Henry and Cassie whizzed along the bike path, side by side, past the fishing boats, their front wheels spinning in time. ‘Your bike is very flash,’ called Cassie, grinning.
‘Whoah-hoah!’ Henry was concentrating super hard to keep it in a straight line. He didn’t want to suddenly wobble and plough into Cassie and make them both fall off in a tangled heap.
‘It’s a super streaky, flashety-flash lightning bolt.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Does it have a name?’
Henry jerked the handlebars to straighten them up. ‘Nope.’
‘You should give it one.’
‘I should?’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe Thunder,’ said Cassie. She stood up and pedalled harder past the Olympic pool. ‘Or Tinkerbell or Uncle Steve or the Breezer or the Flying Banana or Merlin or Hi-Ho Silver Away?’
‘Is that right?’ Henry pedalled furiously to catch up.
Cassie glanced at Henry as they coasted along. ‘My Nan always used to say that everything works better with a name. Fridges. Washing machines. Cars. Bikes. Teapots.’
‘Does your bike have a name?’
Cassie swerved around a chalk-drawn mermaid on the path. ‘Sure thing! My bike is called Blinter. It’s a Scottish word for the special way stars dazzle on a winter’s night. My Nan helped me choose it.’
‘What if I named my bike after some stars or something?’ asked Henry.
‘Whoah-yeah!’ Cassie veered across the path and onto the grass for a second. ‘Yeeee-ess!’ she puffed, darting back. ‘A constellation! I like it! You could call it Pegasus the flying horse or Hercules or Lynx – or Orion the Hunter! He is massive and has a belt of three stars that you can see in the sky! What do you reckon?’
‘Hmmmm.’ Henry dodged around a toddler riding a skateboard down the path on his tummy.
‘What about Sirius? That’s the brightest star in the sky and Chinese people call it the Celestial Wolf!’
Celestial Wolf! Henry’s front wheel wobbled. Holy Chamoley! That was a little bit too close to werewolves for his liking.
All the names Cassie was suggesting were grander and more genius than he could ever live up to! But then again, maybe it was a good idea to have something a little out of the ordinary, sort of as an encouragement? One of his friends from school was called Tom Desmond Tutu Wilson because Tom’s parents believed in aspirational middle names as well as plain, ordinary first ones.
When Henry first heard Tom’s middle name, he had to go home and ask his Mum what an aspirational name meant. She said she guessed Tom’s parents wanted him to have a middle name that gave him something juicy to aim for with his life because Desmond Tutu was famous for being an extraordinary man of peace and laughter. Which seemed kind of funny to Henry given that Tom Desmond Tutu Wilson did not even really like to smile, ever.
‘You know a lot about stars!’ said Henry.
‘I know!’
They each overtook a pack of nuggety rugrats in spiky bike helmets, even though their small legs were spinning in fast-forward. Henry felt a tiny spurt of triumph as he sailed past them.
Cassie slid back across the grass to his side. ‘Well, that’s because of my mum! She has a different name when she sings on stage because she thinks her real name is too boring for someone who wants to be a famous singer. When she sings on stage, everyone calls her Ursa Major. She named herself after a bear constellation that you can see pretty much everywhere in the world. That’s how she signs her autographs too, for all her fans on the cruise ships, even though her real name is Deirdre Evans.’
‘Ursa Major,’ said Henry, tasting the words.
‘Uh-huh! It’s very dramatic! That’s what my Nan always said.’ Cassie clicked her tongue. ‘But very crazy things are always happening to my mum, so it probably suits her.’ They cycled down past the cabins under the pines, their front verandahs brimming with bikes.
Henry pondered the names. He liked the idea of Orion. It sounded strong and brilliant. But he wasn’t really a hunter, not at heart, not in the true sense. He wasn’t sure that seeking out small funny moments counted, even though that was treasure to him and made the whole world shine. He darted around an abandoned trike. It would be a grand, genius thing to have a winged horse, though. And wasn’t that the very thing Patch said he loved about riding, how it was like flying? If he called his bike Pegasus, he would always remember Patch teaching him how to ride and summer and the smell of rosemary and trying hard to keep on going, even when he most wanted to give up.
‘Pegasus,’ said Henry. ‘That’s it! Maybe Peg for short.’
Cassie rang her bell. It chimed out loud and clear. ‘Welcome, oh, mighty Peg, to the bike paths of Yelonga. May they bring you magic, oh magnificent one.’
Henry laughed. Magnificent one! He couldn’t help thinking Cassie had caught a little bit of her mum’s crazy.
‘Now come on!’ she called, tossing her head. ‘Let’s race because I want to show you everything there is to see!’
Cassie took Henry to all her favourite spots.
While they were cycling along the boardwalk, they saw a snow-white eagle hover on a breeze above the inlet. They watched the Yelonga Bridge rise up slowly for a single sailboat. They slurped a strawberry milkshake at the Old Palace Café and hand-fed a school of fish off the front jetty.
‘Let’s go to one more place,’ said Cassie. ‘Please! They’ll be there now. I know you’ll like it.’
And Cassie took Henry back out to Nugget Rock, where he had been earlier with his dad. They slipped and slithered over sandstone blocks, on shaky tired legs, creeping down close to the water.
‘Holy Flubbamoley!’ breathed Henry.
Five big seals were soaking up the sun on the rocks, lazing about like fat brown slugs.
Cassie nodded. ‘Amazing, huh?’
‘I’ve never seen anything like this! Well, only at the zoo.’
‘I know,’ said Cassie, her eyes sparkling. ‘When I first saw them, I thought they were fake. But these ones come from the colony that live out at Lorelle Island, where the lighthouse is. My Nan reckoned these are the party-pooper seals, who would prefer a good book in an armchair to a night dancing up a storm.’
Henry hunched down, waiting for one of these seals to move. ‘Do they have names?’ he asked.
‘Now you’re getting it.’ Cassie nudged him with her elbow. ‘When my Nan was little, she lived on a farm and so she named all those seals after her favourite cows because she thought their eyes were so similar, all warm and chocolatey. And all they do is sleep and eat. So the one with the bird poo on her back is Bluebell. And the one with the chunk out of her tail is Hazel.’ She nodded. ‘And that one over there, lying on her back, is Buttercup and the one getting splashed by the water is Daisy. And that huge one over there with the reddish coat is Myrtle, who is always grumpy, especially if she gets woken up.’
‘Their noses are so pointy,’ said Henry.
Cassie lifted her eyebrows. ‘Uh-huh!’
‘They look like dogs without legs, don’t you reckon?’ said Henry.
‘I never thought of that,’ said Cassie.
‘Log dogs,’ said Henry.
Cassie laughed. ‘Log dogs! I like that!’
Henry felt a thrill. He liked the way Cassie’s laugh burst out, so loud and free, like a person busting out of a birthday cake. Myrtle rolled over and opened one cranky eye.
‘Do they ever dive in and swim?’ Henry whispered.
‘I don’t think they’re going to move today,’ murmured Cassie. ‘I’m telling you, they’re just too stubbornly comfortable!’
‘Oh, bummer,’ breathed Henry, glancing sideways. ‘That’s a shame.’
Cassie jumped up. ‘But we can still ride to the end of the breakwater.’
So Cassie and Henry clambered back over the rocks and snatched up their bikes and rode down the sandy path, right to the end of the breakwater. They perched on the point and gazed for ages at the motorboats zooming out across the bar as if they were in an action movie, foam spraying behind them.
Then just before it was time to go, Henry stroked the fool’s gold of Nugget Rock like a lucky charm and only a few seconds later, he saw Myrtle roll off and speed by in the water, swift as a rocket. It hardly seemed possible that only a moment before, she was lolling about as if sleep was the only thing on her mind.
‘Look,’ said Cassie. She dragged Henry up onto her rock and pointed to the entrance. A school of dolphins rose up in a wave, their grey bodies sleek and glistening.
‘Holy Dolphamoley!’ whispered Henry.
It was magic.
Patting Heathcliff. Riding Peg. Spotting the snow-white eagle. Waiting for the rising bridge. Feeding the fish. Seeing Myrtle swim. Watching the dolphins surf. Exploring a whole world he didn’t even know was out there. But as Henry and Cassie rode back through clouds of sea salt, he knew the best magic of all was finding a straight-up and true friend. He knew there was nothing more magic than that!