The Holdens

The little guy gave a running commentary as we made our way over to Chris’s place.

In between nodding and throwing the occasional yep, nope in his direction, I tried to remember what Chris and I were like at his age. I’d forgotten how hard-going we found the first couple of months at St. Andrew’s. That move from primary to high school is pretty big and I don’t reckon many kids handle it half as well as they pretend to. At primary school you think you’re kingpin; then you arrive at a place where you’re nothing, a tiny, insignificant, lowly bit of nothing. You’re bullied into standing down the front of the bus, harassed into lining up all of lunchtime to buy food for ten people you don’t know and threatened into giving over your lunch money to some guy who’s got his fist in your face.

In the beginning Chris and I just used to take off. It wasn’t planned or anything, it was like we both knew. We’d get out at lunchtime, look around for the teacher on duty, who was normally yelling at some kid to pick up papers, and then, when no one was looking, we’d walk out the gate. Dead easy. We’d arrive at the Holdens’ right in time for lunch. It was funny, it was only now that I wondered why we didn’t get in more trouble considering they were always going on about legal permission to leave school grounds. Chris’s mum never said anything. She’d just smile and ask us if we were hungry. Then she’d leave the room and make a phone call.

Yes, Helen, they are here. Can you pass that on? No, they’ll be fine. I’ll ring Patricia.

Helen was Mrs. Young, the school secretary; my mum said she was a saint, and she was for Chris and me because it must have been her who smoothed it over with the year coordinator. We would have done that at least once a week in the beginning and then we kind of stopped.

I reckon it was around then that I developed this thing about the Holdens’ kitchen. It’s one of the places I rate in my top ten. It’s big and warm and cozy and filled with great smells, and there is always someone in there, guaranteed. Five males multiplied by hunger equals a lot of time spent in the kitchen. The Holdens definitely have an open-door policy—everyone is welcome. That’s why I knew it would be all right to take the kid there.

I could see the screen door hanging open as always, like it was expecting company. Surrounding it was a runners’ shop full of shoes. Once Mrs. Holden made the rule that you washed the floorboards, all of the floorboards, if you dirtied them, the boys figured it saved a lot of time and work if they left their shoes at the door. It worked for the floorboards, but it meant there was always a whiff of bad feet as soon as you came into the house.

I walked straight in with the kid hopping behind me. There was never any door-knocking at the Holdens’. Chris had obviously had a shower and then not bothered to do much more. His hair was sticking up all over the place; no shirt but he had his footy shorts and socks on. Typically he only looked mildly surprised.

Willo, mate! I thought you had detention duty at the St. Andrew’s gaol. Did you stage a breakout?

I raised my eyebrow and indicated the kid behind me.

Oh great, so you’ve corrupted a juvenile as well.

Chris stepped forward and shook the little guy’s hand.

Chris Holden.

The kid was barely able to contain himself.

Yeah, I know you. You’re the guy who’s going to be school captain next year.

Chris looked confused. Right, well, you had better come into the kitchen then.

I think you’ll find the little guy here has had an accident. It might be better if he goes to the bathroom.

Bad wording on my part—it sounded like Chris had to go and grab one of Jess’s nappies.

I mean he had an accident with a Dumpster.

Chris was watching the kid rather than me. He didn’t know what I was on about but he could definitely see that the kid needed some assistance.

Sure. You’re just lucky everyone’s out doing the Saturday sports shuffle, otherwise you’d be surrounded. It’s only Jess and me here.

Jess? the geek asked.

Yeah, replied Chris. She’s the number-one girl in my life.

The freak obviously intended to get as much information about Chris Holden, St. Andrew’s pin-up boy, as he could.

You mean your girlfriend?

I think Chris might have even blushed.

No, mate, she’s my two-year-old sister. But don’t you think I should be the one asking the questions?

The freak had no problem starting up.

It was lunchtime and the kids in the band asked me what I had for lunch so I told them and then they started to follow me, so I ran down the driveway and that’s when they got me and threw me into the Dumpster.

They what! I interrupted.

I’d spent all day with those little peewees and there was no way they could have picked up this kid and thrown him anywhere.

Well, that’s not completely true. Dad always says to tell the whole truth because you always get found out.

So?

Well, they kind of backed me into the corner and told me to get into the Dumpster.

And you did? It was really hard not to put you idiot on the end of that question.

I thought they’d leave me alone.

Did it work?

Yeah it did. They ran as soon as I got in. I stayed in there for another five minutes to make sure they’d all gone and then I tried to get out but I couldn’t.

And that was when yours truly came along, I told Chris. I thought maybe our friend here could borrow some of James’s clothes, you know, just for the weekend.

The kid suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Clearly something was wrong. What could be worse than getting harassed by a bunch of geeks and thrown in a bin?

I don’t want Dad to … His voice trailed off.

What could be worse? Your dad finding out.

He already worries about me. He’s had to come up to school already. He keeps saying that if it happens again he’s going to put me in a different school. But I like it at St. Andrew’s.

This kid really was sad!

Chris looked him square in the eye.

Listen, you’ve got to tell someone about the kids hassling you. Your dad’s right to be angry with the school. They should do something about it.

The kid began shaking his head.

They haven’t done it for ages. It’s just these band kids. They want to show off that they’re tough.

I was ready to go and find the little jerks and lock all of them in the Dumpster for the next month. I bet this was the first time any of them had had a chance to pick on anyone. I bet they were always having the crap kicked out of them.

Well, if you hang out with Will here there won’t be any more trouble. But you still have to do something about those clothes. What will the guy who’s got to play next to you say?

That’s me, I said, more enthusiastically than I’d intended.

Right, well, forget about that, Will stinks already so he wouldn’t notice, but what about the other guys?

The freak’s eyes grew in his head again and he shrugged.

We could throw your jeans and jacket in the wash and dryer and I’ll drop them off on my way to footy?

The kid’s whole body lit up with hero worship.

Yeah, and then I could get changed and Dad wouldn’t have to know.

The kid took the clothes Chris gave him and went into the bathroom. I knew this meant I was going back to the hall to finish my sentence. Just knowing that Andrews was there wound me up again, but I figured I could ignore him.

So, Will, it looks like you’ve made your first new friend from the musical. Your mother will be so happy!

I chucked the geek’s shirt at Chris and yelled out Hurry up!

The geek left Chris’s place the way he’d arrived—talking.

You’re the best, Will. I always knew Chris was a really nice guy. No wonder he’s going to be school captain. And look at these clothes! These are the coolest clothes I’ve ever worn. Dad reckons I shouldn’t worry about how I look. He reckons you have to stand on your own and be an individual. It’s not that we’re poor. That’s what all the kids at school think. They think I dress the way I do because we don’t have any money. We do. Dad’s a university lecturer and we live in Balmain, looking over the water. It’s nice. He paused, looked away and then continued. Heaps nicer than around here. Apart from Chris’s place. His place was cool.

I had started to listen after he had finished with his Chris Holden Fan Club routine. This kid’s parents had to catch up with the times. It was all right for them. They were safe in their hippie suburb living their hippie lives.

Listen, when we get back to the rehearsals, take it easy, act cool.

Yeah, Will. I get you.

We walked in silence but I could feel that he was gearing up for another question because he became all jumpy again.

Will?

Yeah?

My name is Zach. Zachariah Cohen.

I stopped walking and held out my hand.

Nice to meet you, Zachariah Cohen.

I cut his smile short.

Come on, Freak, we better bolt, otherwise Andrews will have my balls.