T-shirts. It smells of cherry. I never want to give this T-shirt back.

Before they start busking, the trio wants me to take a photo of them together. Sam holds her flute, Oscar nurses his horn and Felix pretends to play his clarinet. I take four photos. Every time I ask them to say cheese, Sam comes up with a gourmet cheese name, which gives Oscar and Felix the giggles.

‘Say cheese,' I say.

‘Norwegian Jarlsberg,' says Sam.

The boys chuckle and I take a photo.

‘Say cheese,' I say.

‘Camembert,' says Sam.

This time the boys really fall about laughing. I don't get the joke. Sam explains that it's something to do with Monty Python. I'm not really a big fan of Monty Python, though I like that scene in the movie where the fat man in the restaurant eats so much that he explodes.

Oscar, Felix and Sam want to check the photos, to make sure they look good in them. I hand my camera to Sam, and she scrolls back. They seem pretty happy with my camera work. Then they all look startled.

‘What is it?' I say.

Sam holds out my phone. There is a photo of me asleep in the nude. Xander took a photo of me last night. You can see my willy. I wish it were bigger.

‘Cute,' says Oscar. ‘Do you have many photos like that?'

Is there any point in telling them about Xander and how I come to have such a photo? I figure there isn't. I delete the photo, hoping like mad that Xander hasn't already put it on the net. Sam can see I'm upset. She puts an arm around me and gives me a squeeze. Sam has now seen every single part of my naked body, even my little peen, and I haven't seen any of hers. I haven't even had the opportunity of counting the freckles on her back. Life is grossly unfair.

The trio starts playing a selection of popular classics, especially arranged for French horn, clarinet and flute. I recognise the music from a car ad, a coffee ad, a pet-food ad and a toilet-paper ad. Oscar has put a green beanie on the footpath, into which he has already placed a couple of two-dollar coins, so that people who like the music might get the message and throw in more money. No one seems too keen on the music from the pet-food ad. But the music from the car ad is a real hit, and nearly a dozen people throw money into the green hat. We even get a five-dollar bill. Meanwhile, I hand out leaflets about the Prehistoric Festival. If ever you pass someone who is handing out leaflets, always take one. It doesn't do you any harm, you're not saving trees because the leaflets have already been printed, and you don't hurt the feelings of the poor guy who's been roped into handing them out.

The trio is really cooking. Sam looks intense and sexy as she pipes the high notes of a tune that I think might be from
The Lion King
. She sees me watching and smiles. I smile back. With renewed vigour I hand out my leaflets. Even a baby in a pusher gets a leaflet.
Come to the Carlington Prehistoric Festival! Hear the strains of
Il Gattopardo Pazzo
!

The theft happens so quickly that I'm still humming ‘Hakuna Matata' when the robber is five doors away, clutching the green hat full of money. People call out but no one really tries to stop him. That's understandable. He might be carrying a weapon. But I don't think of this when I chase after him. All I know is that I'm not letting him get away. He's wearing a grey jacket. He's average height, age, everything. If he stood perfectly still he might even have more chance of eluding me, he blends in so well. But he ducks down a narrow walkway between two shops. By the time I reach the walkway's entrance, I see him disappearing into the car park. I'll have to be quicker if I'm going to catch him. A car nearly runs into me as I charge into the car park. I'm distracted for just long enough to lose track of the thief. There are parked cars everywhere. The thief may even be sitting in one of them, knowing he's outfoxed me.

I've let down Sam and Oscar and Felix. I realise it wasn't my job to guard the money, but I should have been more watchful. Just as I'm about to head back to the mall, someone jumps in front of me. It's the guy in the grey jacket. I see now that he's a teenager, not much older than I am. And I wonder if maybe he really does have a weapon because he looks as though he's about to attack me.

‘Want your money back?' he snarls.

The guy is crazy. He reaches into his pocket.

‘Want your money back, you little shit?'

Does he have a knife? A gun? If I wait to find out I could be a dead man. I leap at him and we fall to the asphalt. He growls like an animal. I see a flash of metal, the weapon that he was carrying in his pocket. He wields it in his right hand. He's going to stab me. But someone grabs his arm. I look up to see Felix, wresting the knife from his grasp.

‘The money,' says Felix.

The guy spits at him.

‘Give us back the money,' says Felix. ‘I'm keeping the knife.'

The guy stands. He throws a handful of money on the ground, then heads off in the direction of the railway line at the bottom of the car park.

‘Let's go back,' says Felix. He pockets the knife.

‘Thanks,' I say.

‘No problem.'

I have just had my life saved by a boy who wants to marry another boy and can play ‘Hakuna Matata' on the clarinet. That doesn't happen every day.

Sam and Oscar are waiting in the mall, guarding the instruments.

‘We're fine,' says Felix. ‘We got the money back.'

When we count it we realise it is less than forty dollars. The knife that Felix took is probably worth more.

Sam gives me a proper kiss this time. There are no estate agents around to interrupt us, just a lot of shoppers who are probably surprised at such a passionate display of affection so early in the morning. They're probably even more surprised when Oscar and Felix do exactly the same thing.

‘I love you, Adam Cartwright,' says Sam.

‘I love you, Sam Koenigsberger,' I say.

Things return to normal fairly quickly. The trio plays another set. This time Oscar's French-horn case is used to collect the money, since we never recovered the green beanie. I hand out more leaflets. By lunchtime, the trio has made more than a hundred dollars. I am Sam's hero. I say that Felix is the real hero, but he denies it. He wants me to have the glory. Once again, I understand why Oscar wants to marry him. But I am apparently not gay and I want to spend the rest of the day with Sam, but I have to return to The Ponderosa. I don't want Dad to think I'm dodging my responsibilities. He's in a bad enough mood as it is.

I arrive at The Ponderosa to see two of our remaining guests – a middle-aged couple – in the yard talking with Nathan. They've found two little speckled eggs and want to know which bird laid them.

‘The eggs were laid by a sooty tern,' says Nathan. ‘Why did you take them?'

‘We thought they looked pretty,' says the woman.

‘And did you think that the mother might be upset to have her children stolen?'

‘The nest was on the ground,' the man says.

‘It wasn't up a tree or anything,' the woman says, as though the mother bird is to blame for leaving her eggs exposed.

‘Sooty terns often make their nests on the ground,' says Nathan. ‘Please put the eggs back.'

‘We'd rather keep them,' the woman says. ‘They'll look nice on the mantelpiece, when we blow their insides out.'

‘How would you like it if I stole
your
children, blew their insides out then stuck them on the mantelpiece?'

‘We don't have children,' says the woman.

‘Lucky for you.'

‘You're very rude,' says the man. ‘I don't think we'll be coming here again.'

The couple saunters off. Unsmiling, Nathan acknowledges me.

‘Hello, Adam.'

‘Are you crazy?' I say. ‘We're losing guests every day. Can't you be nice to them? Don't you care about The Ponderosa?'

‘You didn't help me with possum duty this morning,' Nathan replies.

‘I had to help my girlfriend.'

‘Then apparently
you
don't care about The Ponderosa either.'

Chastened, I go to the office to see if I can do anything to help out. Two more guests – the mother and father whose children thought Grandma might be a witch – are having a heated conversation with my parents. Even though they are angry, they still look like wide-eyed tarsiers from Borneo.

‘The children are traumatised,' says the mother. ‘They won't leave the cabin.'

‘We are sorry about the hanging teddy bears,' says Dad.

‘Oh, that's not what scared them. That old woman told them a horror story.'

Dad's face falls. ‘A horror story?'

‘It was about space monsters.'

Dad shakes his head and picks up the phone. ‘Doris, could you please come to the office?' he says.

Only now do Mum and Dad notice me.

‘Did you have a good morning?' Mum asks, a weary look on her face.

‘Very good,' I say. ‘I was nearly stabbed, but this gay guy saved my life.'

Mum and Dad are too preoccupied even to register this.

A few moments later, Grandma arrives. The meek couple looks at her angrily.

‘How dare you frighten our children!' snaps the mother.

‘Are they the little ones with the big round eyes?' Grandma asks. ‘Like tarsiers?'

Dad shoots Grandma a warning look. ‘Doris, did you tell them a story?'

‘Yes, I did. They seemed bored. They were running around the yard, making a racket.'

‘What story did you tell them?' Dad asks, dreading the answer.

‘We sat in the shade and I started to read them
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
They must have enjoyed it, because they went very quiet.'

The mother fumes. ‘You read them a story about the end of the world!'

‘Yes, but it was a very funny story.'

‘There were monsters.'

‘Funny monsters. Called Vogons.'

‘The children didn't think it was funny. They're worried the earth is going to blow up.'

‘But they'd have to be complete cot-cases to think –'

Dad cuts in. ‘We're very sorry. Doris is very sorry too.'

‘It was just a funny story!' Grandma protests.

‘Please apologise to our guests,' says Dad.

‘I apologise,' Doris says, softly.

‘And please don't tell any more stories.'

‘I wouldn't dream of it,' says Grandma.

She leaves the office. The tarsier couple remain, as if expecting something else.

‘What about some compensation?' says the father.

‘Of course,' says Mum, ‘we would be happy to offer you a discount.'

Dad turns to Mum, surprised. Before he can speak, the parents ask what kind of discount Mum is talking about.

‘Thirty per cent off,' says Mum.

Dad opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

‘That seems acceptable,' says the father.

The parents leave, satisfied. I notice that their happy children are playing noisily in the yard again.

Dad takes a deep breath. ‘You handled that very well,' he says, sarcastically. ‘Don't you think we should confer before we offer such enormous discounts? We are supposed to be a partnership, after all.'

‘It would help if you could be a little more supportive.'

‘Why don't we let the guests stay for free?'

‘Don't be ridiculous, Ken.'

I bang the counter with my fist. ‘Could you
please
stop arguing? It's all you seem to do these days.'

Dad looks guilty. ‘It isn't your fault, Adam.'

‘And it isn't my mother's fault either,' says Mum.

Dad looks as though he's about to disagree but Mum glares at him and another fly hits the counter.

‘I don't like it here,' I say.

‘What?' Dad is crestfallen.

‘You're making it a horrible place. It used to be good. I
liked
working here, because we were a team, running the place together.'

‘We still
are
a team.'

‘No we're not. No wonder Nathan wants to leave.' Mum looks surprised. ‘He hasn't said anything.'

‘Can't you tell?'

The phone rings and Dad picks up.

‘We're sorry, Adam,' says Mum, quietly. ‘We're sorry we've upset you, darling. And of course you don't have to work here if you don't want to.'

‘Good.'

‘Sam is a nice girl. You could bring her around –'

‘I don't think that's a very good idea. Not at the moment.'

‘We really are sorry.'

Dad firmly hangs up the phone. ‘Another cancellation,' he says. ‘Maybe you're right, Adam. Maybe The

Ponderosa isn't that great a place.'

The only good thing in my life is Sam. She rings me that night and it's like sun shining through the clouds. She tells me how nervous she is about playing at The Carlington Prehistoric Festival. Felix has written an arrangement for the theme music from
Doctor Who
. Sam has to carry the tune, only she's worried that she hasn't practised enough. I tell her she'll be awesome and I promise to be there. And then maybe when she's done playing the flute, we could go swimming. Sam says the beach at Carlington isn't that good. I become its keenest defender. Carlington is one of the best beaches on Port Argus Bay, I say. It's true that the water is very shallow, but this means there are refreshingly few drownings. Eventually I wear her down.

‘Okay, maybe we'll go swimming too,' says Sam. ‘I bet you look nice in board shorts.'

‘I bet you do too,' I say.

I'm thrilled that I will have the opportunity to confirm that there are sixty-seven freckles on Sam's back.

‘How was your afternoon?' Sam asks.

‘Not great,' I say.

‘How come?'

‘My parents are still arguing.'

‘My parents
always
argue.'

‘It's just that I'm not used to it.'

‘Poor Adam.'

‘Yeah. Poor me.'

‘I'll send you a joke,' says Sam.

‘. . . okay.'

‘You sound nervous.'

‘No, I'm not nervous.'

‘You know that I like you even if you don't get my jokes.'

‘I feel the same way about you.'

We say a few more lovey-dovey things before the battery on my phone runs out.

Ping!
My computer receives an email from Sam. It's another cartoon from
The New Yorker.
This time there are two hippopotamuses in a swamp. One is saying to the other, ‘I keep thinking it's Thursday.' This makes no more sense than the cartoon about the two tigers on Bondi Beach. I think about both cartoons, trying to work out where the joke is. I could go crazy worrying about stuff like this, so I decide not to.

Xander refuses to go to sleep. He's angry because Mum and Dad have confiscated his wacky balls. He's been throwing them at Grandma again. She unknowingly walked around The Ponderosa with five balls stuck to the back of her cardigan. When she found out, she blew her stack at Xander, and insisted that he be properly punished. She added that having Asperger's isn't an excuse for putting balls on people.

‘Guess what?' says Xander.

‘I'm not interested,' I say.

I pick up my special-effects book and pretend to read. I try to think of good things, like the two original
Star Wars
movies, or the fact that I will be swimming with Sam tomorrow.

‘I have a plan,' says Xander.

‘I'm still not interested,' I say.

‘I'm going to booby-trap Grandma's toilet.'

I look up from the book. ‘How, exactly?' I say.

‘I'm going to make it explode when she sits on it. Then everything will be back to normal.'

I put the book down. ‘Even for you that's insane.'

‘I could make a flash pot,' says Xander.

A flash pot is something that they use in special effects. When you see an explosion in a movie, it's usually a flash pot: a well of gunpowder electrically ignited by remote control. They add the sound effect of the explosion later.

‘I read about it in your book,' says Xander.

‘Don't muck around with my things,' I say, as if this would stop him.

‘All I need is a battery with two wires and a push-button. I could hide them under Grandma's toilet seat, with the gunpowder. She'd never know. Her toilet would explode, just like in Grandpa's story.'

It sounds frighteningly believable.

‘Xander,' I say, ‘don't blow up Grandma.'

‘Why not?'

‘You might hurt her, you muppet.'

‘You didn't get hurt when Dad lit the gunpowder.'

‘We weren't sitting on top of it with our pants down.'

‘I've done a diagram,' says Xander, holding up a piece of paper with scribble on it.

Now I'm seriously worried. ‘Promise me you won't blow up Grandma,' I say.

‘Okay, I promise.'

‘Would you swear on a stack of bibles?'

‘I would.'

‘Should I go and get them?'

‘I cross my heart and hope to die that I won't blow up Grandma.'

I have to be satisfied with this. One of Xander's bugs makes an odd ticking sound, just like a time bomb.
Tik tik tik.

‘Hey, Adam?'

‘Go to sleep.'

‘Adam?'

‘Not listening.'

‘Adam?'

‘If you don't shut up I'll set fire to your bed.'

‘I've become mature. I've started thinking about girls. Tony Palin showed me some magazines and I liked the pictures.'

It's just like Tony Palin, the petty crim of Port Argus Bay, to show my little brother pornography.

‘You shouldn't be looking at dirty magazines,' I say to Xander. ‘Use the internet, like everyone else. It's more economical.' I am being a bad role model for Xander, but it's my parents' fault, for making me share a room with him.

‘Tony wanted to sell them to me cheap,' says Xander.

‘Don't buy them.'

‘I didn't,' says Xander. ‘But Tony said he could get anything I wanted.'

‘Go to sleep, Xander.'

‘Anything at all.'

Tik tik tik.

I get out of bed early the next morning to find that Xander has dismantled the torch and left it in pieces. I tread on a battery as soon as my feet touch the carpet. At this rate I will have to start sleeping with my shoes on.