I.
His worn and frayed jacket was the first thing I noticed. The lacklustre purple fabric bloomed beneath the rain into a fuller, darker shade more imperial than the last. It made him look sadder; sitting there in the gutter with his top hat sliding across his head, threatening to tip and fall. It was getting colder, the rain hardening into icy, speeding bullets. I could feel the fluttering of butterfly wings in my chest as I sucked in breaths.
I stood nearby, watching. Across the road there was a bus shelter; neither of us moved. I wasn’t even sure he knew I was there. The street was empty, sky grey and brooding. Just as I began to wonder if it was time to leave, he turned to me. His skin was weathered brown; grey whiskers stuck out from his chin in straggled clumps. His eyes drooped down his face.
‘Want to see a magic trick?’ His voice was scratchy and hoarse.
‘I haven’t got any money,’ I said.
His shoulders slumped and his face crumpled in on itself.
‘It’s not about the money.’ He took off his hat, placed it on the pavement. His thinning black hair was plastered to his skull.
‘Are you a magician, then?’
Silence stretched between us.
‘Go on, show us something,’ I said. I could feel my nose beginning to run; the rain wasn’t letting up. The magician put his right hand on his hat and slowly, softly, it collapsed beneath his hand until his palm rested flat against the pavement. It wasn’t much, but it was better than I expected. As I watched, his left hand began to rise, slowly unveiling the top hat.
I smiled. ‘That was a good one.’
He nodded, placing the hat back on his head.
‘Will you be here tomorrow?’ I don’t know why I even cared, but when he nodded I felt strangely satisfied.
‘Cool.’
I walked on, the strap of my bag digging into my shoulder. The corner shops huddled and crouched together in miserable silence. I sniffed, willing the snot to stay away. My mind kept going back to the magician; I wondered why he was so sad.
I turned on to my street. The procession of stately houses dwindled until the spaces between each became irregular, the homes getting smaller and meaner with each step. I stopped at mine, walked past the gate skewed on broken hinges. I pulled open the screen door and finally got out of the rain.
‘That you, Jake?’ Dad yelled from the living room. The flicker of blue and white lights was a constant in the house.
‘Yeah.’
‘Where you been?’ he said, as I came into the kitchen. ‘It’s pouring, out.’
‘Reckon I noticed that.’
‘Don’t get smart with me.’ He never once turned away from the screen. ‘Go get changed and clean that damn room.’
The floor was filthy, cans of drink and empty packets of chips were scattered everywhere. Crumbs were embedded in the carpet. I walked past him and into the back of the house. I closed my door behind me and shivered out of my clothes. With a pair of pyjama pants and a shirt on, I collapsed on the bed. The roar of thundering rain continued, unabated. There were cracks in the ceiling plaster. A drop of rain perched on the edge of one, glimmering. I focused on it, trying to predict when it would fall.
It dangled for what seemed the longest time.
My phone beeped, snapping me back to focus. There was a message from Anthony. ‘Heard Jenna likes ya.’
‘Bull,’ I sent back. I’ve had a crush on her since before I could remember, for so long in fact I’d all but lost sight of it. There’s no way she’d like me, someone was just having a go. A secret little voice whispered inside me, ‘But what if she did?’ I didn’t linger on the thought; let it slip from my mind. I felt suddenly drained as if I were being willed to sleep.
I didn’t fight it.
*
‘Pst!’
Rattataptap.
Groggily, I swam back into consciousness. The sounds resolved into rapid tapping on my window. ‘Pst! Get up, dipshit! Whatcha asleep so early for anyway?’ I clambered up to the window, stared belligerently out at Tess.
‘Door’s open,’ I said. ‘Why are you such a drama queen?’
‘Dad doesn’t know I’m gone, obviously. God, you’re such a dweeb. Now open the damn window.’
‘Not like he’d notice you coming back anyhow,’ I muttered, jamming the window open. She clambered inside, dressed all in black, like a ninja. Only, ninjas didn’t wear make-up, or paint their nails black, while wearing an odd assortment of studs and chains. No, a ninja would be more careful not to sound like a tin cup full of coins, as she did now. Tess tiptoed out of the room as quietly as she could, not that it mattered; the roar of the television easily drowned out any noise she made.
‘Fix your damn window,’ I called after her. She shot me a venomous look, before launching across the hall and into her room, quick as a cat. It was dark outside, but the skies were clear. A fresh breeze blew into the room, carrying on it the memory of rain. I lay down on the bed, trying to get back to sleep. Bits and pieces of the dream I’d been having came back slowly. I tried to catch them, but they always seemed to slip away; a raven, fleeing on the wings of a storm; lightning dancing across lurid skies…
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the image. The residue of fear was sour on my tongue. I checked my phone. It was only 10:30pm and Anthony hadn’t replied. I ought to get up and have a shower, clean the house, maybe do some work but it was hard. Not to get up, but to care. Even as that thought crossed my mind, I was walking out to the kitchen. Dad was still there. I felt a sickly, ugly feeling sweep through me.
‘Did you get laid off, then?’ His shift began at ten.
His head jerked my way, but stopped before coming round completely. ‘Nah. Just took a day off is all. Got a bit of the flu,’ he said, gesturing to the table. On top of a pile of magazines and empty packets of junk, there were a few tissues lined up as corroborating evidence.
‘Are we going to see Mum tomorrow?’ I asked, half-hoping for an answer, half-not. He didn't reply, just went back to watching TV.
I started to clean.
*
‘So, what are you going to do about it?’ Rob asked, biting into his sandwich. It was recess and the schoolyard was a riot of noise and colour.
I shrugged. ‘Nothing, I guess.’
He gawped. ‘You just heard that Jenna Tremain – Jenna Tremain – likes you and you plan to do nothing?’
We were sitting on the back field, in our usual spot beneath the tree. Anthony, Rob, and Sam were spaced out around me, eating. I wasn’t feeling very hungry.
‘I don’t care what Jimmy says or who told him, I don’t believe it,’ I said, for what seemed like the tenth time.
‘Are you sure she likes him? Maybe Jimmy got it wrong,’ Sam said, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
‘Are you calling him a liar, Goldilocks? Cos you might as well call me one too,’ Rob said, jutting his chin out. Sam looked away.
‘No one’s calling you a liar, so just cool it.’ I sighed. The sky was overcast and grey but the heat still bore down, making the air turgid and ugly. Just then, the bell rang and I picked up my bag and walked off, glad to get away. The others followed suit. Next period was History, my favourite class - which isn’t saying much, given what little attention I pay to any subject. But Jenna would be there and much as I pretended otherwise, I really did want to see her.
She didn’t show.
Mr. Bones’ boisterous tone filled the room. Usually, it would be easy to engage and listen to him, but not today. I was staring out the window, lost. Something – a bird – fluttered across my vision, landing on the windowsill. It was a raven.
I glanced around the room; heads were dropped on tables, gazes were dull and glazed but none were looking my way. I turned back to the bird. It was staring at me, eyes gleaming. A chill come over me. It was a twin to the bird from my dreams, right down to the last bedraggled, storm-tossed feather. The raven cocked its head, beak gaping in what looked eerily like a grin, as though it knew my thoughts and laughed. We locked eyes, for an instant, an eternity, but it soon grew bored and left. I followed its path, neck craning.
‘Perhaps you could share with the class the object of your fascination?’
I jumped - Mr. Bones was standing directly above me, bald head shining with a predatory gleam. The class was laughing at me now.
‘Is Julius Caesar in the midst of a Triumph outside?’ he asked. ‘Because I can’t see it.’
‘Seems you just missed him, sir.’
‘Don’t get smart with me, Jake. I’ll see you after class.’
The class oohed appropriately before gradually settling back into a stupor. I went back to staring out the window, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of the wayward raven. Sometime later, as a bell shrilled in the distance, the class began to file out. I stayed, trying to lose myself in the cloudy, humid sky but failing. Mr. Bones settled into a chair next to me making more noise than necessary. His odd body shape was the butt of many jokes, not a few I’d started myself. He was known as ‘The Vulture’ for a reason.
‘Jake, I have to tell you… I’m confused,’ Mr. Bones said. ‘You haven’t been yourself lately.’ His voice was tinged with genuine concern.
I shrugged. ‘No one is perfect.’
‘Is that what this is? You’re feeling pressure to perform?’
I didn’t say anything, letting him assume that was the truth. He sighed. ‘Some parents just push too hard. Don’t let it get to you, Jake.’
I nodded and grabbed my bag, prepared to leave. Some parents don’t push hard enough, I thought, but said nothing. Mr. Bones gave me a note for being late to the next class and the rest of the day passed in a blur. The only notable thing was Jenna’s absence and I wondered briefly if she was sick or if something had happened to her. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d missed a day.
It didn’t take long for the magician, the bird and my odd dream to creep back into my thoughts, as I made my way home. My feet were already tracing the path back to the street I’d last met him and thinking about that now, I realised I didn’t even know his name. That would be the first thing I’d ask I decided. The day hadn’t improved much, but there was a cool breeze blowing to offset the humidity. As I turned onto Connelly Drive, my heartbeat quickened and I scanned the road for that signature dash of purple.
He wasn’t there.
Something inside me deflated and my steps slowed, as I carefully searched the street. Aha! I spotted the crumpled purple form draped across the bus stop. I smiled and made my way toward it. The closer I got, the more hesitant I became. Suddenly, I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing. After all, he was a stranger. But he had sat in the rain, just as I had stood, rather than seek shelter and at that moment I felt for the first time that maybe I wasn’t alone.
‘You gonna stand there all day?’ he demanded from beneath his jacket. My nose wrinkled at the rank smell of filth and alcohol but I stepped closer. There was no way he could see me, but he had known I was there.
‘You going to lie there all day?’ I asked, just as quick.
‘It’s worked so far. Can’t see a reason to stop now.’
I considered him for a moment, head tilted.
‘You’re strange,’ I said, decisively.
At that, he snorted and pulled the jacket off his face, to peer at me with red-rimmed eyes. ‘You’re the one seeking out complete strangers on the street and I’m strange?’ he said. ‘You should count yourself lucky I’m not the dangerous type. Plenty of others out there that are.’
‘My name is Jake,’ I said.
‘So?’
Despite his rudeness, I grinned. It was refreshing.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Don’t you have a home to go to, boy?’
‘My name is Jake, what’s yours?’ I repeated. He stared at me, incredulous. To this day, I can’t be sure why I stood my ground. Maybe it was an instinctive rebellion – he tried to push me away and so I tried to get closer. I don’t know what he saw in me then, but whatever it was, it made him relent.
‘You can call me Maharaj,’ he said, pulling his jacket back up.
It was enough, I thought and continued on my way home. Moments later, I was startled to hear his gruff voice call out.
‘You coming back, boy?’
I stopped and considered. ‘Sure,’ I said.
