The next day I went back to school. I avoided Gary. In fact, I avoided everyone, and they made it easy to do by avoiding me too.
In class, Miss Lee was teaching us about abstract art. She said abstract art uses a visual language of shape, form, colour and lines to create art that didn’t reference real objects, but to me it just looked like a load of random squiggles and blobs.
Our homework was to create our own piece of abstract art and I knew Miss Lee would give me top marks for whatever rubbish I put in, because I was the teacher’s pet, and then everyone would hate me even more.
Then I remembered the last thing Mitzy had said to me: ‘If she thinks everything you do is perfect, then use that.’
That afternoon, when Abby was lying on a blanket in the living room, I put a piece of paper next to her, then rolled her onto her side so she was facing it. Then I got some baby food in a bowl and put it next to her.
Ten minutes later I rescued the piece of paper and this is what it looked like.
And that’s what I handed in to Miss Lee the next day.
Next day I got it back with this comment:
‘Wonderful work, Sam! I sense a questioning mind trying to make sense of a confusing world. Clever use of splotching and smudging techniques and everyday materials to create a raw, powerful piece. 10 out of 10!’
She’d fallen into my trap. At lunch, I waited until everyone had left.
SAM: Could I talk to you about my artwork, please?
MISS LEE: Certainly, Sam. I hope you do more of them. It was very expressive.
SAM: Thing is, I didn’t actually do it. I just let my baby sister drool and smear baby food over it.
MISS LEE: (SILENCE)
SAM: And you gave me ten out of ten.
MISS LEE: (SILENCE)
SAM: For a baby’s drool.
MISS LEE: Why did you hand in your sister’s work, Sam?
SAM: I wouldn’t call it ‘work’ exactly, but I did it because I wanted to prove that you give me good marks, no matter what I do.
MISS LEE: (eyes narrow) So . . . you want me to stop giving you good marks?
SAM: I want you to stop making me the teacher’s pet and saying everything I do is great, even when it isn’t. Why don’t I get in trouble when I muck up? Why do I always get early marks? Just treat me like the other kids. Please.
MISS LEE: (DEEP BREATH) Sam, I’m happy to treat you like the other kids, as long as it’s okay with your mother.
SAM: . . . Huh?
MISS LEE: She asked me to take special care of you. She said you were a delicate boy who needed lots of attention, and because of your new baby sister she couldn’t give you as much time as usual. (PAUSE) And then she said that when she was at school, she came top of her year. I’m not sure why she told me that.
When I got home I was furious.
SAM: Mum, why did you tell Miss Lee that I was delicate and ask her to give me special attention?
MUM: She wasn’t supposed to tell you.
SAM: She made it pretty obvious. I handed in an art project that was just Abby smearing food on a piece of paper and she gave me full marks.
MUM: Really? (TO ABBY) Well done, darling. Who’s a clever girl! You’re an artist! You know, I came top of my school and I bet you could . . .
SAM: Mum! She can’t understand you. And you only came top of four kids.
MUM: (STIFFLY) It was six.
SAM: Then one left and another got sick, sooo . . . four.
MUM: I still came top. And you do need special care. You were new to the school this year and you had trouble making friends, so I just asked Miss Lee to look after you and give you some extra attention.
SAM: Well, Miss Lee made me the teacher’s pet, which means that now I have no friends again and it’s all your fault.
MUM: I was worried about you! I don’t have time to look after you properly anymore because of Abigail and I thought that if the teacher helped you it would help, but now it’s all gone wrong and, oh, dear, I’m a terrible mother and I’ve ruined everything.
I could see that Mum felt bad, which made it impossible to stay angry at her, which was irritating because I really wanted to stay angry at her.
SAM: (SIGHS) You’re not a terrible mother.
MUM: It’s just that you’re not my little boy anymore and you’re growing up and we don’t go for walks anymore and I worry about you, Samuel.
SAM: (PUTS ARM AROUND HER) It’s okay, Mum.
MUM: I’m sorry, darling.
SAM: It’s okay.
(LONG SILENCE)
MUM: Samuel?
SAM: Yes, Mum.
MUM: On the weekend, if I get Dad to mind Abby, could we go for a long walk together? Just the two of us.
SAM: What about a short walk to the shops to get a hot chocolate and a brownie?
MUM: Done. Now, how’s your new mobile telephone going? Your very own phone! How exciting! I remember that feeling.
SAM: Did they have phones back then?
MUM: No, but I remember how excited I was when I got my first letter-writing kit! I bet it’s just like that.
SAM: Not really. See, when I said I didn’t want a smartphone with the internet and music and everything, what I actually meant was, I did want a smartphone with the internet and music and everything. If I take the one you gave me to school, everyone’ll laugh at me.
MUM: Well, if anyone laughs at you, you tell me their names and I’ll have a word to their mothers.
SAM: Mum, it doesn’t work like that.
(MUM STARES AT SAM FOR A LONG MOMENT, THEN BURSTS INTO TEARS)
SAM: Mum? What’s the matter?
MUM: You’re not a little boy anymore! You’re all grown up and you don’t need me. First it was going to Woden Plaza by yourself, now it’s a smartphone, and next you’ll be driving a car and getting married and moving to Spain.
SAM: Mum, I’m twelve. Why would I move to Spain?
MUM: Because you’ll probably meet a girl from Spain – or a boy, that’s fine too – and get married and she or he will want to move back to Spain and then I’ll never see my little baby Samuel again. (SOBS)
SAM: (PUTS ARM AROUND HER) Mum. I’m not moving to Spain.
MUM: (SNIFFLES) But they have siestas in Spain. Afternoon naps. You love afternoon naps.
SAM: Not really. Only sometimes on the weekend. I wouldn’t want one every day.
MUM: Really?
SAM: Nah. You wake up feeling all weird. Mum, I’m not moving to Spain. But . . . I am growing up.
MUM: (SNIFFS) I know. And I have to let you grow up. (STARTING TO CRY AGAIN) But I used to love taking you shopping for underpants. That was fun, wasn’t it?
SAM: Not really . . .
MUM: Of course it was fun. All the things we used to do. But now you’re older, and you don’t need me to choose what trousers you wear each day. You have to choose your own trousers.
SAM: Yes, but you’ve got Abby now. You can take her underpants shopping and pick out her clothes. Lucky her!
MUM: But I get so worried about you, Samuel. What if you’re out there in the big wide world on your bicycle and you get lost?
SAM: Mum, I won’t . . .
MUM: I know, I know. I have to let you be more independent. But I get so worried, Samuel.
Then I had a brilliant idea.
SAM: Mum, have you heard of the ‘Find my Phone’ app?
MUM: App?
SAM: App.
MUM: Oh, you mean those applications you can get for your mobile telephone? Like the ‘What Slug Is That?’ one I got for the garden?
SAM: Yeah. They have an app that would show you where my phone was.
MUM: Why would I want to know where your phone was? In case you lost it?
SAM: No, because then you’d know where I was . . . because the phone would be with me. You could check on me whenever you wanted.
MUM: Oh. (PAUSE) But you wouldn’t like me doing that.
SAM: I wouldn’t even know you were doing it. You could check where I was as often as you liked. Would that help?
MUM: I think it would, yes. (EXCITED) Yes! Let’s get that application now. On your mobile telephone.
SAM: You can’t get apps on the phone you got me. You can only get them on smartphones. That’s why they’re called smartphones.
MUM: Is it? I thought it was because they were invented by someone whose last name was ‘Smart.
(FRONT DOOR OPENS AND DAD ENTERS)
DAD: Hello, everyone.
MUM: (QUICKLY) Oh, Henry! Samuel’s all grown up now and he can pick out his own trousers and I don’t comb his hair anymore and he wants to go to that wild Woden Plaza without us, but he told me that I can spy on him and the main thing is that he’s not moving to Spain and he doesn’t even like siestas.
DAD: Well, that’s good to know.
MUM: And we need to buy him a smartphone. Oh, Henry, our little boy is growing up.
DAD: Well, I don’t think he’s quite ready to move out yet. He can’t even wash dishes properly.
MUM: Do you think they’ll give me a refund on the dumb phone? They didn’t tell me it couldn’t get applications. And do you know why they’re called smartphones? It’s because they’re smart!
DAD: I did know that.
MUM: (BEAMS) Well, that means you’re smart too.
DAD: (SMILES) Thank you.
(PAUSE)
MUM: Samuel, go and get me your doll.
SAM: Why?
MUM: Just get it, please.
I went and got the stupid doll from where I’d hidden it under my bed. When I got back, Mum held out her hand.
SAM: You’re not going to show me how to hold Abby safely again, are you?
MUM: (GENTLY) just give it to me.
(SAM HANDS MUM THE DOLL)
MUM: (SMILING) You don’t need a doll. What was I thinking? Look at you. You’re nearly a man. Soon you’ll be driving a car and drinking coffee. (TURNS TO DAD AND BLINKS BACK TEARS) Oh, look at him Henry! He’s nearly a man!
(DAD WALKS OVER TO MUM AND GIVES HER A HUG. THEY BOTH STARE AT SAM.)
SAM: (WAVES AT THEM) Hi.
MUM: (OPENS ARMS) I know you’re nearly a man now, Samuel, but you can be in the hug too if you like.