The Detachable Boy (2 page)

C – I was kidnapped by large men in shiny suits and locked in the boot of their car but I managed to escape.

The hippo story was probably the most believable, but I stuck with the traditional response.

‘Nothing,’ I said, a little too quickly.

Mum looked at me.

Dad frowned over the top of his newspaper. ‘How many times do we have to have this conversation?’

‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘Sorry just isn’t good enough,’ Dad said. ‘If you change your plans after school, you must call. Where on earth have you been?’

‘Nowhere. I was just knocking about with Ravi and Crystal.’ Literally.

The phone rang. Mum answered and handed it to me.

‘Hello?’

‘Oh you are home. I couldn’t work out where you’d gone.’ It was Crystal. She sounded desperate.

‘What is it? Are you okay?’

‘No! I’m not okay. I’m trapped. I’m in a bag.’

‘You’re what?’

‘Men in suits caught me and put me in a bag. I’m in a car. I’m ringing on my mobile. Where could they be taking me, John? I’m really scared. What do I do?’

I swallowed. Send one of your hands out to untie the knot? ‘Just stay calm.’

‘STAY CALM? I’m being kidnapped! How am I su . . . crackle . . . to stay . . .’

The phone’s signal died. I hung up and rang back.

‘The mobile telephone you are calling is not in a service area. Please leave a message after the tone or try again later.’

‘Everything okay?’ Mum asked over dinner. ‘Crystal seemed a little . . . agitated.’

‘Fine,’ I lied.

After dinner, I took the portable phone into the bedroom and phoned the police. The woman kept asking me to calm down and speak more slowly. She wanted to know Crystal’s name and address and her phone number and my name and address and phone number and everything I could remember about the car and . . .

‘I’ve had one of the officers calling the mobile number for Crystal Pennywhistle while we’ve been talking and he can’t get through at this point in time. There’s no answer at the home phone, either. This isn’t a prank call, is it? There are severe penalties for wasting our time.’

‘No, it’s true! It’s all true.’ I only left out the bit about my kidnap. There are some things you just shouldn’t tell the police.

‘All right, I will post a missing person alert. But if you hear from Crystal again please let us know immediately.’

I phoned Ravi.

‘Kidnapped? But I saw her racing down her street a few hours ago. Are you certain?’

‘Yes! She called but she was cut off.’

‘Why would anyone kidnap Crystal? Her parents are not rich and famous. She’d cost far too much to feed if you kept her as a pet.’

‘Are you mad ? This is serious! Call me if you hear from her, okay?’

I went to bed, and had just dozed off when the phone rang. I sat up instantly, my heart hammering.

‘John?’ my mother whispered. ‘It’s Crystal’s mother on the phone. Crystal didn’t come home today. She’s terribly worried. Do you know where she is?’

‘Crystal’s mother?’

‘No, Crystal!’

‘Not exactly. She’s not in my schoolbag or anything. I would have noticed.’

Mum went back to the phone. ‘Sorry, Wendy. He’s half dazed and not making much sense. I don’t think he’s seen her since they walked home. Of course we’ll let you know if we see her.’

After two minutes forty-five seconds worrying about her, I fell asleep but I didn’t abandon her. I dreamed I rescued her, James Bond style, with Mission Impossible music in the background. I wore a suit and a tie and I didn’t fall apart once. That’s how I knew it was a dream.

CHAPTER
3

N
EXT MORNING
, Ravi was waiting for me at the school gates.

‘My dear best buddy,’ he said. ‘It is good to see you, even though you look like something dragged in by a very muscular cat. It’s okay, I know where Crystal is.’

‘You do?’

He took his mobile phone from his pocket. ‘A message arrived this morning. It’s from Crystal. It says, “Help! Kidnapped! The Lost Head Diner, 1500 Penny Sylvania Avenue, Carcass Springs, Arizona, USA. Help!”.’

‘America?’

‘Yes.’

‘They’ve taken her to America?’

‘Yesssss. I said that already.’

‘Now what do we do?’

‘That’s easy,’ Ravi said. ‘I’ll wrap you up in brown paper and put a postage stamp on your forehead. You’ll be there in three days, guaranteed by Australia Post. And you can rescue Crystal like a true hero.’

He’d said it as a joke, but, like a lot of Ravi’s jokes, it was more clever than funny. I grabbed his shoulders and looked straight into his caramel eyes. ‘That, my friend, is sheer brilliance.’

‘No, I was joking, John Johnson. I was pulling your leg. I was making a funny. Ha ha ha. Get it? A joke. It was a joke. John?’

‘You’re a genius.’

I led him down the back of the footy oval and, for the first time in my life, prepared to expose myself to somebody who wasn’t part of my family. Not expose myself in a disgusting ‘Go directly to jail’ sort of way, but in a way that would show Ravi how brilliant his joke actually was.

‘That postage stamp thing was a gag, best buddy,’ he said. ‘Just a little jocularity between friends. How come you never get my jokes?’

‘Can you keep a secret?’ I asked.

‘Of course.’

I found a spot behind a tree where I could see the games of kick-to-kick that were happening around the goals at either end, made sure I wouldn’t be seen and handed Ravi my detached hand.

He squealed and threw it into the air in fright. Then he put his hands on his head and ran in little circles, squealing some more.

‘
Eeeeek!’

My mitt landed on the grass and I collected it. ‘Shhh. It’s okay. Ravi? I’m okay, honestly. Shhh!’

He stopped squealing, but he didn’t stop running. He covered his eyes, ran another tight loop and slammed into me. He bounced off and finished up on his back in the grass.

I stood over him as he peeled his fingers off his eyes.

I waved with both hands. ‘Hi. I’m fine, really, I am.’

‘You’re fine?’ he screeched. ‘How can you say that?’

‘I . . . I mean, it doesn’t hurt. I’m sorry, Ravi.’ I held out my hand but he struggled to his feet by himself.

‘You could have warned me you were a freaky pullapart person.’

‘Warned you? How could I warn you?’

‘I don’t know. You could have written me a note or sent me a text message.’

‘What, like “Hi Ravi. It’s John. I’m detachable. LOL”.’

‘Yes! No, that’s ridiculous.’

I put my hand on his shoulder. I tried to do one of Crystal’s puppy faces. ‘I need your help.’

‘You need help, John Johnson, there’s no question about that, but I’m just a kid with an over-functional brain. How am I supposed to help?’

‘I want you to post me to America.’

‘John, I was joking. J-O-K-I-N-G, get it?’

‘No, I want you to post me. Wrap me up in brown—’

‘Yes, yes, I understand what you are saying. I was just trying to buy some time to think of a plan to get you to America in one piece. One piece? Of course! Not one piece, several pieces! How long can you be . . . you know . . . apart from yourself ?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never really tried. Sometimes I take my feet off during the night. Sometimes my head stays up to watch TV after my body has gone to bed. I can hold my breath for twelve hours or so.’

‘Twelve hours? Impressive, but not long enough. Could you last longer?’

‘I . . . I honestly don’t know. I lost one of my feet down the back of the couch for two days in the last school holidays. I guess so.’

‘It’s very risky.’ He frowned, considering. ‘We’d have to buy you a ticket on an aircraft.’

‘I’m broke and I’ve never had a passport.’

‘We could get you one.’

‘We don’t have time. Crystal’s in trouble now. What’s risky?’

Ravi looked deep into my eyes then begged me closer. ‘Let me bounce a little idea off you, best buddy . . .’

CHAPTER
4

T
HAT AFTERNOON
, Ravi convinced our teacher Mr Bomba that it would be of untold benefit to his education if he were allowed to conduct an experiment on his best buddy – me.

‘What does this experiment entail?’ Mr Bomba asked.

Very good question, I thought. Any mention of ‘alien probes’ or ‘tissue samples’ and I was out of there.

‘Well,’ Ravi began. ‘I’ll begin by taking detailed measurements of John Johnson’s person and I’ll be attempting to find proportional similarities.’

‘Find what ?’

‘Proportional similarities, you know, that the circumference of John’s head is twice the length of his foot or perhaps the distance between his outstretched fingertips will be the same as his height. That sort of thing.’

‘Wonderful idea, Ravi. Perhaps you could test any similarities you find on other members of the class,’ Mr Bomba said.

‘Why yes, that would be a great extension to the experiment.’

Mr Bomba gave his nod of approval and Ravi buzzed around me with a tape measure like a suitmaker.

‘My goodness! One of your feet is fifty-seven millimetres smaller than the other.’

‘I had noticed,’ I said. ‘Around twelve years ago.’

Ravi laughed nervously. ‘You know, for someone with an extraordinarily high IQ, I have the ability to state the blindingly obvious at times, don’t I?’

‘You said it, not me.’

Crystal didn’t phone that night. I looked up Arizona in the atlas. It looked big. Carcass Springs was a tiny dot. Even if I could get to the US, how would I find her? I was late to school the next morning and found Ravi waiting.

‘My experiment is coming along simply wondrously, if I do say so myself,’ he crowed. ‘Check this out, baby!’

We stole into the locker bay, Ravi moving like a badly drawn cartoon spy and me staring at the roof, whistling innocently. Kids filed past into classrooms. From below his locker, Ravi took out a large shiny metal suitcase; the kind photographers and drug dealers cart their wares in.

‘I’ve been telling everybody that the suitcase contains my mummified ferret collection. So far only Brendan Nankervis has wanted to see inside and I refused him on the grounds he might eat them. He had to admit it was a possibility.’

He opened the case to reveal a plush interior divided into compartments with blocks of grey foam.

‘Legs here,’ he said, and ran his fingers over the longest compartment. ‘Torso, hand, hand, arms and of course, head. The head compartment is strategically located well away from the feet and it has its own ventilation system. Cast your ocular sensors over here!’

‘Pardon?’

‘Look at this!’

The head compartment was lined with velvet and vented through a grille on the side wall of the case.

‘I borrowed the fan from one of my father’s redundant computers. It is powered by batteries hidden in here and can be operated by this little device.’ Ravi held up something that looked remarkably like a baby’s dummy. ‘I’ve called it the Oral Remote Control Centre. Here, put it in your mouth.’

‘I’m not putting that in my mouth.’

‘It is completely clean,’ Ravi said. ‘I’ve rinsed it in flavoured mouthwash, see?’

‘You show me how it works.’

He shrugged, and then popped it in his mouth.

‘Tongue to the left . . .’ he garbled, and the vent fan began whirring quietly.

‘Tongue to the right . . .’

The fan stopped.

‘Tongue down . . .’

The case locked itself.

‘Tongue up . . .’

The case unlocked.

I suddenly felt as though my head was about to dive off my shoulders. The case was brilliant. Too brilliant. It made the whole idea of posting myself to America eminently possible. Whose dumb idea was this, anyway?

I swallowed. ‘Amazing.’

Ravi leaned close. ‘Do you want to try it out for size, best buddy?’

‘No . . . well, I can’t. Not here.’

‘Perhaps we could sneak into the privacy of a toilet cubicle,’ Ravi said, and winked with both eyes.

‘Eeeew. Disgusting. Have you ever rested your head on the floor in the boys’ toilets? Even for a second?’

‘Well, no, but you wouldn’t have to. I am here! Your trusty assistant.’

‘Thanks, Ravi, but no.’

‘As you wish. When is her maiden voyage?’

‘I . . . I don’t know. I’m not sure. I really . . .’

‘Bah, come on, John. It’s perfectly safe. I designed it myself. Don’t you trust me?’

‘No . . . I mean yes, of course I trust you. I’m just not sure if I trust Australia Post. I don’t know how long it will take. There are some . . . time considerations. You know, toilet breaks.’

‘But that’s okay. Here, I’ve done the maths,’ he said, and took a small computer from his shirt pocket. The colour screen lit up with a map of the world. He scrolled and zoomed until a bold red line could be seen linking Mascot with Los Angeles international airport.

‘By my calculations, with the most current information available to my fingertips, your journey will take sixteen hours.’

‘Really? That’s not so bad. I’ve slept longer than that.’

‘Best-case scenario. I have other figures.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The trip could also take forty-six hours.’

‘Whaat?’

‘Worst-case scenario.’

‘I can’t . . . I won’t be able to last . . .’

‘Yes, I calculated as much, that’s why I invested so much of my sleepy-bye-bye time last night in perfecting the locking mechanism. You simply must try it out, best buddy. It is my crowning achievement . . . to date.’

‘Being able to switch on the fan won’t help much if I . . . you know . . . have an accident.’

‘Of course not, my friend, but it will give you the opportunity to find a toilet or other suitable receptacle and lock yourself back in when you’re done. You needn’t spend the whole forty-six hours in your box, little doggie.’

‘Well . . .’ I said doubtfully.

‘Wait, there’s more,’ Ravi said, unlocking the case. He pulled out a loose piece of foam and revealed a secret compartment. ‘Toilet paper, my grandfather’s old pocket knife, flashlight, cigarette lighter, water bottle, toothpaste . . . I thought you might pack your own brush . . . dental floss, tooth polish, mouth rinse.’