I’m at school before anyone else. This isn’t new because Kay often has work early and doesn’t trust me to walk to school on my own. But today, I’m here for a different reason.
I want to learn more about the boy, Diogenes and Alexander the Great. Last night, I asked Kay about them but she kept saying ‘I don’t know’ and put me to bed. I wanted to read the next history but she said ‘maybe tomorrow’ and that was that. I couldn’t sleep. I got out of bed on my own in the morning and woke up Kay for once. I said it was important: ‘I need to go to the library.’
I haven’t been to the library before school. I know it’s open before school, after school and at lunch, Tuesday to Thursday, because the librarian Mrs Harper tells us all the time.
It’s 8:15 when I arrive. The door’s wide open and there’s someone’s backpack outside. Bags aren’t allowed in the library because a boy took his inside and his drink bottle leaked cordial everywhere. Mrs Harper was very annoyed. There’s still a big blue stain on the carpet. I leave my bag by the door and peek inside.
‘Come in, dear.’ Mrs Harper is putting books away in the non-fiction section. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I want to learn about someone,’ I say.
‘Okay!’ Mrs Harper sings, abandoning her trolley and swishing over to her computer. She always wears swishy pants and coats. It looks like the wind is rushing around her whenever she moves. ‘Who do you want to learn about?’
‘Diogenes.’
‘Oh, Diogenes. Who’s he?’
‘Ah … he was a … he lived a long time ago in Athens. He liked to annoy people like Alexander the Great.’
She laughs. ‘Sounds like a philosopher.’ She clicks away at her keyboard. ‘He didn’t like Alexander the Great, huh?’
‘No.’
Mrs Harper keeps searching, hitting the Esc button after every few clicks, and finally makes an ‘oh!’ sound and jumps out of her chair. Her clothes bob like a jellyfish. She goes to the shelves and gets me a book. ‘Might be something in here.’
Horrible Histories: Groovy Greeks. The book has a wooden horse on the cover with lots of soldiers. One soldier says, ‘NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL HORSE POWER’.
I go to the mat area with all the cushions. That annoying boy is here, lying spread out on his belly on the giant giraffe cushion. He’s reading a tattered copy of Guinness World Records 2010.
‘Good morning, Jessie!’ he says.
‘Hi,’ I say. I turn around and go to the desks on the other side of the library. He follows, pulls up a chair next to me. I hold the book up to my face.
‘Horrible. Histories. Groovy. Greeks,’ he says slowly. ‘That’s on TV.’
I just hmm at him and hold the book up even higher.
‘Did you see the episode about the Roman emperor who made people eat rocks for dinner? His name was Elagabalus and he lived from 203 AD to 222 AD, which means he died when he was nineteen, which is very young but not that young back then.’
‘I’m reading,’ I tell him.
He says ‘okay!’ and plonks the Guinness World Records book on the desk. He flicks through it and makes ‘woh!’ noises.
Before I find anything about Diogenes, Mrs Harper says, ‘Kids, the bell’s about to go. Could you put the books back or come and borrow them?’
The boy slams his book shut. ‘Sure thing, Mrs Harper!’
He runs over to the shelves where the record books live.
‘No running in the library, Theodore!’
‘Sorry!’ he says, and then walks dramatically out of the library, swinging his arms.
I borrow the book and leave, only to find him waiting for me.
‘Let’s walk to class together. I bet the doors are open now.’ He jumps on the spot. ‘Race you!’
He takes off. I walk after him, flipping through Groovy Greeks until I get to class.
I wake. Mrs Armstrong is saying, ‘Up you get, kiddo!’
I’m under a tree near the top oval. It’s no longer recess. Everything’s still. I must’ve fallen asleep.
I blink a few times.
‘Rough night?’
I shrug.
Mrs Armstrong takes me to the office and they call Kay. I try to read Groovy Greeks but I fall asleep again while I’m waiting.
Kay is annoyed but doesn’t say so. As we walk home, she says things like ‘how could you not have slept at all last night?’, ‘did you have a nice morning?’ and ‘walk faster please!’ She has a day off so she didn’t have to leave work. I don’t know why she’s so grumpy. When we get home, I see why. There’s a man in a van waiting outside. The van has flowery writing on it that says ALCHEMY WROUGHT IRON – FOR ELEGANCE AND SECURITY. CALL US FOR AN OBLIGATION-FREE QUOTE TODAY.
‘Sorry,’ Kay says to the man.
‘No worries, gave me a chance to look at this gate. To be honest, it would be a real shame to tamper with something like this. Beautiful metalwork.’
‘Jessie, go inside,’ Kay says.
I go inside but listen by the door. The man talks about putting metal bars on all the windows and doors. Kay says she wants a new lock on the gate too but the man tries to convince her not to because it will change the gate somehow. But then I feel tired so I go to bed.
‘Okay, you’ve had a nap. Get up.’
Kay opens the curtains.
‘Come on, if you sleep any more you won’t sleep tonight.’
I wish I had mischief. As Kay turns away, I flick my hand at the curtains. They don’t move.
I read Groovy Greeks while Kay calls people and stomps around the house. I wonder who else could be a mischief. Maybe a mischief lived in this house. Maybe one of the men who went to war and got buried in the park was a mischief.
When Kay finally gets off the phone, I ask if we can go to the park. She says no but I bounce around and tell her I could stay up all night so she says ‘fine!’ we can go to the park to ‘let off steam’. She checks every lock. As we go out the front door, she says, ‘just wait’ and then checks everything again.
At the park, I step out the graves again and say in my head:
BOWRA F.D.A. – Maybe A. Mischief – I’m sorry.
BAILEY B.H. – Maybe A. Mischief – I’m sorry.
BAILEY J.L. – Maybe A. Mischief – I’m sorry.
Kay stops me when I get up to RICHARDS E.W. because it starts to rain. As we walk home, I ask her, ‘Did you know Alexander the Great died when he was thirty-two?’
‘No.’
‘He got a cold. He drank too much.’
‘Did you read that in the library book?’
‘Yeah. It doesn’t have anything about Diogenes in it yet.’
‘Whoever wrote the story probably made up Diogenes.’
I stop.
‘No, they didn’t,’ I say. ‘It’s a history, not a story.’
‘Well, that kind of thing can’t happen. You know, magic powers and all that,’ she says. She tugs on my arm. ‘Come on.’ She says it softly, like I’m being silly but she’s trying to be kind.
‘You don’t know that!’
I cry. I don’t mean to. I’m not sad, I’m angry. I wipe my cheeks on my jumper but they keep coming. Kay huddles in close.
‘I’m sorry, I guess I can’t know for sure.’
‘The book was hidden for a reason,’ I tell her. ‘It’s secret.’
‘I guess that’s true.’
‘Why would someone hide a fake story?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘They wouldn’t.’
‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’
I nod. We start walking again. Kay strokes my hair, just like Mum used to do when I was upset, only now I’ve just got short bristles poking up around my scar. And Kay’s gentle fingers are not Mum’s.
I try to be nice. I try to sound sad, not angry, as I ask, ‘Can we read some more tonight please?’
‘Okay,’ Kay says. ‘As long as you go to bed early and actually sleep.’
I nod and try not to smile too much.