The dad trap, p.13
The Dad Trap, page 13
Jabari and I both know this. We talked about it all the time. We were going to do the super-scary treetop challenge. It’s got the fastest zip wires ever and wobbly wooden bridges and cargo nets to climb too. It ends with a giant Leap of Faith where you jump from a tiny platform and have to reach out and grab a Tarzan swing!
We were going to do it together and it was going to be EPIC! But … well, never mind.
“I’m up for it if you are!” Dad says, grinning.
“Sounds cool!” Florence says.
After this, Dad will realize that he and Ross have NOTHING in common. They’ll have a HUGE, HUGE argument high above the ground and it’ll all end spectacularly and Dad and I can go back to our normal lives!
Ross looks at me for a beat and says, “Sure! Climbing into the treetops with nothing but a flimsy rope to keep us safe. What could possibly go wrong?!”
Dad laughs and we set off to the other end of the park, Ross trailing miserably behind us.
* * *
So, that’s how we ended up on the treetop obstacle course and why Ross is now standing on a tiny, shaking platform eight metres above us.
We’ve all done the Leap of Faith except for him. I felt like a bird flying through the sky. It was thrilling. Those feelings of joy and exhilaration all came at once and I loved every moment of it.
“This has been fun,” I whisper to Florence.
“It’s not meant to be fun,” Florence snaps back under her breath.
I glance up and Ross looks decidedly green. He’s dripping in sweat and grimacing.
“You don’t have to do this, you know!” Dad calls up. “Just come down, Ross!”
“No, no! I’m fine! I LOVE all this stuff, Teddy! Just like you! Wild, I am!”
We’re the only ones on the obstacle course now. I look up at Ross, who’s chatting nervously to the instructor, whose name is Chester. Chester keeps saying things like “rizz” and “no cap” a lot and I don’t think it’s helping.
Ross has been up there for fifteen minutes at this point.
“Just come down, you goofball!” Dad yells again, laughing in exasperation.
He’ll stop laughing soon, though, I’m sure of it. Once he realizes that Ross hates everything he loves.
Suddenly Ross’s high-pitched voice rings out t hrough the treetops. He’s clinging on to Chester for dear life, knees knocking, body shaking.
“I can’t do this! I’m sorry, Teddy! I HATE being outdoors and I hate the woods and I hate nature and I HATE, HATE, HATE heights!”
This is it!
YES!
I’ve done it!
I wait, a grin slowly spreading across my face.
Dad opens his mouth and I just know he’s going to shout, “I don’t think this is working, Ross! We’re completely different people!”
But instead, Dad yells back, “Then come down, you clown!” He shakes his head and laughs. “You don’t need to impress me!”
Wait?
WHAT?!
This is not what Dad’s reaction is supposed to be.
“I do!” Ross shouts back. And, with that, he lets out the loudest scream I’ve ever heard in my life and jumps!
For a minute no one seems to move or speak.
Ross has jumped!
ROSS HAS JUMPED … but he’s missed the Tarzan swing and is now just hanging there!
“Definitely ‘defying gravity’,” I say with a snort, but Florence tells me to shut up. The sight of Ross – a big, muscly dude covered in tattoos – writhing and wailing in mid-air is quite funny.
Chester shouts out, “That was, like, totally lit, man! Just hang tight for a minute and we’ll get you down!”
But Ross starts to panic.
“Hang tight for a minute? A MINUTE!” he screeches, grabbing desperately at his harness. “I’m going to fall! ARGH! I’ve just looked down! Help me! I ... am … urgh… HELP! No, no, no! I’m going to fall and DIE! Jumping was one thing, but hanging here … waiting?! Oh no! I think … I’m going to be … SICK!”
And then, in slow, slow motion, chunks of sticky, icky, orange-and-yellow sick erupt from Ross’s mouth. They spew and tumble and fall and splutter
down,
down,
down.
Florence yelps and runs away. I dive to the side, landing face first in the dirt. It misses us. Just.
But Dad? Dad just stands there, mouth wide open in shock as Ross’s breakfast, lunch and dinner cascades to the forest floor.
SPLAT!
There’s silence.
I’m too afraid to look.
I hear Ross – who’s obviously been lowered to the ground now – rush over to Dad.
“Teddy. Ted. Oh my gosh. I am so sorry. I … I … erm…”
I look round and see that Dad is standing frozen to the spot in shock. There’s sick dribbling down his safety helmet and on to his coat.
Ross looks stricken.
“Teddy, please say something. I am so sorry.”
More silence.
I’ve done it.
We’ve done it!
There’s no way Ross can come back from this.
I’m no expert, but I think Dad has always dreamed of being whisked off his feet by a knight in shining armour – not a knight who’s afraid of heights and has just vomited all over him.
The romance is dead and the Dad Trap is a triumph!
MWHAHAHA—
Then I hear something surprising.
It starts off low and quiet. I push myself up off the ground.
The sound gets louder and louder and I realize that it’s Dad. Dad is laughing. It soon becomes uncontrollable, and he’s doubled over, wheezing, howling, hooting with laughter. He seems totally bemused but totally happy at the same time.
“That … was … SICK!” Dad manages to cough out in between big belly laughs.
“Let me just give this a wipe,” Ross says, pulling a tissue out of his pocket. “You’ve got some chunks of macaroni cheese on your shoes.”
“Do you remember the time…”
“Don’t you dare!” Ross says, punching Dad playfully on the arm.
“That sleepover when we were fifteen and you ate all those sweets and you were sick all over the bed and—”
“And I said, ‘Maybe I’ve come down with the peekaboo virus. Will you take me to the I-C-U?’ ”
That makes Dad and Ross laugh even more.
“Not even sick could put me off back then,” Dad says quietly. “And it’s not going to put me off now. So, please, please stop trying to impress me. You don’t need to.”
“OK, deal,” Ross whispers.
They grin at each other.
Florence looks at me, aghast.
“Beaten again!” I mutter to myself.
I remove my safety helmet, slam it on the ground, step out of my harness and march off.
Chapter Twenty-one
Invisible Boy
“We need to move things along, right now,” I say to Florence on Monday morning in the cloakroom. She’s standing in the corner chatting to Evelyn, and for some reason that makes me cross.
“Hi, William,” Evelyn says. “Florence and I are just chatting about choir!”
“That was a disaster on Friday,” I say desperately, ignoring Evelyn.
I hardly saw Dad all weekend.
Florence was visiting her mum, so Dad and Ross went to the cinema on Saturday lunchtime and THEN they went ice-skating on Sunday morning. Aunt Erin looked after me. Even when Dad was at home, he was far too busy texting Ross to notice I was even there.
I can feel him slipping away from me.
“I’ll catch up with you at break time, Evelyn,” Florence says. Evelyn leaves the cloakroom and walks across the classroom to her desk.
Florence stares at me for a beat, fiddling with the chain around her neck, and then says, “You’re right. Your idea was a total disaster.”
She stomps over to our desk and sits down. I follow her angrily.
There’s a knock on the classroom door and Mr Hamilton walks in.
“Morning, Year Six,” he says. “I’m just popping in to remind you about the school logo competition. There are some huge boards in the reception area – one for each year group. When you’re ready, you just need to go and pop your designs up. We’ll have a big vote and see who wins! We’ll be announcing the winner at the school disco!”
Ripples of excitement echo around the room.
I gulp.
“Thank you, Mr Hamilton,” Mrs Oliver says. “The class have been working on them all week and we’ve got some time this morning to finish them off.”
When Mr Hamilton leaves, Mrs Oliver gives us pieces of A5 cardboard and everyone gets to work.
I still haven’t decided on my final design.
In fact, I haven’t got very far with it at all. I tried showing Dad my logos at the weekend, and all he said, in between texting Ross, was, “Oh, yeah – they’re great.”
I flick nervously through my sketchbook, looking at all the ideas I’ve been working on over the last week.
Children jumping out of a book.
Children holding hands.
Two kids back-to-back reading.
A tree made of books.
A flock of birds flying over an outline of the school building.
But none of them are good enough.
None of them feel right.
None of them feel like me.
“TOGETHER WE CAN ACHIEVE THE EXTRAORDINARY.” That’s the school motto.
I keep sneaking looks at Jabari. We were a team that did extraordinary things together.
But not any more.
Florence is busy colouring in her logo and won’t let me see it, but she seems so relaxed about it all that it suddenly makes me angry again. Why does everything come so easily to her?
I can feel my breathing start to get ragged and shallow.
I’ve been so focused on the Dad Trap, so focused on Ross and Florence, that I’ve neglected the competition. And, let’s face it, if the Dad Trap doesn’t work and I don’t win the logo competition, then I’ve got nothing.
No Jabari. No Dad. Not even my art to be proud of.
I take a deep breath and peek at the photograph in my pocket. The one of Dad and me at the beach.
My legs shake up and down as hot tears prick at my eyes.
Think, William. Think. What can you draw? You have to win this. If you’re no good at art then … then what do you have?
That voice again from the last day of Year Five.
Ha ha! Look! No one wants William!
I grip my pencil tightly and start to hum. I chew at the inside of my mouth.
I have no ideas.
I have …
… nothing.
“I can’t do this,” I say, shaking my head. Panic rises and my hands start flapping up and down. My whole body is shaking. I feel like I’m drowning, flailing in cold water.
I start to tear out all the used pages of my sketchbook.
Every one of my designs is awful! Useless! Terrible!
I rip, rip, rip my designs into tiny pieces, gritting my teeth.
“William!” Florence says. “Stop it! What are you doing?”
She reaches out a hand and tries to grab mine.
“Get off me!” I gasp. “Get off me! Get off me!”
My clothes feel itchy and that whooshing sound in my ears has returned.
Mrs Oliver rushes over to me and crouches down.
“I’ve changed my mind! I don’t want to do this!” I shout desperately at Mrs Oliver. “I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to do it.”
I start hitting the side of my head with my fists.
“It’s OK, William,” she says soothingly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I … erm … I…”
Mrs Oliver carefully takes both my hands.
I look down at my designs. They’re torn to pieces, all my hard work ruined – reduced to sad tiny paper fragments.
My throat is dry and I feel sick and I’m sweating and I need to go. I need to get away from here.
Now.
I shake Mrs Oliver’s hands away and run out of the classroom, too ashamed to look back.
Chapter Twenty-two
Jellyfish Don’t Have Brains
A while later – I’m not sure how much time has passed – I find myself standing in the middle of the Rainbow Room.
It’s quiet and still.
It’s been ages since I’ve been in here.
There’s a huge light-up jellyfish on the wall with thrumming, illuminated tentacles. It twinkles in the darkness. There are beanbags and a soft mat to crash on to and roll around on. There’s a red chair too, which you can spin round and round and round on. I used to love that chair when I was in Year Two. The ceiling has been made to look like a galaxy of stars.
I sit down on the floor and scream into my hands. I stomp my feet up and down. Afterwards I pile the beanbags on top of me and take a deep breath.
It feels good, like I’m hidden away in a peaceful cave. But I know I’ve ruined my chances at winning the competition.
In fact, I’ve ruined everything.
There’s a cough at the door and I sink further under the beanbags.
“William, it’s Mrs Oliver. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine!” I say, my voice muffled. My legs are kicking up and down, making the beanbags shake.
“Do you want to come back and we can start on your design again?” Mrs Oliver asks.
I peek out from the beanbags.
“No. No, I don’t want to do it,” I say firmly.
How can I go back in there? How can I face everyone?
Mrs Oliver walks into the room and sits down on a chair.
“You could do it after lunch if you want, William?” she asks. “It seems such a shame not to do it after you’ve spent so long on it. Or you can do it another day if you like? I’ll talk to Mr Hamilton – I’m sure we can sort something.”
I sit up and the beanbags fall away from me.
“No, please, Mrs Oliver. Please. I don’t want to do it.”
“OK,” Mrs Oliver says, standing up. “Why don’t you stay here for a bit and I’ll send in Miss Roper to check on you.”
“OK, thanks,” I whisper. My voice is laden with weariness.
“And, William, I’m really proud of you for coming in here when you were feeling overwhelmed. It might not seem like it, but I think that’s a big step.”
Mrs Oliver leaves the room and I sink back under my blanket of beanbags. I don’t feel proud at all.
I feel my eyelids get heavy and my body starts to get heavy too. I close my eyes and run my tongue over my teeth, realizing that I forgot to clean them again this morning. I was too busy thinking about Dad and Ross and my failed plan, and now my teeth feel fuzzy and furry.
There’s another rustle at the door.
I sigh. “I’m under the beanbags, Miss Roper.” I feel a pang of guilt that I’m disrupting everyone’s morning.
Miss Roper doesn’t answer. She comes and sits down on the floor next to me.
“Hi, William.”
I recognize the voice immediately. It’s a voice that has made me laugh so much over the years. A voice that has supported me. Encouraged me. Teased me. Been there for me.
A voice that has hurt me.
“Jabari?” I say tentatively.
“How are you doing, William?” Jabari asks.
“Not good,” I reply.
I manoeuvre one of the beanbags over me, so my face is entirely covered. I don’t want Jabari to see me like this.
Silence.
A long, strange silence.
“Did you know that jellyfish don’t have brains?” Jabari says bashfully.
He used to love sharing weird, cool facts with me. He’d tell me something unusual about an animal and I’d draw a picture of it for him in my notepad.
“That must be nice,” I mumble. “Nice not to think.”
“Yeah, I suppose!” Jabari laughs and it’s throaty and warm. “But they’re about ninety-five per cent water and most of them have pretty short life spans.”
We’re quiet for a while. Eventually, I roll over to one side and push the beanbags off me. I open my eyes.
Jabari nods at me. He looks the same. He’s still the Jabari I knew. Same dark-brown skin, same kind, gentle brown eyes, same neat, jaw-length braids. Same long legs. Same liquid movements. Same smile. All that’s different is the little bump on his slightly crooked nose. He looks sad and I’m not sure why.
In fact, I’m not sure why he’s in here at all. Not after…
“What are you doing here?” I ask Jabari. We’re still the only ones in the Rainbow Room. I sound cross, but I’m not really.
“I asked Mrs Oliver if I could come and check on you,” he says, smiling nervously.
“Oh, right,” I reply. “But why, Jabari?”
“I wanted to see you and make sure you’re OK,” he says. He draws his knees up to his chest. “So, are you … OK?”
“Fine,” I mumble.
There’s silence for a few more minutes. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to say sorry for everything I’ve done.
“Erm … my mum misses you,” Jabari says.
I want to tell Jabari that his mum wouldn’t be missing me if she knew what I’d really done.
But instead, I say, “I miss your mum too.”
And I miss you.
I miss you too, Jabari.
“Dad says you came into the restaurant the other day,” Jabari says. “Says he’d forgotten how many breadsticks you can put away.” He smiles.
“Yeah, Aunt Erin had to work and—”
“He said it was nice to see you again,” Jabari says matter-of-factly.
“I thought your parents hated me,” I say.
“Why would they hate you, William?”
“Because I … I…” I cough and clear my throat.
“Why did you stop talking to me?” Jabari asks, turning to look me directly in the eyes.
I wince. I can’t hold his gaze.
I take a deep breath. Here it is. The words are coming out at last, making it real.
“I broke your nose,” I say simply.
